The Nativity Story (PG)

There's a reason why Christmas pageants tend to clock in at about 20 minutes — a reason that Catherine Hardwicke's 100-minute

The Nativity Story

demonstrates with tedious tenacity. The problem is simple: There's just not all that much story, plus the story is so well known and has been told so often that a straightforward film of it is woefully bereft of surprises. Hardwicke's movie is about as exciting as a Sunday school filmstrip presentation. No doubt there

is

a market for this kind of Hallmark greeting card approach. It's nice to look at and properly reverential, and it will play to audiences more interested in the subject matter than in movies. For anyone else, the film is probably on par with visiting a live nativity scene. (It lacks the attendant barnyard odor, but in exchange it takes a lot longer.)

It's tempting to say it's the sort of movie Cecil B. DeMille might have made 50 years ago, but that's not quite true. DeMille would have circumvented the PR nightmare of 16-year-old star Keisha Castle-Hughes' (

Whale Rider

) unmarried pregnancy with a well-worded morality clause in her contract. But more, he would never have made the Bible this dull.

There's an irony that the old showman DeMille would have produced a livelier film than the one delivered by "edgy" Hardwicke. The closest she comes to her much touted edginess here is in the utterly pointless framing device of beginning and ending the movie with the "slaughter of the innocents," and in portraying the characters (lily white baby Jesus to one side) as dark-skinned and speaking with vaguely Middle Eastern accents.

The screenplay by Mike Rich (

Radio

) pads the story with little embellishments (see Joseph fight the snake and save Mary from drowning!) and makes peculiar stabs at weak humor. (The Three Wise Men are presented as bickering magicians, resulting in something that lands between bad Borscht Belt comics and the wizards overseeing the action in the Beatles'

Magical Mystery Tour

.) Other ideas seem just as ill-advised, as witness the

Wizard of Oz

-like voice of God telling Zechariah (Stanley Townsend,

The Libertine

) that he's going to become the father of John the Baptist. (This, at least, is instructional, since Zechariah presumes to argue with the Lord and is struck dumb for his insolence — a valuable warning if you're ever in this position.)

With the exception of Ciaran Hinds' (

Munich

) lip-smacking Herod, the acting is stiff to the point of ossification, and unintentionally amusing in the offhand manner in which the characters accept their fates, especially Castle-Hughes, who boasts about one and a half expressions in the entire film. Even so, that's half an expression more than the film itself can claim.

Rated PG for some violent content.

– reviewed by Ken Hanke

The main
pitfall of modern noirs is that filmmakers get so caught up in the chiaroscuro
lighting schemes and florid twists of dialogue and voiceover that they forget
noir was about expressing more than just attitude and style. Rachel Samuels'
thin, affected jazz-age noir

Dark Streets

is worse than most, grafting an indifferent series of twists and double-crosses
onto a blues-nightclub backdrop that overwhelms the foreground. Featuring songs
by Etta James, Aaron Neville, Chaka Khan, and Natalie Cole, and an original
score with an assist by B.B. King, the film so lavishly fetishizes the period's
glittering costumes and leggy chanteuses that it can barely work up the
interest to tend to its junior-league

Chinatown

plotting. The imbalance proves distracting on both
ends: Working from a screenplay by Wallace King (based on a play by Glenn
Stewart), Samuels treats the overwritten dialogue as another layer of
set-dressing, while leaning on blurry telephoto camera effects that make the
club look like a Bush video.

Sporting a
pencil moustache like a middle-schooler highlighting his peach-fuzz, Gabriel
Mann throws himself into a blues operation called The Tower. Unfortunately, his
recently deceased father, the wealthy industrialist who ran the local power
company, left him out of his will, and Mann ends up deep in hock to some very
unsavory characters. As he pokes around and discovers the dark secrets behind
his dad's business dealings, Mann also has to mediate a romantic and
professional crisis: His headliner and sometime girlfriend (Bijou Phillips)
feels threatened by a new singer (Izabella Miko) brought in by a shady cop
(Elias Koteas) who protects the club. A series of blackouts recalls the
intrigue over the water supply in

Chinatown

,
but the crucial difference is that the earlier film evokes a corruption endemic
to a major city, while

Dark Streets

turns out the lights in Phonytown. Samuels and company seem impatient to get
back to the music and dancing, but they aren't nearly impatient enough.

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Catwoman

Rating: An individual half heavenly body

Starring: Halle Berry, Sharon Stone, Lambert Wilson, Alex Borstein. Screenplay Theresa Rebeck and John Brancato and Michael Ferris. Directed by Potif.

Rated PG-13 for enterprise violence and some sensuality.

By AUSTIN O?CONNOR

Kickshaws Club

Most times, when I observe a silver screen that I?ll be reviewing, I take notes. Again the notes are serviceable when I a load off one’s feet down to note, sometimes they aren?t. Some movies prompt lots of notes, some don?t.

The tremendously execrable Catwoman had me scrawling in the dark like few movies before it. This kind of disaster simply be compelled be documented, after all. But too much analysis of this sort of dreck isn?t practical for anyone. So how ?stint we just go straight to those scribbled notes? Call it a Catwoman review, unfiltered:

?Movie?s opening features a montage that shows paintings of cats and women. Who thought of that one? Must have been one fierce brainstorming session.?

?Three writers are credited to screenplay. Uh-oh.?

?Halle Berry plays Self-control Phillips, an crude ad schemer at a beauty crème institution.?

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?Sharon Stone ? Laurel, wife of the belle crème company?s CEO, an aging supermodel being literally pushed aside as reputation of the comrades.?

?Beauty crème Pty CEO (Lambert Wilson) announces that his remodelled effect, called Beau-Lime, will be the most revolutionary handsomeness produce since soap. Apparently, it reverses the aging process. It took three writers to common knowledge up with that? Moral Lord.?

?Halle Berry ? terrible. Tenacity climbs out on the overhang of her apartment to help rescue a cat, which is apparently not in vulnerability but is in fact on some sort of recruiting mission. Oh, fellow-countryman.?

?Halle Berry ? annoyingly bad. Her normal can?t get a date. Delight. Meets a nice cop (Benjamin Bratt) who rescues her from the ledge after mistaking her for a jumper. Don?t ask.?

?Sufferance gets killed by beauty crème company henchmen after she overhears Laurel discussing the devastating side effects of the new beauty crème. Since when do knockout creme companies take up rigorous henchmen??

?The creme is addictive and it makes the bark peel off your face if you stop using it. Isn?t this storyline stolen from the from the start Batman movie??

?Calmness?s bulk gets dumped in sewage reservoir, then washes up on some epitome of dropped junkyard that looks predilection the set of the musical Cats, simply none of the felines is singing.?

?Cats put a spell on her ? I think ? and she wakes up as Catwoman. We know this because her pupils in a trice condense and she becomes angry at the seagulls that set high up.?

?Awful design.?
?Patience visits a strange primordial lady who lives unequalled in a house with hundreds of cats. Touched in the head cat lady explains Resolve?s new face as Catwoman, then proves it by tempting her with a ball of catnip, which Berry immediately and excitedly smears all as surplus her face. Can she just send back that Oscar right with it??
?Sharon Stone looks like Madonna in her ?Papa Don?t Preach? off. Only older.?
?Patience sits on bed into the middle dozens of remove cans of tuna. You gotta be kidding me. Hold something nice ? Berry has a certain grace as she bounds and leaps around her apartment, testing out her new powers.?
?Forty minutes into movie. She finally puts on the catsuit, which is surprisingly cleavage-conducive against a wrong-fighting costume. Then she goes and robs a jewelry store. Don?t demand me. I hold no idea.?
?The ticklish cop she met earlier gets assigned to the jewel pilferage case. A genuinely frightening coincidence.?
?The next morning, a penitent Serenity leaves the stolen jewels at the amass?s doorstep, along with a note of apology and a box of cupcakes. Those cupcakes look luscious. I kind of want a cupcake.?
?Catsuit is dread ? how much pigeon-kicking can Catwoman do in open-toed shoes??
?Really stupid.?
?STOMACH-TURNING.?
?A woman fight line takes employment during some sort of Cirque du Soleil performance. It?s the first on the dot I?ve ever been cheery to experience the Cirque du Soleil.?
?Good cop figures out that Patience is Catwoman. Locks her up. She escapes to go rumble Laurel and keep the world from addictive asset products.?
?Who thought this was a good idea??
?What do you move when you forgo a putrid scenario to a director who goes by the appoint Potif? You undermine Catwoman, a steaming dish of curdled milk.?
?Start the catcalls.?
?Feels like it takes nine lives to lie through it.?

Though we may not contemplate much of it for the nonce, crowd round even-handedness and lynchings were part of the landscape in the ancient decades of the 20th century. Fritz Lang’s 1936 movie Rancour tried to give out with this problem head on, though the vapour is cut out by some of its plot contrivances. It remains a powerful go out of of filmmaking though, and is recommended.

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Fury is the story of two characters, really: Joe Wilson (Spencer Tracy) and the municipality of Strand, where the motion takes place. Wilson is a typical guy; he wants to amalgamate his girlfriend Katherine (Sylvia Sidney), but they obligated to figure their roost egg before doing so. She leaves to go west for a new difficulty that will nick pull down that money, while he remains home in Chicago. Wilson believes in the basic tenets of the American dream, dispiriting to instill a travail ethic and honest living into his younger brothers Charlie (Frank Albertson) and Tom (George Walcott). Charlie has been running with a dangerous crowd, and under Joe’s guidance, he turns to the straight and mercenary mingy when Joe and the brothers arise running a gas station. Eventually, Joe has earned enough to run across his aspiration. He writes to say he is coming to affiliate her, and leaves in his new car.

On the way, he is stopped by neighbourhood pub law officers outside Strand, where a team of kidnappers are on the lax. Hauled in for questioning, Joe runs into some extraordinary naughty luck, which is sufficiently to fool him held until they can verify his identity, but in the meantime, a woman of the sheriff’s deputies flaps his gums yon Wilson’s “capture.” From there, the story snowballs, getting embellished along the way, until a mob forms and decides to take matters into its own hands. The sheriff expects the National Keep to assist, but political considerations succeed a do over the governor hold off. In the meantime, Katherine, who has been waiting for Joe to arrive all day, absolutely hears of Joe’s imprisonment and heads for town. She arrives to find the jail stormed and ablaze.

In the days that make inquiries, Joe’s innocence is established, but it does little to pay Joe’s brothers, who want revenge. They choose to go to Strand and kill those responsible. Before they can do anything, they are shocked by the appearance of Joe. He is alive, but possessed by anger at what has been done to him. He wants revenge as well, and wants his brothers to help him get it. Strand, in whatever way, just wants to draw a blank it ever happened.

Fierceness was prominent guide Fritz Lang’s first American haze after escaping Nazi Germany, and he produced a fierce, if somewhat compromised, film about press chiefly and American human being, with a cynical, pessimistic ending that the gauge Hollywood ending can’t keep secret. The main eye of the film, at least in terms of the mob element, is that the film indicates that “good,” usual people wouldn’t do this resolve of thing. The people need pushing from more unsavory types. Those types are seen in Kirby Dawson (Bruce Cabot), a notorious town scandalmonger, and a visiting strike-breaker who riles the menfolk by accusing them of cowardice. In a man perceive, this lets the town off the out of trouble, at least initially. Cooler heads appear to prevail, until Dawson and his ilk hype intimidate the right people into lawless actions.

The scenes of the throng building and then running amok form the subdue section of the film. Beautifully shot and edited, Lang pushes every button in displaying the feral qualities of people who have surrendered their individuality for the overruling somebody of the multitude. After the superficial death of Wilson, however, the veil is hindered more by Wilson’s inability to participate actively in the story. He can simply operate within himself, as the film needs him to change to clout its statement. Lang equates the pursuit of revenge with childishness; early in the video, Katherine tells Joe, “You’re still a kidÑa collection of you is.” This comes back into play as Wilson single-mindedly pursues the death of the men on bur, until he realizes that the cost of their deaths to his conscience would be greater than letting them live would be to his be under the impression that of detention. When Wilson appears to save the men from the death sporting house, he describes how his faith in America and justness is gone, burned to death in the jail. Flat the Hollywood ending of having Sidney and Wilson reconciled can’t efface the bitter fancy and the tender-hearted that nothing between these two characters can be the same again, vengeance or no.

by Elisabeth Rappe Mar 1st 2010 // 5:02PM

Filed under: Movie Marketing, Fan Rant

If you're as tuned into the Internet as Kevin Flynn capacity be,
you probably heard of
the super esoteric
Tron: Legacy
viral hunt and IMAX trailer take pleasure in. Those in L.A. were treated to a Q&A with

Legacy

vice-president Joseph Kosinski and the director of the nonconformist

Tron

, Steve Lisberger. Other cities ethical got a free t-shirt with their trailer, I believe. Word of freshness was positive, but I'm uncertain what a titanic incident it was blanket. It was awfully noiselessness.

I confess, I didn't look into it much because these elephantine marketing events are already outset to transfer a curmudgeonly decorum in my bombast. I dug all

The Mysterious Knight

viral stuff, mainly because people got really funky bits of swag escape of their hunts. (You still see

I Put faith In Harvey Dent

! campaign t-shirts around certain corners of geekdom.) It was also new, moderate, and competitive and it throe with the film in that the Catch- was behind the devastation. Then came

Avatar Day

which was the first time a studio booked theater someday fair for a vernissage, a move which

Tron: Legacy

copied. Expectantly, it played to bigger audiences than

Avatar Day

did to legitimatize the IMAX renting price.

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But isn't it all a bit silly? Just now, I gain no one is

forcing

fans to go to these events and if they want to spend their time and spondulicks doing it, good for them. But when studios are complaining wide not making mazuma on movies, why spend so much money on an event only the hardcore (i.e. those who already be informed nigh

Tron: Legacy

) hand down devote oneself to? It's not grabbing "newbies" to the movie by any means, unless pay court to fans are taking friends along.

It seems to me if a studio is affluent to do it, they deep down need to go all visible in a ComicCon fashion. The maturity of

The Dark Knight

virals were an inside plot, but there were a infrequent (such as Harvey Dent's "campaign") that included passersby. That was the fun of it. Why not do something similar championing

Tron: Legacy

in malls or movie theaters? Something that positively sells it to people just walking by and puts it on their radar. The funky horror prevalent ComicCon is that people wealthy downtown to the Gaslamp Quarter score scarcely as much probability of a disengage t-shirt, broadsheet, or preview as the attendees do. It'd be cool to go to the mall and have something similar turn up, and be ushered into a box where you get to see a trailer.

Or here's a truly unhinged and wealth-animated prospect — do away with this stuff altogether. I'm pretty sure

Avatar Age

did next to nothing to pinch

Avatar

carry off the palm its massy spar office success, and I'm willing to bet

Tron: Legacy

won't pop onto the mainstream radar until the trailers and TV spots hit. When did marketing for a movie become an event? Isn't

the movie

the anyhow? Why waste time and money and spur on spoiling so a small number of people can race out and ponder on a trailer a hardly days (or weeks) ancient? It's

a trailer

. How far is this trend going to go? A viral dog to find out the casting? The championship? What happened to the product speaking through despite itself?