Stuck (2007)

View the Trailer, Clips, Photos & an Exclusive Interview

The nature vs. nurture debate has gone on forever, nearly as long as the chicken and the egg question (which ironically would tie right in if that chicken starts misbehaving) and while it's one that we'll never solve, the bottom line is I think most of us want to believe that humans are born basically good. Certain things we're taught and certain things are instinctual-- from looking both ways before we cross the street or not taking candy from strangers to treating others as you want to be treated, some of this seems almost ingrained in our DNA but the one that seems to outweigh them all is self-preservation.

While this can be a positive whether it's willing oneself to make it through some horrific ordeal or illness, it can also be used to ill effect when its at the expense of others and such is the case which comprises the plot of director Stuart Gordon's internationally acclaimed and award-winning film, Stuck, which has newly arrived on DVD shelves.

Stuck's self-preservation battle is shown from two competing points of view when Mena Suvari's young character Brandi ignores proper and downright moral protocol and after accidentally driving straight into a down-on-his-luck newly homeless man (Stephen Rea) makes the panicked decision to keep on driving. While hit-and-runs make the news everyday and their cowardly actions are upsetting indeed especially if the struck pedestrian is in serious condition or worse-- the horrific events of Stuck are even more appalling when one realizes that the pedestrian wasn't just struck but instead stuck halfway through her windshield.

If this is starting to sound familiar it should-- inspired by the tragic, true story of a Texas woman who hit a businessman in 2001 and left him for dead in her garage, Re-Animator helmer Stuart Gordon and his screenwriter John Strysick produce a film that's as compelling as it is utterly unbelievable in its primal ferocity.

Instead of ripping it straight from the headlines verbatim and making their version into a docudrama, the filmmakers ingeniously craft a film that plays equally well as a dark yet intellectually compelling and often surprisingly wicked comic satire about the all-time low of public decency (as several timely issues including health care, immigration, the economy, and others are investigated) as well as going right for Gordon's prime demographic of horror fans looking for a succinct, gory little thriller. Much like Brandi's car, the intense nail-biter Stuck packs a wallop and the results of the film you will feel for not simply miles but days.

We first encounter Brandi (Suvari, who also produced) as a dedicated, loyal and hardworking nursing home employee who kindly tends to her patients even the one who requests her assistance by name when he soils his sheets and despite the impression that her boss is simply manipulating her, routinely comes into work on Saturdays to pitch in. Dangled with the idea of a possible lucrative and prestigious promotion in becoming the captain of the nursing assistants, Brandi and her friend Tanya go out for a typical Friday night of clubbing, drinking and pill-popping along with her dealer and low-level gang member boyfriend Rashid (Russell Hornsby).

Our introduction to Brandi is intercut with the man whose fate will him find wasting away in her garage, namely Stephen Rea's Tom Bardo whose last name is derived from a Buddhist term referencing his future "life-or-death situation." A recently downsized project manager who was let go before his benefits would've kicked in and unable to pay his rent, Bardo finds himself on the unfortunate receiving end of one bad circumstance after another as he's denied governmental assistance from what appears to be both a human and computer error, kicked out of his apartment and taking to the streets for the evening. It's later that night that he's dealt the worst hand yet when after far too many cocktails and pills, Brandi and Tom find themselves in the same intersection at the wrong time.

Video Clip:
The Hit

Although she instinctively drives to a hospital and later contemplates calling 911, ultimately, the irrational Brandi drives home where she pulls into her garage and closes the door. Since she was the first character we met and the horrible event was definitely an accident, we instinctively feel bad for both "stuck" individuals but with the more time passes from the initial impact, we begin glimpsing the inhumanity that lies in Brandi who's so fearful of losing her job (and essentially ending up in Tom's shoes) that she disgustingly puts her life before human decency and quietly waits for him to die.

When her boyfriend arrives, she confesses that she struck a man but leaves out the most important detail involving his close proximity and in a scene that at first felt unnecessarily gratuitous yet serves as the revolting introduction to her more deceptive side that will further reveal itself as the night turns into day, Brandi and Rashid have sex that's intercut with the recently awakened Rea's agonizing pain.

While morning finds her sobered up and beginning to think clearly-- guiltily she once again contemplates calling the authorities but when Brandi first lies to Tom and tells him that help is on the way and then suddenly turns on a dime and later asks, "Why are you doing this to me?" we're horrified to realize we know precisely what she has in mind. Feeling complicit, we silently beg for someone to discover Tom. While I can't reveal more-- structurally changes were made that ultimately strengthen the film into an intelligent and frightening character-driven piece that's escalated by the talent of those involved, especially the humorous scene stealer Hornsby who provides much needed comic relief as we realize we're headed straight for a brutal showdown that can only end one of two ways.

Far better than I expected-- upon reading the synopsis, it's precisely the type of film I'd typically avoid but due to the accolades, acclaim and inclusion in several prestigious film festivals including the American Film Institute Fest in Dallas and the Toronto International Film Festival, I'm glad I took a chance. Ultimately a testament to one man's fight for survival pitted against one woman's escalating mental breakdown, Stuart Gordon's shocking story of being caught between a windshield and a garage is a master class in visceral filmmaking. Just be sure afterward you don't drink, dial and drive and always look both ways before you cross the street.

Happily Ever After

More than anything else, the endlessly optimistic yet eternally unlucky Yukie Moirta (Miki Nakatani) wants to be happy… if only for a little bit. Unfulfilled in her daily work serving customers as a waitress in a noodle-bar where she’s the oblivious target of her boss’ misguided romantic attention, Yukie’s home life is further complicated by the unpredictable moods of her brawny live-in lover Isao Hayama (Hiroshi Abe).

Prone to repetitively flipping over their kitchen table complete with Yukie’s sumptuous cuisine on ever-changing whims, the irrationally quick-to-anger unemployed Hayama who spends his days gambling away the money he steals from his girlfriend’s wages is nonetheless adored by the faithful and loyal Yukie. Unfailingly calling him her “darling,” Yukie fondly recalls the way her lover had saved her from fellow members of his old Tokyo Yakuza street gang.

Convinced that he’s a changed man and their love will set him straight, Yukie ignores the naysayers and fights the odds to earn her own slice of happiness in director Yukihiko Tsusumi’s adaptation of Japan’s wildly popular heartbreaking comic strip “Jigyaku no Uta,” from creator Yoshiie Goda.

The Foot Fist Way

In the words of Fred Simmons, “Jujitsu sucks”; it’s
time for Tae Kwon Do, or more appropriately
its translation, “Foot Fist Way.”

How does one begin to describe Fred Simmons (played by Tropic Thunder and Pineapple Express scene stealer Danny McBride)? From the highbrow evaluation of the man as “the type of blustery, provincial narcissist who is always putting his foot in his mouth and absolutely loving how it tastes,” as Nathan Lee offered in The New York Times to the more straightforward call-it-like-he-sees-it approach offered by Rolling Stone’s Peter Travers who sums him up in two words — “loudmouthed bully” — there’s no way of getting around the fact that McBride and his co-writers Ben Best and Jody Hill have created one unforgettable character in their film The Foot Fist Way.

In my eyes (and I'm sure I'm not alone), he’s the white trash version of Ricky Gervais’ character David Brent from BBC’s The Office. In fact, had Brent been not only real but had a twin from whom he was separated at birth — I’d lay odds on the fact that it would be none other than Fred Simmons.

The self-centered Tae Kwon Do instructor with delusions of grandeur runs a low-level suburban studio and recruits students as “The King of the Demo” in local North Carolina parking lots along with his sycophantic youthful sidekicks Julio (Spencer Moreno) and Henry Harrison (Carlos Lopez). Moreover, Simmons spends most of his time acting in ways that would give Miss Manners a heart attack. With virtually no filter from his head to his mouth, he is also prone — like David Brent — to making extremely unethical and unprofessional requests and comments of and to his students. Whether it’s nearly sending an elderly lady to the morgue after instructing a young man to come at her with all he has since he questions Simmons’ methods, wailing on children, telling one gentleman who balks at the prices that he’s fat and feminine or blaming his sidekicks when he messes up in his routine by addressing their lack of confidence, Simmons is — much like David Brent — the boss from hell still clinging to a championship title won in Vegas years earlier.

After he’s cheated on by his bimbo wife Suzie (Mary Jane Bostic), a woman who defends granting sexual favors to fit in by saying she was as "Myrtle Beach drunk" as their beach-like home décor, Simmons goes off the deep end. And although anyone with half a brain saw the Suzie debacle coming a mile away as she’s fond of wearing skin tight leotards and off the shoulder Flashdance apparel to church, photocopying her “naughty bits” at work and making a ranked list of coworkers who would be the most likely to freak out and go on a shooting spree, we quickly realize that mate-wise, she’s probably the best a guy like Simmons could do.

But that doesn’t prevent him from attempting to play the field such as in an excruciatingly Office-like scene wherein he comes on to one young woman (in a manner similar to Brent) by saying that since he already has all of her personal information like phone number and address, there’s no real need to go through the “weird schematics” of actually asking her out. However, what he fails to realize is that perhaps it wasn’t the biggest turn-on that the married Simmons was the very same man who freaked her into signing up for lessons by discussing that her admiration of yoga and meditation never saved “anyone from a gang rape type situation.”

The film, which is divided up into the admirable, selfless, and peaceful tenets of Tae Kwon Do (which translates literally to “foot fist way”) has loads of fun showing the irony of a man like Simmons who embodies the polar opposite of his teachings. The film is beyond hilarious and even far more so than Napoleon Dynamite, the film to which it’s most likely compared. Yet for roughly the first half, once other subplots begin to overpower the madness of David Brent… er, I mean Fred Simmons and he takes to the road with his intense and possibly psychotic friend Mike (director Jody Hill) to meet their idol, Chuck “The Truck” Wallace (a hilarious Ben Best playing a Chuck Norris/Steven Seagal hybrid), the film loses some of its momentum.

Far better off when it was a martial arts styled version of The Office than as an impromptu road film, the last twenty minutes falls into intense mediocrity during a horrifically vulgar tell-off to Suzie as Simmons literally pisses away their relationship through a superfluous contest montage between Simmons and The Truck. Then — making one rank Dynamite above it for its more consistently funny tone — Foot at least refuses to go out without a fight. Serving up some truly quotable lines—especially from The Truck who makes strange propositions like “Who wants me to see me with my shirt off?” and confronts Simmons’ group with “you think it’s cool to just come into my party and beat up the band?” before admitting that he himself finds it awesome, it will be the type of film to gain even greater cult status when it kicks DVD shelves on September 23.

Proudly using Roger Ebert’s assessment that “children should not be allowed with a mile of this film,” as a selling point in a sticker on the box, the underground, cult comedy hit The Foot Fist Way -- made “for two cents” and “shot in 19 days” — has made its long journey from the Los Angeles Film Festival to theatrical release and DVD distribution thanks to the ardent support of two die-hard fans, namely Will Ferrell and Adam McKay. Their love for the film is so resolute that it’s even the major narrative thread running throughout the hysterical green band version of the film’s trailer they posted on their rousingly hilarious and irreverent website Funny or Die (a.k.a. the more consistently comedic answer to YouTube) that you can see below.

View the Trailer

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

While it will be widely available for rental, director Jody Hill’s movie from Paramount Vantage and MTV Films will be exclusively for sale at Best Buy. Loaded with bonus footage that salvages some of its weaknesses including commentary by Hill and McBride, bloopers, English, French and Spanish subtitles, and 5.1 surround sound, the widescreen DVD also provides twenty extended and/or deleted scenes and an alternate ending for Simmons’ devotees to explore.

While it’s uneven at best, when the film works, it really works, sending you into hysterics by the frankly matter-of-fact and deadpan delivery by a scarily convincing McBride who elevates this film and makes quite a name for himself, leading to future work alongside some of Hollywood’s funniest men in Tropic Thunder and Pineapple Express. Although David Brent would be green with envy, no doubt Fred Simmons is proud to keep kicking ass to a much larger audience who will eagerly seek out this little indie that could.

Burn After Reading

Public Service Announcement:
Don’t bring highly classified data to the gym.

Last year in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, Oscar nominee Casey Affleck stole the entire film away from his leading man, Brad Pitt. One year later, it’s Brad Pitt’s turn to steal some thunder of his own in Burn After Reading from Focus Features (quickly turning into the new Miramax).

And that he does and more in the newest film from the Coen Brothers — managing to nail every scene he’s in, get the most laughs and keep us wanting more of his character as opposed to the assorted band of oddballs and amoral madmen assembled in the filmmakers’ nihilistically absurdist take on espionage comedy.

Coming off the heels of last year’s brilliant but bleak Best Picture winner No Country For Old Men, which David Edelstein noted Joel and Ethan Coen wrote at the same time as Burn, I wish I could say it was the antidote to the inevitable and pessimistic gloom that pervaded in their film about a country that’s hard on people. However, instead of the bright, cheery comedy advertised in one of the year’s best cut trailers (both red and green band), we get a comedy that’s more unsettling than laugh-out-loud funny despite some truly inventive work by Pitt and Frances McDormand as two ambitious gym employees who try to sell top secret CIA data from a dropped computer disc.

Anxious first to try and get a “Good Samaritan” type of reward for ensuring the security of the “highly classified shit” they’ve discovered, soon their phone call to former CIA employee Osborne Cox (John Malkovich) turns into blackmail. Although it’s McDormand who makes the threat, no doubt their case wasn’t helped by Pitt’s incessant explanation about the “security of your shit” which understandably frustrates Cox, whom — awakened in the middle of the night — has absolutely no idea what they’re talking about.

And why should he? Although he’s been working on his memoirs after impulsively quitting the agency in a hilarious confrontational beginning as he’s officially downgraded for a drinking problem, it’s his unfaithful wife Katie (Tilda Swinton) who compiled the data on the disc as a preemptive strike before serving him with divorce papers. Unbeknownst to either of them, their moves are all being watched as the plot grows increasingly complex and chaotic when the link between the two stories — the kinky governmental employee Harry Pfarrer (George Clooney) becomes involved — begins sleeping alternately with Swinton’s Katie and McDormand’s Linda Litzke. And when Osborne proves to be less than cooperative, Linda, desperate to have plastic surgery and oblivious to the earnest affection of her good-natured boss Ted (Richard Jenkins), leads Pitt’s Chad further into an international debacle as they try to sell the “secret shit” to the Russians.

You’ll notice I’m including Pitt’s phrase of choice throughout as indeed, his character is quintessentially Coen; more specifically, he’s funny as hell, fond of vague repetition of words and phrases like “oh my God” as he runs down a hallway or “shit” which he uses as a noun, adjective, and verb. And while he no doubt engages in unscrupulous behavior and is the instigator of the inevitable bloody violence that follows (it’s a Coen Brothers film after all), aside from Ted the human puppy dog, Chad is the most likable one of the bunch. Thus, much like Shakespeare’s Mercutio, he gets all the best lines, detracts from the film’s artistry, and one-ups Clooney (although they only share one fateful scene) at every turn, and unfortunately he’s the one who is used far too little throughout.

Meet Chad:

With an advertising campaign comprised of cool Saul Bass-styled posters echoing the classy spy films and Hollywood blockbusters of the late '50s and '60s (the lettering alone looks like Bass’s work on Vertigo), it’s evident that like No Country was sort of the Coen version of a western, this is their version of a spy comedy, yet it’s surprisingly devoid of humor. And that’s quite a shame as again, it had one of the best ad campaigns of 2008.

View the Trailer:

Even though initially one doesn’t think “funny” and the Coen Brothers, especially given their last film, they’ve definitely aced the genre before with not just their most-referenced cult hit The Big Lebowski but also in one of the most ridiculously hysterical chase scenes of the 1980s as Nicolas Cage tries to outrun authorities like a live action cartoon in Raising Arizona. Moreover, they’ve even inserted humor in the unlikeliest of situations from Fargo to No Country, yet when they attempt a pure comedy but don’t go all out in the execution by muddling it with nihilistic and brutal bursts of action, the results have been mixed.

Like The Hudsucker Proxy, Intolerable Cruelty, and The Ladykillers, the timing of this one is just plain off and it took a good twenty minutes to garner one genuine laugh, after Malkovich’s grand confrontation which opens the film. Although some audience members did chuckle, even at the oddest of moments as one character slices another in the head with an axe, it all seemed to be as half-hearted as the direction, more in appreciation of the directors themselves than what was actually served up to audiences. This being said, I wasn’t unprepared, knowing fully how “out there” they can go-- having seen, analyzed, and appreciated even some of their strangest works such as Barton Fink and the wood-chipper finale of Fargo. As a film host and critic I have probably explained, championed, and defended their work to friends, audiences, and strangers more than most.

And while granted that Clooney is no doubt familiar with their brand of humor — having done so phenomenally well with it in O Brother, Where Art Thou -- it’s ultimately his extremely unpleasant and repugnant character along with an under-written and icy Tilda Swinton (Clooney’s Oscar winning costar who, along with Tom Wilkinson stole his own film last year, Michael Clayton, away from him again) that bogs down the plot of Burn as a whole.

It takes far too long to introduce us to not only Pitt’s Chad but McDormand’s middle-aged Linda. Tired of half-heartedly sleeping with married losers she meets online after a dull day at work, she has made the foolish and entirely Hollywood-like decision that she’s gone as far as she can with her current body and has decided she wants to improve her looks with four drastic plastic surgeries. Obviously a commentary of McDormand’s profession no doubt cooked up by McDormand and her husband Joel Coen, this plot alone would’ve helped add to the humor and we feel shortchanged once again when, just like a final description of events featuring Clooney’s character, McDormand’s character finally finds a solution to her problems but it’s all discussed by a CIA operative played by Juno’s dad (J.K. Simmons).

If they truly wanted to make us laugh, we would’ve seen these events with our own eyes, rather than be “told” what happened and it’s not like they were overstaying their welcome with a roughly ninety-five minute running time. Ultimately, the Coens end Burn with the same type of similar dissatisfying aftertaste that became one of the biggest criticisms of last year’s abrupt end to No Country. And possibly to fix this, they could’ve found a way to delete the Clooney and Swinton plot altogether and just give us more of “The Chad” (to quote Charlie’s Angels) so we could relish in his childlike awe upon trying to discover all the “highly classified shit” he can get his hands on.

Just Add Water

Director: Hart Bochner

Speaking as someone who doesn’t even have power windows let alone a GPS directional system, I’ve graduated from the headache inducing cumbersome maps with size nine font and an overreliance on geometry to the friendlier, although sometimes erroneous MapQuest directions. And, while it’s always nerve-wracking to venture out on my own-- armed with a terrific mix CD or programmed iPod and a questionable cheat sheet from a computer website to get myself where I need to be-- I love taking in the scenery as I go. Not only am I constantly amazed by the homogeny of mini-malls, fast food places, and chain stores, but it’s always intriguing when I get out of the cityscape and drive through one of those under-populated desert ghost towns where you only see one main grocery store with a mostly vacant lot, a few scattered shops including the obligatory gas station and then one small community of homes amidst an unforgiving, desolate backdrop, where it’s quiet for miles and... when global warming is at its worst, it climbs to an extreme one hundred and thirty degrees. As I whip by in air-conditioned luxury, knowing it’s just one numeric direction on my MapQuest list, the writer in me wonders what life is like in one of those sleepy towns.

In Just Add Water, writer/director Hart Bochner’s unrelentingly dark yet sweet and sour flavored comedy, we have the opportunity to find out as we meet our unlikely sad sack hero Ray Tuckby (Nip/Tuck’s Dylan Walsh), who lives in the bleak town of Trona, California where the toxic waste poisoned soil caused the river to be diverted as most citizens including the law enforcement all jumped ship (or rather town), and a group of unruly young meth lab running punks including Justin Long and led by the particularly vile Dirk (Will Rothaar) purchased up all the property they could get their greasy hands on to run the show as greedy landlords, shutting off the electricity (and therefore air conditioning) when one of their residents blows their welfare checks and forgets to pay up, or threatening to harm Ray’s son if they’re not granted a new five dollar toll for driving down a public street.

Needless to say, life in Trona is miserable and for Ray it’s no exception with a shut-in wife who coupon clips and as Ray soon learns has a devastating secret all her own along with Eddie (Jonah Hill), an aimless son who keeps reminding his father that he’d like to visit a hooker for his belated graduation present, although really-- when all is said and done-- he realizes that he’d rather be a proper boyfriend to the lovely R’Ch’lle (Anika Noni Rose).

With more family drama piled on early in the film via a medical emergency that—in predictable dark comic fashion—ends with shocking laughter in a questionably tasteless confrontation, it seems that the only ray of light for Ray himself comes from his daily trips to the local market when he gets a precious few uninterrupted minutes with the girl he’s loved since grade school-- the sweet, adorable checkout woman Nora (Tracy Middendorf). However, as we all know—one of the greatest obstacles of finding love is timing—it’s not enough that you meet someone you’re compatible with, what’s more, you need to be fortunate enough that when the feeling goes from one-sided to mutual, you’re both free.

Lucky for Ray, he’s released from the old ball-and-chain but true to the film’s sardonic nature, his decoupling occurs in one of the most emasculating ways. Thus after Ray’s life is turned upside down and he finds himself single again, he tries to build up enough courage to give in to the crush he’s harbored for nearly two decades and Walsh’s scenes with Middendorf provide a much needed earnest and romantic relief to the otherwise dire film where the overwhelmingly unlikable characters and situations threaten to destroy any hope of finding humor in the outrageous situations that grow much more dismal as it continues.

Yet, thanks to a great, understated turn by Walsh whose quintessential good guy everyman we’re rooting for from the start and an amusing smaller role from Danny DeVito as the new Chevron station independent operator, this otherwise lackluster, below average comedy which initially made me recall the horrors of DeVito’s Drowning Mona and Death to Smoochy, becomes surprisingly watchable Saturday afternoon fare—especially one that would be much more enjoyable after days of endless rain has left one longing for the type of sun they can’t avoid and for which they would love to trade in order to Just Add Water in Bochner’s desolate, downbeat depiction of Trona, California.

The Promotion

Director: Steve Conrad

On the surface, “the customer is always right” may seem like the ultimate corporate management dictum but as my favorite boss once told me, the real strategy is to never let the customers make a scene. Strange advice from a former heavy metal drummer with plenty of stories of things getting out of control but realizing I’ve never been fond of public scenes of any kind, I took Dave’s advice to heart and despite a few unavoidable hiccups with those who seem to delight in perpetuating misery, it made my employment run infinitely smoother. Unfortunately, for the audience, this advice has never made it to the ear of The Promotion’s main character Doug (Seann William Scott). Slaving away as the hapless assistant manager, Doug fights against impromptu slaps by a gibberish speaking Teddy Graham coveting rebel and trying to broker peace between himself and his two apathetic fourteen year old security guards who—unsurprisingly-- seem more devoted to their cell phones than trying to deal with an intimidating young gang that terrorizes the shoppers and employees of the film’s supersized fictitious Donaldson’s Chicago grocery store. Of course, if Doug had been informed of this tactic, Pursuit of Happyness and Weather Man writer Steve Conrad wouldn’t have had a film with which to make his directorial debut. Although, dubbed “one of the unfunniest comedies ever,” by The Hollywood Reporter’s Kirk Honeycutt who also wrote that “watching The Promotion” should be added “to the Geneva Conventions’ list of humanitarian abuses,” possibly that would’ve been the best thing all around… if only-- much like our sad-sack Doug-- for filmgoers to avoid scenes as unpleasant as the ones found in The Promotion.

In a film that makes the similarly themed Dane Cook, Dax Shepard, and Jessica Simpson vehicle Employee of the Month look downright Shakespearean, our struggling thirty-three year old Doug assumes that his years of serving time in Donaldson’s under a boss who escapes to daytime matinees and car washes while he contends with an overabundance of customer complaint cards will be coming to a deserved end when he learns the chain is building a brand new store nearby. Convinced he’s a “shoo-in” for a promotion to manager at the new location, Doug and his hardworking wife Jen (The Office’s Jenna Fischer) purchase a home they can’t afford to escape their amorous gay banjo playing neighbors. Predictably, a wrench is thrown into Doug’s path in the form of John C. Reilly’s Richard, an aggressively friendly Canadian from Quebec who transfers down to Doug’s store with the intention of going after the same position and cushy benefits package for his new baby and Scottish wife Laurie (Lili Taylor using a hilarious Scottish Canadian hybrid accent) that he’d met while on a Christian mission. Initially unable to get a handle on the new “wild-card” Richard whom we later learn is a recovering alcoholic and drug addict, Doug and the newbie sidle up to one another, forming a strange professional bond that seems borderline friendly and competitive but grows increasingly acrimonious when Doug is relegated to near permanent parking lot duty in favor of self-actualization, self-help book-on-tape obsessed Richard.

All one has to do to anticipate the squirm-inducing, awkward and frankly painful stabs at humor in what I felt seemed like a manic-depressive screenplay is to reread the aforementioned descriptions one more time—a man who may lose his house; a recovering addict—not exactly the most surefire ways to garner laughs. While I applaud Conrad’s ingenuity and willingness to go against standard movie clichés, as Roger Ebert noted, the film is never quite sure of its tone, similar to the writer’s woefully uncomfortable Weather Man. In addition, I still can't get over the troubling realization that I found circulating throughout my screening notes that an overwhelming majority of the humor seemed to stem from cheap shots involving minorities (whether homosexual, ethnic, or mentally disabled). While I can’t imagine this was the film or Conrad’s intention, I couldn't help questioning just how and why so many talented cast members including Bobby Cannavale and Jason Bateman (who turn in nice cameos) even bothered to get involved. Mercifully, it will most likely be buried in the wake of the Edward Norton starrer The Hulk this weekend here in Phoenix, again reminding us that in addition to not wanting to witness such a disastrous scene, when it comes to mean-spirited and dissatisfying drivel like this-- by staying away in droves, in the end the customer is always right.

Numb

Director:
Harris Goldberg

Have you ever had one of those days where you remember getting in your car and driving home from work but have absolutely no memory of what happened on the drive? You know you’ve obeyed the traffic lights and gone the same route you always do yet you’re so used to going through the motions that it’s impossible to distinguish one trip from the next… that is until something major changes. We take comfort in knowing that our detachment is only temporary but for Hudson (Matthew Perry), living in a “horrific perpetual dreamstate” becomes permanent after the anxiety ridden, high-strung screenwriter triggers his preexisting tendency for disassociation in a bong binge after smoking too much dope too fast while trying to pause his penchant for panic.

Soon diagnosed with “depersonalization” disorder or feeling entirely outside his body as he goes about his day, Hudson fights his condition in the quest for the perfect psychiatrist, experimenting with both talk and drug therapies while attempting his own remedies from an unsuccessful venture to reconnect with reality by visiting his parents to spending far too much time in front of his television zoning out to The Golf Channel. Nearly resigned to a life spent indoors watching the longest films ever made on DVD, Hudson is faced with an optimistic jolt when he becomes attracted to the beguiling, lovely, carefree, and refreshingly weird studio development girl Sara (Lynn Collins) after meeting her in a pitch meeting with his long suffering writing partner Tom (Kevin Pollak).

Surprisingly accepting of his predilection for evenings in front of the television, one night when faced with viewing the entire Star Wars trilogy complete with the filmmaker’s commentary, Sara urges Hudson out of the house and serious sparks begin to fly during some completely unexpected adventures. Now given a true reason to cure his depersonalization due to the fear that revealing his condition will alienate his new love, Hudson fights even harder to try and find the right course of treatment but when playing “musical drugs” begins failing, his tendency towards self-sabotage kicks in as writer/director Harris Goldberg’s impressive, autobiographical, and wholly original romantic comedy continues.

Featuring a pitch perfect performance by Matthew Perry in a role that seems completely tailor-made for the star given his incredible talent for dialogue and self-deprecation, Goldberg admirably fills in the rest of the script with equally involving characters, even when they begin bordering on caricature such as in a fine if slightly artificial subplot featuring Mary Steenburgen as an unstable cognitive behavior specialist who breaks the boundaries of a traditional doctor/patient relationship when she gives into temptation with Hudson.

Far better than one would assume given Goldberg’s other credits as a screenwriter contributing to the awful Dana Carvey vehicle The Master of Disguise and the downright despicable Deuce Bigalow series, we realize that the talented filmmaker has much more to offer than lowbrow credits. Given the maturity and well-earned laughs from this completely human script, it's safe to say that we can look forward to other movies from Goldberg that-- if he manages to stay as close to his heart as he did with this deeply personal tale-- are sure to garner him more fans in the world of independent film. Co-produced by its star Matthew Perry, Numb, which earned the Audience Award from the Gen Art Film Festival, has been recently released on DVD.

Great World of Sound

Director:
Craig Zobel

“Just because it’s a lie, it doesn’t mean it’s not a good idea,” Clarence (Kene Holliday) explains to his record company associate Martin (Pat Healy) while trying to justify feigning snapping photos on a lens-free cell phone, reasoning that it helps to boost confidence while closing deals in director Craig Zobel’s wholly original Great World of Sound.

Of course it’s this kind of thinking that has caused the men, obviously lacking in the field of logic (unless they’re just accustomed to blind, naïve trust), to accept jobs with the shady Great World of Sound which has just relocated to Charlotte, North Carolina from Chicago. Why the move was made, it’s not immediately known but when Martin turns up for the job interview and finds his would be employers in the midst of cardboard boxes, surprisingly it’s his background that comes into question as the interviewer criticizes the number of moves on his resume that had found Martin moving from various cities for work in his field.

To the higher ups at Great World of Sound, constant motion is an indication of laziness yet there’s something about Martin, perhaps in his willingness to go along with whatever they tell him, that inspires them to give the man a chance and wouldn’t you know, soon they’re calling on his fondness for constant motion in sending him out on the road scouring for new musical talent.

Working with the more dynamic salesman Clarence, also newly hired as a producer, the two men learn that instead of trying to weed through the auditioning masses for viable talent, they have to think of Great World of Sound like an all-encompassing university and it’s their job to sign as many musicians as they can, all the while knowing that most will not “graduate.”

Faster than you can say “something’s rotten in Charlotte,” they’re told that due to the intricacies of CD production and recording costs, they have to request payment from the musicians as a sign of good faith. While $3,000 is the target number that the “financial contributions” Great World of Sound tries to solicit from would-be artists, Martin and Clarence quickly become the best salesman-- or I mean producers-- when they realize that quantity counts and begin taking payments in the hundreds.

“You really think that’s all there is to producing?” Martin questions near the beginning of their new career and while any viewer with half a brain realizes that they’re working for a con operation, it’s amazing the length of time and amount of justification the two main characters need to realize the exact same thing.

Zobel’s film, which was written by the director and George Smith, played at both the Sundance and South by Southwest Film Festivals and after earning Zobel a Gotham Breakthrough Director Award, garnered two Independent Spirit nominations in the categories of Best First Feature and Best Supporting Male (Holliday). Despite its admittedly repetitive nature and dubiously dim “heroes” as the characters try to sign every new auditioning artist, Great World of Sound profits from an undeniably clever and unmerciful script. In addition, the humor that is heightened by the actors who, unlike their characters, fight the urge to “sell” their jokes and make the film a parody by instead playing it straight, making Great World of Sound feel far more compelling and frighteningly authentic than a typical night of American Idol.

Idiocracy

Director:
Mike Judge

Most of the time, I criticize the validity and artistic morals of test screenings that often send nervous studios and directors scrambling to call their actors back to reshoot new material and delete possibly objectionable scenes in order to try and please everyone. While film indeed is a collaborative medium, I’m not sure that rounding up participants from a mall parking lot and screening a movie they may have very little interest in, only to force them to rate each and every aspect of it is the right way to decide what works and what doesn’t. I am a frequent attendee at advanced screenings but seldom participate in test audience events because art shouldn’t be that much of a democracy and we’re forgetting that people spend years developing what’s onscreen for us to pass judgment on within minutes (or sometimes seconds).

However, in the case of Idiocracy which had according to IMDb “disastrous” test screenings, the reaction was sadly warranted and sent Fox Studios into retreat, hiding the reels for more than one year before quietly dumping it into just six markets with very little advertising.

The film had all the promise of a hit—a wonderfully creative premise, hot star Luke Wilson, and being helmed by director Mike Judge of Office Space fame but somewhere along the way they opted entirely for crass over class, lewd over shrewd, and ended up with a movie one can only describe as ugly. It shouldn’t have been this way and in retrospect, I still admire the ingenious set-up which finds under-achieving and statistically average army librarian Luke Wilson, along with prostitute Maya Rudolph being selected for a year-long experiment that would cause the two participants to sleep for an entire year to hopefully save their brightest down the road for them to be all they can be.

The experiment goes off without a hitch although warning flags are raised when the doctor becomes much too fascinated with the pimp lifestyle discovered when recruiting Rudolph and after he’s arrested and the base is forced to close, Wilson and Rudolph are forgotten about for five hundred years. They awaken to discover that the progressive dumbing down of America weaned on video games, sports drinks, that favors brawn over brains has made the country run rampant with idiots unable to speak coherently and prefer instead to sit on lazy boys which double as toilets while watching shows that consist entirely of guys getting hit in the crotch with a variety of implements for laughs.

Although intellectuals and academics have been speculating on the nightly news and in publications that we’re headed in the wrong direction with our fast food styled entertainment and life of convenience over substance, once we actually see this life produced onscreen, we realize that it’s so disgusting, it’s not one we’d like to spend even five minutes in let alone the entire running time of a feature film.

Idiocracy would have made a hilarious short film or an even superior story, although it does beg to mind the question that perhaps Judge’s fans, already preferring visuals to the written word, may never have read it in the first place, thus making his point without their intention.

The Good Night

Director:
Jake Paltrow

We all flirt but there are often lines that seem to change with each relationship as to what constitutes cheating. Is going out for coffee with an opposite gender friend cheating? How about dinner with an ex? What about those e-mail correspondences that are getting more flirtatious? Do you find it’s easier to chat with an attractive coworker than your mate in the morning? While these questions can lead to more revelations about yourself and your relationship since they all include boundaries that may be easily crossed, how does it fit into the mix if you dream cheat? That is, if in your dreams you have an affair with a perfect stranger that actually feels more like love while embarking on a fantasy relationship you look more forward to than the perfunctory “good night” and “I love you” said to your partner.

For Gary (Martin Freeman), this is the situation he finds himself in fairly quickly into writer/director Jake Paltrow’s feature film debut. In a beginning that feels ike a British version of VH1 Behind the Music, we learn a bit of the background of former Britpop musician Gary who, now in his thirties, resides in New York with his nagging, frumpy, dark-haired girlfriend of seven years Dora (played by Jake’s sister Gwyenth Paltrow). When we first meet him, Gary is busily eking out an unsatisfying career scoring commercial jingles for an advertising agency with his former band-mate turned boss Paul (Simon Pegg). Although he’s approaching an early midlife crisis, unlike his womanizing, lecherous married friend Paul who is currently having an affair with a woman he describes (as only Pegg can) as “sort of tall and hot, in a kind of short, ugly way,” Gary saves his fantasies for himself and finds them indulged in a bizarre way one evening when he dreams of a gorgeous, beguiling stranger (Penelope Cruz) who, speaking to him only in subtitles, tells him that if he pays close attention and shuts his eyes he “can feel a heartbeat” in her lips.

Intoxicated by this imagined encounter, Gary’s ego is given a boost as he decides to explore the field of dream interpretation and lucid dreaming, visiting a new age bookstore before he meets up with a dream coach in the form of a group run by Mel (Danny DeVito). Gary, who decides to avoid the small clique of fellow dreamers all hoping to control their dreams as if they were listening to their favorite song without an ending before the Kendo practice interrupts them, hires Mel for private consultation. Soon their sessions enable him to continue his affair with Cruz that soon takes over his own waking life as he begins darkening and soundproofing his bedroom for better dreaming conditions before Dora is only too happy to have an excuse to leave for an Italian two week business trip. Quickly startled into thinking that fate is the reason for his dreams when he sees Cruz’s likeness adorning fashion ads on city buses, Paul takes it upon himself to arrange an introduction but will the reality be as good as his dream or was Gary just trying to find a way to avoid his own relationship that may be way past the expiration date?

A fascinating premise that would have done better to be played more for laughs than the downbeat drama as penned by Paltrow that concludes into a dark cheat of an ending that feels a bit rushed and disappointing, the film also suffers from as Hollywood Reporter writer Kirk Honeycut noted, Paltrow’s decision to make “ever character thoroughly unlikable” or as he corrects, “actually pathetic would be a better adjective.” With such a brooding tone to the film with self-involved and cringe-worthy characters that may have been more successful on the page, there is little to recommend the work despite the originality of Paltrow’s idea and his unquestionable gift for direction as the film offers plenty of gorgeous scenes that, on their own, show his promise but compounded with the rest result in an uneven mess. This being said, it's nonetheless suitable for the same audiences who found themselves entranced by the similarly themed fellow Penelope Cruz vehicle, Cameron Crowe’s Vanilla Sky (based on the superior Abre los Ojos also starring Cruz).

Delirious

Director: Tom DiCillo

If you ask Les Galantine (Steve Buscemi), he’ll tell you that the difference between himself and his colleagues who also stake out the whereabouts of pop stars trying to snap a candid and hopefully salacious photo is that he’s “a licensed professional” and not a paparazzi. He may say this repeatedly but that doesn’t prevent apt and suspicious viewers from realizing he appears to have the same views and habits of others in the tabloid paparazzi profession. In other words, if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck it’s definitely a paparazzi in Sundance Award winning writer/director Tom DiCillo’s great new “rags to riches fable” Delirious which earned five awards including the AFI Filmmaker Award for Best Director at the U.S. Comedy Arts Festival.

Providing a great counterpart to his reluctant celebrity journalist in his own remake of Theo van Gogh’s Interview, Buscemi’s Les (with a fitting name as Ebert pointed out in his review) in Delirious tells his new young homeless assistant Toby Grace (Michael Pitt) that his real dream is to get signed with an agency to shoot Nike and Calvin Klein ads. However, in the mean time, he lives by his credo of rules such as knowing “where you belong” and assuring Toby that celebrities are “just people, no better than us,” as he trains him in on the ropes of staking out stars with Toby working for free most likely for both companionship and to make his rent as he becomes Les’ roommate sleeping in a closet in his cramped apartment. Schooling the angel faced, sweet Toby in on how to crash benefits and events to take as many goodie bags as they can get their hands on, Les, who feels that friends are people “just sittin’ around waiting for a chance to start talking about himself,” finds himself becoming quite attached to his protégé and feels threatened when Toby catches the eye of the successful Britney like pop star K’Harma Leeds (Alison Lohman) and begins losing him to love.

Surprisingly heartfelt with believable turns by both Buscemi, who once again changes into someone completely different right before our eyes, as well as Pitt whose face the camera loves throughout the film in some breathtaking, sharp and exuberant sequences (such as a Singin’ in the Rain styled ode after he spends an evening with Lohman) that most likely came from the innovative vision of director and former Jarmusch cinematographer DiCillo. In DiCillo’s best film in years which unfortunately was granted a limited release in art cinemas in major cities, Buscemi gives one of his finest performances in the 2000’s that, while definitely playing into DiCillo’s satirical fable intention, manages to walk the fine line between parody and truth and I found myself involved all the way. Given an exclusive initial DVD release for rental at Blockbuster, DiCillo’s Delirious is scheduled for a wider rental and purchase release in the future.

Man Trouble

Director:
Bob Rafelson

The concept alone is guaranteed to make you smile—an opera singer and a guard dog trainer fall in love. After being burglarized and the victim of disturbing phone calls, opera singer Joan Spruance (Ellen Barkin) finds herself in the market for a rented security dog and enlists the help of shady philandering Jack Nicholson, who despite already being married to his Asian land lady whom he calls Iwo Jima (even in marital counseling), becomes entangled in the mystery surrounding Spruance.

When Joan’s sister Andy Ellerman (Beverly D’Angelo) lets Joan stay in her home while she’s away for foot surgery and in the middle of shopping around her tell-all-book about her marriage to scandal prone businessman Redmond Layls (Harry Dean Stanton), Joan tries to escape her perpetual stalker as well as play detective once Andy goes missing.

Originally written in the 1970’s by Carole Eastman as a project to reunite her with both Bob Rafelson who directed her landmark script Five Easy Pieces and the film’s star Jack Nicholson, delays set in and various actresses including Meryl Streep were attached until it was made in the early 90’s with Nicholson staying true to revive Eastman and Rafelson’s careers (IMDb). Despite the film’s mostly disastrous reviews and the way it pales in comparison to the masterpiece Five Easy Pieces, I found it to be an above average romantic comedy made fresh by its Raymond Chandler inspired film noir plot and inventive bursts of humor, although the finished result and rushed conclusion proved to make Man Trouble a bit uneven in tone.

Eventually the “four or five volatile personalities” involved in the filmmaking process prompted Eastman to share that she wouldn’t make another film with Rafelson and the screenwriter told The Washington Post that she was disappointed by the film also acknowledging its trouble in having a male filmmaker carry out her vision. She concluded that “a male director has a very different set of eyes and experiences, which lead to distortions in the translation,” and despite the fact that as I’d mentioned, the film’s uneven tone shifts from flighty, screwball and breezy to dark and cynical back and forth throughout as if it’s a tennis match, fans of Jack won’t want to miss it.

Chaos Theory

Director: Marcos Siega

Those who enjoy boating need lifejackets the way that Type A personalities need index cards. Whether it’s making flashcards for Spanish class or jotting down notes for a speaking engagement, it’s those irreplaceable 3x5 cards that support us like a best friend. Although they come in other sizes and designs for those who, like me, function best when faced with a large array of colors to choose from, the most popular format seems to be the trusty 3x5 crisp, white, classic, lined index card used by some not only to aid them in school or work but also in life for compulsive list-makers. It’s one of these obsessive list-makers we follow around for the duration of the inventive sleeper Chaos Theory from director Marcos Siega.

Working from a script penned by Breakin’ All the Rules writer/director Daniel Taplitz, Siega introduces us to Frank (Ryan Reynolds), an efficiency expert who lives by catchphrases such as “a specific list is a happy list,” who begins each day with a unique list jotted down on (you guessed it!) 3x5 index cards. After his loving and supportive yet justifiably exasperated wife Susan (Emily Mortimer) mistakenly changes a clock the wrong way in order to get her husband to slow down, Frank finds himself struggling to catch up for the rest of the day which begins with missing the ferry and arriving seventy-five minutes late for an important speaking engagement on the now ironic topic of efficiency and time. Crazily disorganized from the start, the day ends with a series of misunderstandings and chance-encounters that throw his life off-balance after he assists a pregnant woman only to be erroneously named the father and gets kicked out of his house by Susan the following morning. When another wrench is thrown in his path to get his marriage back on track with some startling news, Frank embraces the idea of chaos and tells his best friend Buddy (Stuart Townsend) that he’s “decided never to decide another thing again,” and to this end, he writes down everything he’d like to do on a series of cards, choosing one at random to guide his actions.

While this leads to some humorous results, the story according to Siega is essentially “about love and forgiveness” and as the Warner Brothers production notes revealed, writer Taplitz was inspired to craft the screenplay after he became diagnosed with cancer. In his words, Taplitz explains, that he “was interested in writing about what someone does when they’re metaphorically pushed off a cliff both physically and emotionally—how one piece of information can potentially change their life and how they might have to reconstruct that life.”

Although Frank does end up grappling with some hard truths about identity and there’s a dark comedic edge to the film that differentiates it from its Sliding Doors like beginnings, ultimately it’s Reynolds who sells the film and keeps us invested even when it becomes a bit harder to believe as the second half of the film is a bit weaker than the first. As Colin Boyd of The Big Picture wrote in his review, “in line with the desperation of the character, Reynolds portrays a combination of frustration, confusion and desperation immediately and convincingly.”

Initially released theatrically into just two test markets including one in California and one here in Arizona which makes the film’s expansion into other states uncertain, hopefully it will get a second chance to make a first impression through its DVD release.

Neighbor's Dog

Complete Title:

How to Kill Your Neighbor’s Dog

Director:
Michael Kalesniko

We’ve all been there. Whether it’s in the middle of the afternoon and you’re busily trying to finish a spreadsheet or it’s in the middle of the night and you’ve nearly broken your neck repeatedly straining to read the red digital time on your clock in disbelief-- whatever time of day it is, there are few sounds more irritating than that of a perpetually barking dog. Even for dog lovers such as me who forgive a few vocal barks here and there, there's a certain acceptable line that is crossed when it’s a repeated offense and one without provocation from a stranger, mailman or typical distraction.

This is precisely the same situation that playwright Peter McGowan (Kenneth Branagh) finds himself in during Candian writer/director Michael Kalesniko’s six-time award winning film How to Kill Your Neighbor’s Dog. I should stress that the film's title doesn't reflect its contents. Neighbor's Dog isn’t a twisted instruction manual and without any overt onscreen violence it is not as objectionably graphic as Amores Perros and more importantly the dog in question is just one of the many annoyances the insomniac, misanthropic chain-smoking playwright who’s about ten years overdue for a successful production faces throughout the course of the film.

No, the primary obstacle aside from trying to get his latest show off the ground which is challenged by the offbeat young director’s insistence to perpetually sing Petula Clark songs with no provocation (similar to a barking dog) concerns his relationship with his supportive wife Melanie (the always likable Robin Wright Penn). Much like Peter has been struggling with repeated failures in the theatre, dance teacher Melanie is struggling to combat failures in trying to conceive with an overactive biological clock, which is testing her relationship with Peter as insistence and demand makes setting the mood much tougher, without of course factoring in the barking dog and duties taking care of Melanie’s senile mom (Lynn Redgrave) into the conjugal mix.

Even more difficulties arise when Peter learns he has a doppelganger in the form of Jared Harris who has been wandering around his Los Angeles neighborhood at night pretending he’s Peter McGowan along with a much different obstacle when a single mother and her eight year old daughter Amy (Suzi Hofrichter) move in across the street. Hofrichter, quite mature and charismatic in her portrayal (making her an uncommonly gifted young star), never lets the audiences pity her character’s challenges with cerebral palsy. It's her interactions with Peter who at first uses playtime as an excuse to learn youthful dialogue that grows into a near sibling and child dynamic which are unexpectedly moving, touching yet far more realistic than one would assume.

Kalesniko’s 2000 film with the unfortunate title is a worthwhile find due to his deft and layered script filled with characters whose situations echo one another and dialogue that comes alive when spoken by the film’s leads. Although it was only released on premium cable television here in the states, Neighbor's Dog can also be tracked down on DVD.

To Die For

Director:
Gus Van Sant

Nicole Kidman not only earned a Golden Globe for her fierce portrayal of Suzanne Stone Maretto in Gus Van Sant’s masterpiece To Die For but she also became an internationally respected actress stepping out from the shadow of then-husband Tom Cruise to announce that like Suzanne, she's ready to be taken seriously. Although to misquote Don Henley, unlike the film's flash-in-the-pan bubbleheaded blonde Suzanne, Nicole Kidman’s success was fully justified as she proved repeatedly in her impressive roles following To Die For.

Inspired by true events and based on the satirical novel by Joyce Maynard that was adapted into a wicked script by Buck Henry, the overly ambitious Suzanne, who feels that people are nobody unless they’re on TV, decides to do everything in her power to make her "newswoman" dream a reality. She marries the hunky drummer Larry Maretto (Matt Dillon) and changes him from bad-boy to breadwinner in order to position herself for the lifestyle she feels she deserves as she strives to become a journalist.

Feeling overwhelmed by her loving husband who desperately wants to start a family, Suzanne launches headfirst into her career by fast-talking small local channel head Wayne Knight into letting her work for him. Happy in her new position, Suzanne becomes the station’s golden haired, glamorous weathergirl and begins work on a documentary about issues surrounding teenagers at a local high school. Quickly, she befriends the unhappy, unconfident Lydia Mertz (a heartbreaking Alison Folland), amoral criminal in training Russell Hines (Casey Affleck) and the adoring Jimmy Emmett (an impossibly young Joaquin Phoenix) whose hopeless crush on Suzanne is used as currency by the devious diva when they embark on an affair.

Seeing her family conscious husband as an obstacle to success, Suzanne crafts a horrifying plan for her teenage pals to dispatch the narrow-minded Larry to further her goals. However, to again quote Don Henley’s "Dirty Laundry" (which was used in the memorable trailers for the film), the media loves to “kick ‘em when they’re up, [and] kick ‘em when they’re down.” For as we see in the opening moments of the film, her equally narrow-minded belief that nobody will catch on to what was behind Larry’s murder will be her downfall, even without focusing on whether or not the media driven masses will see fit to sentence Suzanne or set her free.

One of the most provocative films of the 1990’s made all the more timely given the O.J. Simpson trial, To Die For not only paved the way for Kidman and Phoenix to move onto a wider range of memorable roles. Even more importantly as IMDb noted, it also led to Van Sant’s biggest hit to date after To Die For wrapped and young Casey Affleck handed his director a copy of the screenplay his brother Ben had worked on with his good friend Matt Damon, which would earn the two writers an Academy Award for their little film called Good Will Hunting.

The Last Shot

Director:
Jeff Nathanson

After his beloved but depressed dog kills herself by intentionally launching into his hot tub paws first, FBI Agent Joe Devine (Alec Baldwin) becomes even more dedicated to his work bringing down the mob in the 1980’s after the Castellano hit made headlines around the globe. Hatching a radical plan to bring down crooked gangster Tommy Sanz (Monk’s Tony Shalhoub) and also ensnare John Gotti, Devine goes undercover as a movie producer in this comedic action film based on a true story by Catch Me If You Can screenwriter and first time director Jeff Nathanson.

Finding the key to becoming a fake player by impersonating high powered and slightly off her rocker Hollywood mover and shaker Joan Cusack, Devine hears script pitches from a public bench on the street from passersby until he finds the one he decides he’ll “produce.”

He greenlights the screenplay of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre employee Steven Schats (Matthew Broderick) who, tired of living above a noisy dog kennel to the stars with his high strung actress girlfriend Valerie (Calista Flockhart) jumps at Devine’s offer to work on his labor of love script Arizona which he’d penned with old west re-enactor Marshal (Tim Blake Nelson). Steven seems like Devine's ideal choice as a newbie who’s green enough to compromise his artistic vision and go along with Devine’s decision to relocate the shoot from the desert to Providence, Rhode Island which he dubs the "Arizona of the east."

Once in Providence, Joe and Steven are shocked to learn that seductive A-list actress Emily French (Toni Collette) wants a part in their film and soon they are well on their to beginning production, as Devine’s real FBI assignment starts getting lost in the shuffle.

“The True Story of the Greatest Movie Never Made,” as the tagline dubbed it, Nathanson’s Last Shot was based on Steve Fishman’s article “What’s Wrong With This Picture?” which further researched revealed documented a real sting operation to infiltrate Boston mob teamsters via beginning a fake production on a film with an aspiring director who never knew what was going on. The real director of the first sting, George Moffly, sadly, according to IMDb has yet to direct a film although he’s been involved with the filmmaking process on other pictures in various capacities.

Despite the ingenious set-up, it seems nearly impossible for the final product to give The Last Shot the justice it deserves since Nathanson’s script is always changing tone from drama to comedy (similar to his Terminal script) and there are far too many characters to keep straight. However, this being said, it’s an entertaining behind-the-scenes time-waster that's sure to amuse movie buffs.

Romance & Cigarettes

Director: John Turturro

“There’s a lot of things in this pothole of a life that don’t make sense,” Nick Murder (James Gandolfini) tells his youngest daughter Baby (Mandy Moore) in writer/director John Turturro’s self-described “down and dirty musical love story,” produced by Joel and Ethan Coen, Romance & Cigarettes. Turturro originally had the first inklings of an idea for the film in the 1980’s before beginning to write it when portraying a struggling screenwriter himself in the 90’s in the Coens' Barton Fink and, after directing his two earliest pictures Mac and Illuminata, Turturro finally got the chance to bring this startlingly sexual, overwhelmingly crude, yet undeniably original musical to life.

Despite the production being postponed for nearly two years due to James Gandolfini’s commitment to the HBO series The Sopranos, Turturro spent those years securing the rights to the songs he’d chosen (IMDb) for his trashy firecracker salute to musicals that told the story of blue collar ironworker Nick Murder whose dressmaking wife Kitty (Susan Sarandon) discovers he’s been betraying her as well as bailing on his duty to his three daughters (Mandy Moore, Mary-Louise Parker, and Aida Turturro) by having an affair with the sultry, British, lingerie-selling redheaded harlot Tula (Kate Winslet).

Now dubbed a “whoremaster” by his betrayed wife who runs to church to take her frustration out with a stirring rendition of “Piece of My Heart” along with Eddie Izzard and the rest of the choir, Nick is relegated to the fact that according to him “marriage is combat” and he must fend for himself opposite his wife’s army (the three daughters) even if it means that Kitty will no longer be preparing his dinner. Nick ends up going to extremes to satisfy his "mistress in heat" Tula who we’re introduced to in a laughably over-the-top fire sequence and as Winslet plays the part (visibly having a ball), Tula is a woman whose dialogue is completely made up of foul lines that get even more shocking as she continues on and soon we realize that the relationship isn’t going to last even before she confesses that she “loses interest in a man as soon as he begins to care" about her. However, Turturro’s film busily occupies itself as a musical comedy of “remarriage” as Nick fights to try and win back his wife, who, meanwhile has been fantasizing about her first love Aidan Quinn and seeking revenge on the cheating Nick by conducting her own investigation along with her dangerous cousin Bo (Christopher Walken).

Despite a four star review from Roger Ebert, this Golden Lion nominee from the 2005 Venice Film Festival was labeled “loud and pointlessly crude,” by The Hollywood Reporter’s Ray Bennett (9/7/05) who cleverly summed up Romance & Cigarettes with the observation that “it looks more like something that might have been made by Jesus Quintana, the wild man of the bowling alley he [Turturro] played in The Big Lewbowski.” Definitely film fodder for an acquired taste, I found myself mostly disgusted by the cinematic train-wreck created by the indisputably talented writer/director and cast, even though admittedly it was oddly compelling at times. Ultimately, Romance & Cigarettes is an unnecessarily lewd offering that never failed to inspire genuine interest in the characters who populate each frame other than the initial involuntary shock that forced viewers to pay attention similar to the way that we can’t help but stare at a fire or traffic accident, terrified and drawn in by the twisted beauty but all the while hoping that everyone gets out in one piece.

Death at a Funeral

Director:
Frank Oz

Read the Blu-ray Review

Growing up in Minnesota, I came to love theater at a young age whether it was being cast as part of the Emerald City in The Wizard of Oz since I towered over all the boys or trying to secure as many musical solos as possible in my junior high production of Little Miss Christie, before I became solely obsessed with writing, I loved the smell of greasepaint in the evening. Of course, school theatricals aside, we lived in one of the most exciting cities for the arts being located near several theatres such as the legendary Guthrie Theatre but I remember having a particular fondness for the British farces and comedies that were frequently staged at our Old Log Theater. There in that picturesque rustic setting could audiences see the best of British sex comedies of mistaken identity and misunderstandings and while to some it’s an acquired taste, I’m consistently taken in by the outrageous setups and casts of dozens of actors who, like members of a great jazz band, all get their chance to experiment, riff and shine under their spotlight like Golden Gods as Billy Crudup in Almost Famous would say.

In film, it’s a rare and sometimes unsuccessful proposition that doesn’t always equal big bang for the box office buck but when it’s done right in films such as A Fish Called Wanda or Noises Off, there’s nothing greater and such is the case with American director Frank Oz’s Death at a Funeral. Working from a script by Dean Craig and filmed in a breakneck seven weeks according to IMDb, Bowfinger, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels and In and Out director Oz introduces us to Daniel (Matthew Macfadyen), a kind, upstanding and good man married to Jane (Keeley Hawes) who still lives at home with his mother (Jane Asher). After his father dies, the responsibility to plan the funeral falls to Daniel and everything appears to be in order until the arrival of the casket and the guests lead to incredibly bizarre, uncomfortable and hilarious complications that I won’t begin to explain for fear of spoiling here in a plot summary. Suffice it to say, secrets are revealed in the form of a mysterious American dwarf (The Station Agent’s Peter Dinklage) who shows up out of the blue but he’s only one tenth of the story as the relatives and friends arrive with baggage and agendas all their own as one man tries to win back Daniel’s engaged cousin with whom he shared a one night stand, hallucinogenic pills circulate in the form of what is perceived to be Valium, and Uncle Alfie (Peter Vaughan) just really can’t stand anybody.

With so much plot and characters all crammed into a brisk running time of less than two hours, I was constantly amazed that nothing got lost in the shuffle and instead of feeling slighted, with the situations and characters growing wilder by the minute, we’re never asked to buy into even more outrageous humor than what seems—although highly unbelievable—fitting to the story that the ensemble, Craig, and Oz are trying to tell. Scene-stealers abound and come mostly in the form of the film’s most valuable player Andy Nyman as Daniel’s loyal if slightly dim best friend Howard and there’s a highly entertaining outtake reel on the DVD to show just how hard the actors all had to work to keep from laughing. The kind of film you’ll definitely want to share with friends and watch more than once-- the sleeper with the solemn title, Death at a Funeral is one of 2007’s funniest films.