“The Professional” is a superficial yarn about a hitman (French star Jean Reno) who is befriended in his New York apartment building by an abused 12-year-old girl (newcomer Natalie Portman). When her family are killed by a vicious government agent (Gary Oldman), he reluctantly takes her in. The rest of the film, as you might imagine, has Reno recognizing a side of him that has been awakened by his paternal friendship with this little girl. And he eventually teaches her about being a “cleaner.”
Although bathes in grit and was shot in the scuzziest locations New York has to offer, it’s a romantic fantasy, not a realistic crime picture. Besson’s visual approach gives it a European look; he finds Paris in Manhattan. That air of slight displacement helps it get away with various improbabilities, as when Matilda teaches Leon to read (in a few days, apparently), or when Leon is able to foresee the movements of his enemies with almost psychic accuracy.
“The Professional” is a well-directed film, because Besson has a natural gift for plunging into drama with a charged-up visual style. Not only does music play an important role in giving texture to his material, his scenes — especially the violent ones — are presented as arias, chamber pieces, symphonies. Even though its hero is a killer, “The Professional” pays tribute to the simple nobility of his craftsmanship. It’s an evil job that he does, but at least he has standards.
Jack Skellington (speaking voice by Chris Sarandon, singing voice by Danny Elfman) is the “pumpkin king” of Halloweentown, the man responsible for bringing the very best in the ghastly and the morbid to the eager townspeople. Jack has grown weary of his job, though; He discovers a doorway to Christmasland, where Santa Claus prepares for his own yearly blowout. Jack decides to co-opt Christmas for his own purposes, over the objections of stitched-together Sally (Catherine O’Hara), who’s infatuated with him.
“The Nightmare Before Christmas” is a Tim Burton film in the sense that the story, its world and its look first took shape in Burton’s mind, and he supervised their filming. It is a visual splendor. Done on the cheap, this could have been a gimmicky, unsatisfying experience, but, as the result of considerable time and effort, it is an unqualified success. All of the figures move smoothly and naturally, and the attention to detail is exquisite. We are given a group of cleverly-fashioned characters that look like refugees from Edward Gorey’s sketchbook.
The songs by Danny Elfman are fun, too, a couple of them using lyrics so clever they could be updated from Gilbert & Sullivan. And the choreography, liberated from gravity and reality, has an energy of its own, as when the furniture, the architecture and the very landscape itself gets into the act.
“The Nightmare Before Christmas” is just short enough not to wear out its welcome and just long enough to brushstroke its pagan vs. In short, it does what it intends to: entertain.
“Finding Nemo” has all of the usual pleasures of the Pixar animation style–the comedy and wackiness of “Toy Story” or “Monsters Inc.” or “A Bug’s Life.” And it adds an unexpected beauty, a use of color and form that makes it one of those rare movies where I wanted to sit in the front row and let the images wash out to the edges of my field of vision.
The movie takes place almost entirely under the sea, in the world of colorful tropical fish–the flora and fauna of a shallow warm-water shelf not far from Australia. The use of color, form and movement make the film a delight even apart from its story.
Throughout, the film is absolutely drunk with the hallucinogenic color and infinite variety of its undersea world, and dazzles us with computer-generated animation that has never looked quite so boldly exotic or shimmeringly beautiful.
More or less,”Finding Nemo” is a pleasure for grown-ups. There are jokes we get that the kids don’t, and the complexity of Albert Brooks’ neuroses, and that enormous canvas filled with creatures that have some of the same hypnotic beauty as–well, fish in an aquarium. They may appreciate another novelty: This time the dad is the hero of the story, although in most animation it is almost always the mother.
Director Tim Burton and the other folks behind “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” have gone out of their way to distance themselves — and their film — from 1971’s “Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory,” that other movie adaptation of Roald Dahl’s beloved novel.
We see the wondrous workings of the factory in the opening titles, a CGI assembly-line sequence that swoops like a roller-coaster. When the five kids and their adult guardians finally get inside, their first sight is a marvel of imagination: A sugary landscape of chocolate rivers, gumdrop trees and (no doubt) candy mountains. Behind his locked doors, Willy has created this fantastical playground for — himself, apparently. As the tour continues, we learn the secret of his work force: He uses Oompa Loompas, earnest and dedicated workers all looking exactly the same and all played, through a digital miracle, by the vaguely ominous Deep Roy. We’re reminded of Santa’s identical helpers in “The Polar Express.”
For some, this new version might be a little too “out there.” The material definitely plays to Burton’s bizarre, sometimes macabre, sensibilities. And Johnny Depp’s take on Wonka is definitely much creepier than Gene Wilder’s prickly but considerably warmer portrayal.
Yet, in many respects, this inventive, delightful and visually rich fantasy is more faithful to Dahl’s source material (especially in tone). And it’s certainly one of the best summer movies for families (in fact, among other things, the film stresses the importance of family).
Tim Roth stars in the film by director Giuseppe Tornatore. It’s a fantastical, historical fable about a gifted pianist born and raised on a cruise ship.
Told in flashback, it’s the story of Danny Boodmann TD Lemon 1900 (Roth), so-named because he was found as an infant in 1900, lodged in a crate of lemons aboard a luxury cruise liner. Growing up at sea, it swiftly becomes apparent that 1900 is a gifted – possibly even genius – pianist. His legend spreads and jazz giant Jelly Roll Morton (Williams) even comes aboard to hear him play. Years later and narrator/former band member Max Tooney (Vince) is pawning the trumpet he blew alongside 1900 when he hears the ship is to be sunk. Could it be that 1900 is still somewhere on board, mooning over a mysterious beauty known only as ‘The Girl’ (Thierry) while working up a lonely rag?
Italian director Giuseppe Tornatore’s Oscar-winning Cinema Paradiso was one of the surprise hits of the 80s, and here he presents his first English language film, a lavish and unashamedly sentimental fable based on a monologue by Italian writer Alessandro Baricco.
By turns compelling, confounding, and occasionally just downright odd, Tornatore’s ocean-going epic contains much to admire. True, there are moments when it threatens to sink beneath a tide of sentiment, but an understated performance by Tim Roth and the music which forms the film’s heart make this an unusual but worthwhile venture.
To its credit, I, Robot does try to be a more cerebral summer movie; the thinking man’s version, if you will. And it does so by daring to introduce some fairly thought-provoking concepts.
Will Smith stars in this futuristic science-fiction thriller as Del Spooner, a Chicago homicide detective who has a prejudice against what he terms needless technology, in particular robotic life forms.
I, Robot features some of the best uses of CGI special effects ever. Put this alongside the Star Wars prequels and The Lord of the Rings as a primer for the seamless incorporation of special effects. There’s a lot of computer work in I, Robot, but it’s never obvious or evident. It rarely calls attention to itself, and it is not clumsily inserted. When Will Smith interacts with a special effect, we forget that it’s an actor posturing with something drawn in by computer. After seeing a lot of cheap effects work that looks like it was exported from a computer game, it’s refreshing to see something of such high quality.
But those expecting a wonderful realization of a brilliant man’s dreams in fancy CGI will be disappointed. Those expecting two hours of fighting robots, big explosions and a few cracking one-liners will get a lot more than they bargained for. Just go for a good time and you’ll have one, as sometimes expectations are a bad thing.
“The Notebook” cuts between the same couple at two seasons in their lives. We see them in the urgency of young romance, and then we see them as old people, she disappearing into the shadows of Alzheimer’s, he steadfast in his love. It is his custom every day to read to her from a notebook that tells the story of how they met and fell in love and faced obstacles to their happiness. Sometimes, he says, if only for a few minutes, the clouds part and she is able to remember who he is and who the story is about.
The lovers are named Allie Nelson and Noah Calhoun, known as Duke. As old people they’re played by Gena Rowlands and James Garner. As young people, Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling do really good jobs. The performances are suited to the material, respecting the passion at the beginning and the sentiment at the end, but not pushing too hard; there is even a time when young Noah tells Allie, “I don’t see how it’s gonna work,” but it did.
When she gradually remembered something, it is one of the best moments we come to the movies to be swept away into another time and place, and that’s where “The Notebook” gets it right.
It must be heartbreaking when genius won’t recognize itself, and that’s the most baffling problem of all in “Good Will Hunting,” the smart, involving story of a working-class kid from Boston.
It’s also heartbreaking to be able to appreciate true genius and yet fall just short of it yourself. A man can spend his entire life studying to be a mathematician–and yet watch helplessly while a high school dropout, a janitor, scribbles down the answers to questions the professor is baffled by.
Directed by Gus Van Sant, who sometimes seems to have perfect pitch when it comes to dialogue; look at the scene where Matt and Skylar break up and say hurtful things, and see how clear he makes it that Matt is pushing her away because he doesn’t think he deserves her. “Good Will Hunting” also proves, if nothing else, that Matt and Ben Affleck would have a career in the movie business even if they couldn’t act.
As Louis Armstrong once said, “There’s some folks, that, if they don’t know, you can’t tell ‘em.” This movie is about whether Will is one of those folks. “Good Will Hunting” has been rather inexplicably compared to “Rainman,” although “Rainman” was about an autistic character who cannot and does not change, and “Good Will Hunting” is about a genius who can change, and grow, if he chooses to.
Among the inalienable rights promised in the preamble of the Declaration of Independence, happiness is the only one not guaranteed. We are theoretically assured of life and liberty, but happiness we are left to pursue on our own. “The Pursuit of Happyness,” a routine domestic drama starring Will Smith, is the story of one man’s unwavering pursuit for a better life (and presumably happiness with an “i”) against long odds.
The movie is “inspired by a true story,” that of Chris Gardner, who was among San Francisco’s working homeless in the early ’80s and managed to pull himself and his young son up by the bootstraps. “Inspired by” is an interesting phrase because the movie is more inspiring than inspired. The man’s struggles are emotionally engaging, but dramatically it lacks the layering of a “Kramer vs. Kramer,” which it superficially resembles.
The most effective aspect of the film is the relationship between father and son. It’s a love story in the purest sense as Chris tries to shield Christopher from the hardships they face, and it’s instances like this that makes you think nepotism can be a good thing.
“The Pursuit of Happyness” is an unexceptional film with exceptional performances and, if you’re curious, takes its title’s quirky spelling from a mural outside Christopher’s Chinatown day-care center. There are worse ways to spend the holidays, and, at the least, it will likely make you appreciate your own circumstances.
A movie about Nicolas Cage as Seth, a restless angel drawn to one of the humans he’s supposed to comfort — Maggie Rice (Meg Ryan), a beautiful heart surgeon.
In the world portrayed in City of Angels, we’re all surrounded by dark-clad individuals who watch over our shoulder, guiding us when we need guidance and taking us away when it’s our time. They’re everywhere and they hear our thoughts. Problem is, they can’t feel what we feel. When Ryan’s character experiences a huge loss in her life, Seth begins to feel more than his dutiful concern for her and slowly he begins to appear to her more and more often in human form…
I suspect City of Angels is going to remind many viewers of Ghost, but there’s a big difference: this film is more true and less manipulative. Ultimately, it is a tear-jerker, but there’s more to it than that. While the movie isn’t as effective as Wings of Desire in developing the angels’ culture and presenting a meditation upon spirituality, it gives us a pair of well- developed protagonists worth caring about and establishes a complex dynamic between them.
City of Angels is more romantic than profound, but Dana Stevens’ script is thoughtful and intelligent, and I never felt insulted by what the characters say, do, or think. Director Brad Silberling, effectively suggests the spiritual/material duality of the world. It’s a subdued motion picture, but the lack of overt melodrama makes for a moving and involving story. Even for those enraptured by Wings of Desire, City of Angels is strong enough to cast its own quietly romantic spell.
It is customary to praise the achievements of the special effects department, but this trilogy’s most startling achievement is its storytelling; every time the longeurs of exposition or the details of various races and myths threaten your suspension of disbelief, the three-handed scenes between Sam, Frodo and Gollum bring back intimacy and acuity of character. This focus tightens around the ring itself; the very small thing at the heart of this epic that stands for a very large theme. The small round band of gold magnifies the evil in every heart and represents man’s inexhaustible appetite for power.
The film is at its most moving moment when we are watching the fear play across the faces of our heroes, and the nameless ranks of men who stand against Sauron’s horrors.
Along with the high body count, there is a very high weepie count too, and the sobs inspired as much by this bravery as by grief. Against this ubiquitous evil stands man’s improbable will to persist despite the monstrous nature of his condition: born to die, yet able to face this tragedy with courage and equanimity. As Gandalf puts it, “Death is just another path which we all must take.” The greatest cinematic event of a generation is over, leaving behind it a thoughtful silence.
A Beautiful Mind is about brilliant mathematician John Nash and his legendary life. The earnest thriller-cum-weepie starring Russell Crowe as a maths genius whose life is wracked by schizophrenia. A Beautiful Mind is stamped all over with ‘Hollywood prestige project’ and showered with awards.
Although the film leaves out the seedier elements of the real Nash’s life (divorce, cottage), it fashions a loose biopic that is by turns funny, exciting, sad and downright corny. The script, by Akiva Goldsman, (who also wrote the inexcusable Batman & Robin), is riddled with pithy, utterances that capture these shifting tones: there’s Nash’s description of himself: “I’m quite well balanced – I have a chip on both shoulders” – or the description his doctor, Rosen (Plummer), later uses to describes his disease to his wife: “The nightmare of schizophrenia is not knowing what’s true.”
Although it dallies with Cold War thriller elements, A Beautiful Mind is ultimately a formulaic tale of human perseverance, and merits comparisons with other, similar award-showered tales .As such, it’s an above-average weepie, a Hollywood prestige film that pre-packages the sufferings of one highly intelligent man and the woman who loves him to manipulate the emotions. Although the film itself is not as smart as it imagines itself to be, it’s certainly artful, with fine camera work by Roger Deakins (who shot the Coens’ stylish The Man Who Wasn’t There), and solid, thanks to Howard’s even-tempered direction.
Some of my friends criticized this movie for being too unrealistic and fanciful, and they said that everyone in the movie seems to be a little bit odd. Nevertheless, I think this is an essential part of the movie. The reason is self-evident.
First, the girl herself is very lonely, imaginative. Second, her life experience is very different from many others. Last but not the least, don’t you think privately to yourself that everyone of us has some odd behaviors?
She just happens to fall in love with a boy the day when she decides to embark on a short journal to help a person she doesn’t know at all. Jean-Pierre Jeunet is very talented, and he brings us along the “journal” with Amelie. Has the movie been directed by someone else, I don’t think he/she has the ability to control the plot so well.
Audrey Tautou is a very excellent actress, and she does very well in portraying Amelie. She successfully brings me into a virtual world and lets me fall in love with this sweet girl. Besides, the cast of the movie as a whole acts very vividly. They contribute a lot to the success of the movie as well. Every actor in the movie tries their best to make the most out of their role, and they are just as alive as Amelie herself.
This movie is perfect, never before have I thought a movie can be perfect. I see it many times. This movie is quite different from other big budget Hollywood productions. It is cozy, succinct. The girl Amelie goes straight into the bottom of my heart and stays there, never fading away afterwards. I wish I could be her and have her courage to do all the things I dare not to do…
Scent of a Woman is about Charles Simms (Chris O’Donnell), a Boston prep school senior, and the Thanksgiving weekend he spends working as the aide and companion of Lt. Colonel Frank Slade (Al Pacino), an embittered, lonely, blind veteran. The job, which begins as an onerous task performed principally for money, becomes a tour of self-discovery when Slade decides to make an unexpected visit to New York City.
There are numerous dynamic scenes in Scent of a Woman, along with a surprising amount of comedy. Director/Producer Martin Brest knows how to blend humor with drama to good effect. His mix is nearly flawless, and he manages to do almost (and I emphasize almost) the entire film without resorting to manipulative tricks. Pacino’s tango scene with Gabrielle Anwar is one such magical moment – unfettered, unforced, and highly enjoyable.
For as long as Brest and Goldman allow Frank to exist on his own ridiculous terms, the character — and the movie — work beautifully. And Pacino does a masterful job of making Frank’s acid one-liners and put-downs hilariously funny. But then the filmmakers seem to have decided that they wanted to paint themselves into a corner all along. When Frank becomes “lovably” misanthropic — which has been a perpetual danger since the start — the movie reverses its position on him. The creators decide they want him to just be a blind guy after all, which allows them to score easy, sentimental points and give the film an upbeat, life-affirming Capraesque ending.
The Japanese comic Spirited Away is a good movie. It tells a story as follows. A ten-year-old girl, came to a strange world of bizarre creations, and deduced a story of looking for love and trying to find the way home. In this world, there was a stocky woman with a huge head and even bigger hairdo. She lived in a bathhouse, and the bath house itself was stocked with all sorts of weird and wonderful creatures. The only way to survive is to get work in the bath house that dominated the town.
Miyazaki’s animation is always beautiful and, in places, breathtaking. Locations are atmospheric, details are immaculate, and characters are diverse in his works.
Miyazaki’s work always has the power to transcend culturally specific elements. Although he insists it’s not his role to be didactic, all of his work has strong messages about ecology and the human relationship with the natural world. And he’s also fascinated with coming-of-age stories, notably about how girls (many of his protagonists are young females) can not only face up to adult responsibility, but also how they can become strong, principled members of society.
It’s no wonder the likes of Pixar’s John Lasseter (who executive produced the US dub) are so full of praise for Miyazaki. He’s a true genius, an artist and great filmmaker who happens to work in animation – a medium often belittled as childish in the West. Spirited Away is wonderful.
