Monday, October 29, 2007

Crispin Glover and His Furry Pals Crank Up the Creep Factor in Willard

I was hoping that this weekend I might finally catch Ratatouille at the dollar theater. Alas, I never managed to fit it in, but my brother Nathan came trotting home for the day with a most rat-tastic movie in tow, and now that I've seen it, I think it might be a while before I can embrace Remy and his fellow rodents with the proper amount of enthusiasm.

Glen Morgan's Willard is a 2003 remake of the 1971 film of the same name. When they realized what we were watching, Mom remarked that the original had given her nightmares, while Dad had avoided it altogether. Nathan had assured me, however, that while this version was certainly creepy, the gore was minimal, so I decided to chance it. After all, I've always found rats to be unfairly maligned creatures. I expected that when they showed up, I would find them lovable rather than disgusting, and I was right. For a while...

The focal point of the film is Willard Stiles (Crispin Glover), an extraordinarily awkward man who lives with his mean-tempered elderly mother (Jackie Burroughs) and works for the tyrannical Frank Martin (R. Lee Ermey) at the company his father founded. He remains friendless until he is moved to rescue a white rat from the adhesive trap his mother demanded he put up in the basement. He names the rat Socrates, and he is giddy with the thrill of finally having some companionship.

If it ended with this bright-eyed, philosophic rat that seems genuinely fond of the eccentric misfit, this might evolve into a touching story. Sadly, Socrates does not fly solo. Willard feeds him and his family, and every day more and more rats turn out for chow time. Initially, they do whatever he tells them to, taking their orders from Socrates, who evidently understands Willard's instructions. But how long can he maintain control over the ever-growing horde?

Back when this movie hit theaters, I saw an interview with Glover, who I knew as the nerdy, gutless George McFly in Back to the Future. I've seen plenty of strange interviews in my time; this one would have to rank in the top five. The guy just came across as a total oddball, almost as off-kilter as the character he was portraying. Now and then, I'll see a really offbeat interview with somebody like Johnny Depp or Viggo Mortensen and think, "Wow. He's so strange. I'd love to spend an afternoon chatting with him sometime." With Glover, I thought, "Wow. He's so strange. I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley."

Whether he consciously cultivates that image or he's genuinely that odd, Glover seems like the perfect choice to play the unhinged Willard, who swings between victim and villain, sympathetic and diabolical. His expressive face, which usually registers some combination of rage and fear or occasional maniacal glee, is almost ghostly pale. Every word spoken with his soft voice is impeccably pronounced. Watch for hyperventilation, beads of sweat and murderous gestures in response to the maddening behavior of his mom and boss.

Burroughs, heavily made up to look as grotesque as possible, is bone-chilling as Willard's mother, who hollers throatily at him from her room in the large house they share. Though she is dependent upon him for her well-being, she still calls the shots around the house, and she wants to be sure he knows it. She wins sympathy points for her medical condition and the loss of her husband, but her despicable treatment of Willard cancels out any automatic sense of goodwill we may have toward her. Ermey pours even more unpleasantness into his role; Mr. Martin seems about ready to have a coronary at any given moment, so eager is he to ream Willard out with an explosive temper tantrum. It's no wonder Rat Boy is so messed up when he's surrounded by people like this.

The only person who treats Willard with kindness is Cathryn (Laura Harring), the new girl at work who unknowingly displaces him when she arrives. Her first impression of him involves him getting berated by his boss, and she feels sorry for him, aghast that he is being treated so unfairly. She continues to extend her hand in friendship throughout the movie. But what will happen when she finds out about Willard's Pied Piper-like tendencies?

I like rats. And I found myself quite attached to Socrates, much as I did with Mr. Jingles, the mouse in The Green Mile. He's a terribly sweet little thing. But his friends are not, particularly when engaged in the mob mentality and when led by Ben, a defiant Rodent of Unusual Size. Not since Ratigan in The Great Mouse Detective have I come across such a vicious rat, and cinematographer Robert McLachlan does an impressive job of making him look distinctively ominous, while Shirley Walker's eerie score sends shivers in all the right places. As the crowd of a couple dozen rats swells to thousands and they stop obeying the restrictions Willard places upon them, the situation gets really hairy in more ways than one.

So while I found Nathan's assessment of the film pretty accurate - only two scenes are really grotesquely gory, while another two hint darkly at blood-curdling calamity - it wasn't exactly a comforting movie. It may be enough to leave me with the creepy crawlies all week, and if I catch myself jumping at small noises, especially from the general direction of the basement, I'll know why...

Sunday, October 28, 2007

There's Nothing Plastic About Lars and the Real Girl

I joined my friends for a late-night showing of Lars and the Real Girl armed only with the knowledge that it starred Ryan Gosling, who won me over in The Notebook (though not as much as James Garner in the same role), and that it involved a "love doll" who Lars introduces as his girlfriend. All I could think was of Jude Law in A.I.; I assumed this was some sort of crude futuristic comedy about a man's extended relationship with what amounts to a mechanical prostitute. I expected her to walk and talk and betray only the slightest indications that she was not biologically based. Boy, was I in for a surprise!

We see from the film's opening scenes that Lars Lindstrom (Gosling) is severely socially stunted. He lives in a large garage on the property of the house where Gus (Paul Schneider), his distant older brother, lives with his compassionate, pregnant wife Karin (Emily Mortimer), and though she tries valiantly to coax him out of his isolation, Lars merely smiles blandly, blinks rapidly and retreats into his own private world from which he emerges only for church on Sundays and work during the week. It's on the job that he learns about a company from which he can purchase a life-size, anatomically correct doll. Ignoring the timid advances of Margo (Kelli Garner), a sweet, broad-grinned co-worker, he investigates further...

When an enormous package arrives at his door six weeks later, we all have a pretty good idea what it is, but Karin and Gus don't, so they're ecstatic when a giddy Lars rings on their doorbell to announce that he has a visitor and, out of a sense of propriety, he would like permission for her to stay in their guest room rather than in the garage with him. And then they meet Bianca, whose name does not appear on the cast list because there is nothing remotely human about her. She is nothing but a life-size doll with a glazed expression and an inability to stand up. Hence, she must sit in a wheelchair, which Lars must purchase for her because, as he explains in his first real conversation since the start of the movie, it was lost along with the rest of her luggage on the plane from Brazil. To Lars, Bianca is very real, and as he converses with her at the dinner table, Gus and Karin exchange looks of alarm. Lars clearly has lost his mind.

But a small stroke of genius by Karin lands them in the office of Dagmar (Patricia Clarkson), a doctor who, under the guise of treating Bianca for a mysterious illness, initiates weekly psychiatric sessions with Lars in which she patiently encourages him to reveal his buried feelings bit by bit. Meanwhile, she advises the reluctant Karin and incredulous Gus to act as though Bianca is real. Rather than keep up this ruse on their own, they alert their friends, their pastor and the most prominent members of their congregation. Soon, the whole town knows about Bianca, and the already close-knit community grows even closer as they rally around her, adopting her as a sort of mascot and almost forgetting themselves that she's nothing but a hunk of plastic.

Gosling is fantastic as Lars, whose insecurities run so deep that physical contact with another person is literally painful for him. In the beginning, he seems to have no concept of how to interact normally with others. He stares blankly when people speak to him, often not acknowledging them at all. But something happens when Bianca arrives. He begins to act like a normal person. Yes, he spends half his time talking to a doll and inventing her end of the conversation, which only he can hear, but he also talks to the people around him, coming out of his shell gradually, to the point where he is attending parties and accepting Margo's invitation to go bowling, which never would have happened before Bianca. Although most people initially regard him as a freak for believing that this doll is alive, through her he is able to finally begin really living. Gosling's transformation from almost robotically awkward, complete with a unique collection of tics, to fully functional within the community at large is dramatic and totally believable.

Everyone in the cast is equally impressive. I loved Mortimer, who brought gentleness coupled with a fierce spirit to this very concerned sister-in-law who in many ways seems to act like the mother Lars never knew. Schneider's expressive face enhances the comedy of the film's strangest moments. Gus is less willing to go along with the charade than just about anyone else in town, and as such he probably echoes the reaction of many watching the movie. He's the voice of reason in an unreasonable series of events, but he slowly comes to discover that if you care enough about a person, you're willing to put aside your dignity for his well-being.

There is a definite Pinocchio-ish strain through this movie as everyone around Lars hopes that his love for Bianca will eventually be replaced with love for a "real girl". The girl in question is Margo, and Garner is absolutely winning as this understanding young woman who is so fond of Lars despite, or perhaps because of, all his oddities. Once she recovers from her initial shock, she treats Bianca warmly and is careful to make only overtures of friendship to Lars, lest it appear she is trying to sabotage his relationship. The blue fairy would be the magnanimous Dagmar, and Clarkson wonderfully conveys her professionalism and quiet willingness to listen and not to judge. She allows Lars to call all the shots in his courtship with Bianca and in his decisions to share the secrets he has long kept submerged.

Each of Lars' neighbors has something to contribute to his development, from the kindly secretary at work to the feisty elderly woman at church who is especially attentive to him. The movie was filmed in Ontario, and Adam Kimmel's cinematography offers lots of sparse, snowy landscapes, which look at once forbidding and inviting. David Tom's simple guitar-based score complements the landscape perfectly. As far as I noticed, the name of the town was never mentioned, nor the location. I assumed it to be somewhere in the northern reaches of Wisconsin or Minnesota, but perhaps it's meant to take place in Canada. I guess it doesn't really matter; the ambiguity lends the film more universality.

Every element of this movie, which was filmed in a month and looks like it didn't cost very much, is perfectly in place, from the excellent cast to Craig Gillespie's direction. They take Nancy Oliver's unconventional but beautiful screenplay and make it seem perfectly plausible. Sure, the community is idealized; it's one thing to accept Lars' fantasy with a wink and a nod, quite another to rush Bianca off by ambulance and admit her into the emergency room. Then again, in such a small town, the hospital probably doesn't have a lot of patients to deal with at any given time and can afford to play along for the sake of a townsperson who, by the end of the film, can have no doubt as to how much he is loved. If everyone grows to care about Bianca, who takes on a fabled philanthropic life of her own like Captain Tuttle, the officer Hawkeye invents in one of my favorite episodes of M*A*S*H, it's because they are willing to go to such great lengths to sustain the happiness of their delusional friend and help him to become an active part of the community.

I wasn't sure what to expect out of Lars and the Real Girl, but I certainly wasn't prepared for something this tender and touching, a movie that made me feel good about being a person and hopeful for our ability to work together for the good of others, even if our first inclination is to scoff and scorn. As I sat in the theater with a sparse sprinkling of other viewers, I don't think the smile ever left my face. Who knew that a movie about a plastic doll would have so much to say about humanity?

I'm Not Under Ella Enchanted's Spell

I love a good fairy tale, and I was charmed by Anne Hathaway in The Princess Diaries, so I figured Ella Enchanted was right up my alley. The 2004 movie stars Hathaway as Ella of Frell, a girl who, like Sleeping Beauty before her, has been given a most inconvenient present by an unhinged fairy. Unlike Maleficent, Lucinda (Vivica Fox) doesn't mean for her gift to be a curse, but blessing the infant Ella with "obedience" means that throughout her life, she must do exactly what she is told, no matter what the task. Before her untimely death, her mother (Donna Dent) forbids Ella to tell anyone about her gift, lest that knowledge be used against her. But can such an unusual attribute be kept secret forever?

While there are bits of other fairy tales tossed in here and there, along with references to Monty Python (Eric Idle serves as the rhyming narrator), Ella is mostly a new twist on the story of Cinderella. After some background on Ella's infancy and childhod, the tale resumes with the marriage of Ella's father to the obnoxious and cosseted Dame Olga (Joanna Lumley), who has two daughters: the cruel, scheming Hattie (Lucy Punch) and ditzy, elastic-faced Olive (Jennifer Higham). Olive doesn't come into the story much, but her facial expressions are so bizarre that when she is on-screen, it's hard to focus on anyone else. Hattie is the one who most actively undercuts Ella, especially once she begins to notice a pattern behind the strange things her new step-sister does.

Ella does have allies: her aunt Mandy (Minnie Driver), a fairy of only moderate talent, and her best friend Areida (Parminder Nagra). And she finds more friends as she embarks on her journey to find Lucinda and beg her to allow her to live a life free from the demands of others. Chief among these are Slannen (Aiden McArdle), a rebellious elf who desperately wants to be a lawyer, and Prince Char (Hugh Dancy), the gorgeous prince who inspires Beatles-like furor among all the young maidens of the kingdom - except Ella.

Her own peculiar form of enslavement has made her extremely sympathetic to the plight of the kingdom's mistreated beings - namely, the elves, who are only allowed to work in the entertainment profession; the giants, who have been forced into slave labor; and the ogres, who would be wiped out entirely if the prince's diabolical uncle Edgar (Cary Elwes) had his way. She can't understand why someone with Prince Char's influence isn't doing more to help his kingdom, while the naive prince is just having his eyes opened to the evils around him.

The film's premise is promising, and I have a hunch that it is executed with rather more sophistication in the Gail Carson Levine book on which the movie is based. The trouble is that Ella is very clearly aimed at a tween audience and as such is an extension of the sort of corny, noisy fare shown on Nickelodeon and Disney nowadays. In trying to be hip by inserting contemporary elements such as rock music, which really doesn't gel with the fantasy setting, and references to current pop culture, it turns into a modern mish-mash. This technique worked pretty well for Shrek, but partly because Ella is live action, it just seems silly here.

One of the strangest parts of the movie is Heston (Steve Coogan), a sinister snake who acts as Edgar's henchman. I can buy cartoon villains having talking animal henchmen, such as Iago in Aladdin and Bartok in Anastasia. I can handle Lord Voldemort having a right-hand snake to whom he spouts instructions in Parseltongue. But to have a snake in a live action film just sitting there chatting away on the villain's shoulder is a little too much for me. It immediately makes Edgar less intimidating, since he just looks so ridiculous gabbing with that goofy snake. It's not that I can't accept The Princess Bride's dashing farm boy as a bad guy; he was chilling in The Jungle Book. Here, however, he's just campy.

Hathaway is sweet and engaging, and she's a good sport for doing all the crazy stuff the script calls for. There are a lot of cheesy special effects and groan-worthy puns that come flying at the audience, and there's likely to be some rolling of the eyes among anyone older than 15 or so, particularly with moments involving such gems of wit as the flatulence of giants. I wish that the music didn't seem so out of place, because Hathaway does have a very pleasant voice. I don't so much mind her big karaoke number, though, because it shows us how Ella's obedience actually can be a gift, since it forces her to use skills she might not ordinarily have. This also comes to light in a scene in which she rescues Slannen from distress with some impressive martial arts moves.

Dancy is my favorite cast member and nearly the only one who doesn't seem over-the-top. Not just a pretty face, the prince is kind and considerate, though he's so intimidated by the idea of being king that it seems he won't be much good for the kingdom. Meeting Ella changes his perspective, awakening his activism. I also liked Areida, but Ella's best friend is extremely underused after a nasty trick by Hattie knocks her out of the picture. I was hoping that she would play some sort of significant role later in Ella's adventures, coming to her aid in a tight spot as a testament to her unconditional friendship, but she only showed up for a moment at the end, just long enough to show us that Hattie's damage had been undone.

I like the clever reworking of the Cinderella story and the way Ella finally manages to free herself from the bonds of obedience that Lucinda imposed upon her, but of the several film versions of the classic fairy tale that I have seen, this would be near the bottom of my list of recommendations. It's nice that they seem to be encouraging social consciousness with this fable, but the same point was achieved much more skillfully with Ever After, whereas the fantasy elements are most beautifully preserved in the Rodgers and Hammerstein version with Leslie Ann Warren. Tweens might get a kick out of this spunky retelling, but this 26-year-old was not especially enchanted.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Surreal Carnival of the Animals a Showcase for Lithgow's Skill

When I first happened upon John Lithgow's Micawber in a bookstore several years ago, I had my cynical doubts as to whether this esteemed actor was equally talented in another creative area, but I was so entranced by C. F. Payne's cover artwork, featuring an adorable squirrel trying his paw at painting, that I shrugged my reservations aside. Boy, am I glad I did. Since then, I've come to regard Lithgow as one of my favorite poets. His exquisite skill as a wordsmith is enviable, and I know that if I see his name on a book, when I crack open that cover I will be in for a wholly engaging read.

So when I stumbled upon Carnival of the Animals the other day, I was thrilled. This book was originally written for the New York City Ballet after Lithgow was approached by choreographer Christopher Wheeldon to write the narration for a ballet based on Camille Saint-Saene's Carnival of the Animals. Lithgow complied and even performed in the production himself, as readers can see from the cast photograph included at the end of the book.

Though it was designed to work alongside movement on the stage, it works very well as a children's book. Oliver Pendleton Percy, a mischievous young scamp as is pretty typical for Lithgow's protagonists, sneaks away from his class on a trip to the museum and finds himself locked in for the night, at which point he becomes immersed in a surreal dreamscape of the sort Maurice Sendak might dream up. The illustrator on this occasion, however, is Boris Kulikov, who uses gouache and acrylic to give us a look at Oliver's skewed visions, which involve various acquaintances prancing about the museum in animal form.

These include Oliver's schoolmates, who transform into songbirds (the girls) and donkeys (the boys), while their younger siblings become rats. Various authority figures are transfigured as well. The school nurse becomes an lumbering elephant, the shy librarian a kangaroo, the irate music teacher a yowling baboon. My favorite page involves an elderly pair of eccentric twin sisters-turned-tortoises who, much like Chuck's aunts on Pushing Daisies, hide a wealth of talent behind those closed blinds.

While Kulikov's illustrations don't blow me away like Payne's, they work well with the text, which is just as brilliant as I have come to expect. The rhyme scheme varies throughout the book, but most pages include a six-line stanza in ABAAAB format. In addition to the lilting quality of his verse, Lithgow uses some pretty fantastic vocabulary. Among the more challenging words he incorporates: cantankerous, fussbudget, pachyderm, tremulous, manic-depressive, gargantuan and, my favorite, diaphanous.

The only real problem with this book is that it's more a list of characters than an actual story. There is a basic plot: boy gets locked in a museum overnight, boy has bizarre dream as a result, boy goes home. But while all of the human-animal characters do something, what they do doesn't really have any impact on Oliver. He watches it all happen but isn't really involved, and the various characters don't interact much with each other. So as a story, it's not as fulfilling as Lithgow's other books, but it's so artfully presented that I'm not particularly bothered by that.

Because of this book's origins, it presents a good opportunity to introduce children to ballet, to say nothing of museums, and the book's device of assigning humans an animal form based on notable characteristics is full of creative possibilities. What type of animal would you be? How about your teacher? Your neighbor? Kids can talk about it, write about it, even draw their own dreamscape portraits of folks they know. Carnival of the Animals is a great book for getting those gears turning and, if you've never read him before, a fantastic introduction to one of the most accomplished poets writing today.

Miss Potter: Long Before Harry, Beatrix Wove Her Magic

Over the summer, I was chatting with my grandma, and she told me that she had just seen a wonderful movie by the name of Miss Potter and that I really ought to check it out when I got the chance. As it happened, I already had intended to investigate the biopic of Beatrix Potter, who's been a favorite of mine since I was introduced to Peter Rabbit as a tender toddler, but the endorsement of my grandma, who rarely enjoys movies, made me even more intrigued. Now that I've finally watched it, I can emphatically echo her opinion.

Miss Potter, written by Richard Maltby Jr. and directed by Chris Noonan, introduces us to the lively, delightfully eccentric Beatrix (Renee Zellweger) as a woman in her early thirties who still lives with her encouraging father (Bill Patterson) and restrictive mother (Barbara Flynn), who insists she be accompanied constantly by an elderly chaperone. As the film opens, Beatrix's only friends are imaginary, an assortment of charming rabbits, ducks and other domestic farm animals that will look familiar to anyone who ever picked up one of her tiny volumes. We see them as she does, not relegated to the page as she has arranged them but taking on lives of their own, blinking their bright little eyes, twitching their wispy whiskers, waddling across the page with a cheeky flap of the wings. These characters become real to her, and she is determined to let the rest of the world fall in love with them as well.

Her task is not initially an easy one. Though she has honed her skills as an artist and storyteller for years, as we see in flashbacks to a childhood spent blissfully roaming the English countryside and entertaining her brother Bertram (Oliver Jenkins) with fanciful tales, her classic story about Peter Rabbit is met with a sniff and a sneer when she approaches the stuffy Warne brothers, Harold (Anton Lesser) and Fruing (David Bamber), about the possibility of publication. However, timing works to her favor, as their idealistic younger brother Norman (Ewan McGregor) has stated his desire to join the family business and they need a throwaway project to give him, since they doubt he will distinguish himself as a publisher.

Thus, a perfect partnership is born. For Norman sees all the enchantment in Beatrix's work that his brothers miss, and he intends to prove them wrong about the "bunny book" they would have cast aside. As the business relationship blooms into friendship, Norman introduces her to his mother (Phyllida Law), who is startled by Beatrix's spunk but taken with her nonetheless, and his sister Millie (Emily Watson), a free thinker who revels in her lack of romantic attachments and soon becomes Beatrix's closest friend. Meanwhile, Norman enthusiastically encourages Beatrix to write more stories for publication, and in her continued acquaintance with the gentle, exuberant young publisher, Beatrix begins to rethink her staunch stance on the virtues of spinsterhood...

I confess that I'm not always such a fan of Zellweger, but perhaps it's not so much her as the characters she has portrayed. I found whiny, petulant Bridget Jones hard to handle, and I saw nothing lovable about Chicago's dastardly, manipulative Roxy Hart. But I loved her role as the uncouth but hard-working and gutsy Ruby Thewes in Cold Mountain, and she's equally enjoyable here as the much primmer but no less spirited Beatrix.

Funnily enough, her living situation reminds me of that of Shannon Christie in Far and Away, portrayed by Cold Mountain star Nicole Kidman. She's a modern young woman at the turn of the century being held back by the societal expectations of her high-class mother, while her father is more understanding of her dreams. In fact, Mr. Potter once wanted to be an artist himself but never pursued it because it was not deemed respectable, so he appreciates Beatrix's artistry and helps her to nourish it, though he still is none too keen on the idea of her courting a tradesman, especially after she rejected so many upper-class suitors that her mother hand-selected.

McGregor is predictably endearing from the moment we meet Norman, with his eyes twinkling underneath his hat and his mustache extending to his deep-set dimples as he flashes a dazzling grin. Norman, as it happens, has a much better head for the publishing business than his fusty brothers suspect, but otherwise he has little in common with them. While it's hard to imagine them as carefree young lads, Norman obviously has retained his sense of childlike wonder, and what a happy gift that is to the world! I adore him every bit as much as I do Beatrix, particularly in a giddy yet vulnerable Christmastime scene that allows him to make use of his excellent singing voice with a fanciful original tune by Bright Eyes songwriter Mike Batt that is sung more completely by the ethereal Katie Melua over the closing credits.

Yes, Miss Potter is a love story, and a crackin' good one at that. But more than that, it's the story of one marvelously imaginative young woman's insistence upon embracing life's joys and sharing them with others, even in the midst of her own sorrows. Because as heart-warming and exhilarating as the film is, it's also tinged with tragedy. That Beatrix took the trials life handed her and transformed them into opportunities to bestow lasting beauty upon the world, not only through her beloved books but through her tireless conservation efforts in England's Lake District, beautifully preserved on film through Andrew Dunn's shimmery cinematography, is a true testament to her spirit.

Anyone who's ever smiled at the antics of Jemima Puddle-Duck, Jeremy Fisher or especially Peter Rabbit will love this story of how they were born. Wholesome and prickling with the best sort of enchantment, Miss Potter is pure magic.

Bride and Prejudice Colorfully Reimagines Austen

If I were to categorize this year in terms of my prevailing preoccupation, I would have to say that 2007 has been the Year of Harry Potter. Just behind the boy wizard, however, were several other fictional fancies, prominent among them the hit ABC drama LOST and Jane Austen's enduring classic, Pride and Prejudice. When I learned that a marriage, however tenuous, between the two could be found in Gurinder Chadha's Bride and Prejudice, a splashy Bollywood adaptation of Austen's novel, I couldn't wait to attend the ceremony.

It was Naveen Andrews, better known to me as (mostly) reformed Iraqi torturer Sayid, whose inclusion in the cast pushed this cinematic take on the Elizabeth and Darcy saga up to the top of my must-see list. Sadly, the happy-go-lucky (and marvelously fleet-footed) Balraj Bingley doesn't get a lot of screen time, but he's sufficiently lovable for this gal who harbors suspicions that, delicious as Darcy is, she may be more of a Bingley devotee at heart. And Martin Henderson is, alas, no Colin Firth, nor is this Darcy written to be nearly as interesting or intoxicating as the original.

Few of the other cast members were familiar to me. Alexis Bledel, whose role in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants I enjoyed, puts in a sweet performance as Georgie, good-natured little sister of the inscrutable William Darcy, and Ashanti makes a rather random appearance. Otherwise, while I recognized the characters, I can't say the same for the actors playing them. The cast is solid, however, from Indira Varma, who plays the high-falluting, flirtatious Kiran Bingley, sister to Balraj and pursuer of William, to Nitin Ganatra, the insufferable Mr. Collins-like Mr. Kohli who could give Fran Drescher a run for her money in a most-annoying-laugh competition.

Most of the characters have names that are similar to the Austen version, but before they were properly introduced it was fun to point to them and guess which character they corresponded to. I was impressed by how many of the characters remained relatively intact; obviously, since the bulk of the film takes place in modern-day India (with brief forays into London and California) rather than Georgian England, there are going to be changes, but the basic nature of the characters is pretty similar.

The Bakshi family is very much like the Bennets, with an easy-going dad (Anupam Kher), a hilariously high-strung mom (Nadira Babbar) and four unmarried daughters. Poor Kitty, who never was very distinctive, is excised entirely, but Elizabeth is present in all her feisty glory, though this time her name is Lalita (Aishwarya Rai). Her older sister Jane becomes Jaya (Namrata Shirodkar), whose charitable personality isn't as developed as Jane's but who still is perfectly likable. Maya (Meghna Kothari) is Mary-like primarily in one scene in which, instead of a tedious musical performance, she subjects guests to a poorly performed snake dance. Lakhi (Peeya Rai Chowdhary) is the irresponsible Lydia through and through, though her fling with Johnny Wickham (Daniel Gillies) turns out quite differently than in the book.

The most striking aspect of this film, even more than the setting, is the fact that it is a musical, and an incredibly eye-catching one at that. The first half of the movie is loaded with extended, vibrant dance numbers, most of which do little to advance the story, though they are roughly in keeping with the emphasis the novel places on dance. Of course, this is dancing of a very different sort, and even the liberal Elizabeth would likely blush at some of the rather immodest displays - though it's all beautifully coordinated, and still much more tasteful than the half-dressed gyrating of From Justin to Kelly. It's fun to watch, what with the dazzling array of fabrics and the unique cultural dances, particularly those involving sticks that the dancers slap together, and there's an entertaining Matchmaker, Matchmaker-style derisive ode to Mr. Kohli, but most of the songs went on a bit longer than I thought was necessary, and I was rather relieved when the second half focused mostly on character development and dialogue.

If you're a fan of Jane Austen, you're in for a treat with this unique re-telling of Pride and Prejudice, and if you're lost without LOST, prepare to be doubly delighted!

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Crystal and Muresan Leave a Big Impression in My Giant

One of my all-time favorite movies features Billy Crystal and Andre the Giant. I couldn't help but think of The Princess Bride, that endlessly quotable comedic extravaganza, as I began to watch My Giant, starring Crystal and another giant, basketball dynamo Gheorghe Muresan, and incorporating lush Romanian landscapes and gentle music suitable for a fairy tale. This 1998 movie is not a comparable laugh riot, though there were many moments that gave me the giggles. Rather, it is a tender story of friendship, and as the credits rolled, I discovered that the Princess Bride vibes were probably intentional, since the film, which Crystal wrote with David Seltzer and produced, was dedicated to Andre, who died in 1993.

Andre's Fezzik, the lovable rhyming giant, is my favorite character in Princess Bride, and Muresan puts echoes of that performance into Maximus Zamphirescu, a seven-and-a-half-foot-tall Shakespeare enthusiast raised in the company of monks. When Sammy Kamin (Crystal), an agent recently ditched by his sole client, cocky teen star Justin Allen (Rider Strong), meets him, he sees dollar signs. He's sure he can make a huge star out of Max - and a small fortune for himself - if he can just convince his naive new friend to come along for the ride. Max, used to living in hiding from derisive villagers, isn't easily swayed, but he does have one very compelling reason to follow Sammy to America: his childhood sweetheart, Lilliana Rotaru (Joanna Pacula), whom he hasn't seen or heard from in 20 years. Sammy dangles the prospect of meeting Lilliana before Max as he good-naturedly accompanies the agent on an exhausting journey while Sammy struggles with whether turning Max into a star is really what's best for him.

Crystal narrates the film from time to time, mostly toward the beginning. His witty commentary is occasionally heartfelt, usually entertaining. I especially enjoy a montage in the film's first few minutes in which he explains his lifelong ability to talk people into things, the highlight of which involves him as a kid (Eric Lloyd) convincing his Orthodox rabbi to give pork a try. His dry humor is showcased throughout the film, but there are also opportunities for somber reflection. Sammy is a bit self-involved, a bit of an opportunist, but mostly he's a nice guy caught up in an often brutal business. It's clear he cares for Max and is distressed by the poor treatment his condition often gets him. He also is devoted to his family, smart-aleck son Nicky (Zane Carney) and estranged wife Serena (Kathleen Quinlan), but he's forgotten how to show it, and this quest is more about his development as a compassionate individual than Max's road to self-worth.

But the towering Muresan shines as well, and Max really is the movie's heart, showing Sammy how to love truly and deeply. His deep, accented voice is distinctive, jarring at first but soon warmly familiar, like his ever-present smile. Quinlan is also impressive, particularly in a moving scene toward the end of the film, and Strong is delightfully irritating. Other standouts include Jere Burns as the testy movie director who gives Max his first big break and Steven Seagal as himself. Michael Coulter's cinematography captures the beauty of Max's homeland, while Marc Shaiman's sprightly score is enchanting. It all comes together to make My Giant a tender, funny film for the whole family to ponder and enjoy.

Monday, October 15, 2007

The Dogwalker is a Dog of a Movie

This week, thanks to a free month-long gift trial, I am at last taking the plunge into Netflix. It's one I've been contemplating for quite a while, and now that I'm getting a taste, I suspect I won't be able to resist hanging onto the subscription. I have a long list of movies I've been wanting to see, and I've already added a good many of them to my queue. While I wait for the first of my selected films to arrive, I have the free online viewing to enjoy, and last night I decided to take advantage of that. Dad had already gone to bed; Mom was dozing on the couch next to me, and so as not to wake her, I slipped on the headphones and tried to find a movie that looked mildly interesting, but not to the point that I would feel badly about watching it on my own. After a bit of browsing, I settled on The Dogwalker, a 1999 film I'd never heard of full of actors I'd never encountered before and written and directed by Paul Duran, with whom I was also unfamiliar. Would this be a diamond in the rough?

Well, it has the rough down. The film focuses on Jerry (Will Stewart), a down-on-his-luck schmuck who is spared the uncomfortable situation of using his broken-down car as lodgings when he accidentally lands himself a job as a dogwalker for the elderly Alma (Carol Gustafson). This premise was enough to draw me in. It was listed as a comedy, and I took its lack of a rating combined with the potentially feel-good elements of caring for canines and little old ladies as a sign that it would be some corny but charming Hallmark-style direct-to-video release. Ha! Within the first few minutes, which included copious amounts of profanity and drug use, mostly by Jerry's lewd, loud-mouthed friend K.C. (Cress Williams), I had adjusted my expectations for the movie considerably.

There are several aspects of The Dogwalker that could make for an engaging film. The most promising bits involve the intergenerational friendships that develop between Jerry and Alma and Jerry's sensitive friend Mones (Tony Todd) and Alma's elderly neighbor Ike (John Randolph). Unfortunately, one is insufficiently explored, while the other leads to a scene marking an abrupt change in an already uneven film. As for the pooch, always a welcome addition to any film as far as this dog lover is concerned, the generically named Lucky scarcely makes an appearance. Mom, who drifted in and out of sleep and occasionally glanced at the screen to see what was happening though she couldn't hear, commented to me later that in all her glimpses, she never spotted a dog. That's a shame because ultimately, the dog is the only one Jerry really manages to connect with.

That's not to say he doesn't do plenty of interacting. He and his buddies, when they're not smokin' and dopin', partake in awkwardly fun game nights with Alma and her friends, forming a most unconventional posse. And then there's Alma's daughter Helen (Stepfanie Kramer), who is high-strung and obnoxious, and though she can't seem to get along with anyone, including Jerry, she seduces him Mrs. Robinson-style, while her catty, perpetually gum-chewing teenage daughter Susan (Nicki Aycox) comes on to him at every possible opportunity. These scenes are much more uncomfortable than alluring, and most of the intended comedic moments were too crude to evoke many laughs from me.

The Dogwalker has its moments, but they are few and far between. I suspect there was a reason I never heard of this movie. If you come across it, I suggest you walk the other way.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Ringers' Enthusiasm Rings True for This Tolkien Fan

In 1999, just before I graduated from high school, I went to Barnes and Noble and was shocked by the sight of a display inviting me to enter a sweepstakes for which the prize would be a trip to New Zealand to get a behind-the-scenes peek at the filming of The Lord of the Rings. "They're filming Lord of the Rings?" I gasped before putting in my entry and hoping for the best. Alas, the dream vacation went to someone else, but I spent the next two years in eager anticipation of what I hoped would be a cinematic masterpiece worthy of my favorite book. As I perused the Internet for news, I discovered just how vast the fandom was. I may have felt rather isolated as a Tolkien enthusiast growing up, but the movies brought millions of fans out of the woodwork. And as much as I adore the good Professor and the fantastical realms he created, I quickly learned I was not his most ardent admirer. Not by a long shot.

Ringers: Lord of the Fans, written by Cliff Broadway and Carlene Cordova and produced in association with TheOneRing.net, taps into the frenzy Tolkien has inspired for seven decades. It's narrated by Dom Monaghan, who was catapulted from relative obscurity to superstardom with 2001's The Fellowship of the Ring, in which he portrayed the endearing hobbit Merry, constant companion of the mischievous Pippin, played by Billy Boyd. While Monaghan has the largest role in the documentary, Boyd, Elijah Wood (Frodo), Sean Astin (Samwise), Ian McKellan (Gandalf), Viggo Mortensen (Aragorn), Orlando Bloom (Legolas), Andy Serkis (Gollum), John Rhys-Davies (Gimli) and John Noble (Denethor) all offer commentary, as do director Peter Jackson, screenwriter Philippa Boyens and producer Barrie Osborne. Moreover, the film cuts periodically to a theater where fans in elaborate costumes are waiting five days to see the first showing of The Two Towers, and most of the fan testimonials focus on the movies.

Nonetheless, the movie works it way gradually to the present, so while we never forget about Jackson's epic, Tolkien's is still the primary focus. Monaghan recounts the publication of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, accompanied by a series of trippy Monty Python-esque illustrations. I'm especially amused by the trio of nay-saying critics - among whom is Harold Bloom, with whom I became intimately acquainted through several college English courses - who are silenced by the arrival of a winged C. S. Lewis and W. H. Auden singing Tolkien's praises.

Perhaps my favorite segment is entitled Of Hippies and Hobbits, which chronicles the profound influence Lord of the Rings had on the American counter-culture. Here we are treated to lots of video clips of sixties teens sitting around reading Tolkien and engaging in protests against Ace Books, which published unauthorized editions of the books, much to their author's consternation.

Tolkien societies, a gathering place for those caught up in what one observer called "intellectual hooliganism," began to form in this decade, and musicians incorporated Middle-earth themes and motifs into their recordings. Some, like many of Led Zeppelin's compositions, were impressive, while others - most notably Leonard Nimoy's ultra-campy The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins - were just silly. The marriage of music and Middle-earth has continued over the years, as demonstrated in a special feature that mostly includes footage scattered throughout the documentary itself. Among the contributors to these segments are Lemmy Kilmister of the band Motorhead and Geddy Lee of Rush.

Ringers makes note of the animated attempts at Tolkien - Rankin and Bass's The Hobbit and The Return of the King and Ralph Bakshi's The Lord of the Rings - but the tone is somewhat derisive. While I find Bakshi's vision a little too weird for my liking, he certainly gave it his best shot, and the documentary implies that he was denied the proper resources to do his project real justice. It's less kind to Rankin and Bass, as Monaghan and other commentators make cracks about Bilbo looking like a frog and ridiculous songs being forced upon people at the most inopportune moments. However, it also shows us some fans who cite The Hobbit as their all-time favorite movie, and we hear three different covers of songs from those films, including a haunting version of Leave Tomorrow 'Til It Comes that plays over the credits. I was interested to find out that this was not the first attempt at a film version of Lord of the Rings. One screenwriter got Tolkien's reluctant permission to give it a shot but couldn't find any interested parties, and in the sixties the Beatles put considerable effort into putting Lord of the Rings on the big screen, but their attempts were similarly fruitless. What a combination that would have been!

While Ringers is loaded with experts associated with Lord of the Rings is one way or another, many of the most interesting observations come from ordinary fans. Interviewer Cliff Broadway talks to fans in various locations, while a confessional booth records the ramblings of Comic-Con 2005 attendees, most of whom are garbed as various characters from Lord of the Rings, though there is the occasional Klingon or Jedi. The costumes are truly impressive, especially when we hear all the effort that went into them. My favorite was a Treebeard costume, which looked extremely realistic but difficult to walk and talk in. It's worth a look in the special features at a few of the more memorable Tolkien testimonials. These are undoubtedly some very passionate fans.

Some of them have stories to tell about brushes with Tolkien or folks involved with Jackson's film; others have unusual collections or have put their creativity to use in such famed works of fan fiction as Lord of the Peeps and The Original Pervy Hobbit Fancier's Journal. And then there's the woman in California who created Hobbiton, U.S.A., a walk through The Hobbit settled in an old stand of redwoods and featuring wooden representations of various locations in the book. It has a very homegrown look to it, nothing too fancy, but my eyes about popped out when I saw it, and it's definitely been added to my list of desired destinations.

If you've ever dreamed of moving to Middle-earth, spent a hundred dollars to look like an elf, rhapsodized for pages about your favorite hobbits or read Tolkien's masterpiece repeatedly, give Ringers a look and rest assured you are not alone.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

The Wonderful Wizard of Ha's: "I Don't Think We're in Kansas Anymore, Tutu..."

Though Halloween isn't for another three weeks, while working at the mall today, I saw a little girl of three or four prancing down the concourse in a sparkling blue and white checkered dress with matching hair bows and a dazzling pair of red slippers. Completing the glittery ensemble was a small basket clutched in her fist and containing a stuffed Toto-sized dog. As she knelt by my kiosk and delightedly studied the Wizard of Oz calendar, I couldn't help but wonder if this adorable young Dorothy would approve of The Wonderful Wizard of Ha's, the latest VeggieTales feature from innovative Christian company Big Idea. After all, there is no pig-tailed Gale singing wistfully and clicking her heels together. Indeed, the hero has no heels to click together because he is an asparagus. But that doesn't make his journey any less magical...

Darby is the son of a poor farmer, and as the tale opens upon a dusty, sepia-drenched Kansas landscape, he is disgusted by his father's response to his plea to visit the Land of Ha's, a fantastic amusement park a neighbor told him about. Determined to see this place for himself immediately despite his dad's desperate financial straits, he snatches up his college fund and takes off with his little pig Tutu for a grand adventure that will look very familiar to anyone who has ever seen The Wizard of Oz or read the Biblical story of the prodigal son.

Several previous Veggie installments have put a new twist on a tale from the Bible: Joseph and Moses in the Old West; Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego in a bunny factory; Naomi and Ruth in the Middle Ages. Others have used classic literature and pop culture to illustrate Judeo-Christian values: Don Quixote and Sherlock Holmes for being a good friend; Indiana Jones for turning the other cheek; Lord of the Rings for using one's gifts wisely. But this is really the first time that both things have happened at once, and the result is a surprisingly seamless fusion of stories. I never realized how perfectly the narratives lend themselves to one another, but it really works.

As in so many other Veggie adventures, little Junior Asparagus is the protagonist, which makes the story extra accessible right off the bat, since he is such an Everykid. His patient, affectionate dad comes into the series often, always gently guiding his son along the right path, though Junior, even in the guise of Darby, needs a little first-hand experience before the message really sinks in. While Mom Asparagus doesn't show up as the Auntie Em figure, nearly every other major character from the 1939 film gets a nod, from the farmhands/scarecrow-tin man-lion (Mr. Lunt, Larry and Pa Grape) and the Munchkins (French Peas) to Glinda (Madame Blueberry), the Wicked Witch (the bully from Minnesota Cuke) and the Wizard (Archibald).

Whenever an homage to the film is possible, this feature makes it, while throwing in such silly jokes as a cameo from Mary Poppins in the twister scene. Visually, it couldn't be more appealing, from Darby's rickety farm and the dazzling pint-sized town in which he lands to the mesmerizing field of puppies and the exhilarating Land of Ha's. There's an abundance of music in this installment, with spoofs of Wizard of Oz tunes Somewhere Over the Rainbow, The Munchkin Land Song, Follow the Yellow Brick Road, We're Off to See the Wizard, Optimistic Voices and The Merry Old Land of Oz.

It's one of the funniest Veggie offerings in quite a while, with so many Oz-related sight gags, puns and all manner of silliness. Speaking of which, I adore the silly song, which is much simpler in terms of lyrics, props and instrumentation than most recent efforts have been; in this case, less is more as, with a jungle beat background, Larry, on safari with Bob, explains the difference between a monkey and an ape, while Bob doubts Larry's logic. The lively back-and-forth is reminiscent of such back-and-forth bantering numbers as The Dance of the Cucumber and I Love My Duck, and it's the most likely song on this DVD to get stuck in your head all week.

Of course, in this midst of all this zaniness, there is the parable of the prodigal son, which really has a two-fold message: not to squander your parents' - and God's - blessings, and not to be afraid to return and ask forgiveness. There's a not-so-subtle subtext involving healthy eating habits that parents should appreciate; the crop that Darby's father harvests is dental floss, while the tantalizing cotton candy the lion craves gives him a stomachache after he overindulges.

This is probably the last Veggie video that fans will get before the arrival of the Pirates Who Don't Do Anything movie on the big screen in January. It's probably not an accident that the scarecrow, tin man and lion are portrayed by that same lovably lazy trio; their charming roles in The Wonderful Wizard of Ha's just whet my appetite for the main entree. If it's anywhere near as exceptional as this, we're in for quite a treat!

Saturday, October 6, 2007

It's Not For Kids, But The Heartbreak Kid Delivers Laughs

I'm not a big fan of raunchy comedies, but when my friend informed me of an opportunity to catch a free preview of The Heartbreak Kid this week, I wasn't about to pass up the chance, especially since free food was also involved. Besides, I always enjoy Ben Stiller, if not necessarily the movies in which he finds himself, and I haven't caught a movie at the cinema in more than a month, so my reviewing fingers were getting itchy. At least,, I thought, if the movie is awful, I can write a merciless review. It's been a while since I've had an excuse to be scathing. Alas for me; I'll have to get my Simon Cowell practice elsewhere. Maybe I've built up an unlikely immunity to R-rated shenanigans, but I found The Heartbreak Kid to be considerably less crude than I expected, especially given the previews warning that this would make The 40-Year-Old Virgin look like a kiddie flick. With warm and fuzzy Freaks and Geeks genius Judd Apatow at the helm, that film did have more heart, but thanks largely to Stiller's likable performance, I found this Farrelly Brothers comedy pretty enjoyable.

Reprising his unassuming schmuck shtick, Stiller stars as Eddie Cantrow, the 40-year-old owner of a sporting goods store in San Francisco. Much to the chagrin of his swinging bachelor father (an irascible Jerry Stiller), Eddie doesn't have much of a love life. Every time he gets close enough to a woman to consider marriage, he backs off; as the film opens, we see him abashedly seated at the otherwise kids-only "singles' table" at the wedding reception of his jilted former fiancee, who cruelly skewers him in a toast. It might all be a bit too much to take if it weren't for a chance meeting with Lila (Malin Akerman), a blonde beauty whom he attempts to rescue from a mugging. Their relationship progresses quickly after the initial spark, and only weeks later, faced with a sudden ultimatum from Lila and bowing to pressure from his dad and faux-happily married best friend Mac (Rob Corddry), Eddie takes the plunge into marriage. Though his cautious nature renders him very nervous about such a commitment, Lila and he have such an ideal connection, how could he possibly go wrong?

How, indeed... The bulk of the movie takes place in Mexico at a resort where Eddie and Lila decide to spend their honeymoon. Eddie generally plays the straight man to his increasingly psychotic wife, whose hijinks are comically uncomfortable. Turns out there's quite a lot Eddie didn't learn about her in a month and a half of dating. From her undisclosed biological condition and a startling revelation about her career to her sadistic streak and lack of common sense, Lila is just full of nasty surprises. But falling out of love with his wife on their honeymoon is only half the problem. Miranda (Michelle Monaghan), who he meets shortly after arriving at the resort, is the other half. Propelled by a series of unfortunate misunderstandings, Eddie finds himself dating the affable Miranda while a sulky, sunburned Lila stays behind in the hotel room, oblivious. How long can he keep the charade going? And when the truth comes out, does he have any real shot at happiness, since his experience with Lila managed to confirm everything he ever feared about marriage?

Though Eddie does take a wrong turn here and there, he does, for the most part, come across as a genuinely decent guy despite the fact that he is courting another woman on his own honeymoon. Miranda is spunky and engaging, while Lila makes a complete turn-around from girl next door to nutcase. The Stiller father-son dynamic is a nice touch; there's definitely a gruff affection there, even with the elder's constant stream of crass remarks. Meanwhile, cynical Mac is a hoot, particularly when associating with his shrewish wife, calls from whom are announced with a Wicked Witch of the West ring tone on his cell phone. Among the smaller but memorable side roles are Uncle Tito (Carlos Mencia), the jovial, perverted proprietor of the resort, and a pair of twins (Michael and Nicholas Kromka) who plague Eddie throughout the film.

When I saw Shallow Hal, also by the Farrelly Brothers, I was pleasantly surprised at how sweet it was and how it espoused the positive message of loving a person for who they are rather than what they look like. If there's a moral to this movie, it seems to be Don't get married. Or at least Don't rush into marriage. Make sure you really know each other before you take that plunge. That's a worthwhile consideration, and certainly I wouldn't advise marriage after six weeks in too many circumstances. But The Heartbreak Kid goes beyond that helpful pointer to undercut the institution itself, which hardly comes as a shock in an age of so many broken marriages, but there's something depressing about the fact that the only happily married couple we meet in the movie have been married for 40 years. Do the up-and-comers have a shot at blissful matrimony? Walking out of the theater, I wasn't so sure.

While the movie isn't a constant barrage of crudeness, there's profanity and coarse language aplenty, along with a couple of cringe-inducing bedroom scenes. The funniest moments for me were those that do not rely on gross-out humor: Eddie's juvenile dinner companions at the wedding quizzing him on why he's single, Lila singing at the top of her lungs along with the radio for hours in the car, Miranda's relatives laughing too uproariously at a comment Eddie makes. As long as you don't come to The Heartbreak Kid expecting an attack of the warm fuzzies, chances are you won't leave heartbroken over having wasted an evening on a worthless movie.