As taken from BuzzSugar:
Towards the opening of Alice in Wonderland, a young Alice lays in bed as her father leans in to tell her a secret. She’s been having odd dreams about a rabbit in a waistcoat, and questions if she’s losing her mind. He responds by telling her that crazy people are the most fun. I’d venture even further: in this film, crazy is king.
Alice in Wonderland feels like a story that’s tailor-made for Tim Burton’s directorial touch. Where else can you shrink ten sizes smaller with just a sip of a drink? In this new re-telling, a now 19-year old Alice (Mia Wasikowska) is about to be engaged against her wishes. That is, until she spies her old furry friend the White Rabbit (Michael Sheen).
Chasing after him, she once again ventures into the world known as Underland (which she once fondly referred to as “Wonderland” in childhood). Seeing the new landscape, we immediately empathize with Alice’s mix-up. This land is not the Disney-riffic place that many of us think of, but a bleaker setting where the Mad Hatter’s tea party is in the middle of a wasteland and lopped-off heads float in a moat around the Red Queen’s castle.
It should go without saying then, that this film is not for tiny tykes. Older children and adults, however, may find stuff to like – particularly the performances.
Helena Bonham Carter nearly steals the show here as the Red Queen; her huge, heart-shaped head sits atop a tiny body as she shouts “off with her head” like a bad tick. Alice infiltrates her castle in order to retrieve a sword that controls the kingdom, and put it into the benevolent hands of Red’s sister the White Queen (Anne Hathaway). Thus, Alice becomes a Joan of Arc heroine, and this story is ultimately about her finding her own gumption, aka her “muchness” - with some help from the Mad Hatter (Johnny Depp), naturally. Depp delivers his usual silly shtick, breaking into a jig or a brogue at the drop of a, er, hat; but he also has tender scenes with Alice that depict the Mad Hatter as Alice’s alternative father figure. It’s these interactions that give the film heart in the midst of the chaos. It’s also something I would have liked to see more of.
Where the film misses its own “muchness,” however, is perhaps in the collaboration of Burton and Disney. The film is a little too dark for Disney, but a little too slicked out in CGI and 3D for Burton. I’d be curious to see where Burton would have taken the story if left to his own devices. Instead, the film we get builds up to a battle climax that takes a page from Lord of the Rings. It’s still entertaining, but to me, the treasure to be found in Wonderland is its characters - and for a story that lends itself to such an array of delightful possibilities, we don’t get to play with them nearly enough.
Reviewed by Owen Gleiberman
The stars of romantic comedies used to be better than they are now at pretending that they don’t like each other. In a movie like It Happened One Night (1934), Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert gave such good antagonism that you just knew they were meant to be together. The bickering wasn’t petty; it was proof that they had the sparky toughness — the ego — for love. In Leap Year, Amy Adams plays Anna, a real estate exhibitor who chases her mealy cardiologist boyfriend (Adam Scott) all the way to Ireland to propose to him on leap-year day (an old Irish custom). Matthew Goode is Declan, the tall, faraway-eyed scruffy-dreamboat Irish bartender who, for 500 euros, agrees to shepherd Anna to Dublin. The two spend the movie roving through the countryside, from pubs to inns to old castles to crashed weddings, working their way through various levels of annoyance, class warfare, and petulant erotic tension.
The director, Anand Tucker (Shopgirl), leaves things relatively uncluttered, which I appreciated. At the same time, I could have put that less generously — as in, not very much surprising happens. Tucker keeps the emerald travelogue images crisp and clean and the emotions modest, so that the entire movie hinges, more or less, on the charming/ cantankerous love-hate tangles of its dueling stars. If the young Ann-Margret had been allowed to wiggle her brain as much as her bod, she might have come off something like Amy Adams. Is there an actress today who can suffuse a single scene with so many infectious mood swings? As Anna, she’s fiery and vulnerable, wistful and exuberant; she lends a rare dignity to the portrayal of a woman who doesn’t know what she wants.
Anna believes she’s going to sweep herself into happiness with her leap-year proposal, but Declan sees her grand folly, and also her designer-luggage pretensions. Goode, a deft but recessive actor (he’s Colin Firth’s lover-in-flashback in A Single Man), is an expert at soft-pedaled contempt. As Declan lets his guard down, though, the film’s appealing tart-tongued fluffiness starts to flatten out. Leap Year could have used more pizzazz. Yet you’re never in doubt that these two like each
other — or, just as important, that they don’t. B-
Reviewed by Lisa Schwarzbaum
Michael Cera plays a very Michael Cera kind of fellow in Youth in Revolt. The go-to guy for funny-nerdy-cute hoodie roles after his memorable work in Superbad, Juno, and Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist, Cera stars as Nick Twisp, a virginal but sexually inflamed, maturely sardonic but immaturely squid-bodied teen with a crush on a girl named Sheeni Saunders (Portia Doubleday). Sheeni is a cool customer whose boyfriend is a smug, poetry-writing Mr. Perfect in a country-club sweater (Jonathan B. Wright) and whose own fantasies of sexual sophistication involve marrying a Frenchman. So to win Sheeni’s love (and to impress her with his willingness to be bad, the way she claims to like her men), Nick adopts the alter ego of a Gallic troublemaker, François Dillinger. It’s an understatement to call François, with his tight Euro pants and dirty mustache, a bad influence on the otherwise mild-mannered suburban American kid whose divorced, self-involved parents have no time for their son. Let’s just say that at one point François inspires Nick to torch half of Oakland. With a nod to The Parent Trap, Cera plays both Nice Nick and Felonious François.
But as with plans to torch half of Oakland, timing is everything. And Youth in Revolt is late — arriving not just at the tail end of the star’s sell-by date for this particular kind of character, but more importantly at the tail end of the intended audience’s attention span for an inconsequential Sundance-y tale of sexual coming-of-age.
Directed by the vivacious filmmaker Miguel Arteta (Chuck & Buck), the movie misses the dark hilarity and herky-jerky energy of C.D. Payne’s 1993 young-adult novel on which it’s based; there’s too little color amid all the mayhem. At the same time, the outrageously explicit yet innocent sex talk stuck in the mouths of teen boys by screenwriter Gustin Nash (Charlie Bartlett) sounds unnatural, even in
an age of worldly-wise teen dialogue. There is also entirely too much dysfunctional-family whimsy and reliance on costume as a stand-in for character: François wears snug French pants; Nick’s slatternly mom (Jean Smart) dons cleavage-baring blouses.
Truth is, there’s also too much
Michael Cera. Which isn’t the star’s fault. I blame the movie’s bad timing, and its delayed release. When Youth in Revolt was shot, the uniquely funny young actor was barely out of his teens. This June, he will be 22. Hoodie-dom precedes him. It also obliterates any independent understanding of Twisp. In contrast, Doubleday, an intriguing newcomer who simultaneously projects innocence and allure, has an easier time claiming her turf as Sheeni.
Payne’s novel Youth in Revolt established Nick Twisp as one of literature’s more vivid teen rebels. It also captured a vanished early-’90s sensibility (and immortalized the era’s computer components). Nick’s world still reads fresh on the page. Not so Arteta’s Youth in Revolt. Like, dudes, where’s the revolution? C+
Bottom Line: Ouch.
It’s not easy being a comic book hero these days. The poor boys have taken their lumps in “Hancock,” “The Dark Knight” and even “Iron Man.” Self-doubt, angst and inadequacies plague them. And now comes “Watchmen.” Its costumed superheroes, operating in an alternative 1985, are seriously screwed up — and so is their movie. If anyone were able to make a nine-figure movie, something like “Watchmen” would have been the opening-night film at the Sundance Film Festival.
As stimulating as it was to see the superhero movie enter the realm of crime fiction in “The Dark Knight,” “Watchmen” enters into a realm that is both nihilistic and campy. The two make odd companions. The film, directed by Zack Snyder (“300″), will test the limits of superhero movie fans. If you’re not already invested in these characters because of the original graphic novel by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons, nothing this movie does is likely to change that predicament.
That’s bad news for Warner Bros. and Paramount, which hold domestic and international rights, respectively. Opening weekends everywhere will reflect the huge anticipation of this much-touted, news-making movie. After that, the boxoffice slide could be drastic.
Snyder and writers David Hayter and Alex Tse never find a reason for those unfamiliar with the graphic novel to care about any of this nonsense. And it is nonsense. When one superhero has to take a Zen break, he does so on Mars. Of course he does.
The film opens with a brutal killing, then moves on to a credit-roll newsreel of sorts that takes us though the Cold War years, landing us in 1985 when Nixon is in his third term, tipping us that we’re in an alternate 1985 America, where our superheroes have taken care of Woodward and Bernstein and other forces have evidently taken care of the U.S. Constitution.
The opening murder happens to a character called the Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), who was once a member of a now-banished team of superheroes called the Masks. Fellow ex-Mask Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley) — his mask one of perpetually shifting inkblots — takes exception to his old colleague’s death. He believes the entire society of ex-crime-fighters is being targeted even as the Doomsday Clock — which charts tensions between the U.S. and the Soviet Union that could lead to nuclear war — nears midnight.
His investigation and renewed contacts with former buddies fills us in on the complicated histories and problematic psychiatric makeups of these colleagues.
It’s all very complicated but not impenetrable. We pick up the relationships quickly enough, but soon realize these back stories owe more to soap operas than to superhero comics.
The thing is, these aren’t so much superheroes as ordinary human beings with, let us say, comic-book martial arts prowess. The one exception is Billy Crudup’s Jon Osterman, aka Dr. Manhattan, who in true comic book fashion was caught in a laboratory accident that turned him into a scientific freak — a naked, glowing giant, looking a little bit like the Oscar statuette only with actual genitals — who has amazing God-like powers.
These powers are being harnessed by an ex-Mask, Matthew Goode’s menacing though slightly effeminate industrialist Adrian Veidt.
When Dr. Manhattan’s frustrated girlfriend, yet another former Mask, Malin Akerman’s Laurie Jupiter, can’t get any satisfaction from Dr. M, she turns to the former Nite Owl II, Dan Dreiberg, who seems too much of a good guy to be an actual superhero, but he does miss those midnight prowls.
The point is that these superheroes, before Nixon banned them, were more vigilantes than real heroes, so the question the movie poses is, ah-hah, who is watching these Watchmen? They don’t seem too much different from the villains.
Which also means we don’t empathize with any of these creatures. And what’s with the silly Halloween getups? Did anyone ever buy those Hollywood Boulevard costumes?
The violence is not as bad as early rumors would have one believe. It’s still comic book stuff, only with lots of bloody effects and makeup. The real disappointment is that the film does not transport an audience to another world, as “300″ did. Nor does the third-rate Chandler-esque narration by Rorschach help.
There is something a little lackadaisical here. The set pieces are surprisingly flat and the characters have little resonance. F
ight scenes don’t hold a candle to Asian action. Even the digital effects are ho-hum. Armageddon never looked so cheesy.
The film seems to take pride in its darkness, but this is just another failed special effect. Cinematographer Larry Fong and production designer Alex McDowell blend real and digital sets with earthen tones and secondary colors that give a sense of the past. But the stories are too absurd and acting too uneven to convince anyone. The appearances of a waxworks Nixon, Kissinger and other 1980s personalities will only bring hoots from less charitable audiences.
Looks like we have the first real flop of 2009
Review is from: Buzz Sugar
The irony of releasing a movie about shopping right as the nation’s economy is flailing is not lost on many. Confessions of a Shopaholic could have probably gone in one of two ways: Exacerbating the general sense of frustration and helplessness, or providing us with a fun, satisfying escapist’s jaunt. Thankfully, it’s pure escapism – and not just because of the script, which is surprisingly tight, or the editing which makes the narrative clip along briskly, rarely dwelling in sentimentality. No, this movie is wonderful, happy escapism largely because of Isla Fisher in the role of Becky Bloomwood: Bumbling, adorable, joyous shopper extraordinaire.
Fisher plays Rebecca Bloomwood, a journalist with an intense shopping habit. Like a drug addict or alcoholic, she literally appears to have no restraint when it comes to spending money – even when she is thousands of dollars in debt. Her practical friend Suze (Krysten Ritter) tries to help her rethink her financial situation, but Becky’s addiction runs deep and it’s going to take a great deal to make her hit rock bottom. The stakes are raised when Becky ends up working at a financial magazine – with a dashing cutie of a boss, Luke (Hugh Dancy) – and receives acclaim for being able to explain money matters in layman’s terms. But as she gains more fame, an ornery debt collector (Robert Stanton) is hot on her trail, harassing her about her debts and posing a threat to her new image as a sensible financial writer. You’ll have to see the film (and I hope you do!) for all of the funny storylines, but for more of my take, read more.
While I enjoyed Sophie Kinsella’s novels as silly fluff, I wasn’t always very sympathetic toward Becky, and at times I didn’t even really like her. But it’s impossible not to like Isla’s Becky. Even when she’s being ridiculous, even when you know full well that her debt crises are disturbingly stupid in comparison to the challenges facing families across the nation right this minute (and challenges they didn’t willingly bring upon themselves, as Becky has) – still Becky earns our sympathy with her well-intentioned silliness and her big, teary eyes. Indeed, she is often endearingly naïve – but thankfully, she doesn’t stay that way forever. In a scene in which Luke buys Becky a fan, she sifts through the fans with a childlike excitement, trying to decide on one. It’s cute – she’s so cute – but in this film, at last, childlike behavior has consequences when you’re a grown woman. Contrary to what so many movies (particularly modern films aimed at a young female audience) would have us believe, women actually aren’t children, and shouldn’t be treated as such.
This is the most refreshing difference between this movie and others that are similarly billed – there is at least some recognition that shopping can be meaningless, or an indication of a deeper problem. That it can be a problem at all is a new and shocking concept for this kind of movie. In other similar films there’s a smugness, or defiance about the idea of overspending (the kind that’s far beyond just treating oneself occasionally), as though there’s always a way to excuse it. Finally, here’s a story that sheds a humorous light on it, showing how absurd and truly empty it can be.
What’s more, there’s way more love (and there’s more to love) in this movie’s “labels and love” theme. Becky earnestly and deeply loves to shop. She visibly enjoys it. Instead of just a montage of wedding dresses for the sole purpose of listing off a bunch of fancy names, there’s Becky’s lit-up face, her ecstasy at finding wonderful things and buying them. We see how outrageous this can be, instead of the actual suggestion that buying expensive stuff is something we should want to do all the time.
There is also the character of Becky’s best friend, Suze, providing a sensible contrast to Becky’s blithe ignorance of all things financial. Suze acts as the straight man in many ways, and I found myself grateful for a female voice of reason (and a strong, funny voice of reason, too – not that of the “unattractive,” grumpy, manless friend, a device that might (maybe? Hopefully?) be retired for now). Not all women are psychopaths who would physically harm another woman to get a sale; look at the reasonable Suze. But Becky is that hysterical label-hungry woman at times and it’s funny to watch. At long last, there is some self-awareness in this kind of story. It’s satirical, and it’s about damn time.
And still, even as we recognize that we’re laughing at Becky’s absurd hijinks and over-the-top addiction to the shopper’s high, we can’t disparage her. She’s too damn lovable! Sure, she’s materialistic, but she’s also vibrantly warm, loyal and pulsing with a bright light. There’s so much more to her than just the constant buying of stuff, and by the end of the movie, to our great satisfaction, she learns that, too.
You know a sci-fi script is in trouble when it spends the first five minutes narratively briefing you on its Byzantine plot — and you’re still not sure what’s going on.
So it is with Push, a convoluted, poor-man’s Blade Runner that is in love with its “startling” concept (seems there are superpowered folk among us that the government wants to either kill or make into supersoldiers — yeah, I know, shades of Heroes and X-Men and Watchmen and others, but don’t tell writer David Bourla).
So even before you meet your first Chinese “Pop Boy” who can make your ears bleed with his voice (koff — William Hung — koff), you’ve been lectured about “bleeders” like him, and “movers” and “watchers” and “pushers” and “stitches” and “sniffs” and “shadows” and well, it goes on and on.
It’s almost as if Push strains to adhere to every narrative nook and cranny of some beloved graphic novel. But though it has since become a comic-book series, in fact, Push is strictly Bourla’s geek creation (and not to be confused, by the way, with the other Push, the Oprah-approved movie that wowed Sundance, about an obese high-school-age urban single mother).
When the briefing is over, we meet Nick (Chris Evans), a telekinetic “mover” who’s hiding out in a grimy flat in Hong Kong.
There he’s hunted down by “sniffs” working for a secret U.S. Government office called The Division, run by a nasty “pusher” named Carver (Djimon Hounsou), who can put irresistible thoughts in your mind, even suicidal ones.
After they threaten him and leave, Nick is located by Cassie (Dakota Fanning), a teenage “watcher” who draws the future (yep, Heroes again).
Conclusion: Nick is the world’s worst hider.
Kind of like an on-the-run narrator, Cassie’s premonitions help cut through the plot so that we can figure out that Carver and company are hunting down another pusher named Kira (Camilla Belle), who’s also fled to Hong Kong, and who is the only super-thingie who’s ever survived a government formula designed to enhance powers.
Naturally, they want her back.
For reasons apparently more about money than power, there’s a super-powered Asian gang that’s also hunting down Kira — twice the telekinetic mayhem for the money.
Cost-conscious Scottish director Paul McGuigan (Lucky Number Slevin) gets the most out of limited resources, often shooting right on the streets and fish markets in the middle of real crowds (some of whom seem annoyed at having to jostle with gwei-lo actors while trying to conduct business in Kowloon). With a few exceptions, the FX is pretty much all real pyro and stunt work, so the action is respectable.
It’s just that it’s all wasted on a story full of holes and characters made of cardboard (Fanning is the only one who succeeds in putting some flesh on her character, and even owns the movie’s one memorable moment — when she follows her long-lost mother’s advice that alcohol sharpens her visions.
The result is Fanning convincingly playing a sick-to-her-stomach drunk teenager, a veritable milestone on her road from child actor to adult.
Oh well, at least Push will be remembered for something.
Review by: SUN MEDIA
**SPOILER ALERT**
So last night I was lucky enough to catch a preview screening of the new movie Sex And The City and I LOVED IT. obviously being gay there was no other option other than loving it but it was really a fantastically written and acted movie.
The reason why SATC is so popular is because no matter who watches it they can relate to at least one of the characters. In the case of my friends, Sarina is Carrie, Alissa is Charlotte, Kristie is Miranda, and I’m… Samantha. (Apparently I talk about sex… a lot)
Personally I can see myself between Samantha and Charlotte. I do talk about sex a lot but I’m not promiscuous at all. I do have my old fashioned values. and would never drink mexican water. shits be damned.
Now back to the movie. I do have a few gripes. The “Auto-Airbrushing” was so atrocious! It was completely noticeable badly done! I understand that now we all film in HD and filming actresses in the 40′s warts and all can bruise some ego’s but with a budget like theirs, couldn’t they at least made it flawless?
There were some great scenes like Charlotte getting the shits and Samantha “colouring” analogy.
I was really suprised at how bloated and disgusting Candice Bergen looked. She used to be such an attractive older woman and now some larger than life woman rests in her place!
I would definitely reccomend the movie to anyone. At almost 2 and a half hours long, it’s like a mini season of SATC!
The countdown to the premiere for Sex in the City is upon us and reviews are starting to trickle in now that it’s premiered in London. Some reviews have been lukewarm like this one from Variety. But all the so-so reviews seem to be coming from guys… and not gay ones I’m assuming…
I saw the movie Charlie Bartlett this weekend and loved it! It was a little similiar to Running with Scissors but fun and original nonetheless. If you like movies like Running with scissors or The Royal Tennenbaums you’ll love this!
Here is a review from ReelTalk
First-time director Jon Poll’s Charlie Bartlett is a clever, well-executed comedy about an intelligent student who has a definite knack for getting himself kicked out of boarding schools — which means each and every one he’s ever attended.
Charlie’s (Anton Yelchin) final expulsion from private schools finds him enrolling in a public high school. Thanks to his extensive rap sheet, Western Summit High happens to be the only school that would accept him. At this new school, Charlie encounters one Murphy Bivens (Tyler Hilton), a merciless bully who takes a dislike to Charlie and proceeds to make his life miserable. And, as if the constant poundings and degrading run-ins with the oppressive Bivens are not enough to deal with, the hapless newcomer becomes the object of endless derision by his fellow high school students.
What’s a mother to do? Marilyn (Hope Davis) sends her troubled son to a psychiatrist for help, of course. According to the doctor, Charlie suffers from ADD, so he prescribes Ritalin to keep it under control. Because Charlie has always been enterprising, it comes as no surprise when he inadvertently discovers other possibilities for the medicine. Indeed, there is money in them there pills because if you take a few more than you should, a high results. But Charlie will need some help. However, considering his status at the school, recruiting assistance is no small challenge. Still, the resourceful lad soon has things going his way.
And then — another revelation! Charlie’s pills can actually help troubled schoolmates. Naturally, he goes back to the psychiatrist for more pills: anti-depressants this time for a depressed fellow student. To obtain the pills, Charlie has only to feign the same symptoms as the student who needs help. It’s Charlie to the rescue.
Soon Charlie hangs his shingle in the Boy’s restroom, offering advice and medication to the many troubled teens at Western Summit High. Business is brisk and Charlie, a success.
With many of his problems at school resolved and his enterprise going swimmingly well, complications are bound to arise. Charlie falls for a girl named Susan (Kat Dennings). But she isn’t just any girl. She’s Principal Nathan Gardner’s (Robert Downey Jr) daughter. Nathan is a suicidal drunk, and his alcoholism adversely impacts his job performance. Students, their parents and the school board no longer have any faith in him. The only reason he hasn’t killed himself is because of his daughter Susan, who doesn’t know whether to have contempt or pity for her unhappy father. Nathan harbors a dim view of Charlie, and when he learns his daughter is interested in the young entrepreneur, the view becomes even darker.
Gustin Nash’s screenplay is cleverly written and authentic. The writer breaks down stereotypes about teenagers, giving viewers access to their world and how they really act, speak and think.
I agree with director Jon Poll’s statement that if anyone was destined to play the part of Charlie Bartlett it’s Anton Yelchin. Appearing in his first lead role, Yelchin gives a tender, warm and honest portrayal of the main character here. Also adding to the quality of the cast, Downey Jr. comes across as devilishly funny in the role of the ruthless Principal Gardner, and Dennings delivers a sparkling and fearless performance as Susan.
I just rented the movie The Heartbreak Kid after wanting to see it for a while and I could not stop laughing my head off. Malin Ackerman really stole the show as the crazy newlywed wife. I still can’t get her screaming “fuck me like a black man” out of my head.
The movie is by the same team that brought you “There’s Something About Mary” My only complaint is that Malin looks and sounds a little but too much like Cameron Diaz and that the ending dragged out a bit and was a little silly
It did about 37 million at the box office which isn’t too bad but is definitely an under performing Ben Stiller movie.
I would definitely recommend this film to anyone who likes crude humour and wants to laugh a lot. but don’t expect to be impressed by the storyline or the ending.
5/5 for Funny
3/5 for everything else
Ok so I didn’t exactly get why the movie was called hot fuzz… until I looked up the verbage on
wikipedia (my obsession, along with
imdb) and found out the “the fuzz” is a common british slang for the police…
The movie was hilarious… really clever comedy. not like the stupid american spoof movies scary movie and such which are dumb (and have someone running into a wall 10 times). the characters were great, the movie was very tongue in cheek, which is my kinda humour.
2 thumbs up!
