HEROES Season 1 Episode 17 (WARNING: SPOILERS)
“Company Man”

Though I’ll probably be accused of bias, I’m going on the record as saying “Company Man” is one of the best episodes of Heroes since the pilot landed us all firmly in the middle of this brave new chapter of serialized television.
Ted and a hesitant Matt taking the Bennets hostage sets the stage for us to witness HRG’s past, and an explosive past it is.
It’s fifteen years ago and HRG gets a partner, one of “them,” and look! If it isn’t our roguish invisible man.
HRG then gets to adopt a baby girl, thanks to… Gasp! Sulu is evil! And there! That little geeky Japanese boy! And that rooftop looks awfully familiar!!! Is everyone in this world evil?!?
As it turns out though, it appears HRG may be one of the least evil of the bunch. Eric Roberts (yes, Julia’s brother) appears as Thompson, HRG’s immediate superior, and a slimy superior he is (and we all know E.R. can do slimy with the best of them).
There’s more in the flashback, pivotal moments in HRG’s life, and even as we’re privy to that, there’s the whole tense hostage situation at the Bennet home taking place, a stand-off which results in the spectacular destruction of said home from Ted’s minor meltdown (the best protracted fx sequence of the show thus far).
And when Thompson sees evidence of Claire’s powers, all I could think was, “The f*cker saw! The f*cker saw! Now Sulu’s gonna take Claire away!!!”
Man, this episode wrung me out…
Written by Bryan Fuller (co-creator of the sadly short-lived and sorely missed Wonderfalls) and directed by Allan Arkush, this is one of those brilliant hours of television where everything just falls into place. Even the final step HRG takes to ensure Claire’s safety has a nice poetic irony to it.
Fuller and Arkush make it all look so effortless, and my proverbial hat is off to them. The tension is palpable, the performances are top-notch, the episode looks great, and the script is emotionally potent, firmly establishing relationships and conflict, giving characters we’ve already come to know even more depth and complexity. (Mrs. B is an eye-opener.)
Here’s hoping we see more of the Fuller-Arkush tag team in episodes to come.
Given how “Company Man” ends though, I hope HRG’s journey back towards humanity hasn’t been brutally truncated. I also hope this doesn’t mean Claire disappears off the board for awhile. Then again, we do have to get back to the other subplots, particularly Jessica off gunning for Nathan. (It has been two episodes since we’ve seen Jessica. And yes, I know I’m not her biggest fan—shhh, don’t let her hear that—but that particular dangling subplot is distracting.)
And soon… the mysterious Mr. Linderman…

LOST Season 3 Episode 9 (WARNING: SPOILERS)
“Stranger in a Strange Land”

So last week was Desmond, this week it’s Jack.
Now, I’m not necessarily against spotlight episodes. (And, by Lost’s nature—with each episode having flashbacks centering on one character—each episode is, in a manner of speaking, a spotlight episode.) It’s just that we seem to be losing sight of all the other characters, not to mention the plot.
Sure, we see Kate and Sawyer, but what about Locke, and his plan to get Jack and company back? What about Sun (who did, after all, shoot another person dead)? Then there’s the little matter of Des’ lady love, Penny, picking up the electromagnetic anomaly that was the hatch implosion during season 2’s finale.
I only point this out because Lost is the kind of show that may have difficulty attracting a new audience, given the complexity of its story. It’s also a show that at the moment, seems to be losing some of the less faithful (and less patient) portions of its core audience.
Now, it’s always been my firm belief that the best Lost episodes are those that give us a deeper, better insight on the psychology of the characters (through the flashbacks), while at the same time, advancing the plot of the story taking place on the island.
The thing is, at the moment, the island story is moving at a snail’s pace, and I feel the show should step it up, considering all that doomsayer talk surrounding its flagging ratings.
Come on, people! This show is still one of the best on the air today, with one of the best ensembles, and some of the sharpest writing around.
Sure, I love Bai Ling, but did we need to see more of Jack again? I mean, we’ve brought in Paulo and Nikki but these two have done little more since their introduction than be two more pretty faces stranded on the island. And while we have yet to learn more about Paulo and Nikki, we are then sucked into the lives of Alex and erstwhile boyfriend Karl. We also make the acquaintance of the new sheriff in town, Isabel (played by Diana Scarwid, fantastic as Jaye’s mom, Karen, in the sorely missed Wonderfalls).
So, so many players. And will some of them end up deader than disco even before we really get to know them?
And perhaps because of the Cecil B. DeMille cast of thousands, sometimes it seems the focus of the show gets too diffuse; though we do learn more about specific characters, the main story gets sidetracked. We also need to ask ourselves, was what we learned about the character truly significant in the larger scheme of things, or was it ultimately a character note to add to that person’s bio?
I bring this up only because I want the show to have firmer footing than it has right now. I want Abrams, Lindelof, Cuse, and company to end the show according to their plans, and not because ABC decided to pull the plug due to ratings.
I think it’s safe to say that window when Lost burst into the social consciousness as a phenomenon is shrinking (if it hasn’t already disappeared). The Lost team needs to make what we, the hardcore fans, already know, glaringly obvious: that this is a great show.
Of course, there will be hiccups, there will be lags. No show is perfect, after all. Peaks and valleys and all that. But what needs to be done is to minimize the hiccups and the lags, keep the peaks high and the valleys shallow. Episode in, episode out, we need to kick a$$, gentlemen.
Let’s get down to it. A little over a dozen episodes to go till season end.
Dazzle us. I know you can.

OSCAR Reactions 2007

So I’m writing this in the glow of my annual post-Oscar watching labors, and if this is how I feel year in year out on the big night, the thought of what the nominees go through is mind-boggling.
And speaking of nominees, the opening sequence with the nominee interviews was great, the first of several excellent montages seen throughout the night.
Like all Oscar nights, it was a night of wins and surprises and close-but-no-cigars.
Let’s get to it.

I’ll be doing this by the films I’ve actually seen and was rooting for in one category or another, and since I mentioned Oscar in its review, I’ll start off with:

El Laberinto Del Fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth)
2 out of 6 (for Art Direction and Cinematography). Not exactly an outpouring of love, but hey, they could have gone home with nothing (see below). It stung though, when it was edged out in the Best Foreign Language Film category. (All I have to say is, Herr von Donnersmarck, your film better kick major a$$.)*
That, and a) Guillermo Del Toro was nowhere to be seen in the Best Director category, and b) Little Miss Sunshine ran away with Best Original Screenplay. (This was an instant replay of the BAFTAs; I honestly thought Babel was the stiff competition in that category.)

Babel
1 out of 7. Thankfully, it was for one of the elements of the film that really impressed me (in a film that was incredibly impressive as a whole), Gustavo Santaolalla’s score. (Talk about instant replay of the BAFTAs; same ratio, same category win.)

Children of Men
0 out of 3. Like I said, you could go home with nothing.
One of the biggest Oscar crimes this year, sending Cuaron home with nothing, not even a nomination for Best Director. And you’d think that with the jaw dropping shots they got for this film, that it would have gotten Emmanuel Lubezki that statue for Cinematography. (I may love El Laberinto Del Fauno, but Children of Men just doesn’t take any prisoners when it comes to getting and delivering the shot.) At least Lubezki got the BAFTA. (Which at least had the decency to send the film home with 2 out of 3.)

Marie Antoinette
1 out of 1 (Costume Design). At least Milena Canonero went home happy.
It’s a crime though that this film was so underrepresented at the Oscars, and was sent home on BAFTA night with 0 for 3.

An Inconvenient Truth
2 out of 2 (Best Documentary Feature and Best Original Song). Go, Al Gore!!!
And go, Melissa Etheridge!!! (I mean, opening that can of whoop-a$$ on Dreamgirls the way you did is almost criminal…)**

Superman Returns
0 out of 1. Arrgghh!!!
Isn’t it enough that Dead Man’s Chest went home with the boffo box office, they have to steal the award too?!? (Again with the BAFTA instant replay.)
Props though, to Michael Mann, for including a Superman Returns clip in his “America in Film” montage, along with snippets of Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, and Sam Mendes’ Jarhead.

Little Miss Sunshine
2 out of 4 (for Best Original Screenplay and Best Supporting Actor: Alan Arkin).
I may have had issues with you, but I liked you well enough. Then you had to butt heads with Del Toro and Laberinto, and whup a$$ at the BAFTAs and the Independent Spirits. Little Miss Evil is more like it…

And the big win of the night…

The Departed
4 out of 5.
Finally, Marty gets his statue, and is given it by three of his life-long film school buddies, Coppola, Spielberg, and Lucas. (The second that triumvirate came out on stage, what seemed to be a foregone conclusion of the night became concrete reality, and I was thrilled and relieved.)
With William Monahan taking home the award for Best Adapted Screenplay, the pressure for the Departed sequel, already great, is now massive. Monahan now has a new first name: “Academy Award-winning writer of The Departed.” (A lot rests on Monahan’s shoulders, as final approval depends on Scorsese liking what’s on the page.)
Best Editing was a category I was really conflicted by. I loved Thelma Schoonmaker’s work on it, and after seeing the film, felt certain she deserved the award. But then there we were, with Schoonmaker up against Rodriguez and Cuaron and Children of Men hadn’t gotten Best Cinematography. Ugh. In the end though, Thelma came up the winner, and I’m really happy for her. (Sorry, Alfonso.)
And then of course, Best Picture.
That category worried me. I wasn’t sure they’d give it to a crime drama/thriller. I mean, there was Babel, a better version of Crash (and they gave Crash Best Picture last year). There was Little Miss Sunshine, which would have been the major upset of the evening, and dangerously had the legs for that sort of coup. And there was Letters from Iwo Jima (the Golden Globe Best Foreign Language Film winner) and The Queen (Best Film at the BAFTAs). I mean, bloodbath, right?
But The Departed came out guns blazing, wrapping up another year of brilliant cinema and finally giving Martin Scorsese his well-deserved Best Director Oscar. (Something he shall be forever indebted to Hong Kong cinema for; that was a shoddy screw-up, for the Oscar voice over to say Mou Gaan Dou—Infernal Affairs—was a Japanese film.)

So there you have it. Another year, another Oscar night.

* Best Foreign Language Film went to Germany’s Das Leben Der Anderen (The Lives of Others), directed by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck.

** In the Best Original Song category, three out of the five nominated songs were from Dreamgirls.

Parting shot: It was a year when I hadn’t seen a majority of the nominated performances, thus no mention of the acting categories.

BLACK CHRISTMAS (Review)

I’ve said this before.
Having never seen the original, I can come at this with a clean slate. And on that clean slate, I write…

Glen Morgan is a name I’ve kept an eye on since his days as an X-Files alum. From Mulder and Scully, he went on (along with his collaborative partner James Wong) to Millennium in its sophomore year, giving the show its best season in its three-year run.
Morgan then went on to script feature films which Wong would direct, starting with Final Destination (interesting and effective), and then on to the Jet Li starrer, The One (disappointing), and Final Destination 3 (dull and pointless).
During this time, Morgan also had his directorial debut with the remake of Willard (which I missed seeing).
As the films came and went though, it seemed Morgan was becoming less of an interesting storyteller and just a mild curiosity in my books.
At the tail end of last year, Morgan wrote and directed the remake of the 1974 slasher flick, Black Christmas, coming up with quite possibly the worst film he’s worked on to date (it’s a toss-up between this and Final Destination 3).

We’re trapped (along with a gaggle of annoying sorority b*tches) as psychotic killer Billy Lenz (Robert Mann) escapes from the loonybin and comes home for Christmas; as it turns out, the Delta Alpha Kappa sorority house happens to be Billy’s old home.
General mayhem and much eye-gouging and -yanking ensue as the film unfolds in its bizarrely perfunctory manner, with sections of Billy’s life told to us by different characters. (These flashbacks seem to have been directed by Tim Burton on a really bad day, while in the worst possible mood.)

The visual hi-jinx (an overabundance of skewed, extreme angles which, instead of building mood and tension, just get really annoying, really fast) does nothing to hide the flimsy plot and script, populated by spoiled little princesses who aren’t really characters, but Dead Meat Walking.
Not to sound misogynistic, but seriously, these are sorority sisters you can’t wait to see get iced by the mad killer. And speaking of ice, check out the death by icicle scene. Yeesh.

With a cast of ciphers that includes Party of Five’s Lacey Chabert and Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s Michelle Trachtenberg, there is absolutely no one to sympathize or identify with. The only performer to actually register is long-time Morgan collaborator Kristen Cloke (who played Lara Means, a recurring character on Millennium’s second season, and appeared in Final Destination), as the estranged sister of one of the sorority girls, come to the house to look for her sibling.

Just squeezing past the 1 hour 20 minute mark by a hair, Black Christmas feels interminably long, and is the kind of sad excuse for a horror movie which makes you just want to climb into the screen and help the killer shut these damn girls up.
These are the kinds of movies right wing conservatives should worry about, the ones that are so badly made, they actually promote violent tendencies.
I’m not sure which is more horrendous, this, or the worst examples of pointless masochism that exist within the currently burgeoning sub-genre of torture porn. Believe me, watching Chabert, Trachtenberg, and company natter away about how Christmas and their families suck is sheer, effing torture.

Okay, it’s official. Earlier on I said worst film Glen Morgan ever worked on was a toss-up between Black Christmas and Final Destination 3.
Well, Final Destination 3 wasn’t really bad so much as it was pointless and redundant. Black Christmas however, is bad. It’s the kind of film that eventually killed the slasher movie, the kind of film that wasn’t about suspense or thrills, but about cheering on the killer as he dispatches the next pretty little airhead.
And perhaps its worst offense (in a long string of them) is that it doesn’t even have one sorority sister who emerges from the ordeal as the kick-a$$ Sidney Prescott. Instead, just when you hope one of them will rise to the occasion, they devolve into screaming, hysterical ninnies.
I think it’s safe to say even girls would be annoyed with this pack of hyenas.

So the next time you feel that the worst part about Christmas are the crowded malls, or the traffic, or hearing the same holiday songs over and over, or that dreaded family reunion, think again.
The worst part about Christmas is that it can spawn cinematic dreck like this.

EL LABERINTO DEL FAUNO (PAN’S LABYRINTH) (Review)

Ever since I saw Guillermo Del Toro’s strange little vampire film Cronos, I knew this was a filmmaker I needed to keep my eyes on. And over the years, he has not disappointed.

After Cronos, the director had his first brush with Hollywood with Mimic. A flawed creature feature marred by studio interference, Mimic was still nonetheless recognizable as the work of an evolving storyteller.
Del Toro then went on to El Espinazo Del Diablo (The Devil’s Backbone), a ghost story set in an orphanage in 1939 Spain.
This quietly chilling tale was quickly followed by his second Hollywood feature, Blade II. Popcorn movie, yes. But this was popcorn laced with buckets of butter, blood, and adrenaline, and was far superior than its predecessor, Stephen Norrington’s Blade.
Working with comic book artist Mike Mignola on Blade II then led to Hellboy, the film adaptation of Mignola’s comic book of the same name.
Then, last year brought us what many (including myself) consider his best work to date: the darkly magickal El Laberinto Del Fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth).

Set in 1944 Spain, El Laberinto Del Fauno tells the tale of Ofelia (Ivana Baquero, who won a Goya1 for Breakthrough Performance), whose widowed mother Carmen (Aridna Gil) has recently married one Captain Vidal (Sergi Lopez, known for doing light romantic comedies). Vidal has his heavily pregnant wife and stepdaughter transported to the outpost he is commandant of, an outpost beset by the activities of a band of rebels, covertly being helped by a couple of the camp’s insiders: Mercedes (Maribel Verdu) and Dr. Ferreiro (Alex Angulo, who worked with Pedro Almodovar on Carne Tremula—Live Flesh).
And as socio-political turmoil rages around her, book-loving Ofelia discovers that there is another facet to the world she lives in, a facet of magick and fairies and ancient fauns, who reveal what could very well be her secret destiny.

Mining the Alice in Wonderland template and placing it in the context of a country torn by civil war, Del Toro takes us deep into the maze of a child’s life, a child whose world is undergoing upheaval, just as the larger world around her is experiencing the wracking pains of a global war. And in doing so, he does what every director should do: tell us a moving, involving story that is, ultimately, about something more than just the narrative, and, in the process of storytelling, shows us something we’ve never seen before.

For those who may be inclined to dismiss El Laberinto Del Fauno as a frivolous work of fantasy, understand that the “real world” elements of the film—particularly the rebels fighting for a cause they are putting their lives on the lines for—are treated with the utmost seriousness. One only need see Lopez’s coldly cruel Captain Vidal dealing with a suspected insurgent using only a wine bottle to be convinced that this is not a whimsical children’s movie.

And as for Del Toro showing the audience cinematic sights heretofore unseen, three words.
The Pale Man.
For my money, the Pale Man is one of the creepiest movie characters to have graced the silver screen in 2006. (He, along with the assorted residents of Silent Hill, made last year a year when the darkened theater once more became a place of unease and dread.)

Though Del Toro’s work has always displayed elements of the fantastic, in his non-Hollywood work (Cronos, El Espinazo Del Diablo, and El Laberinto Del Fauno), it is apparent that however scary his ghosts and vampires and fauns are, what is far more terrifying are the forces of the mundane, the men whose world these creatures move through.

Coping with the horrors her world presents her with, Ofelia moves through the ritualized paces of the traditional Quest (three tasks to perform before she can come into her destiny), speeding her inexorably towards the film’s moving climax.
Just as we are witness to Ofelia’s journey through her own metaphorical labyrinth, so we see the other characters of the tale, navigating their own personal mazes as best they can, shedding blood and tears in equal measure, as they struggle towards some greater understanding of their lives.

And when we finally emerge at the film’s denouement, we are exposed to the savage, uncompromising beauty of the narrative’s end. This is a beauty which both ravages and scours, and yet, feels right somehow, as if there was no other way this story could have ended.
Standing there, with that cold knowledge now a part of us, we look back, yearning for a fleeting glimpse of a fairie’s wing, or the earthy smell of an ancient faun, wondering if there is any way we can return to our innocence and ignorance, but knowing we cannot.
For a lesson, once learned cannot (and should not) ever be forgot.

With El Laberinto Del Fauno, Del Toro has secured his place as a master storyteller on the stage of global cinema, racking up nominations and wins at the Goyas and the BAFTAs.2 It also garnered six Saturn nominations.3 And in a few days’ time, we’ll see if Oscar loves it too.4
Here’s hoping.

1 The Goyas are Spain’s equivalent of the Oscars. El Laberinto Del Fauno won 7 out of its 13 nominations. Aside from Breakthrough Performance, it won for Original Screenplay, Cinematography, Visual Effects, Film Editing, Sound, and Makeup and Hair Design.

2 Its BAFTA wins were Film Not in the English Language, Costume Design, and Make Up and Hair (3 out of 8 nominations).

3 Its Saturn nominations are for Best International Film (where it’s up against Gwoemul), Best Supporting Actor (Sergi Lopez, up against Superman Returns’ James Marsden), Best Performance by a Younger Actor (Ivana Baquero, up against Gwoemul’s Ah-sung Ko and Superman Returns’ Tristan Lake Leabu), Best Direction (where Del Toro is up against good friend Alfonso Cuaron, as well as Bryan Singer), Best Writing (where Del Toro bangs heads with Michael Dougherty and Dan Harris, for Superman Returns), and Best Make-up (going up against Slither and The Descent).
As you can see, I’m very conflicted when it comes to the Saturns…

4 Its 6 Oscar nominations are for Best Foreign Language Film, Best Original Screenplay, Achievement in Art Direction, Achievement in Cinematography, Achievement in Makeup, and Original Score.

Parting shot: It’s also up for two Independent Spirit Awards, including Best Picture.

SMALLVILLE Season 6 Episode 15
“Freak”

It’s that time of Smallville again, the time when for one reason or another, I make it a point to watch a particular episode.
This time out, it’s because this is the directorial debut of Lex himself, Michael Rosenbaum.

Just 5 episodes after Welling’s “Hydro” (as if this is Lex’s delayed punch in the Never-Ending Battle, in answer to Supes’ two opening salvoes), Rosenbaum helms this episode which follows Lex’s on-going concern, 33.1.
Using Tobias Rice (Greyston Holt), a Smallville high kid who was blinded in the last meteor shower, and left with the ability to “see” meteor freaks, Lex is abducting and keeping DNA samples of meteor-infected individuals, then releasing them with their memories of the abduction erased.

Though the direction of this episode isn’t terrible, it isn’t really anything noteworthy either. Like Welling’s “Hydro,” this one isn’t anything out of the ordinary.
The one saving grace of the episode is a major revelation concerning one of the regular cast, but this is a function of the script more than anything else.
It is however, a revelation that has a lot of potential and could be the source of interesting stories to come, if handled properly.
So, here’s hoping they don’t bungle it.

Erratum: in reviewing “Hydro,” I mentioned that it was Tom Welling’s directorial debut. As it turns out, it wasn’t. That distinction would go to season 5’s “Fragile.” (Somehow, that episode flew under my radar.)

Parting shot: Aside from Smallville, Rosenbaum’s other high profile project for 2007 is the upcoming animated feature film, Dragonlance: Dragons of Autumn Twilight, based on the Weis and Hickman novel. Rosenbaum voices Tanis, while other cast members include Kiefer Sutherland (as Raistlin!), Lucy Lawless (as Goldmoon), Rino Romano (who voices Batman on the animated The Batman series, as Caramon), and Michelle Trachtenberg (ick, as Tika).
For any non-RPG geeks out there, Autumn Twilight is the first in a long line of fantasy novels, and is part of the Chronicles trilogy, with Dragons of Winter Night and Dragons of Spring Dawning rounding out the tale.
Dragonlance: Dragons of Autumn Twilight is scheduled for a September release.

HEROES Season 1 Episode 16 (WARNING: SPOILERS)
“Unexpected”

Okay. I’m officially annoyed with Isaac now.
As appropriate as this episode’s title is, it could very well have been called “The Three Noodges.”
Noodge 1: Mohinder, who is currently doing a Julia Roberts and sleeping with the enemy, unwittingly leading Sylar right to his victims. C’mon, Mo! You’re a smart guy! You gotta see through the mask, dude!
Noodge 2: HRG, who does the big boo-hoo, I never meant to hurt your mother, Claire, I just wanted to protect you. Yeah, bang-up job, Mr. Bennet.
Noodge 3: Isaac. Not only does he lead HRG to Claude, but he pulls an Ana Lucia and plugs Simone. (Dumb a$$. When Heroes started, I really didn’t care much for either Isaac or Simone, but the characters grew on me. And when Simone finally bought into the whole “people with powers” thing, I was genuinely jazzed. And now she’s bleeding all over Isaac’s floor and he’s holding the gun. I repeat: dumb a$$.)
Meanwhile, I’m so happy for Claire, finally getting to unload on dear old Dad in the hospital. Of course, Ted and Matt and the instant e-mail lady have to bust up that party. (You know, I kind’a thought it would take them awhile to actually get down to bidness, but there ya’ go. Now all the Bennets are in deep doo-doo.)
Actually, you know what? Make that “The Four Noodges.”
Noodge 4: me. It only sunk in when Peter first displays telekinesis on the rooftop: he is the most powerful character at the moment. What’s he got? Flight, invisibility, invulnerability, precognition, one-way telepathy (is there a better term for it?), TK, and presumably, control over the space/time continuum—since he already met Future Hiro—and also, whatever other powers Sylar’s managed to suck up. Man, he can kick major a$$!
I should’ve seen it earlier, but there you go. Been too busy getting distracted by the other subplots.
This episode was written by Jeph Loeb (read Superman For All Seasons. Now.) and directed by Greg Beeman (who, in another timeline, is busy directing episode after episode of the hit TV show about Aquaman, Mercy Reef, but in this timeline, is doing a brilliant job on Heroes).
Great episode that amps things up nicely.

Parting shot: If Ando really is heading back to Japan, I’m gonna miss him. And is it just me or have we had enough Stan Lee cameos already?

Parting shot 2: Heroes got 5 nominations at the 2007 Saturns: Best Network Television Series; Best Supporting Actor in a Television Program or Series (Greg Grunberg and Masi Oka); and Best Supporting Actress in a Television Program or Series (Hayden Panettiere and Ali Larter).
Winners will be announced on May 10, 2007.

LOST Season 3 Episode 8 (WARNING: SPOILERS)
“Flashes Before Your Eyes”

So this episode was a sudden change in pace, as the flashback section is presented as one unbroken sequence, ostensibly showing us what Desmond experienced after he turned the failsafe key in Season 2’s finale.
Bam, back in the apparent past, only to learn the lesson that he cannot change what seems to be his destiny.
Of course, we find out that he’s still trying to change someone’s fate (which was the great punchline that made this episode), though also burdened with the awful inevitability that he ultimately won’t be able to stop it. (Tell us it ain’t true, Des!)
But then, given this episode’s atypical structure, the other subplots are stopped dead in the water, and all apparently so we can learn the possible fate of one of the survivors we’ve come to know and love. (Or inevitable fate, if we’re to take the wedding ring woman’s words as gospel truth.)
Not sure if that’s worth the trade-off, but there’s still a lotta season to go, so I’m just gonna sit tight.

Parting shot: On the plus side, The Others’ (hah! Get it?) Mrs. Mills, Fionnula Flanagan does a great turn as the wedding ring woman (a.k.a.—ahem—Ms. Hawking).

Parting shot 2: Lost racked up 7 nominations at the Saturns this year: Best Network Television Series; Best Actor in a Television Program or Series (Matthew Fox); Best Actress in a Television Program or Series (Evangeline Lilly); Best Supporting Actor in a Television Program or Series (Josh Holloway and Michael Emerson); Best Supporting Actress in a Television Program or Series (Elizabeth Mitchell); and Best Television Series Release on DVD (The Complete Second Season).
Winners will be announced on May 10, 2007.

SHEITAN (Review)

As if to forewarn the audience of the wild ride that is about to begin, a DJ at the Styxx Club asks if I am ready. Ignorant of all that is to come, I say, “Hell, yeah!”
Poor, stupid fool.

With Christmas Eve right around the corner, a group of clubbers finds trouble at the Styxx, where Bart (Olivier Bartelemy) gets a bottle broken on his head. Leaving the club behind, they travel to the country home of Eve (Roxane Mesquida), where they meet backwoods yokel and housekeeper Joseph (Vincent Cassel, one of France’s busiest actors, whose face I became familiar with from films like Christophe Gans’ Le Pacte des Loups—Brotherhood of the Wolf—and Les Rivieres Pourpres—The Crimson Rivers). It isn’t long before they meet some curiously inbred-looking villagers, and experience a number of unsettling situations.
What gradually becomes clear is that all is not right out here in the French countryside.

Now, if it’s one thing the French can do, it’s to serve up some pretty disturbing, effed-up horror movies. From Alexandre Aja’s Haute Tension to Fabrice Du Welz’s Calvaire, I have come to be very wary of France; if these films are anything to go by, France is one country I am never stepping foot in.*
Sheitan follows in that fine, anti-tourism vein.

Though it is a variation of the young pretty things-in-peril fright flick, Sheitan succeeds in making the idea of being stalked by some mad cannibalistic killer with a chainsaw seem like a Disney movie. Recent Hollywood offerings like The Hitcher or House of Wax or the Texas Chainsaw movies? Wussy.
And Sheitan isn’t in the Hostel or Saw mode, either; what some industry observers have come to term as “torture porn.” Sheitan takes the horror beyond the visceral, getting underneath your skin without the fixation on the blood and gore.

Kim Chapiron (who also directed both Cassel and Bartelemy in his short film La Barbichette) sets up a situation that is truly disturbing, painting a world seething with insanity and chaos, a world where God is deaf and blind. And although this is the general aetheistic attitude the average horror film cops anyway, there is actually a crucial dining table discussion in Sheitan which serves as a cornerstone of the film’s portrayal of an indifferent deity.

And can we really blame Him? After all, we watch a group of youngsters (some of them espousing a deep faith in their chosen god) cheat and steal and have wanton sex. General horniness, in fact, seems to be the major motivational factor which drives them, which muddles their judgment, making them easier prey.
Two telling points towards the film’s end bolster the God-in-absentia idea: the direct plea which goes unanswered, and the end result of the perhaps one true selfless act in the entire movie. (And keep in mind, this is happening just as Christmas comes around, a temporal setting incidentally shared by Calvaire.)

If there is any suprahuman force active in Sheitan, it’s the one the film is named for. Note though that there is no actual physical presence of the demonic or the supernatural which appears onscreen, no rotating heads or pea soup vomit. (Unless you consider Cassel wearing a set of fake bad teeth—and other head gear—demonic.) There are, however, motifs: from the Styxx Club, to a dog called “Cerberus,” to a tale told by Joseph, to a ghastly birth on Christmas. (Also, please note Joseph’s wife’s name…)

Sheitan is a cinematic experience that is by turns absurd and unsettling, and is the sort of movie that stays with you in a way that the majority of Hollywood’s horror doesn’t. There are some images that will sear themselves indelibly on your mind’s eye, so be warned. (The family portrait at film’s end is one of the most disturbing images in the entire movie.)

So if your idea of horror is the watered-down Hollywood PG-13 variety, or the measured quiet creep of long-haired female contortionist ghosts, you’d best be advised to stay as far away from Sheitan as you can. If you are, however, open to the experience of being unsettled by your horror, then Christmas dinner with Sheitan could be just the ticket.

* And Belgium too, as Calvaire is a Belgian horror movie. (Not France, yes, but it is right next to France, so… Let’s change that to “I am never stepping foot in France and its surrounding areas.”)

THE MESSENGERS (Review)

I’ve never been the biggest fan of Gin Gwai (The Eye). Though it does have its share of stand-out creepy moments, as a whole I felt it didn’t quite reach the high mark of the best horror films out there, Asian or otherwise.
I did however think the Pang brothers were directors to watch out for. But when I saw Sei Mong Se Jun (Ab-Normal Beauty, directed by Oxide), I thought it was clumsy and terribly derivative of Alejandro Amenabar’s Tesis. So, strike two. Not very promising.
And yet, when I first heard of their English-language debut, The Messengers, under Sam Raimi’s Ghost House Pictures, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of anticipation. (I have really cut these guys some slack, haven’t I?)

Roy (The Practice’s Dylan McDermott) and Denise Solomon (The Relic’s Penelope Ann Miller) move out to North Dakota, leaving Chicago behind for a fresh start on what will hopefully be a successful sunflower farm. In tow are their troubled teen-aged daughter Jess (Panic Room’s Kristen Stewart) and Ben (played by Evan and Theodore Turner), who hasn’t spoken for six months due to an accident involving Jess.
Naturally, as is wont to happen in this sort of film, strange happenings soon begin to occur, and it quickly becomes clear (to the audience, if not his parents) that Ben can see things the adults can’t. Unable (or unwilling) to speak though, all Ben can do is point, giggle, and crane his neck and look up at the ceiling.
One offer to buy the farm (made by none other than The X-Files’ Cigarette Smoking Man, William B. Davis) and one farmhand (Northern Exposure’s John Corbett) later, the farm’s troubled spirits make themselves known to Jess as well (in a violent overture which occurs while the adults are absent).
But her parents don’t believe her, so it’s up to Jess to get to the bottom of their new home’s mystery.

Certainly not a new premise; we’ve all seen the family moving in to the new, but ultimately haunted house before. But the Pangs line up the scares well, and are working with a script that does its best to give us a real family, with real problems. When the fit hits the shan in horror movies of this sort, I’m immediately hollering, “Well, get the ef outta there! Screw the house!”
But the Solomons really just can’t up and leave. For one thing, they don’t believe Jess (who they may still subconsciously blame for Ben’s condition). Then there’s the fact that they’re basically broke (since Roy was out of work for a pretty long time, and then there were all Ben’s hospital bills).
The Messengers actually has characters, as opposed to the ciphers that normally populate horror films. They may not be awfully complex, but they’re certainly not one-dimensional. It’s apparent that the parents are trying to get through to their daughter, just as she eventually comes around to doing, only to have those pesky ghosts ruin everything.

Where The Messengers fails though, is in its third act.
When the other shoe drops, and the secret reveals itself, it’s a “secret” that any savvy horror film fan would have clocked the second it came onscreen. To make matters worse, the script contrives to have one family member absent when said shoe drops, sadly compromising that character’s contributions to the proceedings.
And if this was the shoe to begin with, you’d think the ghosts would have been just a little more active than they actually were.
You also know that Ben’s gonna start spouting off before this movie ends. Personally, I just expected it to be during some pivotal scene where his speaking would actually have had dramatic weight. But no.

There are any number of reasons why this film didn’t work, among them, the possibility that there were individuals other than the Pangs who ended up muddying the cinematic waters.
In an interview, McDermott mentions, “… they brought in writer after writer to polish it up and make it better.” Re-shoots were then done (not by the Pangs, but by Eduardo Rodriguez, who directed Curandero, from a Robert Rodriguez script). Raimi was then active in postproduction, apparently in the editing room.
At this point, I’ve probably already crossed over into the Never-Never Land of Speculation, so I’ll just leave it at that.
What remains though is a film that, like Gin Gwai, just doesn’t work in the end. Granted, it has its moments, and it’s a lot better than a lot of the horror coming out of Hollywood’s posterior these days, but it’s far from a classic.
Now perhaps if Raimi ponies up the money to finance a script written by the Pangs themselves, then leaves them to their devices, then we might get cooking.

Parting shot: I am saddened to report to all those still unaware, that the English language remake of Gin Gwai currently filming has Jessica Alba in the lead role. At least Parker Posey’s in there, so I’m happy.

HANNIBAL RISING (Review)

This has to be said: After the Oscar grand slam win* of The Silence of the Lambs, there really wasn’t anywhere to go but down.
Thus, Hannibal and Red Dragon** came nowhere near their predecessor. And neither does the prequel, Hannibal Rising.
So the question is: Is Hannibal Rising at least a worthwhile film?
This latest film adaptation of Thomas Harris’ work has, at the very least, more merit than either Hannibal or Red Dragon. That doesn’t stop it from being underwhelming though.

Hannibal’s back story begins in 1944, Lithuania, where his parents and later, younger sister, are killed, casualties of the raging war. This is the film’s brief initial section, a pivotal moment in the serial-killer-to-be’s life.
Cut to 8 years later, and Hannibal (Gaspard Ulliel, from Christophe Gans’ Le Pacte des Loups—Brotherhood of the Wolf—and Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Un long dimanche de fiancailles—A Very Long Engagement) is a young man growing up in an orphanage located (ironically enough) in what used to be the Lecter family castle. It seems young Hannibal refuses to speak, the only sounds he makes, when he is gripped by nightmare, as he screams his sister’s name.
Escaping the orphanage, he makes his way to the home of his uncle, only to find his uncle has already passed away, leaving behind his widow, Lady Murasaki Shikibu (the luminous Gong Li). Reminded of her late husband by this young stranger, Lady Murasaki takes Hannibal in, setting the stage for the first, coldly violent killing which will be the initial step on the road which will eventually lead him to Jodie Foster and Oscar glory…

The problem with Hannibal Rising is, ultimately, it’s not a very involving film. We’re watching an amoral character going about killing people and we’re not really going to sympathize with him, are we? There is something about Hannibal’s portrayal here that makes him an entity distant and unknowable by the audience.
And we have no Clarice Starling this time around to identify with; Hannibal Rising’s law enforcer, Inspector Popil (played by Dominic West, a regular on The Wire, who also starred in The Forgotten alongside Julianne Moore, and is in the upcoming 300), though an interesting character, isn’t really given enough of a presence in the narrative.
Meanwhile, the mutual attraction between Hannibal and Lady Murasaki (love has always been a twisted theme where Hannibal is concerned) isn’t mined for all its dramatic worth either, causing a distinct lack of internal conflict within the young man. He knows he’s out for blood, and he doesn’t waver from that cold knowledge.
The audience knows this too, so we know what choice he’s going to make in the end (this is, after all, a prequel). The key would have been to make it a torturous journey, with a wrenching choice at journey’s end. But everything seems coldly preordained. There is no human interest here. As Popil points out, the boy who was Hannibal Lecter died during the war. All that is left for us to view is something they didn’t have a name for yet back then…

Hannibal Rising does, however, take pains to establish motifs and character traits cinema audiences have come to associate with the good doctor. Thus, the drawings, and (in a chilly bit of foreshadowing) a section of a samurai mask.
This fixation on continuity does have its drawbacks though, as the scene where Hannibal turns the tables on his interrogator and questions Popil feels stilted and contrived.

Though this is the first time writer Thomas Harris has actually adapted his own novel for the big screen, there’s not enough going on in the narrative to make the experience interesting. Director Peter Webber (Girl with a Pearl Earring) doesn’t really bring anything particularly noteworthy to the table either. (Though it must be said that he’s a far better choice than getting Brett Ratner again; it still boggles the mind how he bagged the Red Dragon gig.)

Since it isn’t atrocious though, I imagine Hannibal Rising would be of interest to any Lecter completists out there.
Let’s just hope that this is it for our favorite cinema cannibal. He’s definitely overstayed his welcome.
Sorry, Doc. All out of fava beans and Chianti.

* This is when the same film wins all five major Academy Award categories: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Actor, and Best Actress.

** Actually the second time Harris’ novel was adapted. The first time Red Dragon came to the screen, it was under the title of Manhunter. Directed by Mr. Miami Vice himself, Michael Mann, Manhunter starred Brian Cox (seen recently in Ryan Murphy’s Running with Scissors, also reviewed here) as Hannibal.

HEROES Season 1 Episode 15 (WARNING: SPOILERS)
“Run!”

Man, all these adults messing up Claire…
Nathan willing to take the low road and just shell out the cash; the effects of Mr. Bennet’s repeated use of the Haitian on poor Mrs. B finally manifesting (poor Mr. Muggles!); and Meredith shows her true scamming, money-grubbing colours.
Claire, honey, you should’a thrown more than just a rock…
Meanwhile, the confluence continues, as, in true hero vs. hero-due-to-a-misunderstanding fashion, we have Matt vs. Jessica! Then, in true team-up fashion, we have, gasp! Mohinder and Sylar. Like the episode title says. Run, Mohinder, run!
Once again, an episode benefits from the exclusion of certain subplots: in this case, no sign of Peter, Isaac, or D.L. The juggling must be difficult though, as the momentum of each separate plot thread needs to be kept at a certain pace. But at least, it looks like the Heroes writing team is getting a better handle of the right rhythm, as the storytelling gets smoother as the weeks go by.

Parting shot: On second thought, Claire, it’s okay. Jessica’s coming Nathan’s way with something a whole lot deadlier than a rock…

Parting shot 2: We may have gotten the numbers last week, but we had to wait till now for the Sulu reference.

Parting shot 3: Like I said last week, Ando, better luck next time, dude.

LOST Season 3 Episode 7 (WARNING: SPOILERS)
“Not In Portland”

The long wait is over and we’re back on the island (or, at least, the other island of the Others), and Ben’s still on the table and Kate and Sawyer are running for their lives.
We also see Juliet’s pre-island life in Miami, where her efforts at getting her ill sister pregnant apparently bring her to the attention of the Dharma Initiative (or what’s left of it, at any rate).
Still, we’re not shown her first arrival on the island, so we still have no firm idea of the exact state of the program some three years ago (when she claims to have arrived).
Ben, meanwhile, tough little bugger that he is, awakens while his back is gaping open and he’s bleeding to death. His words to Juliet are unheard by us, though she claims that Ben made her a deal: help Kate and Sawyer get back to their island, so Jack can finish getting the tumour out of him, and he lets her go, back to her life in the real world.
Still, I don’t really trust Juliet. She can seem really sweet (and she looks a lot like a blonde Carrie Anne-Moss; yowzah!), but I don’t trust her. At this point, anything she says and does is suspect in my eyes. Plus, Tom did say she and Ben have a “history.” (And she was making a deal with Jack to let Ben die on the operating table, fer efs sake!)
And, speaking of history, it seems that Alex is Ben’s daughter. So now we just have to determine whether that’s biological, or if he ended up adopting her after she was taken from Danielle. (I’m trying to think back to season 1, to Rousseau’s recollections, and I don’t remember her mentioning any other name except Alex’s. I was also under the distinct impression that all her other team members died. When I have time I’ll go back and check those episodes out…)
So Jack’s asking Kate to tell him the same story he told her way back in the pilot episode pays off in a big way as not only does it coincide with a little accident on the operating table, but it’s also a neat little goodbye from the Doc to Kate, with the added “Don’t come back here to get me.”
So for the time being, Jack’s with the Others. So what do the rest of the survivors do without a doctor?

Parting shot: So Ethan’s been with the Initiative for some time now…

Parting shot 2: Nice. Brainwashing through techno. See? Your parents were right when they said raves were bad for you…

RUNNING WITH SCISSORS (Review)

Being a Nip/Tuck viewer, I was naturally curious to see Ryan Murphy’s adaptation of Augusten Burroughs’ memoirs, Running with Scissors. How was I to know I’d be seeing one of the most singularly moving films of 2006?

Running with Scissors follows the bizarrely improbable but true story of young Augusten (Joseph Cross), who is basically abandoned by his alcoholic father (Alec Baldwin) and unstable, struggling poet of a mother (Annette Bening), and left in the “care” of his mother’s psychiatrist, Dr. Finch (Brian Cox).
In Finch’s cluttered, pink monstrosity of a house, Augusten meets Finch’s wife, Agnes (Jill Clayburgh), his daughters Hope (Gwyneth Paltrow) and Natalie (Evan Rachel Wood), and Hope’s cat, Freud. His friendship with Natalie then leads him to meet Neil (Joseph Fiennes), Finch’s adopted son, who is both schizophrenic and gay, as is Augusten (gay, that is, not schizophrenic).
It is among these psychologically damaged individuals that Augusten struggles to find himself and his dream (which he at first believes to be the building of a hair empire, ala Vidal Sasoon, but ultimately is something else entirely).

As he had already proven in Nip/Tuck, Murphy is adept at sifting through the psychologies of the walking wounded, at showing the audience the scars of traumas past, and the odysseys we all need to go on in order to heal and find closure.
He brings that insight to bear on Running with Scissors, showing us the quirks and the insanities, as well as the humanity that lurks beneath the psychoses. Loony as some of them are, these are people struggling for some sort of normality, trying desperately to see past the delusions we all nurse to make things seem bearable.
The delusions springing from misplaced love and devotion are perhaps the most insidious mirages of all, and there are many of those in Running with Scissors, from Augusten’s need for a kind and nurturing parent, to Agnes’ need for a family to care for. Insidious because, as Natalie points out, sometimes, we can’t help but love someone who doesn’t deserve that love, because frankly, they’re the only ones in our lives.

Families (whether nuclear or extended) are always a tricky thing, a potential mine field of unspoken emotion, both good and bad. This is exacerbated by the fact that biology and genetics take the choice away from our hands; unlike our friends, we can’t choose our family. These are people foisted upon us by DNA, people we need to get along with, whether we like them or not.
And in a set up like that, love can blind just as easily as it can heal.

In Augusten’s world, the only other people are just as damaged as he, perhaps even more so. It is through this impossible situation of the blind leading the blind that Augusten must navigate as he comes of age. These are people who can’t really even care for themselves, much less for others.
And it is in this world that Murphy finds moments of poignant, painful clarity; when true love is communicated in the presence of a bag of dog food and an episode of Dark Shadows; when emotions are laid bare in the cramped confines of a car as rain falls in sheets outside; when a son’s tears roll down his cheeks at his birthday party.

And not only does Murphy find these moments, but he assembles a cast that brings those moments to wrenching life. These are fine performances, particularly from two of the youngest members of the cast, Cross and Wood, and the veterans, Bening (why does she keep on losing to Hilary Swank?), Cox, and Clayburgh (who has appeared on Nip/Tuck, as has Baldwin).
It’s probably only Paltrow who doesn’t quite come across as the Bible-dipping, favorite daughter; her performance doesn’t seem as honest as those of the other ensemble members. (Which is kind of sad, given my excitement at the reunion with her Shakespeare in Love partner, Fiennes.)

Still, this is a film that should resonate for anyone who’s ever thought, “Why can’t my family be normal?” And let’s face it: that’s you and me and every other one of the 6 billion souls on our planet.
This is a film that is both funny and moving, as life has the tendency of being. And despite it being based on a true story, it is at times, so bizarre that by film’s end, I’d somehow managed to forget I was watching real people and their fractured lives. It was something of a surprise to run through the “what happened to them afterwards” sequence which is a staple for based-on-a-true-story films.

Running with Scissors is a triumph for Murphy, who proves he is comfortable on the big screen, unlike some other TV writer/directors, who can’t seem to grasp the differences between the two media. It’s entirely possible in fact, that Murphy might be more at home in a finite setting like a feature film, as opposed to the continuous nature of a weekly TV serial. (Some of the best moments in the four seasons of Nip/Tuck can be found in particular episodes that are usually removed from the long-running plot threads, or in the season enders, as was the case with the Season 2 finale, which capped the stunning Ava Moore storyline, and which was the episode that featured Alec Baldwin.)

So, if you haven’t already seen it, this comes with my recommendations. However, if your tastes run more towards the Hollywood family dramedy (I loathe that marketing term) where everything is solved by an impromptu song-and-dance routine while lip synching to some oldie but goodie, steer clear of Running with Scissors. Like every sensible parent knows, it can be very dangerous.

Parting shot: As if to prove he likes working with familiar faces, Bening, Clayburgh, and Paltrow are all reportedly set to star in Murphy’s next feature, the post-Watergate set Dirty Tricks, with Jim Broadbent as Richard Nixon!

ABOMINABLE (Review)

Since I was anticipating a number of SCIFI Channel shows and mini-series currently in the works, I decided to check out one of their past offerings, Ryan Schifrin’s Abominable, to give me a better idea of how they handled their productions, and this is what it had to offer.

After a brief prologue where a couple has their dog slaughtered by a shadowy creature which emerges from the woods, we join Preston Rogers (Matt McCoy), a wheelchair-bound man recovering from the death of his wife six months ago in a climbing accident (a mishap which also left him paralyzed from the waist down). As part of his therapy, Preston is brought back to the mountain home he shared with his wife, the scene of the tragedy (the aptly named “Suicide Rock”) in plain view.
Reluctant and uncertain, Preston communicates his hesitancy to Otis (Christien Tinsley), the terribly irresponsible orderly in whose care he is left for the weekend. Otis, of course, does not listen.

Shortly after Preston’s arrival, a group of five female friends natter their way into the house across the way, and things kick into gear. With the Rear Window gambit firmly in place (terrible things happen as a crippled man watches, helpless to stop them), Preston is the horrified witness no one wants to believe. (Otis thinks Preston is being hysterical, the girls think he’s a perv with binoculars, and the cops think he’s some prankster.) Of course, the fact that he claims there’s a monster outside doesn’t really help his case any.

As a director, Schifrin is capable, delivering some sequences of suspense that actually work. He also gives us one of those unlikely heroes in Preston, a grieving widower stuck to a wheelchair. He’s not Bruce Willis or Tom Cruise, but he’s resourceful enough in a pinch. (Though why he doesn’t send more than just two text messages to the poor girls is anybody’s guess.)

Sadly, some of the bits of Abominable that don’t work are those moments when we actually see the monster in all its hairy glory. It seems as if ‘Squatch either had a stroke, or one too many Botox injections, as his facial muscles are not terribly mobile. And you know you’re in a spot of trouble when you’re making a monster movie and you can’t really show too much of your monster lest the audience see how fakey it really is. (A director like Spielberg can get away with it—and he did, in Jaws—but Schifrin is certainly no Spielberg.)

Much of the novelty of Abominable comes from the appearances of genre icons like Re-Animator’s Jeffrey Combs (initially unrecognizable as the gas station convenience store clerk), Lance Henriksen (Aliens and TV’s Millennium), and Dee Wallace Stone (The Howling and E.T. Oh, and Cujo, too), though their screen times are minimal at best.

Still, warts and all, Abominable is (contrary to its title) actually watchable, though certainly not a masterpiece; I just hope that the SCIFI Channel has gotten better with their productions.

Parting shot: Ryan Schifrin is the son of noted film composer, Lalo Schifrin (perhaps best known for penning the Mission: Impossible theme), and Ryan was smart enough to get daddy to score Abominable. Nepot.

Parting shot 2: Christien Tinsley, who plays Otis, is a noted make-up and prosthetics artist who’s worked with Hollywood biggies like Russell Crowe, Matt Damon, and Vin Diesel (four times! Vinnie must love the guy). He’s also the man responsible for the prosthetic tattoo transfers for The Passion of the Christ. On a sadder note, he’s also the creature effects coordinator on Abominable. (I guess `Squatch was a difficult diva to work with…)

THE HITCHER (Review)

Having never seen the original, I can come at this with a clean slate. And on that clean slate, I write…

Horror movies being the home away from home for today’s teen TV show stars, One Tree Hill’s Sophia Bush (who also appeared in the lame horror-video-game-come-to-life film, Stay Alive) finds herself terrorized by Boromir himself, Sean Bean, in Dave Meyers’ remake of The Hitcher.
Along with her boyfriend, Jim (Zachary Knighton), Bush’s Grace is hounded by a deranged psychopath the couple crosses paths with on a drive through the deserts of New Mexico.

Grace’s penchant for long bathroom breaks (conveniently established within minutes of the film’s opening) becomes the unlikely reason for all the terror these college kids are about to endure.
Sadly though, once the terror begins there isn’t much tension to keep the audience captivated, and, as if to pour salt on that already gaping wound, Bean is totally wasted in this production. Normally, he’s able to bring a palpable presence to the characters he plays, regardless of screen time. In The Hitcher though, despite playing the title role, Bean does not register at all; there isn’t really much for him to do except run around and make Grace and Jim’s lives a living hell.

Not even Nine Inch Nails (whose music plays during Bean’s most improbable stunt in the entire film) can save this dud. It’s the kind of movie where the characters can actually have a shower together while a maniac incessantly stalks them.

It’s also one of those bizarrely feminist horror films where the men are ultimately impotent when the chips are down, and the heroine does a last-second Ripley (or a Sarah Connor, take your pick of sci-fi pin up girl) and kicks stalker a$$ with knife or chainsaw or gun (or whatever weapon is readily available). However, beyond her baby’s bladder, we don’t know much more about Grace as an individual for us to fully appreciate the change she undergoes. For all the audience knows, she was a closet Ramboette to begin with.

After directing Eddie Griffin in Foolish, Dave Meyers made a name for himself in the music video world, and his work should be familiar to most of today’s youth through his clips for Britney Spears (“Lucky”), Missy Elliott (“Get Ur Freak On”), and Creed (“My Sacrifice” and “With Arms Wide Open”), to name a few. Now Meyers becomes the latest in a long line of music video directors making the difficult transition to the big screen.

But directing a 3 and a half minute video is one thing. Helming a feature film on the other hand, is a whole different ball game in an entirely different league, a ball game Meyers doesn’t seem to know how to play very well. (Having never seen Foolish, I can’t really say whether the feature film has always been his Waterloo.)

There is nothing here that actually gets the audience involved and invested in the action onscreen. It’s just an hour and a half of Bush and Knighton running (and driving) around New Mexico while being chased by Bean (and the cops!).
And while The Hitcher manages to evade the gore-soaked territory of films like Wolf Creek and Haute Tension, it doesn’t replace the lack of grue with any excitement either. (Despite a needless plot flip, Alexandre Aja’s Haute Tension is actually an excellent example of a film with both the gore of an in-your-face, grindhouse horror flick, and the taut, razor-edged suspense of an A-grade thriller.)

The Hitcher (like the recent Turistas, which is sort of like Hostel without the gore or the excitement) is yet another bland entry in the annals of modern horror cinema.

One important thing to note in this sad and sorry mess is that The Hitcher is the latest of Platinum Dunes’ remakes which doesn’t hit the mark at all. Dunes—which has director Michael Bay as its backbone—has been responsible for the recent Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake and its prequel, as well as the remake of The Amityville Horror.

Now, it’s forgivable when a remake isn’t quite as good as the original, when said original is a classic, as is the case with Texas Chainsaw Massacre. But even when there’s a lot of room for improvement, as with The Amityville Horror, Bay and company still manage to bungle it somehow. The Hitcher is just another nail in this particular coffin.

It’s sad though that there are still more remakes slated to emerge from Platinum Dunes’ gates, including one of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds (blasphemy, I tell you!).

But, despite all of my issues with it, to be perfectly fair to Bush, Bay, Meyers, and company, I did learn something from The Hitcher: if you’re driving down a lonely desert road, and have the urge to help a stranger in distress, DON’T.

Oh, and one more thing: learn to control your bladder.

THOUGHTS: On Superheroes

It’s curious that news of the gear shifting on both The Flash and Wonder Woman film projects came nearly simultaneously.
The writer/directors who had been steering both projects are now off them (David Goyer and Joss Whedon, respectively), and for pretty much the same reasons, director and studio did not see eye-to-eye on the treatment and approach to the character in question.
Whedon: “We just saw different movies, and at the price range this kind of movie hangs in, that's never gonna work.”
Goyer: “The God's honest truth is that WB and myself simply couldn't agree on what would make for a cool Flash film.”

You gotta wonder, when a studio shoots down projects from established names like Goyer (who wrote the screenplays for Dark City, Batman Begins, and the Blade films) and Whedon (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, and Firefly), just what exactly is the studio’s vision of the character? How different can it be from that of people who are clearly entrenched in genre material? It isn’t like these are rank neophytes, after all.
On the one hand, I can appreciate the caution Warner Brothers and DC are taking with their properties (better taking their time to get it right, rather than Marvel’s trigger-happy film-everything-we-can-now attitude, which has given rise to fiascos like Elektra and Daredevil and Fantastic Four).

Sometimes though, you wonder at a studio’s “vision.” I mean, Batman Forever was bad enough, but whoever greenlit Batman and Robin should be shot.
And this isn’t even about a disgruntled fan: I never got into Buffy or any of Whedon’s other shows, and Goyer is a hit-and-miss affair for me (I love his scripts for Dark City, Batman Begins, and Blade II, but Blade and Blade: Trinity—which he also directed—blew, big time).

This is about getting it right, about being faithful to the source material and treating the character (and by extension, the character’s creators) with respect.
You have to ask yourself, is the studio really concerned with getting it right, or with coming up with a movie that’s designed and calculated to make money?
The thing is, they need to take chances too, and not just stick to what’s been tried and tested and been done to death.

Studios also need to keep the fans in mind, the section of the audience that tends to come back to a film again and again, if it’s done right. (And there’s a lot of revenue that’s made up of repeat viewings.) Which is not to say they should slavishly stick to the source material either, but rather, make a proper translation of said material onto film, retaining and tweaking whatever elements of the character’s mythos works best on the big screen.

In the end though, the proof’s in the proverbial pudding. There is no colour by numbers approach to film adaptations of comic book material (and there shouldn’t be). There is, however, instinct, creativity, and a genuine love and passion for the genre.
So let’s all hope Warner Brothers knows what it’s doing…

MERCURY MAN (Review)

My abiding interest in live action superheroics (which I’ve mentioned round these parts before) brought me to the Thai film Ma noot lhek lai (Mercury Man).
And… well…

Chan (newcomer Wasan Khantaau) is an impulsive firefighter who ends up getting stabbed with a mystical amulet that turns him into the eponymous, superpowered Mercury Man. This stabbing occurs during the jailbreak of one Osama bin Ali (erstwhile rocker Arnon Saisangcharn), an Afghani terrorist with a major hate for the great ol’ U S of A (the reason for which is conveniently—and awkwardly—shown to us via flashback).

Here’s where things go seriously awry. Osama is broken out of jail wearing the fakest beard this side of Props `R’ Us. Then, what does good old Osama do once free to pursue his anti-American sentiments? He luxuriates in the decadence of mousse, eye shadow, and lip gloss! Well, I guess you can get seriously effed up if your wife and child get offed by infidel Westerners, right?

Then, a female warrior (Jinvipa Kheawkunya; who we’d seen earlier in the film at a Tibetan temple) pops up in Chan’s life, explaining that should he lose control over his emotions, he will literally burn up, incinerating himself from the inside out. And how does Chan go about testing this ridiculous claim? By leafing through an issue of Penthouse.

Uh-huh.

And when Chan decides to take the full superhero plunge, his costuming needs are addressed by the fact that… wait for it… he has a transsexual sister who designs costumes! Said sister is played by the real life inspiration for the film Beautiful Boxer, “Nong Toom” (Parinya Kiatbusaba), who Project Runways her bro some superhero duds right before she is kidnapped by the sultrily eyeshadowed Osama.

Well, at the very least, it’s a wee bit more probable than Peter Parker suddenly becoming a great designer and tailor because of a death in the family. (And Merc’s costume is actually sort’a cool, like Grendel with some tat-like designs over the body suit.)

I’ll leave the discovery of the remainder of this gloriously cheesy film’s plot points to those of you curious enough to give it a look-see. And for those of you who do, you’ll possibly like what you see when it comes to the fight choreography, courtesy of Panna Rittikrai, who taught Tony Jaa all he knows and gave us the kick-a$$ moves in Ong-Bak.

Of course, given that this is a superhero movie, and ostensibly one for the family (let’s just overlook the whole Penthouse thing, shall we?), the fight scenes here have nowhere near the brutal realism of those in Ong-Bak, but they are a damn sight better than some of those seen in Hollywood superhero movies like Elektra or Stan Lee’s Lightspeed (recently reviewed here). And though the cinematography and editing don’t always conspire to give us the best view of the action, this is solid stuff for martial arts junkies. (The use of an “ionic field generator” to weaken our hero allows the production some interesting lighting opportunities in the Sin Club fight scene, during which Merc is set alight, and… well, see it for yourself.)

And though this is an equal opportunity film: much of the supporting cast gets in on the butt kicking too—including Chan’s sis, and Osama’s lab geek with the multi-coloured hair (apparently, Osama likes his henchpeople to look fabulous too)—this dilutes the third act as we cut back and forth between duels, when our attention should be riveted on Merc alone. (Not to mention a protracted sequence which features neither Merc nor any of the film’s supporting cast, a sequence which slows down the third act’s momentum even more.)

Aside from the action, what also sets Mercury Man apart from your average Hollywood superhero film, is the choice of a baddie like Osama bin Ali (and not because of his penchant for looking good while being bad). This one’s a terrorist with a clear anti-US agenda who sends his minions out like good little suicide bombers, endangering the local McDonald’s, internet cafes, bars, the headquarters of the “American For Child Fund” (!), and other sundry establishments and places of work. We’re definitely post 9/11.

Another noteworthy aspect is the CGI work, which, given its modest-by-Hollywood-standards budget (reportedly, Mercury Man was made for around a million US dollars), looks pretty keen at times. Not perfect, mind you, but given their monetary limitations, commendable nonetheless.

Some more pluses are the mythological elements, as well as the application of Buddhist belief onto the superhero template.

But all this is potentially overshadowed by the sheer amount of goofiness that goes on during Mercury Man’s running time (including the “Spidy” graffiti and Spider-Man t-shirts), the patently ridiculous plot, and bad acting from the extras and some of the supporting cast.

So, watch Mercury Man if you’ve a mind, and watch it for the action, if nothing else.

And just maybe, if you’re in the right frame of mind, this could slide into that wonderful area of so bad, it’s good.

HEROES Season 1 Episode 14 (WARNING: SPOILERS)
“Distractions”

An excellent episode which happens to focus on parental bonds: Claire’s meeting with her biological mother; Hiro’s audience with his stern and disapproving father (George Takei on scowl mode); and the whiz-bang revelation of who exactly is Claire’s biological father (Nathan is such a bad boy!). Putting Mrs. Bennet in jeopardy (I just love this scatterbrained woman!) and Mr. Bennet in hot pursuit of an escaped Sylar, and the parental thread through the ironically-titled “Distractions” continues.

And, while Isaac tries to find Peter through his paintings, Peter receives his tough love training courtesy of “Claude,” who is, not so surprisingly, a known commodity to Mr. Bennet. (In the process, Peter discovers his DNA retains the powers he’s absorbed, as he takes one step closer to Sylar-dom.)

One of the better-paced episodes (due in part to the excision of the subplot involving Matt; don’t get me wrong, I love Greg Grunberg’s telepathic cop, but there are times when there are just too many headless chickens running around on-screen, so clearing the air once in a while is a good thing), this one is directed by Jeannot Szwarc, who helmed Somewhere in Time way back when and has been directing a lot of TV recently.
And the talent isn’t just behind the camera. Gilsig is great as Claire’s bio-mom, and Eccleston continues to impress as “Claude.” Here’s hoping we see more of them in episodes to come.

Going back to the headless chickens though, I’ll ‘fess up and say I’ve never been too overly fond of the whole Nikki/Jessica subplot. So when the psychiatrist scene came up, and Ali Larter was actually having a moment, I thought, “Hmmm. This could go somewhere.”
But Jessica pops up, and presto, one tasered shrink needs medical attention. Poof go my expectations. Then Mr. Linderman orchestrates Nikki’s release and I’m thinking, “Oh, no. Back to status quo.”
But surprise, Jessica’s in charge now, and apparently able to act sweetly enough to fool even Micah. (But that Micah’s a sharp kid. He should be able to figure it out, eventually.)
And you have to know that something’s in it for Linderman, why else would he have had the charges dropped?
So all this activity on the Nikki front has succeeded in landing her subplot on my probation list. Let’s see where this takes me, and I hope the ride is fun getting there.

And before we leave it for the week, I just gotta say: poor Ando. First, Nikki blows him out of the water, and then it looks like Kimiko isn’t gonna get into his groove any time soon, either.
Maybe next time, dude.

LOST Season 3 Episodes 1-6 Recap

With the impending return of Lost to the airwaves, I thought it prudent to take a look back at the first half dozen episodes of the season, to perhaps better prepare myself for all that is yet to come.

As the third season opens, we get to see “the Others” from up close, as a number of them become pivotal characters to the long and winding thread that is Lost. After the initial introduction to the Others (where we are given the briefest of glimpses of dearly departed Ethan and Goodwin), what becomes steadily apparent is that all is not kosher on this side of the fence.
There is a strange tension between Ben (a.k.a. The Baddie Formerly Known As Henry) and Juliet, with Jack becoming a reluctant pawn in the game being played by the factions within the Others’ camp, a tension which reaches one of its peaks with the ersatz tape of To Kill A Mockingbird which Juliet plays for Jack. We also see Alex’s repeated acts of rebellion and attempted escape.

It’s interesting to note that even as we are shown that not all of the Others are “bad,” we also see in the first 2 episodes of the season (“A Tale of Two Cities” and “The Glass Ballerina”) less desirable character traits of some of Lost’s principals: Jack’s tendency for obsessive behavior, and Sun’s capacity for lying. (And here, I bought her whole “there is no other man.” I am so a sucker when it comes to Sun…)
It is also in “The Glass Ballerina” where it is implied that Jin may know of Sun’s infidelity.

Then there’s Desmond’s new ability. (He may not have turned into the Hulk, as Hurley feared, but he’s become the Amazing Precog!)

And even as we bid adieu to Mr. Eko, we welcome Nikki and Paolo (who I sincerely hope contribute more to the show than Ana Lucia ended up doing).

And how about that cliffhanger, huh? Kate finally makes her choice, and Jack risks all on a gambit which could very well end up with the good doctor going the way of Boone and Shannon and the dodo.

Not too long left before we find out if that’s the case…

Stan Lee’s Lightspeed (REVIEW)

I’ve never been the biggest fan of Stan Lee (and, by osmosis, Marvel). But I do have an abiding fascination with live-action superheroics, so checking out the SCIFI Channel TV movie, Stan Lee’s Lightspeed, was perhaps an inevitability.

Now, before I get down to the dirty work, I should say that I have long contended that one of the main problems of live-action superheroes on the small screen is the weak plotting and writing. (Heroes is a big step in the right direction.) Name any live action superhero series, and chances are, you’ll find that one of its major weaknesses was its writing.
Well, Lightspeed displays that same characteristic. The plot is nothing spectacular (deranged scientist becomes the sinister snake-man Python due to his own stupidity; Python then inadvertently causes his do-gooder nemesis Lightspeed to come into existence; the two enemies eventually clash), the dialogue is worse. The script (by John Gray and Steve Latshaw) even has an awkward flashback early on in the proceedings that just compromises the story structure in a terrible way.

Then there’s the sense of a really bad case of miscasting. Performances aside (and that’s pretty easy given that the acting here is nowhere near Emmy-worthy), Daniel Goddard (TV’s Beastmaster, who plays Python under pounds of rubber and latex) certainly looks a hell of a lot more like a hero than Jason Connery (Sean Connery’s son, who has appeared in Smallville, Night Skies, and—ulp!—Wishmaster 3: Beyond the Gates of Hell, who plays the titular hero). Somehow, there’s this niggling feeling that they should have just switched roles. Then of course, there’s Baywatch’s Nicole Eggert (who plays Beth, Lightspeed’s love interest, and member of the “Ghost Squad,” apparently some special ops group, of which Lightspeed, in his civilian identity of Daniel Leight, is also a member). Nicole Eggert: now that’s a case of miscasting on a whole different level.
And then there’s the fact that Python spends a lot of time during (and just before) the climactic showdown having a terribly embarrassing, rambling, meltdown…. Sort of like Paula Abdul, apparently drunk and gonzo wasted, during a live TV interview. Believe you me, not fun to watch…

There is nothing even remotely interesting or engaging in this 90-minute production. (Save perhaps for the brief appearance of the stoner sports store clerk, responsible for Lightspeed’s duds. Now this guy looked like he was having fun.)
Sure, there’s a plausible and reasonable explanation for Lightspeed’s bodysuit, but did it have to look so painfully ordinary? And even after years of advances in special effects, the running-at-speeds-far-faster-than-the-eye-can-see scenes are still awfully dodgy.

Director Don FauntLeRoy (cinematographer on the Jeepers Creepers films) doesn’t really help any either, apparently not getting the superhero genre at all. Nowhere in the hour-and-a-half of Lightspeed do we get a single money shot of the hero in some superheroesque pose, perhaps lifting up a bad guy by the front of his shirt, or just standing on a rooftop with the lights of the city arrayed before him. Nope. All we get is a lot of running around, a few gymnastic tumbles and flips, a little kick here, a head butt there. A pregnant Sydney Bristow could kick Lightspeed’s a$$ without breaking a sweat or her water.
I mean, if we didn’t get humanity and characterization, the least we could get should be the trimmings of the genre; the biff, bam, pow. Instead, we get yawn, squirm, snooze.
I realize that Stan Lee’s Who Wants To Be A Superhero? has been a ratings windfall for the SCIFI Channel, but did he also have to subject us to the horrors of Lightspeed?

THE DRESDEN FILES

Okay. A little something about me: my standards are high when it comes to the weird sh*t.
So, when a show like The Dresden Files comes along, I kind of hold my breath just before I watch the pilot. You never know, right? A new show like this could be another Millennium, another X-Files.
Sadly though, that isn’t the case here.
Harry Dresden (Paul Blackthorne) is a wizard for hire, a specialized private detective with powers, ala Clive Barker’s Harry D’Amour, who apparently advertises in the yellow pages, and gets consulting fees and favors from the Chicago PD (as represented by Detective Constanza Murphy; Nip/Tuck’s Valerie Cruz). In the pilot episode (“Birds of a Feather”), Harry gets involved with a young boy who is of much interest to some dark and sinister forces; a young boy who reminds Harry of himself at that age.
In and of itself, the set up and premise are serviceable, if not particularly stunning and original. At best, we could hope for something passably watchable, right? Somehow though, the pilot doesn’t even work on that level.
To begin with, Blackthorne doesn’t have quite enough gravitas to command the viewer’s attention. Not even little bits of voice over can help us sympathize with a character that just doesn’t come alive. Dresden isn’t really a person we end up caring for by pilot’s end, and if we can’t even care about the main protagonist, what can we hope to muster for the supporting cast?
And, speaking of gravitas, that’s something that the pilot’s baddie, the Skinwalker (played by Deborah Odell) doesn’t have any of, either. So when the pretty anticlimactic finish comes along (using a weapon which is, in true tried-and-tested fashion, established in a scene early on in the episode), all it really elicits is a sad, slightly exasperated sigh.
The one bit of interest in the entire episode is the idea of the Raven Clan, though even that is marred by the lead Raven (credited as the “Raven Man”) looking slightly like Bela Lugosi with some curious voice distortion going on.
There really wasn’t a lot that was commendable about this first shot in the arm of The Dresden Files, so, to be fair, I had a look at the second episode, “The Boone Identity.” Of course, as if fate wasn’t really on Harry’s side, the second episode had “Egyptian mumbo-jumbo” as its centerpiece, and the funny thing is, I’ve got a yen for “Egyptian mumbo-jumbo,” so my standards for that are pretty high too.
Again, nothing really outstanding for me to take note of, and the body jumping angle isn’t really explored to its fullest, so much so that Cruz is cheated of an opportunity to show us some acting chops (Murphy’s body is hijacked by the baddie, but we don’t really see much of baddie-in-Murphy’s body). Not to mention that the ghost fx in the episode’s climax were pretty sad-a$$.
All in all, unless things get markedly better, I really wouldn’t recommend The Dresden Files; the first few episodes of Supernatural seemed to be more watchable, and even that show couldn’t hold my attention past half a dozen episodes.

Parting shot: It should be noted (for those of you interested in these sorts of things) that Nicolas Cage is one of The Dresden Files’ producers.