A quintessential comedy of (bad) manners.

You’ll want to see this more than once–just as I did, confirming my initial reaction that James Westby’s indie is, without doubt, a FIND — and one of the most entertaining films of the year.

No, don’t expect any vampires in this far-from-bleak black comedy –though its star (an excellent Katie O’Grady) could pass for one. (You could swear she was the twin sister of Noomi Rapace’s Lisabeth Salander in THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO.) Rather, the plot concerns the misery of a rejected wife, and her trials and triumphs as she follows her own yellow brick road to happiness.

Plot: After his computer business fails, hunky hubby Mitch (John Keyser) and sweet ‘n simple bride Meris (O’Grady) relocate to his old Oregon hometown, where he reunes with his childhood chums and their wives (AKA the cronies from hell). Sure, they welcome him with open arms, but purposely snub and sneer at her every attempt to become part of their in-crowd. (If looks could kill, they’d all get the chair.)

From the get-go, Mitch doesn’t offer her any support. And matters only get worse when his old flame, beauteous buxom blonde Briann (Storm Large) unexpectedly turns up with outstretched claws to rope him in. Obviously, she gets her sense of immorality from her mother, played by Theresa Russell (BLACK WIDOW), the only A-lister in the cast.

In this world riddled by self-absorbed snobs whose conversation is littered with the maudlin and mundane, everyone wants to get rid of her. So what’s a girl to do? Here, Meris does the unexpected, successfully emerging with a new sense of self-esteem–as she blissfully mutates from a plain Jane clerk at a local candy store by day, to a punk rocker at night with a shocking, radical new look.

And it all seems so real. The outstanding cutting-edge performances by relative unknowns serve to highlight the impact of the superior filmmaking, courtesy of the masterful script, editing/cutting by Portland-based writer-director Westby.

The bad news: with its low marketing budget, it might not get the exposure it so definitely merits. (I.e. it’s opening in NYC in just one small downtown movie theater – Cinema Village.)
The good news: In just 89 minutes, a miniscule $50,000 budget, and only a 20-day shooting schedule (plus 3 months on the edit) , Westby, cast and crew have managed to create a film that far surpasses most of the pedestrian megabuck entries flooding local cinemas.

Bottom Line: “Rid of Me” is a keeper. Not to be missed.

Trivia: The opening sequence where you first see Meris in her punk-rocker guise is a shocker (which I won’t reveal). You’re prepared to dislike her. Wrong. As the film unreels, you’ll readily draw her close to your heart.

At the screening’s Q&A, Katie O’Grady said she “lobbied to keep it in = and that’s the joy of experimental filmmaking.”

An interesting aside: in person, she’s an unbelievably gorgeous blonde.

When Westby was asked where he came up with the idea for the plot, he said “It started with the old high school friends of my ex-wife.”

Apropos, he also recommended accessing the website: hegotridofme.com (Try it. You’ll like it.)

KILL BILL: Volume 3?

No, don’t expect Uma Thurman, but be prepared to meet her equal, albeit 25 years younger. In director Joe Wright’s incredibly gripping fairy tale adventure, you’ll be spellbound by Saorise Ronan’s adolescent Hanna, a trained-from-birth raging bull who could have given Jake LaMotta a run for his money in his glory years. For the genre, it’s almost as good as it gets…but don’t expect a CITIZEN KANE. There’s no Rosebud to wrap up the finale–& that’s the problem.

The bad news: plot-wise, the very last few minutes of the film don’t measure up to its absorbing premise, and tends to keep you hanging at the close.

The good news: So it’s not perfect, yet/still, “Hanna” provides enough superior acting and edge-of-your seat action that’s definitely worth the detour.

Saorise (pronounced “sur-shuh”) was Briony Tallis, the girl you loved to hate in 2007′s ATONEMENT (also directed by Wright). Here, she’s the girl you just can’t help loving from the get-go, as a beautiful teenager raised in isolation in a remote log cabin in Finland, and taught from day one to be an assassin by her widowed father Erik (Eric Bana). He’s an ex-CIA agent who sends her on a mission practically impossible: to take on her ultimate target, Marissa (Cate Blanchett), a wicked witch of an intelligence chief who, for private reasons of her own, is out to kill them both. En route, Hanna also takes on a cadre of Marissa’s secret operatives with unnerving skill and stamina…and beats the hell out of them as she adroitly eludes capture without benefit of vitamins or Viagra. Just ardent determination. After all, it’s all she knows…and she pulls no punches. In other words, don’t mess with her.

The back story: At 16, it’s Hanna’s first time out; she’s never ever had contact with the outside world. Wouldn’t have a clue who Charlie Sheen, Lady Gaga or Lindsay Lohan are–or any of the popular hotshots of her day. In fact, she’s never even heard music or had any friends. She’s been totally home-schooled by her dad with only an encyclopedia and a copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales to nourish her remarkable intellect. (She can speak a myriad of languages with ease, and with almost superhuman recall, can recite from memory practically everything she’s ever learned.) So when she leaves home for uncharted territory on her slightly obscure assignment, you’ll be pulling for her all the way.

There’s as much violence depicted here as in any Tarantino film, though because of the heroine’s almost mythic fairy tale innocence, not enough to warrant hiding your eyes. Even at an hour (I checked my watch) the excitement and intensity didn’t let up – even for a nanosec. And despite Hanna’s aggressive behavior, you’ll continually feel both sympathy and empathy for her character- even with a vague sci-fi revelation thrown in midstream about her origin and basic humanity.

An afterthought: In a blatant exhibition of Hanna’s prowess, the film opens with a realistic harrowing image–of her killing a huge reindeer. Not sleek like Dasher or Dancer, but a living creature nonetheless. I’d assumed at the end credits there’d be notice that “No animals were injured during the shooting of this film.” If it was there, I missed it.

P.S. Probably hid my eyes.

BEAM ME UP, SCOTTY!
(Back to the Future: Star Date 2233.04)

Bottom Line: Warp Drive 9.5!!! That’s space talk for run–don’t walk to see this flick…that is, if you can get tickets. (The latest buzz: it could break the $100 million barrier on opening weekend–a first for this year.)

And the enthusiasm is justified. Boldly going where no director has gone before, J.J. Abrams’ phantasmagoric reboot of the 43-year old sci-fi fantasy will totally satisfy old Star Trek fanatics, and most definitely create a new generation of Trekkies–or Trekkers (take your pick).

Superbly scripted and acted, film’s unique approach brings you back to Day One when the crew of the USS Enterprise first met. Sure, there are outstanding f/x, but the essentially character-driven plot more than holds its own, and is guaranteed to hold your rapt attention throughout.

Even compared to such mega-franchises as “Batman,” “Superman” and “Star Wars,” this latest Star Trek addition will transport you to the best of all possible worlds–of the future. So hop aboard and fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a helluva joyride.

Personal Prequel to this Prequel: Three weeks ago, while clearing up some (very) old files, just by coincidence, I came across a relic of the past, an I.D. tag imprinted with:

International STAR TREK convention
BARBARA CRAMER

FEBRUARY 16, 17, 18 & 19, 1973

Aye, Captain, I was there with one of my kids at New York City’s very first Star Trek Convention, held at the Commodore Hotel. Guess you could call us the original Trekkies. (In case you’re curious, yes, I wore that tag and a Star Trek t-shirt to Tuesday’s screening of this prequel. Got lots of attention from my fellow critics.)

But back to 1973…it was truly an awesome event, filled with people of all ages–some costumed with Mr. Spock’s pointy ears or Klingon and Romulan masks and makeup, and a cavernous room filled with collectibles from past TV shows (i.e. Tribbles for about $8 each–should have bought a dozen; they’re worth a small fortune now).

In the 36 years since, I haven’t changed one par-sec, still maintaining Warp Drive loyalty to the original TV series (& The Next Generation as well), and 4th film, “The Voyage Home.” (F/Y/I- since it first appeared in 1966 and till now, there’ve been 5 TV spin-offs and 10 features, but in truth, most left me cold.)

So it was with some trepidation that I approached this newest addition to the franchise, to the never-seen 23rd century launch of the Starship Enterprise, which shows when, where and how the captain and crew met -and for the very first time at the Starfleet Academy.

Plot:

Young cadets James Tiberius Kirk (Chris Pine) and Spock (Zachary Quinto) couldn’t be more unalike or so fervently dislike each other. Both are brilliant and honorable, but Iowa-born Jim is a passionate rebel (on the order of James Dean), while the half-Vulcan Spock is logical to the nth degree, desperately trying to blanket his mother’s emotional human side (a no-no for Vulcans).

It takes Romulan villain Nero (Eric Bana), dead set on destroying not only the Enterprise and its crew, but every planetary system in the galaxy–including Earth–to allow Kirk and Spock to forget their differences, unite against Nero, and forge a friendship and partnership enabling them to live long and prosper. Together.

Spock, for one, swallows his stoicism and pride through conversations with a visitor from the future–himself–via the arrival of the iconic Leonard Nimoy, the only actor from the original series. (William Shatner wasn’t invited back.) Through a quirk in the space-time continuum, Nimoy, as Spock Prime (the older version of his younger self) comes from the future, and provides the emotional core of the film, giving solid support and sensitive advice to his youthful counterpart. (An aside: was reported that when Zach Quinto couldn’t make the famed Vulcan “Live long and prosper” sign with his hand, they had to glue his fingers together.)

Also developed are the warmly developing relationships of the other cadets–people who Trekkies know so well. And they’re all there–though years younger: Scotty (Simon Pegg), Dr. Leonard ‘Bones’ McCoy (Karl Urban), Uhura (Zoe Saldana), Sulu (John Cho), Chekov (Anton Yelchin), Sarek and Amanda, Spock’s parents (Ben Cross and Winona Ryder)…with Bruce Greenwood as their Captain Christopher Pike, Jimmy Bennett and Jacob Kogan as the young Kirk and Spock, and Majel Barrett as the voice of the Starfleet Computer.

In galactic perspective, this is one film that will last for light years. Creator Gene Roddenberry, aka “The Great Bird of the Galaxy” would be proud.

Trivia:

To quote from a History Channel telecast of October 2006 when they covered a special Christie’s Auction House sale:

“40 Years of Star Trek: The Collection”

“But there was more than geekdom at this event. Bobby Cramer of New York said her four children grew up watching Star Trek alongside her. She was also one of the first attendees at the conventions. She and her daughter Lauren, now an attorney and with children of her own, were part of the letter-writing campaigns to NBC protesting its decision to cancel the original series. “It blended science fiction, which I love, with humanism, which I require,” the elder Cramer told Internetnews.com. Her daughter added: “I used to kiss the TV, I had such a crush on Captain Kirk.”

And at the auction, unbeknown to each other, mother and daughter ended up bidding against each other on a fencing mask (Capt. Picard’s) used on one of the shows.” P.S. Momma won.

MONEY ISN’T EVERYTHING

Of course, for $40,000, you can buy a 2004 Ford Thunderbird or Mercedes Sports Wagon. Or, re the wives of the presidential nominees (if you believe the tabloids) cover the clothing allowance for two lifetimes of one, or monthly upkeep for a few of the others’ many homes.

But getting back to the silver screen, incredibly, for that very same amount in his debut feature, young writer/director Chris Eska, 32, has helmed a film of astonishing depth and sensitivity that far belies its negligible cost – and decidedly unHollywood budget, considering A-listers like Harrison Ford or Tom Cruise earn $20 million or more per role.

Which all proves that money isn’t everything. Especially here, because even without stars or f/x, AUGUST EVENING is that rarity—an inspirational indie whose universal appeal spans the generations, crosses cultural borders and easily transcends language barriers. (It’s both in English and subtitled Spanish.) Yasu Tanida’s cinematography, on a visually idyllic canvas of America’s southwest, beautifully captures the film’s disquieting mental milieu. And though Eska’s dialogue is sparse, in the best neo-realistic tradition of Yasujiro Ozu, he allows his characters every nuance and gesture to suggest volumes of emotion.

The plot is basically a simple one: of the shattered dreams and hopes of displaced persons, who, uprooted from their homes, search for another.

After his beloved wife dies and he loses his job – both unexpectedly – Jaime (Pedro Castenada), an undocumented farm worker in Texas, moves with his devoted, long-widowed daughter-in-law Lupe (Veronica Loren) to bunk with his surviving offspring. It doesn’t work out—with any of them. (They’re mostly thoughtless and self-involved; and who, in fact, turned up at the funeral only reluctantly.)

So like nomads, the duo try to pick up the pieces of their life. Saying “Women shouldn’t stay by themselves” Jaime wants Lupe to take chances and remarry. Nothing doing. She wants to remain to cook and care for him, and continually rebuffs the repeated proposals of Luis (Perez), a sincere young butcher’s assistant, who won’t take “no” for an answer. She doesn’t think she can start over. Yet, for better or worse, they both do.

Wistfully, he says: “I thought that by this time I’d be in Mexico in a house surrounded by my children and grandchildren. Things turned out different.” As the film concludes, it’s with a message: Life can be disappointing, even in the best of times.

For the two standout leads, Eska cast first-time actors who wear their roles like so many pairs of comfortable old shoes, truly, madly, deeply imbuing their reel characters with remarkable emotional range: the middle-aged Pedro Castaneda, who, as the press notes say, “currently co-owns a small tow-truck business in San Antonio” and whose “Performer Skills” on the IMDb are listed as “Motorcyclist, Medical Equipment, Pilot”; and Veronica Loren (no…no relation), a sometime model whose striking looks are reminiscent of Raquel Welch in her younger days. They’re both so real, their feelings ring so true, you can practically reach out and touch them. They’re unforgettable.

So is the film.

Awards: Before its national release, AUGUST EVENING made the rounds of various film festivals, garnering a host of kudos, including:

* The Independent Spirit Award: John Cassavetes Award for Best Feature (made for under a half-million);

* LA Film Festival- Best Feature Film (recouping its cost with the $50,000 prize from the Target Award, and Outstanding Performance for the ensemble of Casteneda, Loren, Perez, Becerra, Florez

* Ashland Independent Film Award Best Feature

* Phoenix Film Festival-Special Jury Award for Best Cinematography

CLARK ROCKEFELLER’S ALTER EGO

Taking a leaf from today’s news, Christian Gerhartsreiter (aka the bogus Mr. R) isn’t the only one fixated by delusions of grandeur. So is our anti-hero Jan Díte (literally-and aptly – “John Child”), the quintessential social-climbing A-List wannabe, in this delectable cross between black (but not bleak) comedy and political satire.

It has it all – pungent humor (oral and visual) and sex (mostly oral), as Díte, a very short Czech peasant with high hopes, pursues his lifelong goal: to be a millionaire. More specifically, to be a millionaire hotel owner. And here, think a 20th c. Candide obsessed with money, as he almost naively navigates the route to riches during the Nazi and Communist eras, pre-and-post WW2.

KING begins with the older Díte’s early release in the ’50s from a Prague prison (his 15-year sentence commuted by the Commies to 14 years 9 months through amnesty) and his relocation to an abandoned shack at the German border. Poor and alone, he fixes it up, then sits back to review his past life. (As he says, “It was always my luck to run into bad luck.”) What follows, via flashback, is a recap of the pursuit of his dream.

The young Díte may be provincial, but he’s a quick study. He notices everything – not only people’s reactions toward money, but especially the reactions of people who have lots of it. (It’s in-your-face examples of a nouveau riche candidate at work – Charlie Chaplin couldn’t have done a better job.)

As a waiter in elegant Art Deco Prague hotels, Dite aims to please, and picks up every classy nuance from their sophisticated maitre d’s, and from their clientele of international multimillionaires. He wants to be just like them. (And just so you’ll know, the film’s title has nothing to do with the story, but refers to a snobbish comment made by a head waiter to the impressionable parvenu-in-training.)

He also picks up a succession of beautiful hookers – he aims to please them too (that’s where the oral sex comes in), and marries one, Liza, an ardent German activist. (During the sex act, she pushes him aside to look at a portrait of Hitler.)

Though Díte is apolitical, when war breaks out, he finds himself working on the wrong side in a lab to produce Himmler’s idea of ideal Aryan stock, while Liza goes to the front to give the Nazis a hand as a volunteer nurse. When she returns, it’s not empty-handed, but with boxes full of a priceless stamp collection.

At last, with war booty worth million, he can fulfill his lifelong ambition: to build his own luxury hotel when the war is over.

Then again, maybe not.

And therein lies this tale, which has already won a slew of prizes in international competition. Deservedly so. Part slapstick, part social commentary, it’s one of the most titillating, scintillating films of any year, even if you have to wade through the subtitles. But that shouldn’t stop you from the pleasure of its company of actors and the extraordinary talent of its director.

It’s also the Czech Republic’s official Oscar entry for Best Foreign Language Film. (If it wins, it’ll be a second statuette for director Jiri Menzel, who took home the award in 1966 for CLOSELY WATCHED TRAINS.)

IS HE…OR ISN’T HE?

And that is the question-whether or not our hero (Cheadle) is an FBI undercover operative or a Muslim activist in cahoots with the enemy. In this fast-paced spy thriller – albeit sporadically flawed in execution -you’re never quite sure till the very end.

The Problem: They could have used 24′s Jack Bauer as a role model. To paraphrase the Bard (actually Olivier’s intro to Hamlet): this is the story of a film that could not make up its mind. As written by the director and Steve Martin, TRAITOR seems to be in a genre limbo, caught somewhere between an action pic and personal odyssey.

But getting there is half the fun, as Cheadle’s character, Samir Horn, traverses both worlds. And en route, for a welcome change, we’re given some insight into the elemental mind-set of the terrorists…as in “Is he a devout Muslim?” “I don’t think there’s a sliding scale.” No one is shown to be all black. Or white.

Plot: Samir, a Yemeni-born America citizen (who as a kid watched his father killed by a terrorist’s car bomb) seems to be playing both sides in this post 9/11 dick flick. Now an adult, he globe-trots on a whirlwind multi-national tour ostensibly aiding an Islamist terrorist cell intent on inflicting chaos on the West. And since he’s always seen at the site of bloody massacres, FBI agent Clayton (Pearce), the Inspector Javert of the chase, stalks him through 3 continents, determined to catch him at all costs.

When Samir finds himself in prison, he’s befriended by Arab militant Omar (Taghmaoui), becomes his confident and trusted ally; and when they escape (in an improbably simplistic way) he’s included in the high-tech planning and execution of world-wide jihads. You know the drill: suicide bombings of embassies and killing infidels wherever they can be found. There’s lots of that.

But the worst is set for last. In a horrific plot against the U.S., Omar & cohorts plan to blow up 50 buses all across America at the same time. As he explains: “For years we’ve been planting martyrs in their midst.” (Not to worry. No spoilers here. You’ll just have to see for yourself.)

The good news: Cheadle (CRASH; HOTEL RWANDA) treads almost wistfully through the part, gaining our respect and empathy as the soft-spoken cipher. (i.e. In conversation with Omar, he plaintively states “I don’t feel at home anywhere.”)

Pearce (MEMENTO; L.A. CONFIDENTIAL) convincingly plays against type as a hard-nosed G-Man (with a Ph.D in Arabic Studies) on the prowl. McDonough (MINORITY REPORT), as his callous confederate, ably makes our “good guys” look bad. And Daniels (THE SQUID AND THE WHALE) fares well in a bit (though significant) part as Carter, a CIA rep whose ties to Samir imply the alleged outlaw is working within the law – even though Carter’s concept of it is no better than the enemy’s. (“This is war; you do what it takes to win.”)

Here as in real life, the CIA and FBI don’t seem to know what the other is doing.

But it’s essentially Taghmaoui (THE KITE RUNNER) whose low-keyed performance stands out. As Samir’s confederate Omar, he imbues his role as a terrorist with a marked sense of principle, despite his militant convictions. (Over a chess game while in prison, Omar advises him: “You must be willing to sacrifice some of your pawns if you want to win the game” … a stance not so different from Daniels’.) Oh so subtly, he makes his bad guy seem humane. Not an easy task.

The bad news: To paraphrase the Bard: The fault, dear Brutus, is not with the stars, but with the script. Though camera work by Muro (CRASH) is exceptional, as is the often edge-of-your-seat pacing by director Nachmanoff (THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW), they can’t atone for the script’s sins of omission. Except for the one cited (seeing his dad blown to bits) we know practically nothing of the how and why the sensitive, accomplished Samir got to his stage of life. Like Minerva, he appears to have grown, fully sprung from the head of the writers. We could have expected a more fully-realized character.

The bottom line: If your bottom can survive the surfeit of explosions, suspend disbelief and take Samir at face value, then TRAITOR is worth the almost 2-hour detour.

Trivia: Hollywood has come a long way from Soviet movie villains of the Cold War (GOLDFINGER, et al). Since 9/11, momentum has shifted to another part of the globe, where it’s now de rigueur to look cross-eyed at anyone who wears a keffiyeh and prays to Allah the mandatory 5 times daily. But pre-jihads, and long before the last millennium, there’ve been a slew of fine films – featuring times of war and encounters with the enemy – that certainly merit a visit to your local video store. Here are a sampling:

At the Front

ALLL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT; BATTLEGROUND; GALLIPOLI; THE LONGEST DAY; PATHS OF GLORY; ON A MIDNIGHT CLEAR; ENEMY AT THE GATES; WE WERE SOLDIERS; THE HUMAN CONDITION; LAWRENCE OF ARABIA; ATTACK!

Great Escapes & Wartime Adventures:

BALLAD OF A SOLDIER; THE FOUR FEATHERS (1939 Zoltan Korda, dir.); GRAND ILLUSION; THE GREAT ESCAPE; THE GUNS OF NAVARONE; KING RAT; ONE OF OUR AIRCRAFT IS MISSING; THE TRAIN; VON RYAN’S EXPRESS; WERE EAGLES DARE; THE WOODEN HORSE; BRAVO TWO ZERO; IN HARM’S WAY; APOCALYPSE NOW; THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI; CROSS OF IRON.

THE LITTLE SPARROW: REDUX

In the annals of cinema, this is one biopic not to be missed. No, it’s not a perfect film (more about that later), but in this role of a lifetime, Marion Cotillard’s interpretation of French legendary chanteuse Edith Piaf (1915-1963) is picture perfect.

And indeed, she’s spellbinding, as she exquisitely reenacts the tragic life and hard times of the woman known the world over as The Little Sparrow, running the emotional gamut from despair to elation and way back down again, all the while flawlessly lip-synching to the original vocals that made Piaf world-famous. Even at almost a foot taller than the petite 4′ 8” songstress, Cotillard, with presence and passion, seamlessly morphs into Piaf’s body double, raising the bar on the standard of film biographies for years to come.

Despite the film’s title song (translated: “a life in clover”) that she wrote and which became her theme, Piaf’s short tortured existence was no bed of roses. Rather, it was more out of Dickens, updated, as this painfully moving but luminous bio clearly illustrates. Hop-scotching back and forth over the years, it follows Piaf from miserable childhood to her death at 47 of cancer, through a tuneful but tearful life, no doubt exacerbated by a lifetime of morphine and alcohol addiction. So don’t expect a happy ending.

Considering Piaf’s almost woeful background, it’s little wonder.
Abused and misused as a child, she was
-abandoned at 5 by her alcoholic parents (maman was a failed chanteuse; papa was a circus acrobat and contortionist),
-raised in a brothel by her grandmère (the Madam) and Titine, a caring hooker (Seigner) who nurtured the always-frail girl through a bout of temporary blindness;
-uprooted once again at 10 by her wanton dad to become a street singer in Paris to earn money to support their hand-to-mouth existence.

But at 17, her fortunes improved when she was discovered by a nightclub owner with Mafia connections (Dépardieu) who proceeded to change both her name – from Edith Giovanna Gassion to Piaf (colloquial for “sparrow”) – and her life, helping her become the world’s most famous, highest paid female singer of the WW2 era.

Cajoled by one of her mentors to “Live the songs! Do what I say or go back to the gutter,” she learned well. And as she moved from street urchin to superstar, from Montmarte to Manhattan, Piaf’s voice spanned the globe and thrilled generations. She was Numero Uno of the cabaret scene, numbering the rich and famous among her host of friends and admirers (i.e. Jean Cocteau, Marlene Dietrich) and lovers (i.e. Yves Montand, Charles Aznavour).

But fame and money didn’t bring happiness. Piaf went through two failed marriages, and in 1949, the love of her life, champion boxer Marcel Cerdan, was killed in a plane crash. Two years later, she survived two serious car crashes, which put her on a downward spiral of despair abetted by drugs and drink. Nevertheless, she continued her career with a cross-continental series of comebacks, where she was lauded and applauded everywhere. Piaf died at 47 (looking more like 90), a frail, forlorn wraith of the once-dynamic woman who thrilled and conquered the world – but couldn’t conquer cancer.

Plaintively, the film ends with her voice-over singing one of her most famous songs of all: “Je ne regretted rien.” I regret nothing.
—-
The above is her bio-in-brief, which, to his credit, director Olivier Dahan, with co-writer Isabelle Sobelman, managed to lay out in epic, energizing proportions despite its gloom-and-doom subject matter.

You’ll be thrilled. Guaranteed. But – and the film’s main problem – you might be a bit confused logistically, as it flashes back and forth through her life in non-linear fashion, with often little clue when or where the action is taking place. Then, too, just before the finale, they drop a bombshell about her personal life (that l won’t reveal here) leaving you with a great big question mark.

Nevertheless, in the overall scheme of things, those complaints are almost immaterial. In the big picture, LA VIE EN ROSE is a formidable, unforgettable one. And as I did, you might be tempted to buy a CD, called “Edith Piaf, 30th Anniversaire” to keep a musical memory of The Little Sparrow with you long after the film’s end credits have rolled.

About Marion Cotillard: Though little known in the U.S. (that’s about to change), in past years she’s gotten a slew of awards in Europe – most recently winning one César in 2005 for Best Supporting Actress and the Chopard Trophy at Cannes in 2004 for “Female Revelation” – and was nominated for two others in 1999 and 2002. Come Oscar time, it’s a good bet she’ll be in the running for Best Actress.

20th CENTURY FOX
MPAA rating: PG-13 / Running time — 128 minutes

Yippee-ki-yay!

As expected, #4 in the DIE HARD franchise oozes with testosterone, taking you on a roller coaster ride of non-stop action, phenomenal F/X and off-the-wall stunts guaranteed to leave you both exhilarated and exhausted. Also possibly a bit bored by all the frenzy.

Think a season’s worth of “24” compressed into 128 minutes of running time. In fact, you can take the comparison a few steps further. Like the TV series (a favorite addiction of mine), the plot centers on terrorists intent on destroying the entire U.S. superstructure (by infiltrating the nation’s data banks and shutting down all our country’s electricity, phone and satellite communication, computers, and NY Stock Exchange). Or, as they call it, creating a “Fire Sale” – Everything must go!

In fact, the baddies plan a literal bang-up Fourth of July for the breakdown. Led by evil computer mastermind Gabriel (Olyphant), his crew of cohorts expertly man keyboards, use techie lingo that is impressive (tho naturally incomprehensible to us mere mortals), intermingled with enough shoot-em-ups to burst your eardrums.

To the rescue: Bruce Willis’ NY detective John McClane, now older and bald, but just as likeable and smart-assed as he was as the young cop who saved L.A.’s Nakatomi Corp. in 1988′s first DIE HARD flick. Since then – and two sequels later – the question is not “Can he stop the bad guys?” Of course! It’s a given. Rather, it’s how.

Plot: When the FBI finds their entire computer network infiltrated and its data compromised, McClane is drawn into the battle when he’s ordered to round up one of the nation’s few master hackers savvy enough to be responsible for the damage, and bring him to Washington.

Before long, he realizes Matt Farrell (Long), the computer nerd, is no terrorist, especially when the real culprits try to blast them both off the face of the earth (and off bridges and roads) en route to D.C. All hell breaks loose as cars crash (when computer-generated traffic lights all turn to green), buildings crumble, helicopters and tunnels explode. Phantastico F/X (though one can only wonder at what expense – unless, of course, it was all done by computer imaging. Hard to tell). McClane saves Matt’s life dozens of times, takes him under his wing, and trains him how to protect himself. (i.e. About guns: “Think of them as hardware to your software.”)

And the finale, at a secret government location where, after 9/11, all the accumulated data of America’s wealth is stored – ingenious and marvelous mayhem.

In other words, DIE HARD 4 is a non-stop interface of the good guys vs. the bad ‘uns, where you’d do well to suspend disbelief (at least 98% of the time) and go with the flow of over-the-top derring-do & bravado.

The Good News: Willis’ McClane remains an icon for the action-adventure crowd. In the twelve years since #3, and at a bald 52, he’s still sorta sexy (tho no spring chicken); and despite being outnumbered, beaten bloody but unbowed, yet/still remains believable as he matches wits and fists with the much younger digital daredevils.

The Bad News: For one, as chief villains go, Olyphant’s Gabriel hardly seems threatening; he doesn’t hold a candle to Alan Rickman’s menacing Hans Gruber of DH1. For another – too much action and not enough heart. Guess I’m a bit old-fashioned, but my favorite scenes are those of a more personal nature. Don’t expect to see Bonnie Bedelia as his ex-wife Holly – they’re long divorced. But what really registers are the few times spent with his estranged daughter Lucy, now 19 and a student at Rutgers, who, when she’s initially introduced to Matt as Lucy McClane, angrily blurts out “It’s Lucy Gennero!” – just as her mom did in the first film. Her presence, and their brief personal exchanges, helps to elevate the action to a more human, humane level.

My main regret: I sorely missed Mary Lynn Raiskub’s Chloe O’Brian from “24” – that cerebral gyno-geek mans a computer better than any guy I know.
===

Trivia: Don’t tell NJ Governor Corzine, but during the innumerable car chases, I don’t think McClane and Matt were wearing seat belts; and I wonder how the enemy’s private helicopters were allowed to freely fly over D.C.

Credits:
Director: Len Wiseman
Screenplay: Mark Bomback
Story: Mark Bomback, David Marconi
Producers: Michael Fottrell, John McTiernan, Arnold Rifkin, Bruce Willis
Director of Photography: Simon Duggan, ACS
Production Designer: Patrick Tatopoulos
Editor: Nicolas de Toth
Music: Marco Beltrami

Cast:
John McClane: Bruce Willis
Gabriel: Timothy Olyphant
Matt Farrell: Justin Long
Bowman: Cliff Curtis
Mai: Maggie Q
Lucy McClane: Mary Elizabeth Winstead

Magnolia Pictures / Shoot the Moon Productions / Stevens/Zieff Films
PG-13 / 92 minutes

THE STOCKHOLM SYNDROME-REVISITED

Even if this film were fiction, no one would believe it – not even Ripley.
But it’s true…all of it! Which makes the sordid real-life love affair between a crazed lover and his yet/still devoted victim one of the most mind-boggling, absorbing documentaries in recent memory.

The Facts: In 1959, Burton Pugach, a 32-year old negligence lawyer (AKA ambulance chaser) became so obsessed with Linda Riss, 22, a gorgeous Bronx-born blue-collar virgin, that when she became engaged to another guy, he hired a trio of thugs to throw lye in her face. If he couldn’t have her, he’d see no one else would. (Subsequently, her fiancé broke their engagement.)

Splat!! Not only was she scarred and almost completely blinded, but Burt landed in jail for 14 years, and that dire deed landed on the front page of every NYC tabloid – continuing to be a newsworthy cause célèbre for decades to come…which is exactly what the film is all about.

Considering the circumstances – the least of which was Burt was already married and had a child – why in hell would such an obviously intelligent dame end up not only forgiving this nut case, but shortly after his release from prison years later, marry him? (He proposed to her on TV twice.)

Yeah! For real! Long-since divorced from wife #1, they got hitched on November 1974. And now, after 33 years as Mrs. Burton Pugach, she’s still loyally at his side despite his fiendish depravity. To add insult to injury, in 1996, Hubby Dearest also had a 5-year affair with another, much younger woman (he threatened that one too) but Linda continued to forgive him…as she does to this day.

And today, what do we see onscreen? Burt, 80, looks more like Col. Sanders than Casanova. But Linda, 70, with a 2-inch cigarette ash constantly dangling from her lips and wearing designer harlequin sunglasses, has no idea. Now totally blind, in her mind’s eye, she sees him as he once was.

During extensive on-camera talking head shots, you realize Linda is the ultimate survivor. Or, as John Miller-Monzon, the film’s researcher said, for her to marry Burt was “an absolute pragmatic decision on her part” adding he also thinks “she has genuine feelings for him…though I don’t know if I would call it love.”

How to explain it? As one of Burt’s buddies volunteered: “They say even Hitler had friends.” Throughout the film’s engrossing 92 minutes, we’re exposed to in-your-face interviews with the pair, interspersed with comments by friends and media observers-though any psychological rational for her behavior isn’t clear-cut. Most likely, she just didn’t want to be alone.

From Jimmy Breslin: “I’ve been in this business for 50 years, and nobody is as visibly insane as Burt Pugach. Living with him is the best revenge.”
From Geraldo Rivera: “She’s now totally blind – and he became her eyes.”

Documentary filmmaker Dan Klores and co-director Fisher Stevens, with help from an extraordinarily accomplished crew, have meticulously pieced together almost 50 years of current and archival material that raises more questions than is, at first, immediately apparent.

Background: Freud would have had a field day. Burt was regularly beaten by his mother, who also bathed him until he was 10 or 11, and his father deserted the family shortly before his Bar Mitzvah (in a Chinese restaurant). On the upside, Burt was a brilliant student (graduated cum laude from Brooklyn Law at 23) and was quite successful by the time they met.

At 5, Linda was raised by relatives after her parents split, and only returned home to her mom at 12 when her younger sister died. Though she didn’t have Burt’s education and only held menial jobs, she was obviously “a child left behind.” It’s apparent she has a good brain.

At their first meeting, Burt was instantly smitten – she was movie-star stunning – but any time a guy would look at her twice, he became insanely jealous, to the point he sent her to a doctor to prove conclusively whether or not she was a virgin. (She was.) As a close friend said, “She liked boys, but there was nothing ever EVER promiscuous about her.”

But Linda was also a product of her generation and upbringing, which was to be married and deferential to men. In those days, lawyers, like doctors, were akin to royalty…and god. So how could she resist this guy with an LLD – who took her out to dinner every night or to nightclubs (he owned one), had his own airplane, and bought a new Cadillac convertible every year?

She wanted marriage; he said he was getting a divorce and showed her the papers – which proved fraudulent. So Linda broke off their relationship and got engaged to another guy. That’s when the harassment started – a litany of endless threats and stalking from that low-life…which brings us back to Square One.

In retrospect, Burt and Linda might well have been best described eons ago by John Milton in his epic “Paradise Lost” as “Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy, and moon-struck madness.”

And it is mad – as well as a maddening fascination, not to be missed.
Once seen, you’ll realize that real life is often more mesmerizing than the reel one – as is the case here. Besides, there’s no telling what lies ahead for the damaged duo. As Scarlett would say, “After all, tomorrow is another day.” Maybe a better one – whether or not Burt really gives a damn. For her sake, let’s hope so.

To again quote researcher Miller-Monzon, speaking of the plucky, courageous Linda, “This film is a valentine to her.” And definitely worth the detour.

Credits:
Director and Screenwriter: Dan Klores
Co-Director and Producer: Fisher Stevens
Research and Co-Producer: John Miller-Monzon
Associate Producers: Jake Bandman and Libby Geist
Cinematographers: Wolfgang Held and Claudia Raschke-Robinson
Original Music: Douglas J. Cuomo
Music: John Murphy
Editor and Co-Producer: David Zieff

Cast:
Burt Pugach, Linda Riss Pugach, Jimmy Breslin, Rusty Goldberg,
Bob Janoff, Rita Kessler, Janet Pomerantz, Margaret Powers, Berry
Stainbec

DreamWorks and Warner Bros. Pictures present a Parkes/MacDonald production
MPAA rating PG-13 / Running Time: 133 minutes.

PARADISE LOST

THE ISLAND fits perfectly into Hollywood’s ideal audience demographics. So if you’re a tweenage male weaned on video games, do I have a film for you! It’s a gazillion-dollar (con)fusion of some of the best Sci-Fi thrillers of the past: SOYLENT GREEN (1973), LOGAN’S RUN (1976), COMA, THE BOYS FROM BRAZIL(both1978) and more recently, THE TRUMAN SHOW (1998), to name a few.

Yet in the years since, Hollywood, in its infinite wisdom, hasn’t learned much except to have drama and character development play second fiddle to special effects and production design.

Admittedly, they ARE spectacular. In fact, they’re mind-boggling. It’s just too bad the plot, basically a most interesting one (more about this later)—tends to get lost in the morass of unrelenting noise and non-stop action.

From Michael Bay, the director of such similar fare as ARMAGEDDON and PEARL HARBOR, those cacophonous sequences, filled with frenzied car, truck and coptor chases, fill up the over 2 hours of running time with a sensory overload that, after a very short while, becomes almost senseless

PLOT: The year: 2019. After a global ecological catastrophe,
the earth’s sole survivors, inmates temporarily caged in a sealed-off sterile research facility, wait for a weekly lottery, with the winner to be sent to that paradise…

…to The Island, the one place left contamination-free in the whole civilized world.

Problem: Ain’t so. (No spoilers here. It’s featured in all the previews. Besides, you’ll figure it out very early on.) There’s no island, no environmental contagion and the inmates aren’t even human. But they don’t know it.

They’re “products”— clones of real, very VERY rich people, specially harvested for replacement body parts in case their sponsors need, for example, a new liver or heart transplant. The cost: figure $5 million per. But what the hell, money isn’t everything, especially if it can guarantee the nabobs maybe another 50 or so healthy years.

The mixed bag of inmates are kept at a naïve 15-year age level, with contact between the sexes prohibited. (In fact, they don’t even know what “sex” is.) And with only a vague memory of their past lives, are happily kept in tow doing meaningless work by Big Brother overseers, who monitor their every movement.

Then the unexpected: Lincoln Six-Echo (McGregor) starts remembering things about his past (a no-no), starts asking questions (not allowed either), and uncovers the devastating truth about his confinement when one of his friends, a lottery winner, ends up on a slab.

So, with his beauteous buddy Jordan Two Delta (Scarlett Johansson), they escape to the outside world (somewhere in the desolate flats of Arizona). That finishes the film’s first half.

The next hour concerns their frenetic adventures evading their captors, and fleeing to LA to find their human sponsors (also played by McGregor and Johansson).

The Good News: As action heroes, the stars shine, though they emote from a limited range-due to the script’s limitations. They’re sweet and innocent and believable and you’ll be rooting for their safety.

Steve Buscemi is fun as always (and he has the best lines!), as an employee at the facility, who helps them in the outside world. Sean Bean, the project’s villainous corporate head, is mean (as always) as a combination Dr. Frankenstein and Mengele, who extols the medical benefits of the work even though he’s only in it for the money. This aspect, with current political ramifications about the negatives of cloning (i.e. stem cell research and reproduction) will surely please conservative hard-liners.

Bottom Line: Bring your earplugs, or better still, rent the videos of the previously-cited films.

Cast:
Lincoln Six Echo/Tom Lincoln: Ewan McGregor
Jordan Two Delta/Sarah Jordan: Scarlett Johansson
Albert Laurent: Djimon Hounsou
Dr. Merrick: Sean Bean
McCord: Steve Buscemi
Starkweather: Michael Clarke Duncan

Credits:
Director: Michael Bay
Writers: Caspian Tredwell-Owen, Alex Kurtzman & Roberto Orci
Story by: Caspian Tredwell-Owen
Producers: Walter Parkes, Michael Bay, Ian Bryce
Executive producer: Laurie MacDonald
Director of photography: Mauro Fiore
Production designer: Nigel Phelps
Music: Steve Jablonsky
Costumes: Deborah L. Scott
Editors: Paul Rubell, Christian Wagner