Time is of the essence for Al Pacino's Dr. Jack Gramm, a forensic scientist who receives a threatening call on his cell phone informing him he's got all of 88 minutes to live.
But a scant hour-and-a-half can seem like a hellish eternity when you've got a nonsensical, exposition-heavy script (by Gary Scott Thompson) and stagy directing (by Jon Avnet) to work with, not to mention an official running time that actually exceeds the American-German co-production's real-time gimmick by almost 20 minutes.
Spending a good portion of the past two years being knocked around TriStar's release schedule, this ridiculous thriller would be hard-pressed to last much longer than its title in theaters before doing time on DVD, as is already the case in many overseas territories.
When two copycat killings take place within hours of the scheduled execution of Jon Forster (Neal McDonough), who was found guilty of being the serial killer known as the The Seattle Strangler, the media is beginning to wonder if Gramm's nine-year-old testimony convicted the right guy.
While Gramm is convinced the grisly killings are the work of a copycat killer, he finds himself with more pressing problems when he receives a personal, time-sensitive death threat from somebody who would appear to be operating within his own circle of colleagues.
As the body count continues to hit ever closer to home, Gramm is required to cut through the mounting paranoia and whittle down the list of potential suspects before it's too late.
It will actually take a lot less than 88 minutes for most audience members to figure out whodunit thanks to some clunky execution that effectively tips the culprit's identity within the first half-hour.
The old built-in ticking clock is a trick that can work successfully on a show like "24" or, to a lesser extent, in a film like John Badham's 1995 thriller, Nick of Time, but it requires expert calibration from both the writing and direction to pull it off.
A quickening of pace would also be a prerequisite, but in the case of 88 Minutes the accompanying action is more of the head-scratching than the pulse-pounding variety.
While Avnet is a filmmaker with a proven strength for character-driven literary drama like Fried Green Tomatoes, he seems out of his element here, especially the one provided by Gary Scott Thompson's ragingly artificial copycat of a copycat killer picture.
Pacino, sporting a wild hairdo and facial hair that seemingly channels the late Wolfman Jack, counts on his old bag of tricks to pump some credibility into his character, but this time they only take him so far.
Also squandered is a talented supporting cast including Alicia Witt, Amy Brenneman and Leelee Sobieski, among the list of possible suspects, who have all, apparently been instructed to overplay their roles on the potentially guilty side.
With something like eight executive producers on board, it's not surprising that the prevailing visual style would be best described as quick and dirty, with a barely-disguised Vancouver subbing for Seattle.
88 MINUTES
TriStar Pictures
A TriStar Pictures and Millennium Films presentation of a Randall Emmett/George Furla production for Equity Pictures Medienfonds GmbH & KG III and Nu Image Entertainment GmbH.
Credits:
Director: Jon Avnet
Writer: Gary Scott Thompson
Producers: Jon Avnet, Randall Emmett, Gary Scott Thompson, Avi Lerner
Executive producers: Danny Dimbort, Trevor Short, Boaz Davidson, George Furla, Andreas Thiesmeyer, Josef Lautenschlager, Lawrence Bender, John Baldecchi
Director of photography: Denis Lenoir
Production designer: Tracey Gallacher
Music: Edward Shearmur
Co-producers: Michael Flannigan, John Thompson, Samuel Hadida, Marsha Oglesby, Jochen Kamlah, Gerd Koechlin, Manfred Heid
Costume designer: Mary McLeod
Editor: Peter Berger
Cast:
Jack Gramm: Al Pacino
Kim Cummings: Alicia Witt
Lauren Douglas: Leelee Sobieski
Shelly Barnes: Amy Brenneman
Carol Lynn Johnson: Deborah Kara Unger
Benjamin McKenzie: Mike Stempt
Jon Forster: Neal McDonough
Running time -- 106 minutes
MPAA rating: R...
But a scant hour-and-a-half can seem like a hellish eternity when you've got a nonsensical, exposition-heavy script (by Gary Scott Thompson) and stagy directing (by Jon Avnet) to work with, not to mention an official running time that actually exceeds the American-German co-production's real-time gimmick by almost 20 minutes.
Spending a good portion of the past two years being knocked around TriStar's release schedule, this ridiculous thriller would be hard-pressed to last much longer than its title in theaters before doing time on DVD, as is already the case in many overseas territories.
When two copycat killings take place within hours of the scheduled execution of Jon Forster (Neal McDonough), who was found guilty of being the serial killer known as the The Seattle Strangler, the media is beginning to wonder if Gramm's nine-year-old testimony convicted the right guy.
While Gramm is convinced the grisly killings are the work of a copycat killer, he finds himself with more pressing problems when he receives a personal, time-sensitive death threat from somebody who would appear to be operating within his own circle of colleagues.
As the body count continues to hit ever closer to home, Gramm is required to cut through the mounting paranoia and whittle down the list of potential suspects before it's too late.
It will actually take a lot less than 88 minutes for most audience members to figure out whodunit thanks to some clunky execution that effectively tips the culprit's identity within the first half-hour.
The old built-in ticking clock is a trick that can work successfully on a show like "24" or, to a lesser extent, in a film like John Badham's 1995 thriller, Nick of Time, but it requires expert calibration from both the writing and direction to pull it off.
A quickening of pace would also be a prerequisite, but in the case of 88 Minutes the accompanying action is more of the head-scratching than the pulse-pounding variety.
While Avnet is a filmmaker with a proven strength for character-driven literary drama like Fried Green Tomatoes, he seems out of his element here, especially the one provided by Gary Scott Thompson's ragingly artificial copycat of a copycat killer picture.
Pacino, sporting a wild hairdo and facial hair that seemingly channels the late Wolfman Jack, counts on his old bag of tricks to pump some credibility into his character, but this time they only take him so far.
Also squandered is a talented supporting cast including Alicia Witt, Amy Brenneman and Leelee Sobieski, among the list of possible suspects, who have all, apparently been instructed to overplay their roles on the potentially guilty side.
With something like eight executive producers on board, it's not surprising that the prevailing visual style would be best described as quick and dirty, with a barely-disguised Vancouver subbing for Seattle.
88 MINUTES
TriStar Pictures
A TriStar Pictures and Millennium Films presentation of a Randall Emmett/George Furla production for Equity Pictures Medienfonds GmbH & KG III and Nu Image Entertainment GmbH.
Credits:
Director: Jon Avnet
Writer: Gary Scott Thompson
Producers: Jon Avnet, Randall Emmett, Gary Scott Thompson, Avi Lerner
Executive producers: Danny Dimbort, Trevor Short, Boaz Davidson, George Furla, Andreas Thiesmeyer, Josef Lautenschlager, Lawrence Bender, John Baldecchi
Director of photography: Denis Lenoir
Production designer: Tracey Gallacher
Music: Edward Shearmur
Co-producers: Michael Flannigan, John Thompson, Samuel Hadida, Marsha Oglesby, Jochen Kamlah, Gerd Koechlin, Manfred Heid
Costume designer: Mary McLeod
Editor: Peter Berger
Cast:
Jack Gramm: Al Pacino
Kim Cummings: Alicia Witt
Lauren Douglas: Leelee Sobieski
Shelly Barnes: Amy Brenneman
Carol Lynn Johnson: Deborah Kara Unger
Benjamin McKenzie: Mike Stempt
Jon Forster: Neal McDonough
Running time -- 106 minutes
MPAA rating: R...
- 4/14/2008
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
This review was written for the theatrical release of "One Missed Call".Little wonder that this remake of a J-horror slipped out during the post-Christmas lull. The direction is uninspired, acting is lifeless, and the script borders on the inept. A PG-13 rating means that it's short on shocks, too. "One Missed Call" probably will die a quick death.
Eric Valette's film is a remake of cult director Takashi Miike's 2003 "Chakushin Ari". The thin plot hinges on a series of cell phone messages that contain recordings of the phone owner's future death cries. When friends of Beth (Shannyn Sossamon) start dying nasty deaths, she discovers that they all received horrifying messages at the time of their murder. Investigating with Jack (Ed Burns), a cop whose sister was a victim, she tries to discover the murderer before she, too, gets that call. They think the ghost of an abusive mother is doing the killings, but then the story takes a different turn.
Miike's films are overrated, but at least they're peppered with black humor and outrageous doings. But "One Missed Call" is so straightforward, with a predictable plot and ghosts that look as if they've bought their costumes from a Halloween supplies store. A slight twist at the end provides a moment of interest, but because it's not adequately foreshadowed in the story, it's hardly satisfying. Some scenes, including a priest trying to exorcise a cell phone (!) in a church, are simply ridiculous.
The story has elements of "Ringu", the terrifying movie that stated the J-horror craze in the past decade. Instead of a cell phone call, that movie had a spooky video signaling the death of the viewer. Valette makes a brief reference to the visual shocks of "Ringu" with a single use of a degraded, black-and-white video image.
ONE MISSED CALL
Warner Bros.
Alcon Entertainment and Kadokawa Pictures present in association with Equity Pictures Medienfonds GmbH and Co KGIV an Intermedia Films production
Credits:
Director: Eric Valette
Screenwriter: Andrew Kalavan
Based on the novel by: Yasushi Akimoto
Producers: Broderick Johnson, Andrew A. Kosove, Scott Kroopf, Jennie Lew Tugend, Lauren C. Weissman
Executive producers: Shinya Egawa, Timothy M. Bourne, Martin Schuermann, Josef Lautenschlager, Andreas Thiesmeyer
Co-producers: Steven P. Wegner, Elizabeth Cushman, Alison Haskovee, Manfred Heid, Gerd Koechlin
Director of photography: Glen Macpherson
Production designer: Laurence Bennet
Music: Reinhold Heil, Johnny Klimek
Costume designer: Sandra Hernandez
Editor: Steve Mirkovich
Cast:
Beth: Shannyn Sossamon
Jack: Edward Burns
Taylor: Ana Claudia Talancon
Ted: Ray Wise
Leann: Azura Skye
Running time -- 87 minutes
MPAA rating: PG-13...
Eric Valette's film is a remake of cult director Takashi Miike's 2003 "Chakushin Ari". The thin plot hinges on a series of cell phone messages that contain recordings of the phone owner's future death cries. When friends of Beth (Shannyn Sossamon) start dying nasty deaths, she discovers that they all received horrifying messages at the time of their murder. Investigating with Jack (Ed Burns), a cop whose sister was a victim, she tries to discover the murderer before she, too, gets that call. They think the ghost of an abusive mother is doing the killings, but then the story takes a different turn.
Miike's films are overrated, but at least they're peppered with black humor and outrageous doings. But "One Missed Call" is so straightforward, with a predictable plot and ghosts that look as if they've bought their costumes from a Halloween supplies store. A slight twist at the end provides a moment of interest, but because it's not adequately foreshadowed in the story, it's hardly satisfying. Some scenes, including a priest trying to exorcise a cell phone (!) in a church, are simply ridiculous.
The story has elements of "Ringu", the terrifying movie that stated the J-horror craze in the past decade. Instead of a cell phone call, that movie had a spooky video signaling the death of the viewer. Valette makes a brief reference to the visual shocks of "Ringu" with a single use of a degraded, black-and-white video image.
ONE MISSED CALL
Warner Bros.
Alcon Entertainment and Kadokawa Pictures present in association with Equity Pictures Medienfonds GmbH and Co KGIV an Intermedia Films production
Credits:
Director: Eric Valette
Screenwriter: Andrew Kalavan
Based on the novel by: Yasushi Akimoto
Producers: Broderick Johnson, Andrew A. Kosove, Scott Kroopf, Jennie Lew Tugend, Lauren C. Weissman
Executive producers: Shinya Egawa, Timothy M. Bourne, Martin Schuermann, Josef Lautenschlager, Andreas Thiesmeyer
Co-producers: Steven P. Wegner, Elizabeth Cushman, Alison Haskovee, Manfred Heid, Gerd Koechlin
Director of photography: Glen Macpherson
Production designer: Laurence Bennet
Music: Reinhold Heil, Johnny Klimek
Costume designer: Sandra Hernandez
Editor: Steve Mirkovich
Cast:
Beth: Shannyn Sossamon
Jack: Edward Burns
Taylor: Ana Claudia Talancon
Ted: Ray Wise
Leann: Azura Skye
Running time -- 87 minutes
MPAA rating: PG-13...
Little wonder that this remake of a J-horror slipped out during the post-Christmas lull. The direction is uninspired, acting is lifeless, and the script borders on the inept. A PG-13 rating means that it's short on shocks, too. One Missed Call probably will die a quick death.
Eric Valette's film is a remake of cult director Takashi Miike's 2003 Chakushin Ari. The thin plot hinges on a series of cell phone messages that contain recordings of the phone owner's future death cries. When friends of Beth (Shannyn Sossamon) start dying nasty deaths, she discovers that they all received horrifying messages at the time of their murder. Investigating with Jack (Ed Burns), a cop whose sister was a victim, she tries to discover the murderer before she, too, gets that call. They think the ghost of an abusive mother is doing the killings, but then the story takes a different turn.
Miike's films are overrated, but at least they're peppered with black humor and outrageous doings. But One Missed Call is so straightforward, with a predictable plot and ghosts that look as if they've bought their costumes from a Halloween supplies store. A slight twist at the end provides a moment of interest, but because it's not adequately foreshadowed in the story, it's hardly satisfying. Some scenes, including a priest trying to exorcise a cell phone (!) in a church, are simply ridiculous.
The story has elements of Ringu, the terrifying movie that stated the J-horror craze in the past decade. Instead of a cell phone call, that movie had a spooky video signaling the death of the viewer. Valette makes a brief reference to the visual shocks of Ringu with a single use of a degraded, black-and-white video image.
ONE MISSED CALL
Warner Bros.
Alcon Entertainment and Kadokawa Pictures present in association with Equity Pictures Medienfonds GmbH and Co KGIV an Intermedia Films production
Credits:
Director: Eric Valette
Screenwriter: Andrew Kalavan
Based on the novel by: Yasushi Akimoto
Producers: Broderick Johnson, Andrew A. Kosove, Scott Kroopf, Jennie Lew Tugend, Lauren C. Weissman
Executive producers: Shinya Egawa, Timothy M. Bourne, Martin Schuermann, Josef Lautenschlager, Andreas Thiesmeyer
Co-producers: Steven P. Wegner, Elizabeth Cushman, Alison Haskovee, Manfred Heid, Gerd Koechlin
Director of photography: Glen Macpherson
Production designer: Laurence Bennet
Music: Reinhold Heil, Johnny Klimek
Costume designer: Sandra Hernandez
Editor: Steve Mirkovich
Cast:
Beth: Shannyn Sossamon
Jack: Edward Burns
Taylor: Ana Claudia Talancon
Ted: Ray Wise
Leann: Azura Skye
Running time -- 87 minutes
MPAA rating: PG-13...
Eric Valette's film is a remake of cult director Takashi Miike's 2003 Chakushin Ari. The thin plot hinges on a series of cell phone messages that contain recordings of the phone owner's future death cries. When friends of Beth (Shannyn Sossamon) start dying nasty deaths, she discovers that they all received horrifying messages at the time of their murder. Investigating with Jack (Ed Burns), a cop whose sister was a victim, she tries to discover the murderer before she, too, gets that call. They think the ghost of an abusive mother is doing the killings, but then the story takes a different turn.
Miike's films are overrated, but at least they're peppered with black humor and outrageous doings. But One Missed Call is so straightforward, with a predictable plot and ghosts that look as if they've bought their costumes from a Halloween supplies store. A slight twist at the end provides a moment of interest, but because it's not adequately foreshadowed in the story, it's hardly satisfying. Some scenes, including a priest trying to exorcise a cell phone (!) in a church, are simply ridiculous.
The story has elements of Ringu, the terrifying movie that stated the J-horror craze in the past decade. Instead of a cell phone call, that movie had a spooky video signaling the death of the viewer. Valette makes a brief reference to the visual shocks of Ringu with a single use of a degraded, black-and-white video image.
ONE MISSED CALL
Warner Bros.
Alcon Entertainment and Kadokawa Pictures present in association with Equity Pictures Medienfonds GmbH and Co KGIV an Intermedia Films production
Credits:
Director: Eric Valette
Screenwriter: Andrew Kalavan
Based on the novel by: Yasushi Akimoto
Producers: Broderick Johnson, Andrew A. Kosove, Scott Kroopf, Jennie Lew Tugend, Lauren C. Weissman
Executive producers: Shinya Egawa, Timothy M. Bourne, Martin Schuermann, Josef Lautenschlager, Andreas Thiesmeyer
Co-producers: Steven P. Wegner, Elizabeth Cushman, Alison Haskovee, Manfred Heid, Gerd Koechlin
Director of photography: Glen Macpherson
Production designer: Laurence Bennet
Music: Reinhold Heil, Johnny Klimek
Costume designer: Sandra Hernandez
Editor: Steve Mirkovich
Cast:
Beth: Shannyn Sossamon
Jack: Edward Burns
Taylor: Ana Claudia Talancon
Ted: Ray Wise
Leann: Azura Skye
Running time -- 87 minutes
MPAA rating: PG-13...
Far more ambitious and stylish than most of today's horror crop, Neil LaBute's remake of the 1973 U.K. cult classic "The Wicker Man" unfortunately still falls far short of its mark. Unlikely to inspire a passionate following similar to the original, the film, which opened Friday without being screened for the press, ultimately induces more titters than dread.
LaBute has long ex-plored the relationship between the sexes in his work, and he has infused this version of the story -- about a policeman, in search of a missing little girl, who travels to a remote island populated by a perverse pagan society -- with a feminist touch. Replacing the original's Christopher Lee as the leader of the clan is Ellen Burstyn, who presides over a female-dominated population in which the men are essentially the worker bees.
The film begins creepily enough with a strikingly staged pretitle sequence in which Edward Malus (Nicolas Cage), a California motorcycle cop, watches in horror as a mother and her little girl are incinerated in their car after a crash. The emotionally fragile cop is thus more vulnerable to an urgent message from Willow (Kate Beahan), the fiancee who dumped him years earlier. Writing from a remote island called Summersisle in the Pacific Northwest, she begs him to help her find her missing daughter.
Arriving on the island after great difficulty, he finds a strange agrarian society dependent on its harvesting of honey. The women, all addressed as "Sister", treat him with frostiness and suspicion, while the men are strangely silent. He encounters obstacle after obstacle while attempting to find the girl, nearly dying from drowning and bee stings in the process. Ultimately, he discovers that the reason for his presence on the island has more sinister ramifications than he possibly could have imagined.
Director-screenwriter LaBute is unable to invest this strange gothic material with the requisite degree of menace. A more accomplished stylist might have pulled it off, or possibly the film might have worked as a delirious black comedy. The filmmaker goes somewhat in the latter direction, abetted by Cage's expert slow-burn reactions to the bizarre situations he encounters. But the film, which eschews the eroticism and religious subtexts of the original, eventually lapses into unintentional humor, with such lines delivered by the actor as "Something bad is about to happen, I can feel it" (uttered after about 100 bad things already have happened) and his warning one woman to "Step away from the bike" inducing giggles. By the time of the intended horrific climactic scene, which includes Cage in a bear suit and Burstyn in face paint looking like Braveheart, things have gone irretrievably downhill.
It's too bad because for a good part of its running time, "Wicker Man" exerts a real fascination. It also boasts terrific production values, including beautiful widescreen cinematography, a suitably eerie score by Angelo Badalamenti and creepily effective performances from supporting players Frances Conroy, Molly Parker, Leelee Sobieski and Diane Delano.
End credits include a dedication to the late musician Johnny Ramone, who apparently sparked Cage's interest in a remake.
The Wicker Man
Warner Bros. Pictures
Alcon Entertainment and Millennium Films present a Saturn Films and Emmet/Furla Films production for Equity Pictures, Medienfonds, GmbH & Co., KG III and Nu Image Entertainment
Credits:
Director-screenwriter: Neil LaBute
Producers: Nicolas Cage, Norm Golightly, Avi Lerner, Randall Emmett, John Thompson, Boaz Davidson
Executive producers: George Furla, Joanne Sellar, Trevor Short, Andreas Thiesmayer, Josef Lautenschlager, Danny Dimbort, Elisa Salinas
Director of photography: Paul Sarossy
Editor: Joel Plotch
Production designer: Phillip Barker
Costume designer: Lynette Meyer
Music: Angelo Badalamenti
Cast:
Edward Malus: Nicolas Cage
Sister Summersisle: Ellen Burstyn
Sister Willow: Kate Beahan
Dr. Moss: Frances Conroy
Sister Rose: Molly Parker
Sister Honey: Leelee Sobieski
Sister Beech: Diane Delano
MPAA rating PG-13
Running time -- 97 minutes...
LaBute has long ex-plored the relationship between the sexes in his work, and he has infused this version of the story -- about a policeman, in search of a missing little girl, who travels to a remote island populated by a perverse pagan society -- with a feminist touch. Replacing the original's Christopher Lee as the leader of the clan is Ellen Burstyn, who presides over a female-dominated population in which the men are essentially the worker bees.
The film begins creepily enough with a strikingly staged pretitle sequence in which Edward Malus (Nicolas Cage), a California motorcycle cop, watches in horror as a mother and her little girl are incinerated in their car after a crash. The emotionally fragile cop is thus more vulnerable to an urgent message from Willow (Kate Beahan), the fiancee who dumped him years earlier. Writing from a remote island called Summersisle in the Pacific Northwest, she begs him to help her find her missing daughter.
Arriving on the island after great difficulty, he finds a strange agrarian society dependent on its harvesting of honey. The women, all addressed as "Sister", treat him with frostiness and suspicion, while the men are strangely silent. He encounters obstacle after obstacle while attempting to find the girl, nearly dying from drowning and bee stings in the process. Ultimately, he discovers that the reason for his presence on the island has more sinister ramifications than he possibly could have imagined.
Director-screenwriter LaBute is unable to invest this strange gothic material with the requisite degree of menace. A more accomplished stylist might have pulled it off, or possibly the film might have worked as a delirious black comedy. The filmmaker goes somewhat in the latter direction, abetted by Cage's expert slow-burn reactions to the bizarre situations he encounters. But the film, which eschews the eroticism and religious subtexts of the original, eventually lapses into unintentional humor, with such lines delivered by the actor as "Something bad is about to happen, I can feel it" (uttered after about 100 bad things already have happened) and his warning one woman to "Step away from the bike" inducing giggles. By the time of the intended horrific climactic scene, which includes Cage in a bear suit and Burstyn in face paint looking like Braveheart, things have gone irretrievably downhill.
It's too bad because for a good part of its running time, "Wicker Man" exerts a real fascination. It also boasts terrific production values, including beautiful widescreen cinematography, a suitably eerie score by Angelo Badalamenti and creepily effective performances from supporting players Frances Conroy, Molly Parker, Leelee Sobieski and Diane Delano.
End credits include a dedication to the late musician Johnny Ramone, who apparently sparked Cage's interest in a remake.
The Wicker Man
Warner Bros. Pictures
Alcon Entertainment and Millennium Films present a Saturn Films and Emmet/Furla Films production for Equity Pictures, Medienfonds, GmbH & Co., KG III and Nu Image Entertainment
Credits:
Director-screenwriter: Neil LaBute
Producers: Nicolas Cage, Norm Golightly, Avi Lerner, Randall Emmett, John Thompson, Boaz Davidson
Executive producers: George Furla, Joanne Sellar, Trevor Short, Andreas Thiesmayer, Josef Lautenschlager, Danny Dimbort, Elisa Salinas
Director of photography: Paul Sarossy
Editor: Joel Plotch
Production designer: Phillip Barker
Costume designer: Lynette Meyer
Music: Angelo Badalamenti
Cast:
Edward Malus: Nicolas Cage
Sister Summersisle: Ellen Burstyn
Sister Willow: Kate Beahan
Dr. Moss: Frances Conroy
Sister Rose: Molly Parker
Sister Honey: Leelee Sobieski
Sister Beech: Diane Delano
MPAA rating PG-13
Running time -- 97 minutes...
"Black Dahlia" has the looks, smarts and attitude of a classic Brian De Palma/film noir thriller. During the first hour, the hope that the director has tapped into something really great mounts with each passing minute. Then, gradually, the feverish pulp imagination of James Ellroy, on whose novel Josh Friedman based his screenplay, feeds into De Palma's dark side. The violence grows absurd, emotions get overplayed, and the film revels once too often in its gleeful depiction of corrupt, decadent old Los Angeles. Disappointingly, the film edges dangerously into camp.
No, "Black Dahlia" never quite falls into that black hole. The actors in the major roles cling firmly, even lovingly, to their boisterous characters. The sordidness and madness never seem completely wrong given the rancid world the movie surveys. Nevertheless, the second half feels heavy and unfulfilled, potential greatness reduced to a good movie plagued with problems.
Because the want-to-see factor for this anticipated film is equal to your want-to-like desire, the film's domestic distributor, Universal, could enjoy potent boxoffice. But it might skew older, to fans of De Palma and crime fiction as well as those who recall one of Los Angeles' most infamous murders.
On Jan. 15, 1947, the city -- in its postwar frenzy of growth, development, racial tensions and unbridled ambition -- awoke to an unimaginable crime: The torture-ravished body of a beautiful young woman named Elizabeth Short was found in a vacant lot off Crenshaw. The body was cut in half at the waist, disemboweled, drained of all blood and cruelly marked with grotesque taunts by her killer. The discovery sparked the city's greatest manhunt, but the killer was never found.
Which hasn't prevented continual articles, books, novels and documentaries from speculating on possible motives and suspects. Ellroy took a fictional crack at the case in arguably his best Los Angeles crime novel. It was typical Ellroy, who blamed the ghastly murder not on a deranged psychopath with a score to settle but rather police corruption, political chicanery, ruthless gangsters and various businessmen. In other words, the city killed Elizabeth.
Like any of his crackling crime tales, Ellroy surrounds historical events with fiendishly dark fictional characters. The cops on the case are Bucky Bleichert (Josh Hartnett) and Lee Blanchard (Aaron Eckhart), ex-boxers who become partners on the beat and off. Bucky finds himself in an unconsummated menage with Lee and his live-in lover, Kay Lake (Scarlett Johansson). Each has troubling secrets.
Lee, hopped up on Benzedrine, grows obsessed with The Black Dahlia, as the newspapers named Elizabeth, driven to know everything about her. Bucky, too, is drawn to her fatal charm, especially when his lone-wolf investigation into lesbian bars brings him under the sway of an AC/DC hottie named Madeleine Linscott (Hilary Swank), whose daddy is the richest developer in the city.
Characters, subplots and twists come fast and thick -- albeit abridged from an even greater onslaught in the novel. It is with the introduction of the Linscott family, though, that the story develops a noticeable wobble. Predictably, the Linscotts' involvement with the Dahlia proves extensive. Yet it is really so far-fetched. The family is one of those fictional creations where dementia, delusion and depravity run silent and deep, only to erupt in grotesque outbursts that border on the comic.
And speaking of comic, you should see De Palma and production designer Dante Ferretti's idea of a Los Angeles lesbian bar circa 1947. Instead of an underground hideaway, the place is a veritable Follies Bergere with half-naked chorines writhing and smooching on a towering stairway to the strains of a big band belting out Cole Porter.
But the film does many things right. The rapid dialogue is sharp throughout, as it should be because much of it is lifted from Ellroy's novel. Hartnett delivers an intriguing mix of tenderness, self-righteousness and self-incrimination -- Ellroy cops are never clean. Eckhart plays scenes at full throttle yet never feels out of control. As the good vamp, Johansson uses an angelic pout and faux innocence to have her way with men. As the bad vamp, Swank goes for such unrestrained sexuality that she makes the actual Dahlia -- Mia Kirshner seen in screen tests and one rather tame stag film -- seem almost demure.
Then there are the De Palma touches that pull you out of the movie: the black bird swooping down symbolically on the Dahlia's corpse, an earthquake thrown in for no good reason, Fiona Shaw's over-the-top performance as Madeleine's drug-addled mom, the rush of revelations in the final reel that feels more like footnotes than climactic moments.
Mark Isham's music is lush whether in a romantic or an overheated mood. Vilmos Zsigmond's graceful camera is a tad self-conscious as are sets and costumes, all a little too eager to flout their period trappings.
THE BLACK DAHLIA
Universal Pictures
Universal in association with Millennnium Films presents a Signature Pictures production for Equity Pictures Medienfonds and Nu-Image Entertainment
Credits:
Director: Brian De Palma
Screenwriter: Josh Friedman
Based on the novel by: James Ellroy
Producers: Art Linson, Avi Lerner, Moshe Diamant, Ruby Cohen
Executive producers: James B. Harris, Danny Dimbort, Boaz Davidson, Trevor Short, John Thompson, Andreas Thiesmeyer, Josef Lautenschlager, Henrik Huydts, Rolf Deyhle
Director of photography: Vilmos Zsigmond
Production designer: Dante Ferretti
Music: Mark Isham
Costume designer: Jenny Beavan
Editor: Bill Pankow
Cast:
Bucky Bleichert: Josh Hartnett
Lee Blanchard: Aaron Eckhart
Kay Lake: Scarlett Johansson
Madeleine Linscott: Hilary Swank
Elizabeth Short: Mia Kirshner
Russ Millard: Mike Starr
Ramona: Fiona Shaw
Martha: Rachel Miner
Bill Koenig: Victor McGuire
MPAA rating: R
Running time -- 121 minutes...
No, "Black Dahlia" never quite falls into that black hole. The actors in the major roles cling firmly, even lovingly, to their boisterous characters. The sordidness and madness never seem completely wrong given the rancid world the movie surveys. Nevertheless, the second half feels heavy and unfulfilled, potential greatness reduced to a good movie plagued with problems.
Because the want-to-see factor for this anticipated film is equal to your want-to-like desire, the film's domestic distributor, Universal, could enjoy potent boxoffice. But it might skew older, to fans of De Palma and crime fiction as well as those who recall one of Los Angeles' most infamous murders.
On Jan. 15, 1947, the city -- in its postwar frenzy of growth, development, racial tensions and unbridled ambition -- awoke to an unimaginable crime: The torture-ravished body of a beautiful young woman named Elizabeth Short was found in a vacant lot off Crenshaw. The body was cut in half at the waist, disemboweled, drained of all blood and cruelly marked with grotesque taunts by her killer. The discovery sparked the city's greatest manhunt, but the killer was never found.
Which hasn't prevented continual articles, books, novels and documentaries from speculating on possible motives and suspects. Ellroy took a fictional crack at the case in arguably his best Los Angeles crime novel. It was typical Ellroy, who blamed the ghastly murder not on a deranged psychopath with a score to settle but rather police corruption, political chicanery, ruthless gangsters and various businessmen. In other words, the city killed Elizabeth.
Like any of his crackling crime tales, Ellroy surrounds historical events with fiendishly dark fictional characters. The cops on the case are Bucky Bleichert (Josh Hartnett) and Lee Blanchard (Aaron Eckhart), ex-boxers who become partners on the beat and off. Bucky finds himself in an unconsummated menage with Lee and his live-in lover, Kay Lake (Scarlett Johansson). Each has troubling secrets.
Lee, hopped up on Benzedrine, grows obsessed with The Black Dahlia, as the newspapers named Elizabeth, driven to know everything about her. Bucky, too, is drawn to her fatal charm, especially when his lone-wolf investigation into lesbian bars brings him under the sway of an AC/DC hottie named Madeleine Linscott (Hilary Swank), whose daddy is the richest developer in the city.
Characters, subplots and twists come fast and thick -- albeit abridged from an even greater onslaught in the novel. It is with the introduction of the Linscott family, though, that the story develops a noticeable wobble. Predictably, the Linscotts' involvement with the Dahlia proves extensive. Yet it is really so far-fetched. The family is one of those fictional creations where dementia, delusion and depravity run silent and deep, only to erupt in grotesque outbursts that border on the comic.
And speaking of comic, you should see De Palma and production designer Dante Ferretti's idea of a Los Angeles lesbian bar circa 1947. Instead of an underground hideaway, the place is a veritable Follies Bergere with half-naked chorines writhing and smooching on a towering stairway to the strains of a big band belting out Cole Porter.
But the film does many things right. The rapid dialogue is sharp throughout, as it should be because much of it is lifted from Ellroy's novel. Hartnett delivers an intriguing mix of tenderness, self-righteousness and self-incrimination -- Ellroy cops are never clean. Eckhart plays scenes at full throttle yet never feels out of control. As the good vamp, Johansson uses an angelic pout and faux innocence to have her way with men. As the bad vamp, Swank goes for such unrestrained sexuality that she makes the actual Dahlia -- Mia Kirshner seen in screen tests and one rather tame stag film -- seem almost demure.
Then there are the De Palma touches that pull you out of the movie: the black bird swooping down symbolically on the Dahlia's corpse, an earthquake thrown in for no good reason, Fiona Shaw's over-the-top performance as Madeleine's drug-addled mom, the rush of revelations in the final reel that feels more like footnotes than climactic moments.
Mark Isham's music is lush whether in a romantic or an overheated mood. Vilmos Zsigmond's graceful camera is a tad self-conscious as are sets and costumes, all a little too eager to flout their period trappings.
THE BLACK DAHLIA
Universal Pictures
Universal in association with Millennnium Films presents a Signature Pictures production for Equity Pictures Medienfonds and Nu-Image Entertainment
Credits:
Director: Brian De Palma
Screenwriter: Josh Friedman
Based on the novel by: James Ellroy
Producers: Art Linson, Avi Lerner, Moshe Diamant, Ruby Cohen
Executive producers: James B. Harris, Danny Dimbort, Boaz Davidson, Trevor Short, John Thompson, Andreas Thiesmeyer, Josef Lautenschlager, Henrik Huydts, Rolf Deyhle
Director of photography: Vilmos Zsigmond
Production designer: Dante Ferretti
Music: Mark Isham
Costume designer: Jenny Beavan
Editor: Bill Pankow
Cast:
Bucky Bleichert: Josh Hartnett
Lee Blanchard: Aaron Eckhart
Kay Lake: Scarlett Johansson
Madeleine Linscott: Hilary Swank
Elizabeth Short: Mia Kirshner
Russ Millard: Mike Starr
Ramona: Fiona Shaw
Martha: Rachel Miner
Bill Koenig: Victor McGuire
MPAA rating: R
Running time -- 121 minutes...
- 8/31/2006
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
NEW YORK -- The notorious Lonely Hearts Killers of the 1940s already have provided the inspiration for more than one film. But while the duo's crimes were indeed sensational, writer-director Todd Robinson's starry take on the material fails to provide much in the way of a new perspective. Concentrating as much on the detectives investigating the case as on the killers, "Lonely Hearts" fails to show off its impressive cast at their best. The film recently had its world premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival.
For those who don't recollect the case, it involved Raymond Fernandez (Jared Leto) and Martha Beck (Salma Hayek), who teamed up to commit a string of murders before being caught and executed at Sing Sing in 1951. They were dubbed the Lonely Heart Killers because of their conning of lonely war widows, using Raymond's Latin charms as romantic bait.
Robinson's version depicts the initial teaming of the pair, after Raymond attempted to fleece Martha before realizing she was more than his match when it came to criminality. Indeed, as the film has it, she was a murderous psychopath who elevated her partner's crimes from mere swindling to murder.
Tracking the pair are Long Island detectives Elmer C. Robinson (John Travolta) and his partner, Charles Hildebrandt (James Gandolfini). Fueling Robinson's passion to solve the case is his guilt over his wife's suicide and his covert relationship with a female co-worker (Laura Dern).
The film alternates between scenes depicting the killers' wooing and dispatching of their victims, including a lonely middle-aged woman (Alice Krige) and a young widowed mother (Dagmara Dominczyk), and the detectives' dogged pursuit. The filmmaker doesn't shy away from brutal violence when it comes to the murders, with several of the scenes proving difficult to watch.
Unfortunately, the filmmaker is unable to render either of his intertwining stories with much interest. The killers' crime spree has a familiarity that is not given a particularly original approach, as does the detective's emotional travails. (It's easy to understand the emphasis, however, since Robinson is the real-life grandson of Travolta's character).
Travolta and Gandolfini, in their fourth film together, have a strong rapport, and the former provides his usual complex emotional shadings. But Gandolfini, other than providing a hard-boiled narration, has little to work with here. More egregious in terms of casting are Leto, who is wholly unconvincing as a smooth Latin charmer, and Hayek, who besides bearing no physical resemblance at all to the actual Beck, even here seems far more likable than threatening.
LONELY HEARTS
Nu Image/Millennium Films
Credits:
Director-screenwriter: Todd Robinson
Producers: Boaz Davidson, Holly Wiersma
Executive producers: Danny Dimbort, Randall Emmett, George Furla, Manfred Heid, Gerd Koechlin, Josef Lautenschlager, Avi Lerner, Trevor Short, Andreas Thiesmeyer, John Thompson
Cinematographer: Peter Levy
Editor: Kathryn Himoff
Production designer: Jon Gary Steele
Costume designer: Jacqueline West
Music: Mychael Danna
Cast:
Elmer C. Robinson: John Travolta
Charles Hildebrandt: James Gandolfini
Martha Beck: Salma Hayek
Raymond Fernandez: Jared Leto
Rene: Laura Dern
Detective Reilly: Scott Caan
Janet: Alice Krige
Delphine Downing: Dagmara Dominczyk
Running time -- 108 minutes
MPAA rating R...
For those who don't recollect the case, it involved Raymond Fernandez (Jared Leto) and Martha Beck (Salma Hayek), who teamed up to commit a string of murders before being caught and executed at Sing Sing in 1951. They were dubbed the Lonely Heart Killers because of their conning of lonely war widows, using Raymond's Latin charms as romantic bait.
Robinson's version depicts the initial teaming of the pair, after Raymond attempted to fleece Martha before realizing she was more than his match when it came to criminality. Indeed, as the film has it, she was a murderous psychopath who elevated her partner's crimes from mere swindling to murder.
Tracking the pair are Long Island detectives Elmer C. Robinson (John Travolta) and his partner, Charles Hildebrandt (James Gandolfini). Fueling Robinson's passion to solve the case is his guilt over his wife's suicide and his covert relationship with a female co-worker (Laura Dern).
The film alternates between scenes depicting the killers' wooing and dispatching of their victims, including a lonely middle-aged woman (Alice Krige) and a young widowed mother (Dagmara Dominczyk), and the detectives' dogged pursuit. The filmmaker doesn't shy away from brutal violence when it comes to the murders, with several of the scenes proving difficult to watch.
Unfortunately, the filmmaker is unable to render either of his intertwining stories with much interest. The killers' crime spree has a familiarity that is not given a particularly original approach, as does the detective's emotional travails. (It's easy to understand the emphasis, however, since Robinson is the real-life grandson of Travolta's character).
Travolta and Gandolfini, in their fourth film together, have a strong rapport, and the former provides his usual complex emotional shadings. But Gandolfini, other than providing a hard-boiled narration, has little to work with here. More egregious in terms of casting are Leto, who is wholly unconvincing as a smooth Latin charmer, and Hayek, who besides bearing no physical resemblance at all to the actual Beck, even here seems far more likable than threatening.
LONELY HEARTS
Nu Image/Millennium Films
Credits:
Director-screenwriter: Todd Robinson
Producers: Boaz Davidson, Holly Wiersma
Executive producers: Danny Dimbort, Randall Emmett, George Furla, Manfred Heid, Gerd Koechlin, Josef Lautenschlager, Avi Lerner, Trevor Short, Andreas Thiesmeyer, John Thompson
Cinematographer: Peter Levy
Editor: Kathryn Himoff
Production designer: Jon Gary Steele
Costume designer: Jacqueline West
Music: Mychael Danna
Cast:
Elmer C. Robinson: John Travolta
Charles Hildebrandt: James Gandolfini
Martha Beck: Salma Hayek
Raymond Fernandez: Jared Leto
Rene: Laura Dern
Detective Reilly: Scott Caan
Janet: Alice Krige
Delphine Downing: Dagmara Dominczyk
Running time -- 108 minutes
MPAA rating R...
NEW YORK -- The notorious Lonely Hearts Killers of the 1940s already have provided the inspiration for more than one film. But while the duo's crimes were indeed sensational, writer-director Todd Robinson's starry take on the material fails to provide much in the way of a new perspective. Concentrating as much on the detectives investigating the case as on the killers, Lonely Hearts fails to show off its impressive cast at their best. The film recently had its world premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival.
For those who don't recollect the case, it involved Raymond Fernandez (Jared Leto) and Martha Beck (Salma Hayek), who teamed up to commit a string of murders before being caught and executed at Sing Sing in 1951. They were dubbed the Lonely Heart Killers because of their conning of lonely war widows, using Raymond's Latin charms as romantic bait.
Robinson's version depicts the initial teaming of the pair, after Raymond attempted to fleece Martha before realizing she was more than his match when it came to criminality. Indeed, as the film has it, she was a murderous psychopath who elevated her partner's crimes from mere swindling to murder.
Tracking the pair are Long Island detectives Elmer C. Robinson (John Travolta) and his partner, Charles Hildebrandt (James Gandolfini). Fueling Robinson's passion to solve the case is his guilt over his wife's suicide and his covert relationship with a female co-worker (Laura Dern).
The film alternates between scenes depicting the killers' wooing and dispatching of their victims, including a lonely middle-aged woman (Alice Krige) and a young widowed mother (Dagmara Dominczyk), and the detectives' dogged pursuit. The filmmaker doesn't shy away from brutal violence when it comes to the murders, with several of the scenes proving difficult to watch.
Unfortunately, the filmmaker is unable to render either of his intertwining stories with much interest. The killers' crime spree has a familiarity that is not given a particularly original approach, as does the detective's emotional travails. (It's easy to understand the emphasis, however, since Robinson is the real-life grandson of Travolta's character).
Travolta and Gandolfini, in their fourth film together, have a strong rapport, and the former provides his usual complex emotional shadings. But Gandolfini, other than providing a hard-boiled narration, has little to work with here. More egregious in terms of casting are Leto, who is wholly unconvincing as a smooth Latin charmer, and Hayek, who besides bearing no physical resemblance at all to the actual Beck, even here seems far more likable than threatening.
LONELY HEARTS
Nu Image/Millennium Films
Credits:
Director-screenwriter: Todd Robinson
Producers: Boaz Davidson, Holly Wiersma
Executive producers: Danny Dimbort, Randall Emmett, George Furla, Manfred Heid, Gerd Koechlin, Josef Lautenschlager, Avi Lerner, Trevor Short, Andreas Thiesmeyer, John Thompson
Cinematographer: Peter Levy
Editor: Kathryn Himoff
Production designer: Jon Gary Steele
Costume designer: Jacqueline West
Music: Mychael Danna
Cast:
Elmer C. Robinson: John Travolta
Charles Hildebrandt: James Gandolfini
Martha Beck: Salma Hayek
Raymond Fernandez: Jared Leto
Rene: Laura Dern: Detective Reilly: Scott Caan
Janet: Alice Krige
Delphine Downing: Dagmara Dominczyk
MPAA rating R
Running time -- 108 minutes...
For those who don't recollect the case, it involved Raymond Fernandez (Jared Leto) and Martha Beck (Salma Hayek), who teamed up to commit a string of murders before being caught and executed at Sing Sing in 1951. They were dubbed the Lonely Heart Killers because of their conning of lonely war widows, using Raymond's Latin charms as romantic bait.
Robinson's version depicts the initial teaming of the pair, after Raymond attempted to fleece Martha before realizing she was more than his match when it came to criminality. Indeed, as the film has it, she was a murderous psychopath who elevated her partner's crimes from mere swindling to murder.
Tracking the pair are Long Island detectives Elmer C. Robinson (John Travolta) and his partner, Charles Hildebrandt (James Gandolfini). Fueling Robinson's passion to solve the case is his guilt over his wife's suicide and his covert relationship with a female co-worker (Laura Dern).
The film alternates between scenes depicting the killers' wooing and dispatching of their victims, including a lonely middle-aged woman (Alice Krige) and a young widowed mother (Dagmara Dominczyk), and the detectives' dogged pursuit. The filmmaker doesn't shy away from brutal violence when it comes to the murders, with several of the scenes proving difficult to watch.
Unfortunately, the filmmaker is unable to render either of his intertwining stories with much interest. The killers' crime spree has a familiarity that is not given a particularly original approach, as does the detective's emotional travails. (It's easy to understand the emphasis, however, since Robinson is the real-life grandson of Travolta's character).
Travolta and Gandolfini, in their fourth film together, have a strong rapport, and the former provides his usual complex emotional shadings. But Gandolfini, other than providing a hard-boiled narration, has little to work with here. More egregious in terms of casting are Leto, who is wholly unconvincing as a smooth Latin charmer, and Hayek, who besides bearing no physical resemblance at all to the actual Beck, even here seems far more likable than threatening.
LONELY HEARTS
Nu Image/Millennium Films
Credits:
Director-screenwriter: Todd Robinson
Producers: Boaz Davidson, Holly Wiersma
Executive producers: Danny Dimbort, Randall Emmett, George Furla, Manfred Heid, Gerd Koechlin, Josef Lautenschlager, Avi Lerner, Trevor Short, Andreas Thiesmeyer, John Thompson
Cinematographer: Peter Levy
Editor: Kathryn Himoff
Production designer: Jon Gary Steele
Costume designer: Jacqueline West
Music: Mychael Danna
Cast:
Elmer C. Robinson: John Travolta
Charles Hildebrandt: James Gandolfini
Martha Beck: Salma Hayek
Raymond Fernandez: Jared Leto
Rene: Laura Dern: Detective Reilly: Scott Caan
Janet: Alice Krige
Delphine Downing: Dagmara Dominczyk
MPAA rating R
Running time -- 108 minutes...
The setup is clear in "16 Blocks": Burnt-out cynic and imperiled idealist, forced together under life-threatening circumstances, will save each other, body and soul. Although much of the plot defies credulity, Richard Donner directs the odd-couple action drama with a nimble facility that draws viewers in. It doesn't hurt that leads Bruce Willis and Mos Def can effortlessly enlist audience sympathy, though here, ultimately, they're asked to try too hard, Mos Def in particular. Richard Wenk's script juices the genre basics with a compressed timeline, but the juice turns to sap as he insists on forsaking the story's darker instincts in order to deliver a feel-good capper. This tale of a cop and a baker running for their lives wants to have its cake and eat it too. Despite its dramatic holes, it looks primed for solid action at the boxoffice.
The film begins with a disastrous standoff and backtracks several hours to show how NYPD Detective Jack Mosley (Willis) wound up surrounded by New York's finest. About to end his shift at 8 a.m., he very reluctantly agrees to a bit of OT, ferrying a prisoner from a holding cell to a grand jury. Drained of life, Scotch in his veins, sporting a thinning comb-back and barely able to muster the strength to take his next step -- bad leg notwithstanding -- he has no tolerance for the nonstop chatter of Eddie (a hyperkinetic, shaven-headed Mos Def). Jack leaves him in the car to stop at a liquor store and shuffles back outside just in time to save Eddie from being murdered by a hit man.
Jack might be as surprised as the audience that he still has his reflexes. Something awakens in him -- Willis doesn't push it, but it's fully felt -- and his second wake-up call arrives when he realizes that petty criminal Eddie is about to deliver crucial testimony in the D.A.'s investigation of witness tampering. The criminals out to kill him are corrupt cops, chief among them Jack's former partner, Frank (slick gum-chewing evil from David Morse, who used to play good guys). After saving Eddie's life a second time, Jack must get Eddie to the courthouse by 10 a.m., when the grand jury's tenure ends. Those 16 blocks through Chinatown are now a minefield studded with Frank's team, out to kill "the kid" and save their hides.
Weaving their way through the basements, apartment buildings, businesses and rooftops of the neighborhood, Eddie and Jack, predictably, develop mutual respect despite their diametrically opposed philosophies. For Jack, who's clearly boozing to numb enormous existential pain, it all comes down to "Life is too long" and "People don't change". Eddie, a street kid with a business plan and a notebook full of birthday cake recipes, believes it's exactly the other way around.
Without overdoing the buddy business, the leads convey convincing chemistry. The underrated Willis provides a typically generous and nuanced performance and does his best to downplay the script's sentimental indulgences. Rapper-actor Mos Def is compelling as always, but his character's optimistic, nasal chatter becomes tiresome; he registers best in Eddie's quiet moments of reckoning.
As orchestrated by Donner and DP Glen MacPherson, the action has tensile strength and a visceral punch, with key contributions in Arv Greywal's production design and Klaus Badelt's percussive score. But after trawling through some grim and grimy territory, the film winds up ultra-eager for sunshine, leaving by the wayside its potentially complex questions about moral authority and collateral damage.
16 Blocks
Warner Bros. Pictures
An Alcon Entertainment/Millennium Films presentation of an Emmet/Furla Films and Cheyenne Enterprises production
Credits:
Director: Richard Donner
Screenwriter: Richard Wenk
Producers: Jim Van Wyck, John Thompson, Arnold Rifkin, Avi Lerner, Randall Emmett
Executive producers: Andreas Thiesmeyer, Josef Lautenschlager, Danny Dimbort, Trevor Short, Boaz Davidson, George Furla, Hadeel Reda
Director of photography: Glen MacPherson
Production designer: Arv Greywal
Music: Klaus Badelt
Co-producers: Derek Hoffman, Brian Read
Editor: Steven Mirkovich
Cast:
Jack Mosley: Bruce Willis
Eddie Bunker: Mos Def
Frank Nugent: David Morse
Diane Mosley: Jenna Stern
Capt. Gruber: Casey Sander
Jimmy Mulvey: Cylk Cozart
Robert Torres: David Zayas
Jerry Shue: Robert Racki
Ortiz: Conrad Pla
Maldonado: Hechter Ubarry
Deputy Commissioner Wagner: Richard Fitzpatrick
MPAA rating PG-13
Running time -- 101 minutes...
The film begins with a disastrous standoff and backtracks several hours to show how NYPD Detective Jack Mosley (Willis) wound up surrounded by New York's finest. About to end his shift at 8 a.m., he very reluctantly agrees to a bit of OT, ferrying a prisoner from a holding cell to a grand jury. Drained of life, Scotch in his veins, sporting a thinning comb-back and barely able to muster the strength to take his next step -- bad leg notwithstanding -- he has no tolerance for the nonstop chatter of Eddie (a hyperkinetic, shaven-headed Mos Def). Jack leaves him in the car to stop at a liquor store and shuffles back outside just in time to save Eddie from being murdered by a hit man.
Jack might be as surprised as the audience that he still has his reflexes. Something awakens in him -- Willis doesn't push it, but it's fully felt -- and his second wake-up call arrives when he realizes that petty criminal Eddie is about to deliver crucial testimony in the D.A.'s investigation of witness tampering. The criminals out to kill him are corrupt cops, chief among them Jack's former partner, Frank (slick gum-chewing evil from David Morse, who used to play good guys). After saving Eddie's life a second time, Jack must get Eddie to the courthouse by 10 a.m., when the grand jury's tenure ends. Those 16 blocks through Chinatown are now a minefield studded with Frank's team, out to kill "the kid" and save their hides.
Weaving their way through the basements, apartment buildings, businesses and rooftops of the neighborhood, Eddie and Jack, predictably, develop mutual respect despite their diametrically opposed philosophies. For Jack, who's clearly boozing to numb enormous existential pain, it all comes down to "Life is too long" and "People don't change". Eddie, a street kid with a business plan and a notebook full of birthday cake recipes, believes it's exactly the other way around.
Without overdoing the buddy business, the leads convey convincing chemistry. The underrated Willis provides a typically generous and nuanced performance and does his best to downplay the script's sentimental indulgences. Rapper-actor Mos Def is compelling as always, but his character's optimistic, nasal chatter becomes tiresome; he registers best in Eddie's quiet moments of reckoning.
As orchestrated by Donner and DP Glen MacPherson, the action has tensile strength and a visceral punch, with key contributions in Arv Greywal's production design and Klaus Badelt's percussive score. But after trawling through some grim and grimy territory, the film winds up ultra-eager for sunshine, leaving by the wayside its potentially complex questions about moral authority and collateral damage.
16 Blocks
Warner Bros. Pictures
An Alcon Entertainment/Millennium Films presentation of an Emmet/Furla Films and Cheyenne Enterprises production
Credits:
Director: Richard Donner
Screenwriter: Richard Wenk
Producers: Jim Van Wyck, John Thompson, Arnold Rifkin, Avi Lerner, Randall Emmett
Executive producers: Andreas Thiesmeyer, Josef Lautenschlager, Danny Dimbort, Trevor Short, Boaz Davidson, George Furla, Hadeel Reda
Director of photography: Glen MacPherson
Production designer: Arv Greywal
Music: Klaus Badelt
Co-producers: Derek Hoffman, Brian Read
Editor: Steven Mirkovich
Cast:
Jack Mosley: Bruce Willis
Eddie Bunker: Mos Def
Frank Nugent: David Morse
Diane Mosley: Jenna Stern
Capt. Gruber: Casey Sander
Jimmy Mulvey: Cylk Cozart
Robert Torres: David Zayas
Jerry Shue: Robert Racki
Ortiz: Conrad Pla
Maldonado: Hechter Ubarry
Deputy Commissioner Wagner: Richard Fitzpatrick
MPAA rating PG-13
Running time -- 101 minutes...
4Kids Entertainment Inc., which licenses entertainment names and personalities aimed at children, said last week that it would not renew its license to Pokemon once it expires at year's end, leaving Pokemon USA Inc., a subsidiary of Japan's Pokemon Co., to oversee all Pokemon licensing outside of Asia starting next year ... Munich-based film fund Equity Pictures has paid out €5 million ($5.9 million) to investors in its KG II fund, striking a blow against government officials who have been claiming that "media funds are no more than tax shelters," Equity Pictures CFO Josef Lautenschlager said last week ... Florida's Spanish Broadcasting System Inc. -- the largest Hispanic broadcast radio company in the U.S. -- on Friday inched closer to a sale of two FM-radio stations it owns in Los Angeles when it secured another $20 million from bidder Styles Media toward the closing price of $120 million.
- 12/26/2005
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
MUNICH -- With fighting words for Germany's new government and its "lawn-mower" approach to closing down media funds, Munich-based film fund Equity Pictures has paid out 5 million ($5.92 million) to investors in its KG II fund, the company announced Friday. "The fairy tale that media funds are no more than tax shelters that tear holes in the governments' coffers is herewith disproven," Equity Pictures chief financial officer Josef Lautenschlager said in a statement, pointing out that the payments would have to be declared as income and would therefore bring in tax money. The fund helped finance films like Hostage with Bruce Willis, Golden Globe-nominee The Matador with Pierce Brosnan as well as projects with such stars as Steven Seagal, Snoop Dogg and Josh Hartnett, according to the statement.
- 12/26/2005
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
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