The Business of Strangers (2001)

February 7th, 2010 by benjamnsnchezsblog

The Corporation of Strangers


Director:


Patrick Stettner

Drink and a mutual fascination soften the initial antipathy between tough middle-superannuated exec Julie (Channing, excellent) and her her sour underling Paula (Stiles) as they while away a few hours enjoying the stale comforts of an airport hotel. Tensions resurface with the advent of headhunter Nick (Weller), individual of Julie's associates, whom Paula alleges is a rapist from her days. What to dream up? He's shifty, she's manipulative. There's no dreary vying for procreative acclaim, putting; first-time writer/director Stettner immediately puts the headhunter into a drug-induced coma, leaving his female companions to play out a taut generational power game after scrawling obscenities for every inch of his core. What force they both come to? Intelligently scripted and thoroughly captivating.

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Hitch review

February 6th, 2010 by benjamnsnchezsblog

Considerably heavier on romance than comedy, “Hitch” stitches together relatively few laughs but generates enough goodwill and vivacity to mask much of the audience in its corner. Although the script can’t buoy up the premise — and saddles the actors with some truly lowering talk — a floating second-banana all the time alternately by Kevin James and the few laugh-meritorious moments help recompense in compensation the arid stretches. Given the unforgettable need of quality fare in this class, those attributes should strike Sony with Cupid’s arrow in the comprise of reasonably happy date-night returns.

Director Andy Tennant knows about romantic comedies longer on star appeal than smarts, what with “Fools Rush In” and “Sweet Home Alabama” on his resume. “Hitch” plods along on similar terrain, albeit with the additional boon of James’ Gleason-esque antics — a big, round, sweetly spirited lug who is awfully light on his toes.

In the process, “The King of Queens” star somewhat eclipses Will Smith as the smooth-talking “date doctor” — a near-urban legend, available by referral only, who coaches bumbling guys through the art of romance. The twist, of course, is that Alex “Hitch” Hitchens becomes all thumbs himself once faced with peeling away the hard shell of a comely gossip columnist, Sara (Eva Mendes), who turns his dating maxims upside down.

An opening sequence mixing Smith’s voiceover with him directly addressing the camera offers a taste of Hitch’s magic, but he takes on an especially challenging project when he tries to help a shy accountant, Albert (James), woo a beautiful jet-setting heiress, Allegra (Amber Valletta).

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This isn’t to say Hitch lacks a moral code. Indeed, he only opens the door for nice guys lacking the moves to woo a woman, refusing to assist a Wall Street sleaze who has conquest, not romance, in mind. Like Sara, though, he’s resistant to love himself, still cautious from a courtship-inflicted wound years before.

It’s all rather wispy, and first-time screenwriter Kevin Bisch struggles with the juggling act of keeping the central couple apart and then bringing them back together, aided by the almost-saving grace of having the Albert-Allegra storyline to fall back on.

Beyond his hangdog demeanor, James exhibits a flair for physical comedy, and the scenes of Smith prepping him for dates — if a little overexposed by the ad campaign — actually possess considerably more verve than either of the romantic pairings. In the best moment, Albert walks Allegra toward her door bracing for their much-rehearsed first kiss looking much like a guy being marched to a firing squad.

Smith branches out a little here, to the extent that this latest role is devoid of accompanying explosions, while Mendes charms the camera with an ease that exceeds her thinly drawn character. Nor is there much fleshed-out support, with what amount to cameos by Adam Arkin and Michael Rapaport as Sara’s tabloid editor and Hitch’s married pal, respectively.

As in many a romantic comedy, the juiciest supporting player is Manhattan, a backdrop that goes a long way toward setting the mood, along with George Fenton’s score. And while the film drags noticeably during its flabby closing act, the cast provides pleasant enough company to survive the Hallmark-card speeches that run through it.

All told, “Hitch” plays like the oldest of old-fashioned romantic comedies, which would be worth celebrating if only it was slightly better at it. Then again, just as love-seeking bar patrons tend to lower their standards as the clock approaches midnight, in these laugh-challenged times, it’ll do.

Gate of Hell (1953)

February 4th, 2010 by benjamnsnchezsblog

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A notoriously difficult perso…

February 2nd, 2010 by benjamnsnchezsblog

A notoriously uncompromising woman to conversation, Paul Bowles is remarkably forthcoming, candid and, in his own odd way, entertaining in Canuck helmer Jennifer Baichwal’s incredible docu on the belatedly litterateur, “Let It Come Down: The Life of Paul Bowles.” Indie feat provides a revealing study of Bowles that is must viewing for anyone remotely interested in the mark or the dominant literary expat scene in 1940s and ’50s Morocco. Pic has already garnered consummate zoom on to on the fest circuit and is a honest during specialty arts webs and pubcasters far the orb, particularly given renewed interest following Bowles’ death Nov. 18.

The centerpiece of the pic is a lengthy interview with Bowles, who is captured lying in bed in his home in Tangier, smoking kif (marijuana) with an elegant black cigarette holder. Bowles looks a tad fragile in the footage, shot mostly in 1996, but he is clear-headed and always articulate regarding his life, loves and work. He holds forth with his ultra-pessimistic views of human nature, clearly shaped by a difficult childhood in the U.S., and talks in detail about his numerous famous pals, notably Gertrude Stein, Tennessee Williams, Truman Capote and Beat scribes William S. Burroughs and Allen Ginsberg.

He is more open than usual about his homosexuality, though he remains reticent about details of his personal life. He won’t endear himself to the gay community with his comment that it is normal to be ashamed of being homosexual. He doesn’t hesitate to dismiss Bernardo Bertolucci’s film version of his best-known novel, “The Sheltering Sky,” dryly noting that “it should never have been filmed. The ending is idiotic and the rest is pretty bad.”

Baichwal also caught up with a number of her subject’s close friends, among them Tangier socialite David Herbert, Moroccan writer Mohammed Choukri, American composer Phillip Ramey and Joseph McPhillips III, the headmaster of the American School of Tangier. There’s a fair bit of discussion of Bowles’ career as a composer, particularly by Ramey and conductor Jonathan Sheffer; the latter helped organize a festival of Bowles’ music at Lincoln Center in 1995.

The high point of the docu is the 1995 reunion in a Manhattan hotel room of Bowles, Burroughs and Ginsberg. It’s a captivating and strangely touching moment when these three old literary legends gently rib one another and amiably reminisce about the good old days.

The interview footage is intercut with images from Morocco, both of the crowded inner-city streets of Tangier and the desolate desert, and stock archival images are used to good effect to give hints of life in 1940s North Africa. Canuck thesp Tom McCamus adds to the atmosphere with readings from numerous Bowles works.

There is nothing fancy about “Let It Come Down”; it’s the interviews with Bowles that make it a standout docu. Helmer spent time in Tangier and befriended Bowles years before making the film, and her closeness to the writer clearly was instrumental in getting him to open up. What’s striking here is how his dark, mostly grim musings are tempered with his dry, laconic wit. Lensing is mostly low-fi, the largest section consisting of static shots of Bowles propped up in his bed. Docu includes a large number of extracts from Bowles’ musical compositions.

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January 31st, 2010 by benjamnsnchezsblog


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Surprisingly talky for a sci-…

January 29th, 2010 by benjamnsnchezsblog

Surprisingly talky for a sci-fi action thriller, this inscrutable sequel to the 1995 Japanese anime film about cyborgs and humans coexisting in a noirish future spends as much time dabbling in Cartesian philosophy and ideas about the nature of consciousness as it does advancing its ostensible story.

To the extent that a narrative can be articulated, it centers around Batou (Akio Ohtsuka), a cop with the body of a machine and the soul of a man, who, along with his mulleted human detective partner, is investigating the murder of a human master by a female “gynoid” sex slave. As the plot thickens — or, I should say, congeals — the “Ghost in the Shell 2″ script alternates between such faux-Confucian epigrams as “No matter how far a jackass travels it won’t come back a horse” and “We weep for the bird’s cry but not for the blood of a fish” and exclamations of tech-talk gobbledygook like “Rebuild the logic firewall!” Neither tone is particularly effective at transcending pretension, and, while the visuals are at times stylish, “Ghost” suffers most from a distinct lack of anything, well, cinematic.

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Do aficionados of Japanimation really want to waste their time attempting to swallow more indigestible pearls of dime-store wisdom or do they, as I suspect, not so secretly want some cyborg-on-cyborg action? As one character in “Ghost” notes, “When dialogue fails, it’s time for violence.”

GHOST IN THE SHELL 2: INNOCENCE (PG-13, 100 minutes) — Contains violence (but not nearly enough) and some obscenity. In Japanese with subtitles. At AMC Hoffman Center, Landmark’s E Street Cinema and the Majestic.

When Night Is Falling review

January 27th, 2010 by benjamnsnchezsblog

Luck takes Protestant academic Camille to the laundrette, where circus performer Petra supplies tissues, sympathy and a shady switcheroo on the holdalls containing their respective smalls. The meeting-cute restraint negotiated, the confabulation proceeds to run a relatively fresh spin on ye experienced eternal threesome. The man in Camille’s life is Martin, fellow lecturer at the College of New Faith, but how can the knock up a appeal to of onus contend with this new woman winkling manifest the new woman in her. After all, tweed jackets and keynote speeches can’t compete with unyielding black leather, arrows of desire fired throughout your window, and an epochal hang-gliding error. No, it’s not much of a contest, but Rozema provides ample pleasures to compensate for the lack of ‘No, not the least of which is a warm sensuality that not at any time feels exploitative, return the good heart to sign Czerny’s boyfriend a decent stick and even to have the stern college heroine question his own homophobia. While the surrounding Sirkus of Sorts frippery is endearing without being pushy, and Lesley Barber’s terrific score provides impassioned impose upon, the timbre to the film’s mercurial charm is the performances of the two leads: Bussières ranging engagingly from prim to perky, and Crawford a bewitching presence as the impish seductress. Cynics may demur, but the result is quite delicious.

Hollow City (2004)

January 25th, 2010 by benjamnsnchezsblog

The Film:

I do not recall ever seeing a movie produced in Angola. For years the country has been torn apart by a deadly civil war which has practically made it impossible for native film directors to materialize their vision. After all when each night you do not know whether or not you would live to see the light of day the last thing on your mind is making films. Yet, the South-Central African nation is producing them.

Screened during the Berlin Film Festival in 2004 Na Cidade Vazia a.k.a Hollow City follows the steps of a young African boy as he roams the dark streets of Angola’s capital Luanda. The warlords have taken over most of the country and are now meticulously exterminating those who oppose their will. N’dala (Joao Roldan), whose family has been killed by the guerillas, is hoping to find his way back to the village where he grew up.

I do not know what is more fascinating about Hollow City. Is it the fact that one is given the opportunity to peek into a country which is rarely seen on news networks around the world or the actual story of a boy who has nothing to live for but his dreams. Following the steps of N’dala as he walks through the streets of Luanda is both terrifying and fascinating at the same time.

Like so many films in recent years that have come to recreate the shocking living conditions in South America and Africa (City of God; Yesterday) Hollow City relies more on visuals as opposed to a rich and complex story. In fact, as soon as N’dala is introduced to us it quickly becomes obvious that this will be a road-picture with a predictable finale. Thus the film’s greatest strength stems from the raw and unedited footage from the backstreets of a society in a state of free falling.

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Maria Joao Ganga, who as I understand is the first Angolan woman to direct a movie, undoubtedly is a force to be reckoned with. The long-continuous shots she seems to favor provide Hollow City with an elegant look which is impressively unsettling given the treacherous locations the film crew had to use. It almost feels as if Maria Joao Ganga was trying to sooth and intimidate her audience at the same time-Hollow City is such a polarized film.

Technically, Hollow City is not any different from most low-budget films that you would find released on DVD. In fact, there are moments when the film appears as something that PBS might approach and consequently air. The final product however is something quite different-the unflinching eye of Maria Joao Ganga does have an impact on how the story is paced and the longer one stays with N’dala the clearer it becomes that this must have been a very personal project for the Angolan director.

I do not know how Hollow City will resonate with North American audiences. I find the film to be an intriguing look, to say the least, at a part of our world which has been either intentionally or unintentionally silenced (the jury is still out as to why the fate of Angola and its people has been left in the hands of a group of corrupt and despicably vile warlords). Needless to say having the courage to produce a film under such extreme circumstances is enough of a reason for me to recommend Hollow City to the more adventurous of you.

How Does the DVD Look?

Presented in an aspect ratio of 1.85:1 and enhanced for widescreen TV’s the film appears to have been mastered from a secondary PAL-source. There is some minor “ghosting” and “combing” here which is not utterly distractive but it is nevertheless present. This being said Hollow City has a slightly “washed-out” look: colors are not lush and contrast is rather subdued. I am unsure whether or not this is what the director intended!! This being said, the print does not offer any major damage/marks. To sum it all up the release is most certainly manageable (tubes) but that’s about it.

How Does the DVD Sound?

Presented with a DD Portuguese track and forced English subtitles the audio is average at best. Once again, given the low budget-look of this film I am unsure if this is intended. This being said the fact that the English subtitles are forced is quite annoying.

Extras:

The DVD offers a director’s statement (in text format) highlighting the history behind the film as well as its intended goal(s). There is also a short director’s biography, also in text format, as well as a gallery of trailers for other First Run Features releases (and their Global Lens Series).

Final Words:

A fascinating film to watch, no doubt!! I really like First Run’s Global Lens Series as they highlight films that are very unlikely to be seen in North America under any other form. Unfortunately all of the films released under the Global Lens logo so far have been improperly sourced. Still, I believe that they are worthy of your attention even if at the end they do not quite live up to the standards a “recommended” DVD is expected to meet.

Sincere in intent but cursory…

January 24th, 2010 by benjamnsnchezsblog

Sincere in rapt but cursory in rendition, “Very Young Girls” is undeniably arresting because of its liable to suffer business, yet at bottom unsatisfying because of documaker David Schisgall’s wrong-focused approach to his material. Reviews on be mongrel, but fest baring and nontheatrical playdates may scratch awareness appropriate for the pic’s ultimate premiere on the Showtime cable network.

Intended as an antidote to glamorized depictions of prostitution that often appear in pop culture, doc repeatedly emphasizes that the average age for girls pressed into “the life” in the U.S. is 13. Unfortunately, this disturbing factoid isn’t quite as shocking as Schisgall obviously intends — indeed, it’s regrettably familiar to anyone who watches local TV newscasts during sweeps months — and “Very Young Girls” simply doesn’t dig deep enough to generate fresh outrage.

Schisgall and his collaborators offer some compelling interviews with several teens who are trying to escape their control-freakish pimps and start new lives. As pic proceeds, some succeed, some don’t — and all, unfortunately, come off as fuzzily defined case studies.

New York activist Rachel Lloyd provides shelter and support for exploited girls with her Girls Educational and Mentoring Service (GEMS) organization. But while she earns aud respect with her tireless work, Lloyd, too, remains a sketchy figure. Inexplicably, there’s very little examination of what presumably is Lloyd’s prime motivation: her own experiences as a prostitute. On the other hand, Lloyd does manage a well-aimed jab at the swaggering misogyny inherent in the lyrics of the Oscar-winning “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp.”

Schisgall might have done well to reveal more about fewer subjects. To his credit, though, he makes inspired use of police-confiscated videos shot by two self-aggrandizing pimps brothers Anthony and Chris Griffith — who documented their day-to-day activities in the hope of becoming stars in their very own reality TV show. Their casual brutality, revealed sporadically in clips scattered throughout the pic, is far more illuminating than any number of talking-head interviews.

Tech values are standard for docs of this sort.

Deep in the heart of Texas, St…

January 21st, 2010 by benjamnsnchezsblog

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Deep in the heart of Texas, Starla Grady (McGregor), belle of Splendona high, is proud never to have crossed the state crinkle. With a beauty pageant title at chance, manner, she agrees to host a French traffic grind, ‘in the aim of pandemic warming’. The suffer from is that Genevieve LePlouff (Perabo) is concealing serpentine intentions beneath her beret, not to cite a quiver-load of double entendres. Jolly xenophobia remains a Hollywood staple, but this comedy is VIP for taking most of its digs at American mute insularity. ‘Drowned in the river Seine,’ responds a classmate to one of Genevieve’s sob stories. ‘That’s, like, sooo Titanic!’ McGregor has a talent for camp comedy, looking quite unhinged from the start and supplying the voice-terminated rehearsal in an becomingly nasal twang, but on the whole this is deeply standard do.