XXX2: State of the Union
In 2002, and after already generating interest through some smaller roles, Vin Diesel seemed to all and sundry to be the next Arnold Schwarzenegger or Sylvester Stallone as he finally took on the lead in an all-action macho spectacular. The only trouble was that the film in question, xXx (complete with the bizarre capitalisation), wasn’t really that good. Yes, it was fun. Yes, it had some good action sequences. But it simply wasn’t possible to like, identify with or aspire to be like Diesel’s gruff, self-satisfied secret agent. Without a likeable lead, action films are doomed to failure.
So when Diesel allowed his new-found fame to go to his head and decided to turn down the sequel (which for some reason has also lost the odd capitalisation of the first movie), he actually did the filmmakers a favour. They, of course, were not able to see this at the time, but thanks to the lack of Diesel they have been able to find a lead actor who is far, far more appealing – even if he is simultaneously a highly unlikely action star.
Yep, this time the XXX (or xXx) moniker has been given to rap legend Ice Cube, once part of the groundbreaking group N.W.A. alongside Eminem favourite Dr. Dre. Ice Cube has been knocking around in films since his debut in “gangsta” classic Boyz n the Hood, and generally made a good show of it. In recent years, especially since his turn in 1995’s superb Friday but also in the recent Barbershop films, he has shown a definite talent for comedy. So although he had a rock-hard image back in his 1980s rapping heyday, now Ice Cube is generally regarded as a cuddly and fun kind of guy - an odd choice for a tough ex-con special agent.
Diesel wasn’t the only one to quit the franchise – when he walked, so too went the first film’s director, Rob Cohen, a flashy try-hard responsible for the earlier Diesel vehicle The Fast and the Furious. For the sequel, they’ve been able to get in someone with a bit of talent, New Zealander Lee Tamahori. With experience both of traditional action (the Bond film Die Another Day) and combining close characterisation with realistic violence (the brutal, low-budget Once Were Warriors), Tamahori certainly has the CV to pull this sort of thing off.
So, can the Ice Cube/Tamahori combination do something more interesting with the idea of a special agency which recruits talented criminals to protect the United States than the Diesel/Cohen partnership managed? Well, yes and no. The single best thing in the first film was Samuel L. Jackson as XXX’s stone-faced boss, and he returns again in a greatly expanded role. All well and good. The only trouble is, the plot’s hardly an original or especially interesting one, centring around an attempted coup by a maniacal general turned US Defence Secretary, played by a typically over-the-top Willem Dafoe.
In other words, it’s Ice Cube versus Donald Rumsfeld. If you think of it like that, and mentally replace Dafoe with Rumsfeld whenever he appears onscreen, this film becomes almost a work of genius.
Ice Cube is a far better lead than Diesel ever was, and Tamahori a far more coherent director than Cohen, but there is otherwise little new here – and certainly nothing in the way of intelligence. But then, if you’re tempted by this, mental stimulation is hardly what you’re after – just explosions, stunts, and the occasional one-liner. Here, XXX2 delivers amply. No classic, but braindead fun nonetheless.
The Interpreter
After the immense drubbing the United Nations has got from many pro-war commentators in the United States over the last year or two, it is entirely possible that this film is part of an attempt by the UN to win back some American support. Despite having been featured in innumerable films over the years – perhaps most famously Alfred Hitchcock’s classic North by Northwest – this movie marks the first time any Hollywood filmmaker has been allowed to shoot inside the UN’s New York headquarters.
Ignoring the limited interest of seeing inside the UN HQ (one big skyscraper is, after all, much like any other), the idea of using it as a setting for a thriller is actually very clever. Despite being on US soil, and in the heart of one of America’s greatest cities, the United Nations building is officially not US territory. Much as foreign embassies in London are technically the sovereign territory of the country which they represent, the UN’s headquarters is not bound by US law or jurisdiction. In fact, thanks to the UN being an international organisation, it is not bound by the laws of any country. So, if a crime is committed or plotted within the UN compound, does it actually count as a crime? And if so, who is responsible for investigating it?
So, when UN interpreter Nicole Kidman, working late, overhears a plot to assassinate the leader of an African nation on a forthcoming visit to the UN, who is responsible for checking to see if the threat is real? A US federal investigator, Sean Penn, is assigned to look into the conspiracy and, as is the way of things in political thrillers, aside from the jurisdictional difficulties all may not be as it seems. As Kidman’s interpreter begins to fear that she too may be a target, Penn’s agent gradually begins to uncover a complex international conspiracy closely tied in with the domestic political problems of a small African nation about which he knows nothing.
This film hits all the hot political topics right on the head – the role of the UN, African instability, terrorism, assassination, and the urge to do the right thing even when what that may be remains unclear.
In the hands of veteran director/producer/actor Sydney Pollack, perhaps best known for the 1993 thriller The Firm (starring Kidman’s ex-husband, Tom Cruise), this potentially impenetrably convoluted material has been finely crafted into a stylish, absorbing movie. In this he has been greatly aided by crisp cinematography by the guy who shot modern classic Se7en and the recent Panic Room, as well as the same editor who helped The Firm maintain its tension, and the composer whose scores have added so much extra suspense to all of M. Night Shyamalan’s popular twist-filled flicks, from The Sixth Sense to The Village.
With such an accomplished creative team behind the scenes and two Oscar-winning actors in the leads, it should be no wonder that The Interpreter hits all the right notes. Together, they have produced one of those films ideal for an entertaining, shock-filled night out.
The Assassination Of Richard Nixon
It is a little-known fact that September 11th 2001 was not the first time someone decided to try and fly a jumbo jet into the White House. On February 22nd 1974, failed car tyre salesman Samuel Byck attempted to commandeer a Boeing 747 to assassinate President Richard Nixon. His failure ensured that today he is little-known, remembered as little more than a footnote amongst the chaos of the Watergate scandal which ended Nixon’s presidency six months later.
Premiering at the Cannes Film Festival last year, this film received little attention among the more instantly commercially viable entries of the likes of Shrek 2 and Kill Bill. It is, nonetheless, an interesting – if flawed – take on the all but forgotten events which led to Byck’s failed bid to enter the history books.
Considering the anger that has been caused by the actions of the current US president, it is easy to see why the story of an American apparently driven to extremes by his exasperation with his head of state might appeal. The fact that Byck was also somewhat psychologically deranged – even dressing up as Father Christmas to protest outside the White House in the run-up to his plot – simply makes the character more interesting.
This film is in a way an attempt to put Byck up there with other infamous American crazies of the likes of JFK assassin Lee Harvey Oswald, Hollywood murderer Charles Manson or the Waco Massacre’s cult leader David Koresh. It is, however, a level of infamy he almost certainly doesn’t deserve – hence a hefty addition of fictional material, and the alteration of his name to “Bicke”.
Centred around a brilliant central performance by Sean Penn – one of his best to date – the most obvious parallel here is with Martin Scorsese’s classic tale of deranged attempted assassination that is Taxi Driver. Much like Robert De Niro’s similarly-named Travis Bickle in that earlier film, Penn’s Bicke is a socially-withdrawn loner, with little in the way of an appealing personality and a tiny circle of acquaintances. He is a pathetic figure, desperately hoping for a loan to help rebuild his life and restore his relationship with his waitress wife, played by increasingly popular Naomi Watts.
It seems as though first-time director and co-writer Niels Mueller saw Byck/Bicke as one of those classic characters, which scatter American literature and the movies, who has been utterly let down and overlooked by the American Dream. Nixon’s rise from poverty to the highest office in the land, in contrast, was in many ways the epitome of that ongoing myth. Was Byck/Bicke simply envious, or was he actively deranged?
It is a question the film never quite manages to answer, being instead a complete antithesis to the usual Hollywood feel-good fare, and a somewhat unsatisfying conclusion. What the film does provide, however, is a truly masterly display of virtuoso acting and characterisation by Penn. Although he won his Oscar for 2003’s Mystic River after three prior nominations, this display of sheer talent could well help him secure his place as one of Hollywood’s all-time greats. Film acting doesn’t get much better than this.
Sahara
“In the Civil War, a battleship carrying a secret shipment of gold vanished without a trace.” And with that premise is launched yet another attempt to repeat the success of the Indiana Jones movies. Yep, this is a treasure-hunting adventure yarn set in inhospitable and uncivilised lands, where a ruggedly masculine yet likeable hero performs various feats of derring-do straight out of those “Boy’s Own” annuals of the 1950s, while making wisecracks and chatting up any attractive females he happens across. Classic action movie material, in other words.
Based on a novel by pulp action writer Clive Cussler – effectively a low-rent Tom Clancy – Sahara has all the hallmarks of being just the first film in a potentially very successful new action franchise. Considering that Cussler’s Dirk Pitt novels – of which there are around a dozen to date – have sold over 100 million copies worldwide, there’s certainly a market for it. Add to that the fact that – since the failure of the Mummy franchise, the ongoing failure to revive Indiana Jones, the decline of Bruce Willis’ Die Hard series, and the end of Piers Brosnan’s run as James Bond – Hollywood has been looking for a new old-fashioned action hero, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
Much as with earlier films of this type, the hero must have sidekicks. Here, the beautiful love interest – a part taken by Rachel Weisz in The Mummy as well as innumerable Bond girls – is amply filled by the somewhat easy on the eye Penelope Cruz. The zany male sidekick – played jointly by Denholm Elliott and Sean Connery in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade and a combination of John Hannah and Kevin J. O’Connor in The Mummy – is taken up by Indy film favourite Steve Zahn, probably best known to date for his turn as the hapless stoner ex-con Glenn in Steven Soderberg’s Out of Sight.
However, this kind of film always hinges on the lead. Harrison Ford was perfect and set the mould as Indiana Jones. Brendan Fraser did a good job of replicating Ford’s success in The Mummy – though botched it in the sequel. More recently, Angelina Jolie looked good but utterly lacked the required charisma as Lara Croft in the Tomb Raider flicks.
Here, they’ve opted for Matthew McConnaughey – easy on the eye, certainly, but with little in his back catalogue to suggest he’s action movie lead material beyond his turn in the low budget and underrated man versus dragon sci-fi flick, Reign of Fire. He’s one of those actors who have been around for ages, yet who don’t seem ever to have done anything memorable. Given the fact that Cussler’s first choice for the role was apparently X-Men’s Hugh Jackman, his casting could seem worrying.
Can McConnaughey pull it off? Well… Yes, actually. With the help of Zahn’s comedy antics and Cruz’s smouldering sexiness, plus the utterly ridiculous yet very enjoyable mystic conspiracy plot, in adventurer Dirk Pitt McConnaughey could finally have found himself a role that will earn him wider recognition than just occupying poster space on teenage girls’ bedroom walls. For the rest of us, it’s just possible we may have found a suitable heir to Indiana Jones’ undisputed title of the king of the action heroes.
The Hichhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
This film has been longed for now for nearly a quarter of a century. First optioned as far back as 1982, with Bill Murray and Dan Ackroyd mentioned as possible stars, it has only finally made it to the screen four years after the premature death of Douglas Adams, the man whose hilarious brainchild it was.
First a hit radio series, then a record album, a bestselling novel, a cult television series, a classic text-based computer game, a stage show and a comic book, every version to date has seen both subtle and major alterations to the overall storyline of a reserved Englishman who finds himself the last survivor of the planet Earth, following its destruction to make room for an intergalactic bypass. This movie is no exception, with several major additions to the storyline, not least John Malkovich’s religious leader Humma Kavula, all of which were added by Adams before his death.
Here, the reserved Englishman in question, a part which has been linked to everyone from Hugh Laurie to Jack Davenport over the years, has gone to Martin Freeman, best known as the hapless, unlucky-in-love Tim from the insanely popular Ricky Gervais sitcom The Office. As Ford Prefect, Arthur’s best friend who just happens to be an alien (hence his being mistaken for an American), they’ve got in hip hop hero Mos Def. An odd choice at first, especially for those used to the television version, but one which works surprisingly well.
Freeman and Mos Def in turn are backed up by a superb cast which ranges from Bill Nighy and Alan Rickman to the absolutely perfect Stephen Fry as the voice of the Guide itself. To direct, after flirtations with the likes of Spike Jonze, pop promo helmer Garth Jennings, best known for Blur’s brilliant milk carton-based video for hit Coffee and TV, has been brought in for his first major project.
The trouble with any new version of something as loved as Hitchhikers is that it won’t live up to the expectations of long-term fans. But, unlike most movie adaptations, this is not one where fans of the original have any grounds for complaints that their cherished plot has been tampered with. In fact, it’s a fairly safe bet that people who consider themselves fans of the original won’t even be able to agree on what the “original” actually means, so many different versions have there been since the story’s first appearance on BBC radio way back in 1978.
In other words, this film should be judged entirely on its own merits – and its merits are manifold. For newcomers to the world of the Guide, a whole wealth of additional material and different versions are awaiting you. For those of us who have listened to, read about and watched the adventures of Arthur Dent and his companions many times over the years, we still have our favourite old versions. We now also have a big budget and accomplished new take on Douglas Adams’ vision, and one of which he would fully have approved. Don’t Panic. They haven’t ruined it. Sit back and enjoy.
Cursed
Director Wes Craven is one of the kings of American horror. Not content with having helped shape the nature of the genre during the 1980s with his Nightmare on Elm Street films, he was also the man responsible for reinventing it as self-parody with the in-joke-laden Scream series. During his career, Craven has had ghosts, vampires, psychics and teenagers as his slashing, mass-murdering protagonists. With Cursed he turns his attention to yet another classic nasty – the werewolf.
Werewolves have had a fairly tough time of it in Hollywood recently. While vampires have been perennially popular, The Mummy made a comeback and Frankenstein’s monster keeps being reinvented anew, since the dire Jack Nicholson and Michelle Pfeiffer vehicle Wolf back in 1994 the only werewolf film to do much business was surprise French success Brotherhood of the Wolf four years ago. The last really good, big budget werewolf film was all the way back in 1981, with the modern classic An American Werewolf in London.
The trouble is, werewolves simply just aren’t that scary a prospect. Let’s face it, all they really are is big doggies and, for anyone who grew up in the 80s, one of the first thoughts that will spring to mind when someone mentions werewolves is Michael J. Fox covered in hair and playing basketball in 1985’s Teen Wolf. There the transformation into a hairy beast was – fairly disingenuously – used as a metaphor for puberty, in much the same way as it would later be with the character of Oz in Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
So Craven’s set himself quite a task in taking on werewolves, and one only made more difficult by his own contributions to the horror genre, which have ensured that straight gore and shocks without a bit of humour these days hold little interest. Thanks to his own deconstruction of the genre in the Scream films – which were, incidentally, written by the same screenwriter as is responsible for this outing – Craven these days is expected to finely balance scares and laughs.
Unfortunately, Craven seems to have lost his touch. He took four years off after Scream 3, and in that time appears to have forgotten everything he once knew about making intelligent, funny yet scary movies. He tries to get the same combination of humour and horror that he has achieved in recent outings, but somehow his aim has ended up slightly off with both. A few good scares and a few good jokes do not a good movie make.
This is not as bad as most of the straight to video horror trash which still gets churned out by low-budget studios to this day, but it is also nowhere near as good as you would expect from a master of the genre armed with a good screenwriter and a halfway decent cast. Perhaps one to rent in a few months time, but not one to venture out for.
Beauty Shop
You don’t go to see this sort of film if you’re after sophisticated Wildean wit, you go for broad, obvious silliness.
A spin-off from the Ice Cube-starring Barbershop films – themselves based on some amusing sketches in the late-80s Eddie Murphy vehicle Coming to America – Beauty Shop takes a tried and tested formula and changes little but the sex of the main characters. Where the two Barbershop films focussed around a series of black male stereotypes moaning and joking with each other to pass the time of day, this sees a bunch of black female stereotypes doing precisely the same thing.
Here, the Ice Cube role is adopted by the surprisingly popular Queen Latifah, who currently seems to be trying to corner the Hollywood market for vivacious, slightly overweight Africa-American women who seem to do little more than waggle their heads from side to side while saying “girlfriend”. Absolutely fine, if you like that sort of thing.
The plots of the two Barbershop films, such as they were, were all about struggling to maintain an idealised, old-fashioned approach to business in the face of bigger, bolder competition. No changes here. Latifah’s Gina, who cropped up in a relatively small role in Barbershop 2 last year, has moved from Chicago to Atlanta to give her daughter a chance to make something of herself. After a brief stint at the upmarket salon of the insanely over-the-top Jorge Christophe (Kevin Bacon, having fun with the limited material and a ridiculous wig), she ends up opening her own rival business, populating it with the full range of entirely predictable caricatures.
But predictable caricatures and old set-ups can be funny. That is, after all, the entire premise of every sitcom ever made – a bunch of exaggerated people knocking around a limited environment, doing similar things all the time. It’s Friends, it’s Cheers, it’s Only Fools and Horses. If it works for television, why shouldn’t it work for film?
Well, whatever the reason, it doesn’t. When you go to the cinema, unless you’re going to a classic movie on re-release, you generally expect to see something entertaining and original for your money. This is, to all intents and purposes, neither.
That’s not to say that this isn’t a funny film. There are a number of good jokes, amusing characters and moments. Mena Suvari and Andie MacDowell as a couple of stuck-up posh customers are both fun, if seemingly not trying too hard. Kevin Bacon, a much underrated actor, certainly has his moments. The woefully underutilised Djimon Hounsou, who amply proved his acting mettle in Amistad and Gladiator, may only be the love-interest, but he too is likable when onscreen. The only completely bum note is Alicia Silverstone’s obnoxious wannabe-black stylist – but then Silverstone hasn’t been good since Clueless, and that was ten years ago.
It’s always a shame when a generally good cast is left with duff and unoriginal material. All involved should have known better than to take part in this desperate attempt to wring more money out of the failing Barbershop franchise. Don’t expect a sequel to this one, but if you fancy an unchallenging couple of hours with a few giggles, it might be worth it. Assuming you can get a discount on the ticket price and so can avoid feeling ripped off, that is… Don’t say you weren’t warned, girlfriend.
Be Cool
Get Shorty saw John Travolta on a post-Pulp Fiction high, enjoying popularity the likes of which he hadn’t known since Saturday Night Fever and Grease. As mobster turned film producer Chili Palmer he seemed to prove that his run of bad films throughout the 1980s was more to do with studio politics than any lack of talent. His apparently easy charm combined perfectly with an amusing plot and some fun supporting performances from various big names to make an enjoyable film which seemed easily to secure his rediscovered star status.
Today, Travolta’s star has once again plummeted – thanks to a succession of dire turns in the likes of Swordfish, Ladder 49 and the near-official worst film of all time, Battlefield Earth – and he is in dire need of a fresh hit. Add to that the fact that since he has put on a lot of weight – and especially with the slicked-back hairdo he sports here – he has begun to bear a striking resemblance to laughing stock action “star” Steven Segal, he must be aware that, without a new big success, being forced into another Look Who’s Talking film is only a matter of time.
So, in the absence of any more parts in Tarantino flicks, ten years after Get Shorty showed that Pulp Fiction wasn’t a fluke we finally get the sequel which was rumoured even as the first film was still in cinemas. The fact that the tagline to this movie is “Everybody is looking for the next big hit”, and that Travolta has somehow managed to rope in his old Pulp Fiction co-star Uma Thurman to do a repeat performance of their dancing scene from that movie, simply makes the desperation even more obvious. The only confusing thing remains the awful title – why not simply call it Get Shorty 2?
If you want to revive your career in a slick Hollywood-set comedy, getting in a load of your big-name buddies is a superb idea. So we get James Woods, Danny DeVito, Harvey Keitel, Vince Vaughn, wrestler The Rock, comedian Cedric the Entertainer and even Aerosmith all strutting their stuff alongside Travolta and Thurman, and all seem to be having a stupidly fun time. Vaughn and The Rock in particular are evidently having the time of their lives with their overly silly characters.
Just because the actors are enjoying themselves does not, however, necessarily guarantee that the audience are going to enjoy watching it. Being an actor, Travolta seems to have concentrated too much on the cast, not enough on the plot, dialogue or – especially – direction. Not up to the task himself, he got in the cheapest hack director he could find – the man responsible for the simply appalling Italian Job remake. Where the first film was expertly adapted from a good Elmore Leonard novel, this has been written from scratch by the man responsible for tedious “comedy” sequel Analyze That.
Without enough plot, they’ve opted for as many musical interludes as possible to pad out the runtime, many of which are only moderately excusable thanks to the central conceit that Travolta’s ex-gangster is branching out into the music biz with promising starlet Linda Moon (played by promising starlet Christina Milian). Sadly the music is not up to scratch either.
This may be being harsh. There is some enjoyment to be had here. But considering the acting talent involved it is far, far less than it might – and indeed should – have been. To win back his fans Travolta must do much, much more than this.
