Halloween pick: The Innkeepers

The horror genre seems to have devolved into a tiresome stream of gory torture schlock, contrived self parody and pseudo documentary realism. Even the documentary-style subgenre has begun to parody itself. So when a film comes along that is genuinely enjoyable to watch, it's something worth mentioning. In a field overstuffed with Calvin Klein underwear models, overly stereotyped geeks and nerds and perky-breasted bimbos, The Innkeepers is a revivifying gulp of cold, pure mountain water. It's far from perfect. The story is a bit thin and predictable and the ending decidedly dissatisfying, but the characters are so delectable, the dialogue so genuine and the humor so disarming that one cannot help but enjoy the ride no matter where it is going.

The Innkeepers tells the story of two ne'er-do-wells, Luke (Pat Healy) and Claire (Sara Paxton), who work at a failing hotel that will soon be closing its doors. Luke is a would-be ghost hunter who claims to have seen the spirit that haunts the hotel, a woman who, after being jilted by her fiance, hangs herself in the hotel. The story goes that the owners of the inn, fearing bad publicity from the suicide, hid the body in the cellar (they refer to it as a basement in the film, but, really, it's a cellar) for three days. Naturally, her restless spirit continues to haunt the hallways of the Yankee Pedlar Inn. Zoinks!

On its surface, The Innkeepers is a traditional, even hackneyed, ghost story. The events—and the tale of jilted bride—unfold rather predictably. But what makes the film enjoyable has nothing to do with the ghost story or even the haunting. It's the two main characters. As long as they're onscreen doing something, anything, Healy and Paxton keep the audience tuned in and fully engaged. Luke and Claire are two of the most likable characters I've ever seen in a horror film, and their interactions are both genuine and hilarious. Claire is lovably dorky and aimless, while Luke is jaded and apathetic. While serving the few guests staying at the inn, Luke works on his web page devoted to hauntings. It's the typical, cheap-looking, home page that proliferated back in the '90s, but Claire praises him for it nonetheless.

Perhaps because of its context within a haunted-house horror film, the antics of the two hotel employees are entertainingly goofy. The Innkeepers feels at first like it's aimed at a younger audience. There's a Goonies kind of geekiness in Claire and Luke that draws us in. I stopped the film once just to confirm that it came with an R rating. Amid the comedy—sometimes even slaptick humor—I couldn't quite believe that this was, in fact, a horror film with an R rating.

In what is one of the funniest scenes I've ever witnessed, Claire struggles to haul a heavy, leaking bag of garbage out to the dumpster. It is laugh-aloud funny because her behavior is so true to human nature. It's funny because it's real. In the same circumstances, I behave in exactly the same way. And I applaud the filmmaking genius that had the patience to allow that dumpster scene to play out to its fullest. It would have been so simple to make it a quick ha-ha laugh and then move along with the overall goal of scaring the audience. Instead, the slaptick continued until finally reaching the inevitable conclusion. It's for scenes like this that I appreciate The Innkeepers so much in spite of its shortcomings as a horror film. In so many ways, it defies the common sense of the genre.

The humor, naturally, belies the horror that is to come, and we know it. It's easy to fall into the trap of enjoying the inanity and banality that make up two main characters' lives and forgetting that something scary is going to happen. The movie slowly eases into the haunted house story, and Claire's ghost hunting almost feels like a subplot. The audience knows, of course, that Claire will come into contact with the infamous spirit stalking the Yankee Pedlar. Once the wheels are set in motion, the spooky ride barrels forward through both suspenseful and comedic moments on its way to an ultimately disappointing ending.

Luke and Claire play host to three different guests along the way (well, maybe four or five if you count the ghosts and bumps in the night): an estranged wife and her child, spiritualist and former TV actress Leanne Rease-Jones (Kelly McGillis) and a mysterious old man. McGillis is rock solid as the cigarette-smoking, vodka guzzling former TV star, at once sporting an air of royalty while becoming something of a confidant to Claire.

Rease-Jones plays an important role in helping Claire communicate with the Inn's supernatural resident(s). Rease-Jones reveals to her that there are actually three spirits present at the Inn and warns her to stay out of the basement. Once the warning is issued, the audience knows very well that Claire is going to end up in the basement, and, in fact, that's where the climax of the film  takes place.

Where the film falls short is in leaving too many loose ends. The audience is left to wonder why it ended the way it did. What was the purpose of that climactic scene? What are the motives that drove it to its conclusion? We can speculate about the identity of the old man. Oh, it seems pretty obvious on the surface, but if one accepts that conclusion, then it makes the climax all the more puzzling. What is Claire's role in all of this? The ending could be a contrivance designed to avoid the predictable outcome dictated by the hackneyed ghost story. It's easy for the audience to see the Scooby-Doo climax coming, so to ensure that doesn't happen, the plot takes a different direction and is allowed devolve into something else, something we've come to expect in the horror genre. I'm speculating here because I can't fathom much about why it turns out the way it does. It's not that I want the Scooby-Doo ending; I just want something that makes sense and resolves the conflict central to the ghost story. I can speculate much about what it really means, but that's all it is—speculation. And if it means what I think it does, making the "jilted lover" something of a red herring, then the audience needs more explanation about what's going on, especially in terms of Claire's role.

The pattern is in place, the clues are there, but the film ultimately fails to connect the dots. While I can appreciate that on one level, I find the ending dissatisfying. I am obviously avoiding revealing any details that would spoil the story, but the solution to the seeming mystery is certainly open to discussion. Something is missing here that is essential to the story's realizing its full potential. I'd love to see the filmmakers go back and do a director's cut that fills in the gaps and completes the story.

Many viewers will no doubt judge this film harshly for its shortcomings. I found myself pleasantly surprised by how thoroughly enjoyable the movie is in spite of its faults. The characters, dialogue and humor are just plain fun to experience. Some people will say there's too much humor for this to be taken seriously as a horror film, but it certainly does have its suspenseful moments. If nothing else, the suspense works because it contrasts so well with the humor. I cannot say enough about how much I love these characters. Claire and Luke will live forever in my mind as two of the most memorable characters ever to step onto a horror set. If the movie were ever spun off into, say, a TV series with Paxton and Healy reprising their roles, I'd tune in every week regardless of the quality of the story just see these two acting their parts.

The Innkeepers may not satisfy the desire for the typical nail-biting, gory thriller, but it is nonetheless highly enjoyable. And, yes, it is currently streaming on Netflix, so add it to your Instant Queue.

Oh, no! You sank my movie!

I don't believe I've ever watched a movie that made less sense than Battleship, the movie inexplicably based on the board game of the same name. Taylor Kitsch and Alexander Skarsgard star as unlikely brothers Alex Hopper and Stone Hopper, respectively, one an officer in the navy, the other a down-and-out, unemployed loser. Older brother Stone tries to convince younger brother Alex to join the navy, but Alex is more interested in the curvy blonde who has suddenly appeared in search of a chicken burrito. And that's where everything begins rolling down the Baffling Highway of Inexplicable  and Senseless Events.

Alex somehow goes from breaking into a convenience store, stealing a chicken burrito, destroying property, resisting arrest and being tased to becoming a commander in the US Navy. One could begin making jokes about how selective the Navy is with its recruits. As absurd as it sounds, this is just one of the many head-slappingly unbelievable events that put severe strain on suspension of disbelief—even in this sci-fi actioner. Had this been a made-for-Saturday-morning-TV movie released in the '90s, it could have become a popular classic among the younger crowd. Unfortunately, it's just impossible to take seriously a movie like this being released on the big screen.

After Hopper lands command of his own ship in the US Navy, the aliens appear with the apparent intent of launching an invasion to conquer the Earth. Well, at least that's what the audience is expected to believe—in spite of all evidence to the contrary. The alien race possesses military technology far beyond that possessed by the US Navy—yet time and again they don't utilize it to their full advantage. They can swat us Earth humans around like flies, yet they allow us to one-by-one destroy every ship in their reconnaissance fleet. In addition to artillery that resembles the pegs used to sink ships in the board game (this was obviously intentional), the alien arsenal also includes spinning, fiery balls of doom that can chew through metal like wet cardboard. They could easily have launched a few of these to eat through every single weapon the humans possess. Instead they sit around waiting for the insects to attack them with their puny weapons and slowly demolish everything they have.

Oh, but this is, after all, just a reconnaissance mission for the aliens. They're just here to send a message back to the homeworld about a plump fruit ripe for the picking. Never mind that the reconnaissance forces themselves seem to be more than a match for anything the Earth can throw at them. Naturally, the humans, against all the odds prevail because of their tenacity and ingenuity in the face of insurmountable obstacles. And the gullible audience is expected to rejoice in the triumph of the underdog, assuming that the homeworld won't miss the reconnaissance mission or will have decided that the Earth is just too powerful for them to conquer.

The movie really just doesn't make much sense, but it does offer up plenty of moments that tug at American heartstrings. And, if I may digress for a moment, that is another of the film's great failings. Like many other films, it suffers from being solidly planted in an American perspective with blinders firmly in place. After all, if an alien race is going to launch an invasion of Earth, it would certainly be the US Navy it confronts. Because nobody else has any weapons to bring to bear.

But if we can ignore such shortsightedness, then we will surely be moved by the double-amputee military veteran who has the courage to go toe-to-toe with one of the alien brutes, pounding it with one right cross after another until several of its teeth go flying. And who could possibly be immune to the emotional appeal of the WWII veterans who help Hopper launch the USS Missouri into the battle? Even the movie's token geek steps up to inspire the audience with unlikely bravery. Ultimately, however, it is Hopper's rise from ne'er-do-well to hero that provides the films strongest moment.

The movie counts on emotional appeals to please the audience because, quite frankly, it's got nothing else in the tank. This is an empty, illogical, senseless mess that nevertheless manages to make us—some of us at least—raise our fists in triumph and belt out a loud "Hurrah!"

Additional thoughts on Amazing Spider-Man

One interesting aspect of The Amazing Spider-Man is that it breaks an archetypal rule that has existed in comic superherodom from the beginning: Spider-Man's secret identity isn't much of a secret. Gwen Stacy knows who he is; he reveals himself to Stacy's father and the Lizard discovers who he is and one might even speculate that the shadowy figure at the end of the film also knows the secret.

Obviously, this kind of thing can only go so far. At some point you have to realize that the arachnid will be out of the proverbial funnel web, and then there's not much reason to wear a mask. Luckily, Capt. Stacy won't be telling anyone, although it's a pity Denis Leary won't be coming back—unless his ghost decides to haunt Parker and hound him at every turn for breaking his promise.

We can only hope that future installments will feature some of the more interesting Spider-Man villains. And maybe the sequels won't feel so rough and unedited. This first film really needed a really nasty editor to say, "No, we're not doing that."

Somewhat amazing, anyway: A review of The Amazing Spider-Man

Why? Why are we doing this again? It's nearly impossible not to pose this question as one watches The Amazing Spider-Man, a reboot of the big screen franchise featuring everyone's favorite wall crawler. Some will call this a remake, and while there's some truth to that, the latest film is more of a do-over, a restart. It's a chance to go back and focus on some different aspects of the central character, Peter Parker, and to introduce some new characters who figured prominently in the comic book, including love interest Gwen Stacy.

After the third film in the previous series, it's easy to see why a reboot was warranted, but does this one do the Webslinger justice? It's definitely a mixed bag of scenes and themes that work well and others that could very well have been left to the splicer.

It's mostly the early sequences of the film that fall flat and seem overly contrived. Andrew Garfield is fine as the always disheveled Parker, and who can't like Emma Stone as Gwen Stacy? Denis Leary appears as Gwen's police captain father and Rhys Ifans as the tragic figure of Peter's scientist friend Dr. Curt Connors.

The problem with the first 30-plus minutes of the film is that it's little more than a rehash of what we already know happens to Peter. And the sequences depicting his struggle to control and understand his newfound powers are contrived and often just plain silly. The film could very well have done without the entire scene on the subway in which Peter inadvertently strips a girl of her outer clothing and then proceeds to fend off a host of would-be vigilantes coming to her aid. None of this is really very funny or entertaining unless you're five years old. And let's not even mention the monster lizard rat. Even in a modern comic book such a thing would be dismissed out of hand as simply absurd.

And why are we rehashing the Spider-Man origin story again in the first place? There are some minor changes, but the core of the Spider-Man mythos remains intact. So why retell it? Given that Peter's love interest is now Gwen Stacy instead of Mary Jane Watson, couldn't the action of this film have been joined in medias res and the origin changes conveyed via flashbacks? This, arguably, would have made the film as a whole less contrived and more of an independent entity of its own.

Among the aspects of the film that work very well is the depiction of Peter as more of a typical, willful teenager rather than the syrupy goodness that was the Tobey Maguire Parker. The behavior that leads to the eventual death of Uncle Ben feels more real and less contrived than it did in the previous version. The same lesson about using super powers responsibly is conveyed, although in the form of a more powerful declaration that Spider-Man has a moral obligation to use his powers to help others. Peter makes mistakes and regrets them and seems all the more like a real person because of it.

The Amazing Spider-Man is also a film of strong emotions. Many scenes, including the death of Uncle Ben and the aftereffects of his death, are genuinely moving. Other powerful scenes include the climax of the final battle with the Lizard and Spider-Man's rooftop heart-to-heart with Captain Stacy. Parker's promise to Captain Stacy is heart wrenching and we know will lead to future conflicts.

The action focuses primarily on Dr. Connors and his desire to discover how humans may re-grow limbs like other species. He has a vested interest in the research because he has lost one his arms. The answer to the puzzle, he is certain, lies in being able to splice human DNA with that of species capable of regeneration. This same genetic research also leads to the bite that turns mild-mannered Peter Parker into the wisecracking Spider-Man.

One thing is certain: Our science has moved us beyond the simplistic idea that radiation can turn normal people into super-heroes, that the bite of an irradiated spider can make someone stronger and faster and able to climb walls. So at least the gene splicing gives us a sense of plausibility in the reboot, and instead of shooting web out of his wrists as in the Tobey Maguire version, this Spider-Man is more in keeping with the comic book version wherein a special formula derived from research allows Webhead to devise his own web shooters.

There is one very notable--and perhaps unforgivable--omission in this rehash: J. Jonah Jameson is nowhere to be found. Can we have Spider-Man without his greatest non-super-powered nemesis? I suppose casting Jameson would have been difficult if J. K. Simmons were not reprising his role. Still, I find it difficult to imagine any Spider-Man franchise without the cigar-chomping news editor.

The Amazing Spider-Man is far from a great film, but it's certainly not a failure either. Aside from introducing movie-going audiences to one of Spider-Man's most intriguing villains in the Lizard, this film seems to be going through the motions as more of an introduction to the new series. Much of it, I argue, is completely unnecessary. If you eliminate the contrivances the sole purpose of which are to re-establish an entirely new Spider-Man, it's an engaging and thoroughly enjoyable movie. The contrived scenes and some occasionally dreadful dialogue are jarring and even awkward. If the next installment can stay away from these mistakes, this could be a stronger franchise than the original.

Not so Safe House

In Safe House Ryan Reynolds reprises his role as Green Lantern to battle the nefarious Mr. Frost, played by Denzel Washington, whose superpowers include the ability to beat people up really badly and inject data capsules into his body where nobody will find them. Unfortunately, Hal Jordan has somehow managed to lose his ring and gets beat up a lot and stabbed with broken glass. And his driver's license has probably been revoked because he wrecks a lot of cars.

Okay, so Reynolds actually takes on the role of Matt Weston, a CIA "housekeeper," someone whose job is to watch over a safe house for field operatives and to maintain the safety of any "house guests" who arrive for a little enhanced interrogation. It seems like a pretty nice gig, really. You just sit around in a highly secure place with all kinds of doors with security keypads and a nice fridge stocked with fruits, soft drinks, plasma and medicines. Yeah, you know, just like the stuff you have in your fridge right now. I guess the whole idea of showing that scene of the refrigerator contents was to let you know what kind of apartment this is, but it was kind of a moot point, given that, you know, the title of the movie sort of gives it away.

The only problem with landing a nice job like this where you get paid lots of money to sit around bouncing a tennis ball off the wall and lying to your girlfriend about working at a clinic is that inevitably Hollywood will come along and want to shoot the place up.

So when Tobin Frost arrives, poor Hal, I mean Matt, is forced to do some real tough-guy stuff like hijack a car, drive it really, really fast, get shot at and beat up and actually shoot people himself.

Reynolds is actually pretty good as the in-over-his-head Weston. He is convincing as the idealistic agent whose worldview is flipped on its side by the jaded traitor Frost. We learn early in the film that Frost is a bad dude--in multiple senses of the term. But you can't help feeling he's not all rotten to the core, and the idea that he and Weston will become allies at some point is inescapable. Because the focus of the film is on Frost and Weston, the other characters are more placeholders than anything else, with Brendan Gleeson playing Weston's boss, Vera Farmiga as the agent in charge of the operation to secure and interrogate Frost, and Sam Shephard as CIA Director Harlan Whitford. Their jobs are just to act as Hollywood expects us to believe CIA personnel behave, which is both bad and good.

The movie opens with a glimpse of Weston's life as a housekeeper. He has a girlfriend, played by Nora Arnezeder, to whom he must lie about what he's really doing. The film makes Weston's job seem insufferably boring. He's alone in a place that looks like a well-stocked bomb shelter. He seems to spend most of his time listening to music and bouncing that ball off the wall.

And then the phone rings and his life takes a drastic turn. Frost, fleeing a group of armed men hellbent on recovering the data he's just received from a contact, has walked into an embassy and got himself nabbed by the CIA to be dragged to Weston's safe house. It seems that Frost is a bad guy who sells classified information to anybody with a suitable amount of cash. What's on the data capsule he carries that warrants constant pursuit from armed men who manage to find him wherever he goes? Well, that's the big mystery in the film.

In spite of the presence of well-armed and well-trained military men, the safe house is invaded, turned upside down and all of the military personnel killed. Weston is forced to flee with Frost in tow because it's his duty to take care of his guests. "In brightest day, in blackest night ..."

We saw this coming, of course. So, too, could we predict Frost's escape and Weston's determination to get him back. The first idea we get that maybe Frost isn't all bad comes when he has the opportunity to kill Weston but does not, telling him, "I only kill professionals." At first this appears to be a taunt, an insult to the bungling, amateurish Weston, who seems in over his head and out of his element. Jason Bourne he is not. He's the guy that sits in a safe house bouncing a tennis ball off the wall. And wondering where he lost that ring. It is revealed later, however, that the taunt is more a kind of code Frost follows and instructs Weston to also follow.

Everything sorts itself out rather predictably, but the action is fast paced and the tension is thick. You'd have to be pretty dense not to know who the real bad guy is. Weston emerges as a sympathetic character, but you can't help admiring Frost's confidence and presence. That may be Washington's strength as an actor: He has a real screen presence and does the cocky, badass role very well. He nonchalantly shoots bad guys like tossing a wad of paper into a waste basket.

Many will harp on the movie's predictability, but it's not really not the point to deliver up surprising plot twists. The focus is on the characters of Weston and Frost and how their relationship evolves throughout the film. It also challenges our perceptions of what it means to be a "bad" person in the world of lies and subterfuge. The characters and situations here are light years from the old westerns in which the bad guys wore the black hats. Even then things were never so clear cut, but the waters are even muddier now.

The film ends in different kinds of triumph for both Weston and Frost. Weston learns that his idealism has been built on a sham, that his purpose served a cause that didn't really exist. His path in life has been forever altered by his experience. Frost manages to regain his humanity and in the process finds redemption. Thought it would be easy to think that Weston will follow Frost's path, the evidence suggests otherwise. It is clear that Weston is not frost and that he will in fact do as Frost instructed and be a better person than he.

As a thriller Safe House comes up a bit short for its predictability, but as a story examining the inevitable collision of two men seemingly on different sides of the spy game, it delivers an engaging character study that's worth watching.

Good news: Sherlock to return for a third series!

Okay, so it's not really news. The announcement was made back in January that Holmes and Watson would be  teaming up again for another run, but it gives me a good excuse to offer up some praise for series creators Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss (who also plays Sherlock's brother Mycroft), as well as for actors Benedict Cumberbatch (Sherlock) and Martin Freeman (Watson).

What's so great about Sherlock? I'm sure many will wonder. We've seen dozens of retellings of the adventures of Arthur Conan Doyle's character, the most famous detective in history. What's so special about this one?

Let's start with the setting. It's not so much the where, but the when. No, this is not your traditional Sherlock Holmes, scouring for clues in signature deerstalker cap. This is a modern reimagining of the character and the original stories. Modern technology figures prominently in the stories. Watson, for example, writes a blog about the cases he and Holmes are investigating, and the blog itself figures in some plot elements. In one episode, a cell phone and the data it holds is the key to a case. It's obvious to see that an important premise of the series deals with how the world's greatest detective would utilize modern technology. What if Sherlock Holmes had access to forensic evidence and computer technology? You can see the many answers in every episode. Technology is often used to put a new twist on Conan Doyle's stories, for example in the episode "The Hounds of Baskerville." But it's nice to know that the technology can't provide all the answers; it's more about the logic and the cunning Sherlock employs in utilizing the technology and, at times, even outsmarting it.

It's not just the idea of dusting off some old books and throwing them into a modern setting. Posing the serious question of what if Holmes and Watson were alive today is central to the series. Instead of using some contrivance such as time travel or doing down the path of making this Holmes the great-great-great grandson of the original, Moffat and Gatiss have opted for a kind of modern reboot. Because of that, it works very well in context. And the show has a lot of fun playing with the traditional images of the character. Cumberbatch's Holmes never wears a hat, but he is given a deerstalker in one episode as a gift from an adoring fan. He finds himself reluctantly obligated to wear it a couple of times.

Another appeal of the series is the strong characters. Moffat's Holmes is arrogant and patronizing, sometimes callous and borderline amoral. As he remarked in one episode, "I'm not a psychopath; I'm a highly functioning sociopath." He delivers analyses and punchlines with machine-gun rapidity and impact. Holmes is at his worst in  his uncaring treatment of Molly. His treatment of her is often excruciating, though he does finally tell her in one episode that he needs her.

While he is often insensitive to the feelings of others and even uses them to suit his needs, Sherlock nevertheless acts on their behalf to protect them and genuinely seems to care. And there are times, especially when Holmes matches wits with arch-nemesis Moriarty, that he seems vulnerable and appears to doubt his intellectual prowess. The balance between these extremes ultimately makes his callousness endearing and even provides much humor.

Juxtaposed against the cold, analytical Holmes is the sensitive, insecure Watson. John Watson is a war veteran, a former army medic and is, psychologically and physically, damaged. When he first meets Holmes, John walks with a limp and uses a cane to get around. Sherlock declares the problem to be psychosomatic and then tricks Watson into not only walking without the cane, but running. In many respects, John is the straight man to Holmes' often comically manic and obsessive actions. But Watson's good intentions often result in some of the most amusing moments in the series. At one point while investigating at night John sees a flashing light in the distance. He determines that it must be someone sending a message in Morse code and so attempts to decipher it. The results aren't exactly what anyone expected, especially when he investigates the source of the mysterious blinking. At moments like this, you want to cheer Watson for being clever, but it's another example of his failing to match the brilliance of his partner. John is often on hand to help bring some sanity to Holmes' methods and to smooth things over when Sherlock insults others, as he tends to do.

Cumberbatch makes a fine Sherlock and Freeman seems the perfect Watson. Gatiss is appropriately royal as Sherlock's government official brother, and Andrew Scott is fairly detestable as the nefarious Moriarty. It's a fine cast that meshes well. All in all, the characters are very likable—or appropriately despicable. Even the despicable ones are likably so.

In Sherlockian tradition, each episode features its share of puzzles that leave the audience guessing. Most of the time the guessing comes in the form of trying to predict how exactly Holmes will solve the mystery or figure his way out of a predicament. The series offers up a fine share of twists and surprises to keep viewers on their toes. The action is often so chaotic you don't quite have enough time to figure it all out. It's hard enough just to keep up with the collective train of thought of the series.

What may be the most enjoyable part of the show, however, is the humor. Between Holmes' antics, Watson's apologies and the unpredictable actions of many characters, the show is one of the most knee-slappingly funny I've ever watched. You can never quite predict just how Holmes will respond to another character, but you know it's going to be irreverent, inappropriate or, to some varying degree, in bad taste. And you can't help but feel a bit sorry for Watson to have put up with it all. There's plenty of sympathy for Mrs. Hudson as well, as she never knows quite what she's going to find when she opens the fridge. Why she even does it any more is beyond me, but she seems to have this compulsion to be offended by its contents.

The worst part about the show is that each "series" spans but three episodes. Each episode is an hour and half in length, but the end of each series comes all too quickly. The wait between Series 1 and Series 2 seemed interminable. And now I'm left wondering when those of us in the States will finally get to see Series 3. I can't help wondering what it would be like to see these characters on the big screen. The problem is, any movie shorter than three hours just wouldn't be enough, I'm afraid.

I cannot recommend Sherlock highly enough. In the sea of everything else you can watch on TV, this one is a sheer delight.

John Carter: Don't buy the anti-hype

A cliche that has floated around for decades states, "Don't believe the hype." It's a simple idea that hyperbolic claims about something tend to lead to disappointment, that the underlying substance usually fails to live up to the assertions. Hype is much like fiction in that the tale, to paraphrase a well-known writer, tends to grow in the telling. The bigger the hype, the bigger the disappointment in the final product.

The same can be said of negative hype, or "anti-hype," if you will. The more vitriol you hear about something, the less terrible you realize it must actually be.

While I concede that some movies deserve much of the criticism they receive, it often seems that deliberate forces are at work to undermine others, in much the same way that politicians employ attack ads against their opponents.

And that brings me to the recent rental release John Carter, aka John Carter of Mars, aka A Princess of Mars (if we want to link it to its Edgar Rice Burroughs source material), directed by Andrew Stanton and starring Taylor Kitsch and Lynn Collins. This film suffered greatly from negative hype. Rumors about various problems swirled about as its box office release date approached. The title of the film was even changed before its debut, with various excuses provided. The budget was huge, there were production problems, and there was just no way Disney was going to recoup all of its investment. In short, John Carter was a dismal failure.

The truth is, John Carter is not such a bad movie after all. The saddest part is that it was indeed a failure at the box office and may be declared one of the biggest bombs of all time. Frankly, I have seen far worse films that performed far better at the box office.

That is not to say that John Carter is a great movie, but it does have enough in the way of story, special effects and action to make it pretty darned good. And at its core it does offer a fine look at the development of the titular character.

One reason stated for the title change from John Carter of Mars to simply John Carter was to show the progression of the character from a Virginia Civil War veteran who'd lost hope to a man of Mars who'd found a reason to live. In keeping with this idea, the final title screen displays the title as John Carter of Mars. I found this to be a fitting touch, and it truly felt like a triumphant moment.

Unlike many movies that hit the big screen—especially those in the SF and fantasy genre—John Carter is a patient film that is happy to let the character and story develop over time. Beyond the special effects, the action, the romance and even the humor, this above all else makes it worth watching. Most films seem to want to rush headlong from start to finish, story be damned. The more explosions, fights and gunshots, the better. Most people will say John Carter dragged at times. I say it's at those moments that the most critical character development occurs.

And it's the character of John Carter that makes the film. You find yourself liking him from the start. He's willful, cantankerous, resourceful, and he's apathetic, a man who has lost hope. The reason for his despair unfolds over time throughout the film, revealed to us as fragmentary flashbacks until a final, drawn-out scene during an epic battle reveals his pain and loss in bitter full. It is a powerful and moving image, one of the best I've seen in any film of this genre.

You cannot help wanting John Carter to find himself, to regain some measure of purpose and happiness in his life. When it finally happens, it is a satisfying moment. And that is the best way to describe how I felt at the end of this film. It was fulfilling and satisfying.

It's not a perfect movie. There are certainly plenty of awkward moments of unintentional humor. The scene in which Carter is trying to learn how to walk on a planet of lesser gravity than he's accustomed to frankly went on a bit too long. The low-gravity schtick was overdone in many parts of the film and grew tiresome. We did not need to be reminded of it time and time again.

The romance between Carter and Deja was, naturally, predictable and all-too obvious from the start, even when it was apparent that Deja was determined to exploit Carter's strength and abilities to save her planet. But that doesn't mean it still wasn't engaging or that the viewer didn't want it to happen. I contrast this strongly with the romance of Anakin and Padme in the Star Wars films. I was entirely indifferent to that romance, didn't want it to happen and really hoped it would just go away. Here, at least, there are moments you find yourself mentally telling Carter, "Just kiss her, dammit!"

The awkward, predictable or even slow moments are mere blips on the map in an adventure brimming with all of the classic formula elements of action, romance, danger, heroism and humor. It is, simply, an enjoyable, if not terribly remarkable, movie.

In addition to a fine story and some good special effects, John Carter also boasts a great cast, many of whom lend their voices to CGI figures, including Willem Dafoe as Tar Tharkis, Thomas Haden Church as Tal Hajus, Dominic West (McNulty!) as Sab Than and Mark Strong as Matai Shang, and, oh, yes, Bryan Cranston as the Civil War officer, Col. Powell.

No, I will not say John Carter is the best SF/fantasy film I've seen, but it stands up to many of the best and most of the recent releases in the genre. It's more than worth the rental or purchase price, and I may very well grab the Blu-ray myself. This is a clear-cut case of a movie most undeserving of the negative hype.

MiB 3: Behind the suits

Men in Black 3 was not at all what I was expecting from the latest installment of the series following the exploits of the super-secret government organization protecting the Earth from hostile aliens. What I expected was another humor-filled and action-packed adventure in which MiB partners J and K once again save the world from certain destruction.

Okay, well, that's sort of what really did actually happen in the movie, but it wasn't exactly how I expected it to occur, and it's not really what the movie is about.

For one thing, a serious plot with some genuinely poignant moments stands at the heart of this chapter. It answers some big questions about the two characters and their current outlooks on life and their roles in MiB. In spite of some minor flaws and some lulls in the action, MiB 3 delivers a satisfying if not knee-slappingly funny story.

In this episode, J must chase Boris the Animal, recently escaped from prison on the Moon, back in time and thwart his attempt to kill K in the past and prevent the Arcnet from being deployed to protect the Earth from alien invasion.  So, yes, first of all, the element of time travel has been introduced, which is always a veritable can of worms. The worst part is, if you want to travel back in time, you just stop by a music store and talk to a certain guy who has the devices that make it possible. Oddly enough, I saw a case supporting only two of the devices, but the log book he keeps makes it seem like he does this all the time, so one can only assume the devices are rentals and are returned after each time jump.

I'm not even going to bother going into all of the "but if you can time travel why didn't you ...?" speculation because, frankly, this would end up being a much longer and more convoluted exposition.

MiB 3 follows the logic that if you die in the past, then your present-day self, along with all memory of that self, ceases to exist, an idea that immediately took me back to a book from my childhood, the 1953 SF novel Danger: Dinosaurs! by Richard Marsten, aka Evan Hunter aka Ed McBain.

It's up to J to travel back in time and save K from being murdered and being able to deploy Earth's defense system. Naturally, we expect things not work out quite so easily, and it does in fact turn out to be a bit more complicated.

After J's time jump, which, as it turns out, involves a literal jump and a leap of faith all at once, we are introduced to the young K, played by Josh Brolin. I can't say enough about what an amazing job Brolin did impersonating Tommy Lee Jones' elder K. I'm not the kind of person who reads a lot about movies before I see them, preferring to take the films on their own merits, so it wasn't until later that I read much about Brolin's frustrations with and fear of failure in impersonating Jones. As I watched the film, I seriously believed—and, no, I am not joking—that Tommy Lee Jones' voice had been dubbed over Brolin's. That is not the case. It was actually Brolin doing the impression of Jones that he began toying with on the set of No Country for Old Men. Brolin had the voice and cadence down to a, well, down to a K.

Men in Black 3's got pretty much all of what you'd expect from an MiB film—the gross-out humor, the sight gags, the crazy gadgets—but a few aspects just kind of nag at me. For one, I had trouble seeing the Tommy Lee Jones K romantically involved with O, played by Emma Thompson. I just honestly had trouble seeing the old, craggy-faced Jones as a believable love interest to Thompson. I could easily buy the idea of the Josh Brolin K involved with the Alice Eve O and could even see the Josh Brolin K as a love interest to the Emma Thompson O, but Jones just seems, well, old. He's ready for his role as a sheriff in the sequel No Country for Grumpy Old Men. I suppose the real key to that working is more a matter of seeing it develop over time than dropping Thompson and Jones together and having to accept it as is.

And parts of the movie just feel kind of flat, almost as if we kind of know what's coming and we just want it to hurry up and get there. The real suspense isn't whether the MiB agents will save the day, but exactly how they'll do it. And that payoff doesn't come until the very end. While the film has its funny moments, as a whole, the jokes are merely humorous rather than hilarious. It's the kind of humor that elicits chuckles instead of guffaws.

That's fine to some extent because it's not really the humor and action that drive this movie; it's the underlying story about the nature of the relationship between J and K—and not just between J and K the agents, but between James and Kevin, their real identities behind the black suits. The question J keeps asking of K is, "What happened to you?" Central to what this film is really about is exploring the experiences and the underlying nature of the characters, especially the monotoned, unflappable, unexcitable K.

At it's heart, the MiB films are buddy cop stories. The aspect that makes every buddy cop story work is that we like the characters; we have a vested interest in what happens to them. If you have two strong and likable characters, it really doesn't matter how implausible the plot is or how outrageous the stunts are—you care about what happens to the characters.

That, more than anything, is what makes MiB 3 work. We love the craggy, matter-of-fact K, and we love the contrast in the excitable, smart-alecky J. So when J sets out to save K, and in the process save the world, we want him to succeed. In spite of their differences, we know that J and K have a strong bond, even when J hangs up on K when the latter just seems to want to hear J's voice over the phone. The surprise ending to MiB 3 shows us that the relationship is even deeper and more significant than we would have otherwise guessed.

One could make the argument that there are also some serious continuity issues here, given what happened to K in the previous chapter and what it revealed about his history. Certainly valid criticisms, but, at the same time, really irrelevant to the story being told in MiB 3. This is a movie about James and Kevin and their significance to one another as both partners and friends. And that's why it works.

Will there be more MiB films? I'm sure that will be determined more by box office numbers than anything. But whatever the future holds for the franchise, MiB 3 has forever changed how we look at J and K.

Chronicle: An anti-hero take on the superhero movie?

Josh Trank and Mark Landis' Chronicle tells the story of three friends who gain telekinetic powers after coming in contact with a mysterious object in an underground cave. What is the object? Where did it come from? We may never know unless there's a sequel or prequel, and I'm guessing the probability is high. The film centers on troubled teen Andrew (I promise, you will never forget his name) who is bullied at home and at school and spends much of his time caring for his terminally ill mother. Though one cannot help feeling sympathy for Andrew and sadness at his spiraling decline, the film largely suffers from obstacles relating to the simple idea of suspension of disbelief that interfere with what would otherwise be a compelling examination of bullying, rage and revenge.

Andrew isn't a bad kid. We can see that in how he cares for his mother and endures the abuses of his alcoholic father. He's a loner and an outcast. The other kids at school make fun of him and push him around. The audience readily sympathizes with him. Andrew's charismatic cousin Matt tries hard to draw Andrew out of his shell and to lend him some emotional support. He's likable, even if he seems to be the dumb, jockish type. Matt eventually attempts to be Andrew's moral compass, but in doing so overreaches and further alienates Andrew. It is likely Matt's seeming betrayal that helped push Andrew past the point of no return, leading to his downfall.

Boiled down to its basic elements, Chronicle is a wish-fulfillment story. It's about revenge. Anyone who has ever been bullied can empathize with Andrew. Deep down, the bullied all want to strike back at those who have victimized them. The idea of a bullied loner gaining superpowers and suddenly turning the tables on his foes is nothing new. Peter Parker, after all, suffered the abuses of the jocks at his school before becoming Spider-Man. The key difference between Parker and Andrew is that Peter eventually realized that he shouldn't, couldn't, use his powers for petty reasons. In Andrew's defense, it is obvious that he has no control over the forces that drag him into despair and hatred.

After the death of his mother, Andrew finds himself utterly alone against the entire world. He strikes out at everyone around him, including his friends. His descent into madness is as much accident as it is intentional. Andrew sometimes does things with his new-found powers accidentally—with disastrous results. Though it is the death of his mother and Matt's betrayal that tip him over the brink, it is other events that ultimately lead to his destruction.

Matt and Steve, Andrew's new friend, attempt to draw Andrew out of his cocoon, to make him popular, to pull him away from his outcast, loner past. Their intentions are good, but because of Andrew's fragile emotional state, the manipulation is a formula for disaster. Steve succeeds in bringing Andrew out of the shadows into the light and even makes him the life of the party. One bad experience, however, throws Andrew back into the old role of outcast. The humiliation sends him deeper into darkness. He is soon overcome with shadow. His anger has taken control and become the driving force in his life.

Anyone who has seen the trailers for the movie knows that things go bad. In a typical play off the classic superhero formula, one superpowered individual is left to play the hero against the one who has gone bad. Matt and Andrew fight it out in an epic, Avengers-style smash-up. It's entertaining, but it also feels like something of an insult to the serious theme at the heart of the story. Destroying cars and buildings and generally making a mess of things is fine popcorn fare, but what happened to the in-depth character study? You can't round out this character's story just by breaking a bunch of things. Something more sober is needed here.

Chronicle ambitiously attempts to find balance among three different elements: bringing the pseudo-documentary style to the superhero genre, taking a serious look at the psychological and emotional effects of bullying and telling an anti-hero story in the superhero genre. The real problem with this approach is that each tends to step on the toes of another. It's difficult to tell a superhero story using this first-person, unedited footage approach. The special effects required to pull it off also undermine its credibility in the same way the computer-generated monsters in every Syfy movie render the stories preposterous.

I was fully engaged with the film while it trod familiar paths of the three friends experimenting with their telekinetic abilities. The pranks were well in keeping with the anti-superhero theme. If Chronicle were a typical, mainstream comic-book from the 1960s, these three would no doubt have donned costumes, given themselves some catchy superhero team name and rushed off to do good with their powers. This, however, is a more cynical—and arguably more realistic—take on an old idea. What if teenagers gained telekinetic powers? In truth, they would likely do a lot of what these guys did: move people's cars around, pull the bubble gum out of someone's mouth and become experts at beer pong.

The movie started to lose me when the three were suddenly flying and playing football high up in the clouds. Whether this is plausible in the context of telekinetic superpowers is irrelevant; it reaches beyond the bounds of the story being told. And the movie does drag a bit as the three explore the limits of and grow into their powers. The story seems to get lost for a while. When it finally wakes from its reverie, it's a bit late. The audience just wants it to be over.

It's also when the movie gets back on track that all of the yelling starts and you wonder if you've suddenly tuned in to a TV reality show in which everyone hates each other and is constantly bickering. "Andrew, stop! It's not too late! Andrew, this is not you!" And that's how it goes for the final ten minutes of the movie until Matt finally saves the day.

In some ways, I applaud what Chronicle attempts to accomplish. At the core it's a serious and engaging story. Andrew is a sympathetic and empathetic character whose destructive descent is often poignant. The attempt to play too much with the superhero genre, however, causes the story to get lost and, like Andrew, morph into something it never should have become.

The Grey: So much potential thrown to the wolves

Joe Carnahan's The Grey, starring Liam Neeson, is a film about despair. We see this from the early moments when Neeson's character, Ottway, contemplates suicide and places the barrel of the rifle he uses to protect pipeline employees into his mouth. Death permeates the movie to such a degree that the one emotion that carries any weight at all is the despair Ottway and others feel. Ottway's despair is different, however, for he has lost his wife and, seemingly, his will to go on. In spite of this, he fights tenaciously and resourcefully to survive and to keep others alive, and, at the very brink of death, overcomes his loss of hope.

Ottway and a small group of other pipeline employees survive a plane crash and find themselves hunted by a pack of malevolent wolves. Ironically, Ottway's job on the pipeline is to patrol work sites, rifle in hand, and protect employees from wolf attacks. It is in his determination to help the other men survive the ordeal that Ottway comes to terms with his own despair.

The biggest problem with The Grey is that it seems torn between being a monster flick and a serious drama exploring the conflicting emotions in Ottway that lead him from a moment of pure despair, when he might have abruptly ended his life, to being the leader of the small group of survivors. In one sense, the story is a metaphor for the way we are under constant attack in our lives by forces we cannot control, forces that cause us to lose hope and want to give up.

Ottway's wife appears frequently in the film in flashbacks or dream sequences, her final message to him not to be afraid.

This aspect of the film is well handled. It's a tender, heart-wrenching story. Ottway writes a note to her in which he states, "You left me and I can't get you back." We know from the scene with the rifle that this is a suicide note. We do not know until the end of the film why his wife left him and under what circumstances. It is Ottway's flashback to his last moments with her when she tells him, "Don't be afraid" that galvanizes him, leading Ottway to steel himself for the fight of his life.

It's just too bad this story is told through an entirely implausible battle against these very unwolflike wolves. The first hint we get that movie is going to veer off track comes in the opening minutes when Ottway shoots a wolf as it charges at a group of men working on the pipeline.

I grant you, I am no wolf expert, but I found myself doubting very seriously that any wolf would behave in that matter, openly attacking two or three human beings on its own.

It only gets worse from there.

After the plane crash, the survivors are stalked by the wolves, which, according to "wolf expert" Ottway, are protecting their territory from the human invaders. They will keep coming until all the men are dead because, it seems, they have ventured too close to the wolves' den. Ottway frequently spouts Wikipedia-like factoids about the territorial range of wolves in what is likely an attempt to justify to the audience what seems like very odd behavior.

The movie would have the audience believe that wolves are vicious and vengeful and willing to attack and kill , not for food, but to terrorize the interlopers trespassing on their territory.

It's a bit far fetched.

The alpha wolf even dares to stalk right into their camp to stare them down and intimidate them. This actually happens in the film. The wolf is huge and black and full of menace. It is not a real wolf.

And therein lies the problem: If this was intended to be the pure fantasy it became, then it should never have taken itself so seriously. We are expected to simply accept that real wolves do these things and that if your plane crashes in wolf territory, you will be stalked and intimidated and killed, so you better be prepared to fight for your survival.

I joked with my daughter that what the movie really needed was more Kate Beckinsale.

Though I said it in jest, I feel this is a legitimate criticism of the film. If you're going to use wolves as a metaphor to tell your story about despair, then do it honestly without the hyperbole, without the overblown fantasy. If all you want is to create a horrific situation to represent the despair, then go ahead and make this a horror film. Don't pretend it's realistic.

Ottway is bitten by a wolf shortly after the crash and jokes that he's going to become a wolfman. One gullible survivor asks if that really happens. Given how many implausible moments the movie expects the audience to swallow, I couldn't help thinking it would have been a far better werewolf flick than an attempt at serious drama.

The sadness Ottway experiences at losing his wife is very real, and Neeson is believable as the grieving husband. The scenes in which Ottway is depicted lying by her side are very poignant, and it is a truly sad moment when their last time together is revealed.

At the core of The Grey is a very powerful story. It's just too bad it had to be intertwined with such an implausible plot.

So much bad entertainment, so little time

I'm way, way overdue on my reviews of Megaforce and Dark Angel. I blame it on Diablo III, but I solemnly vow that I will sit down at some point and do a write-up on each of these. I have at least viewed all of Dark Angel. Again. I'm pretty sure I've only seen it once before way back when it was first released on video or made it to cable. I was interrupted in my viewing of Megaforce by hostile influences, so I need to get back to it.

Why am I reviewing these two movies in particular when there are so many others that could attract my attention? It's simple, really. I blame it on my daughter. She texted me one day to ask, "Where did the phrase 'I come in peace', 'You go in pieces' come from?" I remembered immediately that it was a Dolph Lundgren actioner from many years back, but I was conflicted over the title. I was thinking the actual title of the movie was "I Come in Peace," but that may have just been on the movie poster or video cover or something.

In any event, that launched the project for me to find a copy of this bad movie blast from the past.

But how is that connected to Megaforce? I'm not sure where the term was originally coined, but I first saw the phrase "Megaforce bad" on Harry Knowles' Ain't It Cool News web site many years ago. It describes exactly how bad a movie is. Ain't It Cool News, by the way, is a great place to go for news about upcoming releases as well as reviews of new releases, mostly in the SF, horror and superhero genres. I'm happy to say that the site hasn't changed much over the years.

Megaforce was considered such a bad movie that it became the measuring stick by which all bad movies released since would be judged. In a sneak peek he offered of an upcoming release, Mr. Knowles stated emphatically that it would be "Megaforce bad." And we all knew that was really, really bad.

So when my daughter asked about "You go in pieces," I couldn't help but launch into a long description of this "megaforce bad" movie from before she was born. Being the curious sort I am, I couldn't help but wonder, "Exactly how bad is 'Megaforce bad'?" The only way to know for sure was to subject myself to the very film that led to the coining of the phrase.

These days it's usually pretty easy to find a movie. You just hop over to Amazon.com, plug in a title and order the DVD—or stream it if it's popular enough to warrant that treatment. Megaforce isn't. The only copy I could locate on Amazon was in some odd, obviously foreign, and likely subversive format called VHS. I think I have an old device in the closet gathering dust that might be able to translate VHS's cryptic runes, but I decided that ought to be a last resort. For crying out loud! This is the 21st century, after all.

So I kept looking. It also was unavailable on NetFlix and Vudu. I like Vudu a lot. Beautiful HD streaming on your high-def TV. Crisp picture, no lag. But I digress.

Eventually, I did in fact find a DVD copy of Megaforce at Sasquatch Video. It somehow seems appropriate to me that the namesake of a mysterious creature whose existence is known only from possibly faux footprints, grainy photographs and hoaxed videos would be in possession of a rare and forgotten gem of filmmaking badness believed by many to be mere legend.

After watching about 35 minutes before I was rudely interrupted, I can say that I have a feeling Megaforce is going to be deliciously, enjoyable bad with a heaping helping of cheese and hammy acting. In short, it may be the very definition of cinematic perfection.

Meanwhile, out of the blue as I was taking my morning walk, thoughts of an old '70s Saturday TV show I used to watch sprang unbidden into my mind. I really have no idea what prompted me to think of it, but I found myself suddenly pondering Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp. No, seriously. I thought it could be something really hilarious, so, yes, I searched Amazon and found it's being released on DVD at the end of the month. And I did in fact order a copy. I should probably seek counseling for whatever condition it is I have. In the meantime, I'll continue watching weird stuff and writing about it.

The reviews of Dark Angel and Megaforce are coming soon. Whenever I can tear myself away from Diablo III, that is.

Avengers, assembled!

So the kids dragged me out to see some action flick last night. Can't remember the title, something about vengeance or some such nonsense.

Anyway, there's this one dude with a patch over one eye. I think it's Mace Windu, obviously having survived his battle with the Emperor at the expense of an eye. He's all tough and calling the shots, but he's got this problem with a glowing Rubix cube--and who wouldn't? If it's all one color, how can you solve the problem--and then this creepy guy with a mean stick shows up and takes it and all hell breaks loose.

And there's also this impossibly hot chick who likes to wear really tight clothes, but she kicks ass like Jason Statham on steroids. And she's got better hair. They call her Black Widow, which really didn't make sense to me because she's not black, she's not a spider, and I don't think she's ever been married. If she had been married, though, she probably very well would have been something like a black widow because she seems to wreak a lot of havoc wherever she goes.

Another guy has obviously traveled in time from the 1980s where he was the lead for a heavy metal band. He's still got the long hair and red cape, but he's replaced the electric guitar with a hammer. An odd choice if you ask me, but what the hey. He talks kind of funny too, which is how you know he's from the distant past.

One guy is an archer, so he must be from the past, too, but he actually looks like maybe he could have been in Deliverance. His bow is kind of cool. With a flick of his wrist he can make it telescope to full size, and he's got all kinds of tech to shoot arrows that blow things up or microwave full course meals in minutes. He and the hot red-haired chick have something going on. It's one of those love-hate things, I guess. I have a love-hate thing with her too: I hate it that she doesn't love me.

But I digress.

The archer has some good tech, but the Excalibur reject with the red armor has got the best. He's obviously a knight because he wears full plate armor, but he's also schizo because he's always talking to this guy in his head. At least the voice is very prim and proper and all and not telling him to go on a killing spree or something. The Templar definitely took care of this guy because he's loaded--in more ways than one because he also drinks a lot. He's a little arrogant and full of himself, so nobody likes him except his girlfriend Pepper, who is occasionaly as spicy as her name.

Then there's the guy who thinks he's Uncle Sam and was apparently frozen for along time. He walks around with a shiny trash can lid that's apparently bullet proof, magic proof and as aerodynamic as a Frisbee. The shield gets scratched up a lot, so I'm sure he keeps the Krylon people in business. He's kind of bossy, too, but I guess if you've been on ice for decades, you have a lot of time to work on your leadership skills.

Finally, there's this mild-mannered genius-doctor-physicist type. It's not really clear what his specialty is because he gives medical help to poor people but also throws around physics jargon in casual breakfast conversation. He's a really nice guy, so I couldn't figure out why everyone kept talking about his anger issues until all of a sudden he turned into a giant green monster with a penchant for breaking, like, everything. They called him "Banner," but I'm pretty sure that's a pseudonym because he's obviously really Dr. Jekyll.

All these guys come together and bicker and fight a lot like people do in all these reality TV programs. But eventually they learn how to work together and kick the living crap out of the bad guys. As it turns out, that's something they're really good at, so I think all along this was moving toward the group becoming a superhero team, you know, like the Justice League of America, only not quite as professional. Cap, that's what they call the Uncle Sam guy, is like the leader or something and tells everyone what to do; Iron-Man, the former Templar Knight-turned-alcoholic billionaire, is the smart guy with all the gadgets; Black Widow is the tough chick who knows how to get stuff done; the former rock star--Thor, they call him--he's just your standard, kick-ass warrior with a big hammer (no double entrendre intended); Hawkeye, the archer, is the scout/ranged attacker, the eyes of the team; Hulk, Banner's pea-green Hyde, just breaks things, apparently--whenever they want something broken, they say, "Hulk, smash," and he does. The patch-eye guy, Fury, is their boss or something. I never saw them get paid for what they did, so I have to assume they all have offshore accounts and money is wired electronically. And I'm not really sure who's going to pay to rebuild New York City because they trashed the whole damned thing, but good, well, Manhattan, anyway.

In the end, everyone's happy and able to sit down to enjoy a quiet meal together. The lesson of the whole movie is this: No matter what our differences, we're all in this together and we have to learn to get along. For the most part, anyway.

Haywire

I may be in the middle of a bad-movie binge. I can't help myself. Last night I treated myself to the aptly named Haywire, starring MMA fighter Gina Carano.

In spite of having what would appear on the surface to be all the right ingredients for a successful action flick, Haywire somehow falls flat. It boasts a cast of highly respected silver screen staples, including Michael Douglas, Antonio Banderas, Ewan McGregor, Channing Tatum and Michael Fassbander; the star delivers punches and kicks like a female Jason Statham; and the plot is standard actioner fare involving setups and betrayal. It features enough tech and gunplay to remind one of an episode of 24, and Carano's character, Mallory Kane, is rather Jack Bauer-like.

So where does it go wrong? I know what you're thinking: Duh--they put an MMA fighter, fitness model, former American Gladiator in a starring role. Recipe for disaster. But, really, that's not it. I expected Carano to be a bad actress, to be the kind of person who reads the lines instead of acting them. While there were plenty of moments I felt she could have asserted herself more and become a more confident screen presence, on the whole I was impressed with how comfortably she settled into the role of mercenary contractor Mallory Kane. The lines slipped so easily from her lips that the dialogue just seemed real to me, not made-up exchanges designed to elicit some kind of response from the audience. I found her to be very believable in her role.

As far as being a genuine Hollywood star, yes, Carano's a little rough around the edges, but she at least proved in this role that she has the ability to do it. I'm neither an acting coach nor a director, but if I were to offer her some advice on getting into these roles, I would tell her to be more confident about it, to assert herself on screen. To hold herself as if each scene belonged to her and everyone else was just an extra. One thing many of the most respected actors do is oversell their characters and lines. Just analyze the dialogue in one of your favorite action flicks and you'll see what I mean. The cheesiest lines can sound really good when the actors deliver them fanatical conviction. So, as crazy as it sounds, I'm telling Carano--don't be afraid to overdo it.

One of the most inexplicable areas in which Haywire fails is the fight scenes. Yes, I know, it's crazy. Here's this tough, superfit woman with some wicked moves, and the fight sequences in the movie are just kind of boring. And I say that with a small level of trepidation, given that Carano could kick my ass up and down the street without working up a sweat. 

There's no real drama here. Mallory gets hit, she hits back. She employs a host of familiar MMA moves to subdue her foes, but it's all utterly flat and uninteresting. You know there's something wrong with a movie's action scenes when you find yourself mentally critiquing the fighter's strategy. "Are you wanting to be a grappler or a striker? If you're doing the ground-and-pound, do the ground-and-pound. Come on now, if you get that armbar, you gotta go all out on it."

In the MMA few people escape from a deeply sunk rear-naked choke, but it happens routinely in Haywire. My biceps are actually sore from squeezing the choke holds myself while watching the fight scenes.

The fights needed to be bigger, bolder, more dramatic. Sure, Carano pulls off some pretty nifty moves, but we've seen all this before. If you're going to do it again, you've got to do it bigger and badder than your predecessors. Look at how Jason Statham does it. That's your template. Now throw in some of your own special recipe and make it your own. And do it big. If you've got three guests coming over for spaghetti, make enough for six. Or ten.

In the end all of the bad guys get beat up and Mallory Kane exacts her revenge on the guy who betrayed her. But it's all very routine. While watching the scene where the relentless tide approaches to do him in, I could not help but be reminded of a scene in another film and Leslie Nielsen's voice popped into my head: "I can hold my breath for a looooong time!"

The plot and structure are plans that I'm sure looked good on paper, but the execution was lifeless. Oh, we get flashbacks that happen seamlessly, but more often than not, these are unneeded because it's painfully obvious from the beginning what happened and who's zooming whom. Timing and delivery are key ingredients in comedy. How many times have you related what you felt was a hilarious anecdote to someone only to have them stare blankly at you at the end, leaving you to deliver the time-honored, guess you had to be there cliche?

That's exactly how I feel about Haywire. All of the right ingredients are here, the plot sounds decent--at least no worse than some successful action movies--but it just doesn't get pieced together very well. It's like Ziggy (the cartoon character) once said: It's not the big failures; it's the pitter-patter of little defeats. The little things come together to make this movie look all too much like its title.

Darkest Hour: It felt more like three

The other day, I noticed the horror/sci-fi (yes, in this case I eschew the industry accepted "SF") movie Darkest Hour was available on Vudu. It had received horrible reviews, but I've either become something of a connoisseur of bad movies or it's a really bad addiction that calls for an intervention.

I convinced my daughter we should watch it, so within a few clicks of the remote, we had the movie filling our big screen TV in all its HD glory.

The premise of the movie is simple: Alien beings of electrical energy have landed on Earth, and they like to eat us. Or something. People mostly just disintegrate, always leaving behind a shoe (I'm pretty sure it's always the left shoe) or a gun or something. You can't really see the aliens during the day except as swirling winds. Their arrival is always heralded by the flickering of lamps and a dull rumbling of dramatic music. And people are always shooting bullets at them even though it is made glaringly obvious in the film's early moments that they're bullet proof.

Horror movies with dramatic music tracks are always great. "Hide, you idiot! Can't you hear the dramatic music?! The killer is coming!" My kids are always worried about sharks when we go to the beach. I always tell them not to worry until you hear the da-duh, da-duh ...

The lamp just flickered! They're here! Quick, hide behind a transparent pane of glass!

Yes, I kid you not: The aliens cannot "see" through glass. My daughter and I decided that mankind needed to create armor made entirely out of glass.

And throwing stones would be made a capital offense.

Darkest Hour is one of those movies with entirely unlikable main characters. You can't help but actually want to see these people get disintegrated. I'm pretty sure the whole movie came about after someone messing around with digital effects discovered a really neat-o keen way of making it look like things are getting reduced to ash and sucked into an invisible void. What can we do with this? I know--we'll make a movie about aliens that disintegrate things! Awesome! What will they look like? It will take too much time and money to create digital aliens or to find extras to run around in badly designed suits, so we'll just make them invisible. Brilliant!


Then the aliens conspire to use the Illudium Q-36 Explosive Space Modulator to blow up the Earth. Oh, wait. That was a different story entirely. And, arguably, a better one.

I confess we did not watch the whole film. Often it's fun to watch bad movies because they can be hilariously, entertainingly bad. Unfortunately, this is not the case with Darkest Hour. It's uninteresting, unimaginative and just not funny at being bad.

Sigh.