Showing posts with label Jessica Biel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jessica Biel. Show all posts

Saturday, August 11, 2012

REVIEW: Total Recall

Total Recall (2012): Dir. Len Wiseman. Written by: Kurt Wimmer and Mark Bomback. Screen story by: Ronald Shusett, Dan O'Bannon, Jon Povill and Kurt Wimmer. Based on the short story, "We Can Remember It for You Wholesale" by Philip K. Dick. Starring: Colin Farrell, Kate Beckinsale, Jessica Biel, Bryan Cranston, John Cho, Bokeem Woodbine and Bill Nighy. Rated PG-13 (Mostly bloodless action and exactly three breasts). Running time: 121 minutes.

1 ½ stars (out of four)

In the distant future, chemical warfare has left Earth uninhabitable in all but two regions: the United Federation of Britain and Australia (known now as the Colony). The UFB is your run-of-the-mill dystopia: a bustling high-tech metropolis plagued by overpopulation and the terrorist attacks of a rebel anarchist group. An ominous Chancellor named Cohaagen (Bryan Cranston) rules the nation, his giant face projected on TV screens throughout the city as he addresses his citizens.

Fear not, he says. To counter the increase in terrorist bombings he will increase the size of the synthetic police force – an army of sleek, faceless robots carrying automatic weapons. Something tells me the Chancellor doesn’t have the people’s best interests in mind when he announces this.

Meanwhile, the citizens of the Colony live in comparative squalor. The streets of its drab concrete cities are brightened only by neon signs (in a shrewdly prescient touch, Chinese letters always accompany English). The Colony always seems to be overcast and rainy too, a meteorological curiosity I might have liked explained.

It is here that Douglas Quaid (a sleepy Colin Farrell) calls home. He works at a factory in the UFB where he builds those synthetic police officers. He commutes there daily with his buddy (Bokeem Woodbine) via a fascinating innovation in transportation called The Fall. The Fall is a “gravity elevator,” a sort of train that zooms down into the ground, past the Earth’s core and back up to the surface on the opposite side of the globe. Halfway through the trip, gravity reverses and passengers momentarily float in their harnesses. (This comes in handy later during the film’s best action scene.)

In the future there is also Rekall, a company that offers customers the opportunity to plant fabricated memories inside their minds. The memory can be anything you like – a passionate affair, a luxurious vacation, a stint as an international spy – and Quaid thinks he might like to try the spy fantasy.

But before the Rekall attendant – a slick, white-haired and wonderfully goofy looking John Cho – can start the procedure, the cops bust in to arrest Quaid. What do they want with him? Is this all a Rekall memory? Or was his old life an illusion created by a past trip to Rekall?

Next thing Quaid knows, he is on the run from the law and has gotten two beautiful ladies caught up in his newly complicated life. There is Lori (Kate Beckinsale), Quaid’s wife of seven years who may be more than she initially seems, and Melina (Jessica Biel), a member of the rebellion who claims she already knows Quaid. To Melina, however, he is a man named Carl Hauser.

Most of this should be familiar to anyone who has seen the 1990 Total Recall starring Arnold Schwarzenegger (both this film and that one are based on the Philip K. Dick short story, “We Remember It for You Wholesale”). But it is not familiarity that sinks this movie. (In a year that saw successful revamps of 21 Jump Street and Spider-Man, why not this too?)

The premise is intriguing and the set design impressive but the script by Kurt Wimmer and Mark Bomback is awful. It rushes through the set-up and then wastes time in the middle. The dialogue is clunky and utilitarian; characters speak in exposition or they don’t speak at all. Total Recall begins as hard sci-fi but devolves into mindless action. It needs to choose; it can’t have it both ways. (On second thought, Christopher Nolan’s Inception did exactly that. Hm.)

The three leads – Mr. Farrell, Ms. Beckinsale and Ms. Biel – all have the dazed look of actors on a greenscreen. What a shame. Colin Farrell can be such an energetic and dynamic presence. Why, if you cast him in this movie, would you have him play such a muted and humorless character? Director Len Wiseman should have let him loose, popped a cigarette in his mouth and allowed him to speak in his foul-mouthed brogue. The movie would have come alive.

There is one actor who gets it right. Bryan Cranston, in a limited role, makes for a great antagonist. Late in the film he delivers a monologue explaining the whole knotty plot. I didn’t understand a word of what he was talking about but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. During that chase scene with the hover cars? I was checking my watch.

- Steve Avigliano, 8/11/12

Monday, December 12, 2011

REVIEW: New Year's Eve

New Year's Eve (2011): Dir. Garry Marshall. Written by: Katherine Fugate. Starring: Halle Berry, Jessica Biel, Jon Bon Jovi, Abigail Breslin, Chris "Ludacris" Bridges, Robert De Niro, Josh Duhamel, Zac Efron, Héctor Elizondo, Katherine Heigl, Ashton Kutcher, Seth Myers, Lea Michele, Sarah Jessica Parker, Michelle Pfeiffer, Til Schweiger, Hilary Swank and Sofía Vergara. Rated PG-13 (Some language and sexual remarks). Running time: 118 minutes.

1 star (out of four)

New Year’s Eve is like a commercial without a product to sell. Which is a shame, really, because it feels like a good opportunity for Ashton Kutcher to pose with his Nikon.

The movie follows more than a dozen different characters in New York City as they send off 2011 with no shortage of style or heartfelt monologues, mostly congregating in or around Times Square for the ball drop at midnight. The huge ensemble cast is a gimmick though, a stunt I will concede is impressive as an exercise in unabashed excess. “How will all these people ever fit in one movie?” we ask.

The simple answer is that they don’t, or at least director Garry Marshall and screenwriter Katherine Fugate are incapable of doing anything more with these actors than throwing them together in a jumbled, disorderly mess. The film cuts between its storylines with little narrative rhyme or reason; its scenes appear to have been ordered arbitrarily. The movie may as well have been edited by an iPod shuffle.

Mathematically speaking, cramming all these people into a single two-hour film means nobody gets much more than fifteen minutes of screen time apiece. (Feel free to check my math on that one.) A number of the minor characters receive considerably less. So as an actor strapped for time, you better spit out that expository dialogue quick before your scene gets cut short.

For expediency’s sake, it helps too if the storylines eschew originality and just borrow vague ideas and setups from romantic comedies past. Katherine Heigl is in Desperate Damsel mode (a cakewalk for her by now) as the head chef in possibly the least busy restaurant kitchen in movie history. Where else but in the Heiglverse does a professional caterer on New Year’s Eve have the time to throw a temper tantrum (and eggs) with her sous chef Sofía Vergara in between idle chats with a former lover played by none other than Jon Bon Jovi?

Zac Efron, meanwhile, helps Michelle Pfeiffer check off everything on her resolution list with a charm that might have made a young John Cusack (unfortunately not present) jealous. The handsome Josh Duhamel seeks to reconnect with a woman he met last New Year’s and agreed to meet again tonight at the same café. A typically frantic Sarah Jessica Parker struggles to keep her daughter Abigail Breslin from leaving the nest too soon. And Ashton Kutcher, a certified New Year’s cynic, gets trapped in an elevator with Glee star Lea Michele, who, fear not, is given ample opportunities to sing.

Robert De Niro appears as a man on life support, a bit of casting that feels like a cruel joke, and Halle Berry plays his nurse, refusing to allow his dying request to watch the ball drop from the hospital roof. In another strange pairing of actors, Hilary Swank grapples with her new position overseeing the Times Square festivities while her security officer, a comatose Chris “Ludacris” Bridges, stands around and provides occasional comfort. (Between this and his equally out-of-place appearance in No Strings Attached earlier this year, Bridges’s New Year’s resolution should be to find a new agent.) In a late-film appearance as a electrician, Héctor Elizondo nearly redeems the whole bloated affair but a prime opportunity for slapstick (he gets stuck briefly atop the ball) is left oddly untouched.

In perhaps the film’s most improbable storyline, an expecting young couple, Jessica Biel and Seth Myers, race to win a hospital’s $25,000 prize for birthing the first child of the New Year. These scenes have potential for screwball comedy but Myers, who has the acting chops of Jerry Seinfeld, and Biel don’t have a clue what to do with the material. As an eastern European man also vying for the cash prize, Til Schweiger gets a few laughs but the comedy is otherwise dead in the water.

All of these characters crowd the screen in competition for our affection but none are even half developed enough to elicit anything in the way of audience sympathy. The characters are so dull and lifeless I found myself wishing Ryan Seacrest’s cameo had been expanded into a full storyline. He at least understands how to make drivel pass as entertainment, having essentially made a whole career out of it.

The most revealing moment in the movie is in the end credits during the requisite blooper reel of line flubs and cast pranks. We see Jessica Biel in labor as her doctor (Carla Gugino) pulls out not a baby but a copy of Valentine’s Day (the similarly structured previous feature from Mr. Marshall) on Blu-Ray from Biel’s vagina. It’s a sort of perverse, self-congratulatory joke that makes me think Mr. Marshall has nothing but a cynical, bottom line attitude towards the whole production. The inevitable profit from this film’s box office and subsequent DVD release will no doubt sustain him until he pops out another holiday-themed piece of junk next year. So New Year’s Eve really is a commercial after all. And it doesn’t even have the decency to try and sell us anything.

- Steve Avigliano, 12/12/11