Starring Douglas Henshall, Lena Headey & Penelope Cruz
Directed by Maria Ripoli
Guilty feet have got no rhythm, as George Michael once astutely observed. Henshall finds himself permanently in the kitchen at parties then, following a torrid affair with a fellow actor, so he subsequently confesses to his girlfriend. She promptly dumps him and gets engaged to a smoothie stud, leaving Henshall to drink himself into a stupor down the local bar. If only...
If only indeed, and as good fortune would have it, a couple of homeless types turn out to be veritable magicians, transporting him back a year while he can nip the budding affair in the, er, bud. But then, to his horror, he has to face a new challenge - can he prevent the seemingly inevitable by stopping his girl falling in love with the same stud all over again?
Reminiscent of the whimsical Sliding Doors or Groundhog Day, this sadly falls well short of the mark despite one or two nice moments and a promising premise. Two prime suspects reveal themselves, with the most obvious being the script. This seems to have been pulled drunkenly about in all directions as events unfold, lacking any kind of definable structure or cohesion. Most serious is the vaguely dislikable nature of the lead character, giving you no reason to care at all how he ends up, and this leads to the second problem - Henshall himself. Here he seems a fine enough actor, just horribly miscast - were he a more enigmatic and (dare I say it) dashing figure, the ease with which beautiful women fall at his feet may make more sense.
There seems to be a large Spanish presence in this British film, as evidenced by the phenomenally long and improbably named list of backers and production companies at the film's start. As Spanish characters start to orbit Henshall's world for no apparent reason, it looks as if the film has suffered a case of many European cooks spoiling the Anglo broth.
Starring: Will Smith, Jeff Goldblum & Bill Pullman
Directed by: Roland Emmerich
The moment the world saw The White House blown to tiny little bits in the trailer for Independence Day, success was assured. Now the real thing is here, it doesn't disappoint. There is enough here to satisfy the most rabid pyromanic in us all - enough explosions and walls of flame to eat Backdraft for breakfast. And then do brunch.
It's all, of course, to do with those pesky little aliens. Presumably, enough time would have passed by now for a remote space-bound race to have finally recieved Orson Welles' version of H.G. Wells' War Of The Worlds. It certainly looks like it, since on July 2 fifteen mile wide spaceships hover menacingly over each city in the world, and the punter's jaws drop to the floor. Satellite TV technician Goldblum manages to decipher alien code in the prevelent radio interference (somehow), and makes smart use of his ex-wife - who happens to be the assistant to the president (Pullman). He warns the big cheese that in only seven hours, the sky will - almost literally, folks - fall.
Make no mistake, almost every single plot point in this movie beggars belief, with the coincidence instance off the scale. Fortunately, this is exactly where the fun index is as well - unlike the often pretentious Twister, the alien tongue is firmly in his cheek. Most of the voluminous FX are truly gob-smacking, and the ones that may be a bit iffy are too fast to scrutinise and shrugged of with a smile and an attitude. The finale for example, is so utterly preposterous that it would destroy most films, but ID4 skips through it with such gay abandon and top notch throaway one liners that you'll be chuckling your way though the closing credits.
Most of the stars do their stuff - Goldblum's been through this a million times before, Pullman can even makes us like the US president, marine pilot Will Smith does his Fresh Prince Of Bel Air career no harm at all and Randy Quaid tries to outdo the FX in going way over the top as an alchoholic crop duster (says here). Menwhile director Emmerich, who gave us the derivative but fun Stargate, pulls off the same thing once again, only more so. It's a long film which steals copiously from other movies, but he's a dab hand at dressing up mutton as BSE-free lamb.
It is inescapable that the film's lack of originilaity and senseless plot may show that Independence Day doesn't pass the test of time. Be that as it may, like much great crash and burn music, that doesn't mean you can't love the fad when it's hot in town. Hold on to your lug nuts and put your jaws on the floor - be prepared for your flabber to be gasted.
Starring: Kevin Kline, Joan Cusack, Matt Dillon and Tom Selleck
Directed by: Frank Oz
Well, I suppose a mainsteam comedy featuring a gay lead character must equal progress, but watching In & Out doesn't really feel like it. In the movie we see a clip of an awful Hollywood military courtroom drama, hamfistedly promoting gay rights. Sad that In & Out itself isn't far off as bad too...
The clip in question implausably wins Matt Dillion the year's best actor Oscar. In true Tom Hanks style, Dillion thanks a delighted English teacher (Kline) in his acceptance speach, also dropping in that Kilne is gay. This is a shock to the whole town, school, family, bride to be on Saturday, and even himself. Is he or isn't he? With three days to go, he has to find out.
If you think that liking Streisand and The Village People making you gay is the cutting edge of comedy, this is the film for you. Cartoon-like plot and characters manage to reinforce every gay stereotype imaginable (eg. poetry appreciation = gay), but coming from a gay screenwriter it pupports comedy rather than ignorance. But it's not all bad, and the talented cast really do try hard to make it work, with varying and limited success.
With an ending setpiece that tries a bit too hard and precious few laughs from most of the rest of the script, the film belongs entirely to the gaggle of mad old ladies who sit around gossiping on the sidelines. When the most interesting people start twentieth down the cast list, you know something ain't right.
In Love and War (Short Review) **
Starring: Sandra Bullock & Chris O'Donnell
Directed by: Richard Attenborough
Teeth-pullingly slow and uninvolving portrayal of Ernest Hemmingway's WW1 romance with nurse who tends him after a trenches injury. Bullock is OK and film provides a possible insight into his later career, but O'Donnell has little presence and an awful character. Lovingly filmed, but as for the story - who cares?
Starring: Michael Maloney, Richard Briers, Julia Sawalha & John Sessions
Directed by: Kenneth Branagh
Pretty soon Our Ken really will have to see someone about all this. As if Henry V, Much Ado and soon Hamlet weren't enough, his non-Shakesperean films are now busily banging on about The Bard.
An ensemble of actor misfits gather in black and white Hope, a sleepy country village, where they start rehearsals in the local church for a Christmas production of Hamlet. While the director watches his chance of Hollywood greatness - directing a sci-fi trilogy - fall into the hands of a despised rival, he tries to draw his warring cast together with the lofty aim of doing justice to the text.
Filmed as a low-budget antidote to the box office disaster that was Frankenstein, this unfortunately reinforces the doubter's opinion that Branagh's judgement is not all it once was. The big problem here is that many of the performances could most kindly be described as "broad" (please stand up, Mr Maloney). Ken has yeilded to the temptation to let the whole theatrical nature of the story go to his head, and believabilty has been the main casualty.
One or two cast members manage to hold their heads high (Briers and a winning Sawalha, to name but two) and there are a few choice moments to be found. But the whole badly needed a good deal more subtlety and restraint - with the best will in the world, Ken's infectious enthusiasm here comes off more as annoying. Inevitable comparisons with the excellent Peter's Friends leaves the new stage bleak indeed.
Starring: Meg Ryan, Tim Robbins, Walther Matthau and Steven Fry
Directed by: Fred Schepisi
With a cast this strong teamed with the director of Roxanne in a "heartwarming comedy for all the family", you'd think that chances of faliure were pretty small. Not exactly faliure, IQ is nevertheless disappointingly light on the chuckles required to make this a bone-fide winner.
Having advanced the cause of science by quite enough thank-you, Albert Einstein (Matthau) and his intellectual chums now have one goal in life - to see their adorable neice (Ryan) pulled from the smarmy-git-arms of animal tester fiance (Fry) and thrown into those of the local mechanic (Robbins). A sci-fi freak and devotee of the A-bomb inventor, Tim reasonably assumes that the way to her heart is through her brain, so with the aid of the intelligensia he sets about memorising a brilliant new scientific theory which propells him to instant local stardom and big chance with his squeeze of choice.
It's good to see Steven Fry playing the now obligitary English bad guy, and he does it well with the lions share of good lines. Robbins walks through his part, and Matthau and chums are quite fun, if preposterous, behaving less as genius' of pensionable age than mischevious schoolboys, huddling together and scheming. Meg Ryan however, defies all odds by letting the player's side down, never quite creating a believable character distinct from her previous incarnations and sporting a disasterous blonde-duck hairdo.
Quite what director Schepisi was distracted by can only be the source of speculation, since we have a diasterously confusing shambles of shots guaranteed to furrow brows in an effort to work out who is where in the room. His coup-de-grace though, is an effect of a car in a field under the stars so abysmal that Plan 9 from Outer Space looks cutting edge. Whass going on?
Given the guiding hand of some of the biggest producers in the business, it's hard to not feel let down here, as a little gem should have been within this team's grasp. The services of a more inspired scriptwriter would have been a start, but back in reality we are left with a film that doesn't stretch the brain cells or give too much exercise to the funny bone.
The Island Of Dr Moreau ** (Short Review)
Starring:David Thewlis, Marlon Brando & Val Kilmer
Directed by:John Frankenheimer
Latest adaption of HG Wells classic has Thewlis, a UN rep, cast ashore on mad Moreau's island inhabited by his genetic mutants. Very troubled production starts well, but quickly degenerates into total pants. Brando has some occasional fun, wheras it looks like the computer graphics people didn't.
All reviews / articles copyright Guy Rowland (1998).