Ghostbusters II (1989)

Five years after saving New York from the apocalypse, the Ghostbusters have been disbanded. Drs Ray, Egon, and Venkman have moved on with new careers. And Dana Barrett has done some moving on of her own. Dana now has a baby. Unfortunately for her, a diabolical tyrant—Vigo the Carpathian—has chosen baby Oscar for his new home.

In Ghostbusters II , the entire gang has returned—unheard of by sequel standards. Also typical of sequels—suckiness. But you won’t find that here, not under Ivan Reitman’s direction. Ghostbusters II is essentially more of the same. Ooze, crazy 80’s soundtrack, and Bill Murray.

The set-up is classic. A river of ooze is flowing beneath New York City. Filled with the hate and vile of residence, the emotionally reactive goo is ready to explode. But after raging a war on slime that cost the city millions, the mayor is reluctant to let the Ghostbusters do their thing.

From Murray to Akroyd, Ecto-1 to Potts, every successful element from the first film returns. Because of that, the film feels more that familiar. Even without the top-notch, biting dialogue, there is plenty to engage. The addition of Peter MacNichol is a good turn.

The film’s examination of life beyond the trio (sorry, I’m not counting the token black) is fun. Ray’s bookstore is a total laugh. Spengler’s near cult-like following is a hoot. And Venkman’s become a cheese-filled TV host. Each spin fits our beloved characters well.

Ghostbusters II is a nice compliment. The tried and true formula is solid. As I am late to the bandwagon, the film further cements Bill Murray as an amazingly multi-faceted actor. As I see it, if you loved the first, you’ll enjoy the second.

Ghostbusters (1984)

After Drs. Peter Venkman (Bill Murray), Raymond Stantz (Dan Aykroyd), and Egon Spengler (Harold Ramis) are kicked out of the university, the trio goes into business exterminating poltergeists and supernatural pests of all planes. Discovering their first client (Sigourney Weaver) lives in the penthouse that seems to be the gateway from some hideous evil means the ghostbusters must stop a coming disaster of biblical proportions.

The charm of Ghostbusters lies in its simplicity. Unpretentious but authentic, Ghostbusters perfectly combines key elements for success. Dialogue, character development/casting, scoring.  It’s spot-on.

Bill Murray and his dead-pan delivery are priceless. As Venkman, the lady killer parapsychologist, he kills with highly quotable one-liners throughout the film. Aykroyd plays the naive straight-man with his scientific jargon. Ramis, the silent partner, gets a few one-liners of his own amid an otherwise dour shift. The chemistry between these three is unbeatable. Supporting cast including Weaver, Annie Potts, Rick Moranis, the eventual ‘token black’ ghostbuster played by Ernie Hudson, and the dick-less EPA inspector all add layers of interest and humor.

The combination of director Ivan Reitman and writers Murray/Ramis (I forgive you for Stripes) is tight. Reitman paces Ghostbusters well, keeps it from jumping the shark, and reigns in our cast without harming them or the film. The special effects, while dated, are charming and add another layer to love. The culmination of the Stay-Puft marshmallow man is great. (Apparently, I’m the only one left who didn’t see that coming.) Equally fun is Weaver’s evolution to David Bowie.

After viewing Ghostbusters for the first time, it is remarkably easy to see why the film continues to pervade pop culture 20+ years later. This is a film that makes you want to watch. As I see it, Reitman has made an absolute classic worthy of your love and mine.

Bruno (2009)

I don't know exactly what to call this satiric piece from Sacha Baron Cohen. 'Disgusting' comes to mind and that's really a shame. What could have been an insightful spoof is content to be stupidity.

Baron Cohen's character, Bruno, is a homosexual fashionista immigrating to America with one thing on his mind: being famous. Through a series of missteps and vast gayness, we follow Bruno being ridiculous. The events herein are random and ill-fitting. Nothing makes sense. Its Bruno flaunting his genitalia or watching other people flaunt theirs. What Ron Paul, Paula Abdul, or a black baby named OJ has to do with an Austria queer is beyond me.

Bruno is hardly polarizing—it’s harmless really due to the inane nature. It doesn’t bring anything positive or thought-provoking to the screen.. It’s as if Baron Cohen sets out to shock, nothing more. Anyone—gay or straight—will find the film repulsive. This is not funny.

I viewed this film with overwhelming incredulousness. I question the film’s entertainment value as well. Henceforth, I will pretend this garbage doesn’t exist.

Land of the Lost (2009)

Perservence is needed should viewers wish to partake of Will Ferrell's latest offering Land of the Lost.  Rest assured, you will be lost amid a hodge-podge of useless banter and unfunny moments.  This adventure starved mess-terpiece is a vehicle of stupidity amid inane pop culture.

Ferrell stars as an palentologist who is laughed at and dismissed by his collegues for strange theories.  Year later, Dr. Rick Marshall is found at the natural history museum being derided by elementary school students.  Joined by a beautiful woman and Danny McBride, stupidity ensues.

Land of the Lost isn't funny.  It's stupid.  I'm unsure about the 'inspiration' of the original television series.  What is certain is this film is way too ridiculously random to be of any merit.  Various pop-culture references are made, but even they are not worth the time.

Avoid this mess at all costs.  Right about now, I'm wishing for 90 minutes of my life back.

Underworld (2003)

For centuries, a war has raged between vampires and lycans. In the modern day, the lycans are all but extinct thanks in part to vampire warrior Selene (Kate Beckinsale). When she discovers the lycan are hunting a human, she will stop at nothing to find the truth—even if it means waking Viktor (Bill Nighy).

Let me digress for a moment—Bill Nighy is awesome! The guy doesn’t make a bad movie. Romantic comedies, blockbusters, period films, dramas… Supporting or lead role, Nighy owns each and always executes brilliantly.

Underworld, in essence, is a retelling of the Montagues and the Capulets. With Gothic tendencies, it’s a highly-stylized film with little bite. But it's fun.

Director Les Wiseman sets the stage with a narrative from Selene. Without that, we’d have more of a mindless romp. Casting is an interesting mix. Again, Bill Nighy as Viktor—overlord of the coven—is amazing!! Kate Beckinsale looks amazing, but is otherwise wooden despite attempts at affection. Scott Speedman, the human object of her affection is horribly reminiscent of Scott Sapp and is a complete turnoff.

The production is dark, rainy, and doesn’t follow its own rules, even breaking with horror conventions. Underworld doesn't effectively build suspense of terror; it builds action sequences and disjointed dramatic moments. But it’s fun.

The special effects are well done. The change from human to lycan is often shrouded, the transition is believable. Viktor’s resurrection was seamless. The cascades of silver and ultra-violet bullets aren’t nearly as cool as what you’ll find in The Matrix. Take heart, viewer. The leather-clan Beckinsale matches Trinity corset for corset.

So what is Underworld? It’s a violent, sexy, and uneven story that ultimately adds nothing to either genre. The idea is good; the legend behind it even better; the execution just isn't there. To enjoy Underworld is to not expect much.

Food, Inc. (2009)

“You are buying the idea of a tomato.” With that Food, Inc. sets out to explore the food industry’s effects on our health and our world. Through a series of interviews and investigations director Robert Kenner removes the veil behind the politics of food and just why a McDonald’s hamburger is cheaper than the head of lettuce.

One must be vigilant with films of this nature. Often these documentaries tend to be of a sensational nature. But in Food, Inc. you will find nothing but the awful truth. Ignorance may be bliss in this instance.  Don't watch if you don't want to know. Kenner is remarkably honest and more than willing to share both sides. Only trouble is Monsanto, Smithfield, and Tyson don’t want to talk.

Amid interviews with authors Eric Schlosser and Michael Pollan, we meet Tyson chicken farmers and Monsanto soybean growers who, in essence, are being bullied into producing a product cheaper and faster, but not (and often less) healthy. Making matters worse is the conflict on interest found on Capitol Hill.  Case in point: Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas was once an attorney for Monsanto. As a judge, he signed into effect laws which now threaten to crush local Midwestern farmers. Century farmers are being extorted and often shut down thanks to Monsanto’s genetically modified seed patents. Tyson, Perdue, Smithfield, IBP… they are all given the opportunity to refute the facts presented here, but remain silent.

Thankfully, Kenner doesn’t leave the audience in fear of the impending food apocalypse. Stoneyfield Farms and its blossoming relationship with Wal-Mart is an interesting chain of events. Wal-Mart—the Mecca of Consumerism—is listening to its customers demands. But the wisdom dispensing Joel Salatin of Polyface Farms brings a real charm to the film.

The film has many horrifying moments—the tomato just being one of them. With the holidays upon us, this viewer will be hard pressed to look at that ham without recalling the trucked in illegal immigrants (farmers that NAFTA put out of business) that now process that Smithfield ham and who might have lost his thumb during an endless work week. When he does finally get to his ‘home’, the ICE agents are there to meet him.

Food, Inc. is a provocative, disgusting expose that doesn’t preach. Rather it offers only the truth and a simple solution for affecting change. American’s corporate agribusinesses are threatening our lives and while Food, Inc. may not be a life-changing catalyst, it will nonetheless raise consumer awareness. And that is never a bad thing.

A Christmas Carol (2009)

Robert Zemeckis was going to lose this battle the moment I set foot in the theatre. Nothing compares to the classic 1951 version starring Alistair Sims. But in Zemeckis’ defense (not that he needs any); his animated adaptation of the iconic tale is a delightful reimaging.

Admirably faithful to Dickens’s tale, A Christmas Carol takes few artist liberties. The ones that Zemeckis bravely executes add a modern charm that is commendable. The 3-D effects (now, for the record, this is the first film that I’ve viewed since the 3D epidemic took hold in Hollywood) are arresting and beautifully rendered.

Star of the show—Jim Carrey, surprisingly enough, is lost in the film. Though we see glimmers of the spastic star, the motion-capture is top-notch and his ugly face doesn’t come through. Scrooge's expressions are more lifelike with subtle changes. Colin Firth as Scrooge’s nephew is a sweet surprise. Bob Cratchit (voiced by Gary Oldman) is a bulbous, nearly lifeless fellow--a true disappointment.

The Ghosts of Past, Present, and Future rendered are faithful, if sometimes oddly frightening. A few particularly dark scenes mar an otherwise family-friendly fare. They are truly terrifying and out of character, but I am a classicist. Modern film-goers will find no issues with the aforementioned.

The scoring is complimentary. Andrea Bocelli sings a beautiful piece over the nondescript closing credits. What a waste!

Here’s the part where I leave, once again, my readers with a quizzical expression. Visually, Zemekis’ A Christmas Carol is arresting, but often times, I feel the ‘flying over and through London’ is pure filler, detracting from essential elements. At one point, I felt nauseous. Additionally, I take to task the overly diabolical element of our specters. This film does not have the charm of previous renditions, nor do I think it captures the true spirit of the novel.

This version is all style with no substance. But criticisms aside, most movie-goers will find A Christmas Carol a decent if unsatisfying film.

Sleepless in Seattle (1993)

In Seattle, a young boy conspires to find happiness for his widower father, Sam (Tom Hanks) by calling into a radio show. On the other side of the radio (and country) is Annie Reed (Meg Ryan) who falls in love with Sam and his son Jonah. A letter from Annie convinces Jonah that she’s the one for his dad. But convincing his Sam is harder than he expects.

Nora Ephron’s romantic comedy is a sweet tale of fate, but it contains little substance and what a shame that is. Still Sleepless in Seattle gets something right. The chemistry between Hanks and Ryan is genuine but we never see much of it. Both of them have delightful comedic timing; they are a joy to watch—as is the entire supporting cast with such names as Victor Garbor, Bill Pullman, David Hyde Pierce, Rosie O’Donnell, and Rita Wilson. It’s a nice balance.

The integration of An Affair to Remember is smartly done, but under Ephron’s direction Sleepless in Seattle is uniquely its own. The biggest caveat for me is our unlucky couple don’t have nearly enough ‘almost meetings’. The focus seems to be on Jonah’s hope for his dad. It’s perfectly precious without the cloying nonsense.

As I see it, Sleepless in Seattle is an adorable movie that relishes in happy endings for all. Less is more and this film proves it.

Will Ferrell: You're Welcome America: A Final Night with George W. Bush (2009)

Will Ferrell's humor isn't for anyone, but his quick wit and quirky manners kill me.  Here, Ferrell brings the Dubyah impersonation he honed on SNL to Broadway with this one-man show.  Eight years in office gave Ferrell plenty of material, but this two hour DVD is laborous at best.  Ferrell has moments of funny, but there are more moments of stupidity than anything.  As a HUGE Ferrell fan, I was disappointed, not by the nearly mean-spirited skewering, but by the trawling.  Can't imagine anyone enjoying this. 

Sorry Will.  It needed more cowbell!

Year One (2009)

I have a question. Who thinks this is funny?! Endless sex and fart jokes do NOT make a movie. Who green lights a screenplay like this?! The same people who like Paul Blart, if you ask me.

Zed (Jack Black) and Oh (former It-boy Michael Cera) are two idiot cavemen that have an adventure laden journey through the ancient world after being kick out of their tribe for stupidity. Unlike Bill and Ted, Oh and Zed are lame. Strangely, it doesn’t seem to matter that Olive Platt, Hank Azaria, Zander Berkley, Horatio Sans, and Olivia Wilde pop up.

Year One is just not funny.

Postscript 11.07.09 ~ Herein lies the film's demise.  It's too long.  Watch the theatrical version and Year One is wee bit more palatable.

Rope (1948)

Two friends Brandon and Phillip (John Dall and Farley Granger) have killed their 'inferior' friend David and now plan to relish it by having a dinner party with David right under nose of his fiancé, parents, and their former professor, Rupert Cadell (James Stewart). Have the two committed the perfect murder? Only the night will tell. Odd clues lead Rupert to question the entire evening; he wonders if his former students have taken his academic theories a little too far.
Alfred Hitchcock's Rope is a Technicolor masterpiece. Though it’s never quite as suspenseful as Hitchcock’s other, Rope is masterful for what it accomplishes nonetheless. Set in one room, the camera never seems cut off. Each frame feels like one continuous motion. That alone is amazing. As the gentlemen scheme, we get a sense of the diabolical. True to form, Hitchcock doesn’t spell it, trusting his audience to connect the dots.

The friendship is fascinating in itself. Brandon, the dominant one, oozes evil and obnoxious. Phillip, the submissive, is a mere boy. David is strangled with a rope and placed in a chest. The friends then set candelabras, plates, and food on the grandiose chest. Janet—his fiancé, his father, the cynical Professor, all invited under a ruse, dines in the presence of this chest.

As the evening continues, Brandon parades about. Every second brings more confidence to his step in Nietzsche-esque repose. Phillip quickly begins to crumble. Agitated, sweaty, stumbled words—combined with his unusual outburst, it’s enough for Cadell to ask questions.

It’s not until the dinner guests leaves, that Rope amps up. Returning to the apartment under the guise of forgetting his cigarette case, Cadell slowly picks the two friends apart. Jimmy Stewart brilliantly executes his role of learned professor and social misfit to a tee. Slowly plotting, encouraging the boys to comfort, Cadell nails the murders through their own missteps.

The period setting is one of refinement. The backdrop of NYC plays from day to night in the windows of the apartment. In retrospect, prop usage is remarkable, seamless, really. The dialogue is wickedly humorous and comfortable. Rope’s climax—Stewart’s soliloquy—is a brilliant piece of writing.

As I see it, Alfred Hitchcock's Rope is yet another exquisite film from the master director. Technically seamless, engaging from the start, movies like Rope, is why I watch.

A Letter to Three Wives (1949)

Before leaving town Addie Ross wrote a letter to Lora Mae (Linda Darnell), Deborah (Jeanne Crain), and Rita (Ann Sothern). As the three married woman board a boat to vacation, Addie’s letter arrives to tell them that she has run off with one of their husbands. As the boat floats on, each wife recalls just what might have driven their husbands into the arms of the sophisticated ideal woman. Lora Mae is a girl from the wrong side of the tracks—literally. Holding out for an advantageous marriage, makes her nothing but a gold-digger to her businessman husband (Paul Douglas). While in the war, Deborah was something. Returning to civilian life makes this country girl married to a socialite husband stick out in the upper-class neighborhood. Rita is a housewife turned career woman who neglects her schoolteacher husband (Kirk Douglas). Each woman ruminates on her life and her husband. Each secretly hopes it’s another woman’s man, but worries it’s her own.

A Letter to Three Wives is a stunning masterpiece directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz (Cleopatra, All About Eve). The story, told through a series of flashbacks, is flawless. The beautiful narrative by Addie is just the beginning. The script is to die for and overall performances by the entire cast make this film rich with emotion.

Our female leads are multi-faceted, flawed characters that are fundamentally the same. Each wants a happy life with their respective husband. However, this unknown Addie has a far reaching effect. Each woman is concerned she’s just not good enough. Linda Darnell is stunningly gorgeous. Ann Sothern is equally top-notch. The husbands are particularly fine. Kirk Douglas as George, Rita’s husband is perhaps the most riveting of the three, but Paul Douglas threatens to steal his show.

The production is top-notch. Rich in black and white, A Letter to Three Wives evokes a glamorous time not only of Hollywood, but of everyday life. Virtually unheard of in modern times, this post-WWII setting is full of life, hope, and definitively gendered roles. The film’s classic style is true to the time, but it’s still shocking to see such blatant cigarette use and even some of the dialogue will raise an eyebrow. Not offending, mind you, just different given the current state of affairs.

A Letter to Three Wives is an authentic examination of relationships, showcasing not only the paranoia, but the good and the bad. Results are not guaranteed.

As I see it, A Letter to Three Wives is a genuine classic. With crisp cinematography and every element beautifully executed, this drama is one worthy of its accolades.

Dirty Dancing (1987)

As the last person in the world to see this one, I had some shame. Unfortunately, Patrick Swayze’s death was the impetus for seeing Dirty Dancing. Until now my exposure to Swayze’s talent was Saturday Night Live, Keeping Mum {sex-fiend golf instructor—priceless!}, Red Dawn {classic}, Donnie Darko {still hate that one} and Road House {zen bouncer—love it!}. No, I haven’t seen Ghost. Deal.

So we have the coming of age story of ‘Baby’ Houseman (Jennifer Grey) who expects a lame summer, but instead finds an uber-hot dancer instructor (Swayze).

Dirty Dancing is filled with melodrama and bad hair. Still, I like it and I’m at a loss for why. Is it Swayze’s sultry moves across the dance floor? ‘Cause it sure isn’t his hair. Perhaps it’s the tender caress down Baby’s body. It’s certainly not that lame sneer or incessant hip thrust. Enough! Act already! Jennifer Grey is cute as a button. Who knew her fashion sense would come full circle?!

Dirty Dancing is ultimately a one-trick pony. Its predictability was fun, but I had delusions of grandeur. I called for Johnny to die a fiery death in his car after Baby’s dad (Jerry Orbach) dressed him down. That would have been so much more tragic and wistful. Guess that’s why I’m not screenwriter. The climaxing musical number is delightfully sweet.

Dirty Dancing is entertainment. While I don’t feel my life is necessarily enriched for seeing it, I feel less of a leper. And that’s a nice feeling.