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City of Angels

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“Please please please,” my mind whispered. “Please don’t disappoint me. The previews make this look so good. It would be so easy to screw this movie up.” Someone was listening.

I know a movie is good when I totally cease taking notes and then can find no adjectives to jot down. I was enthralled and yet not stupefied. My regular readers know how I love to spout off, and they may have even noticed the only movie I have really liked since 1998 began was The Wedding Singer. I don’t want to fall into the alarming trend of only liking squishy chick movies (which admittedly this one does resemble from the outside), so please, read on. Director Brad Silberling continues his afterlife trend after Casper The Friendly Ghost (which for the record was way better than it deserved to be) but he has got it down now!

If you don’t come out of the theatre wanting to make something out of clay or walk around barefoot or eat or have some sort of sensual experience, then you are dead. At the end of the first scene (I hate giving away plot and I especially feel strongly against doing so in this instance) I was already in love with the movie, and I can’t define why. It just felt right. City of Angels is an admitting remake of Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire, which I sort of saw once with an old boyfriend (a cosmic cat who I am sure would dig this flick) and I think City of Angels takes Wenders’ message about beauty and experience and realness and all that and makes it utterly accessible without making it retarded – this is a Hollywood miracle in and of itself.

John Seale’s camera swoops lovingly through the throngs of humanity, and we glimpse gently into their thoughts. They are all thoughts we have had before or will have later, yet instead of being familiar, the smoothly dollying camera makes us step back and get the outsiders’ perspective. Dana Stevens’ script is gentle and wise, even as I *knew* what someone was about to say, I still felt the emotional impact when they said it. Everything in the mortal world is shown with such attention to beauty that you can’t help but wonder at the beauty only the angels can see. It’s a sweetly empathetic movie but it is also very sensual. By sensual I don’t even mean sexual, it’s all about the basic five senses and how glorious it is to have them. I ran home and started typing on my PowerBook but I had already painted my bedroom in a fit of untapped energy and now I want to squish my toes in the mud or rub lotion on my skin or SOMETHING.

Nicholas Cage, previously a roach eating vampire, besotted alcoholic, and heroic parolee, has the perfect face for this role as the angel who aches to be mortal. No evangelism, no denominational anything – the angels in this movie have the purity that they should have on a planet with a thousand religions. As in Wings of Desire, Shay Cunliffe has dressed them in benignly understated overcoats, and their effect is…otherworldly yet accessible. And what better mortal to tempt an angel to fall than Meg Ryan, the Girl We Fall In Love With. Thankfully, she isn’t precious or giggly or any of the things she has been asked to be in the past – she is just…angelic. Ouch! No pun intended.

The two main supporting characters play tough guy cops for their day job – yet seem totally at home in a relatively touchy-feely angel flick – Dennis Franz (NYPD Blue) and Andre Braugher (Homicide). I don’t know how that works either, but it does!

Gabriel Yared (hmmmm yet there weren’t many horns…) composed a score that is pretty and simple but still seemed to imply levels I couldn’t hear. Maybe I am full of it but the movie was really that transporting for me. The songs scattered throughout, a deadly game to play normally, played gently and well.
I want to write about a scene that takes place in Tahoe but I can’t – but trust me, it was…very special. Ugh! I hate not having the words. I have some but they give away stuff. The third reel is why I go to the movies.

On an ironic? touching? note, one of the producers, Dawn Steel, died of cancer a couple of months ago, and the movie is dedicated to her (it just says To Dawn). After watching this film, I imagined how death came to her and how the other members of the production team must have been feeling. Oh just go see it – it’s elegant and great and moving and it just feels right.

MPAA Rating PG-13
Release date 4/10/98
Time in minutes 114
Director Wim Wenders
Studio Warner Brothers

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The Spanish Prisoner

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The less one knows about the plot of The Spanish Prisoner, the more one will enjoy the movie. Like Presumed Innocent, a hint of the outcome will crumble all the set up. Suffice it to say that it’s a modern corporate espionage type thriller and it’s cool. It’s got a smart pedigree and a tiny budget and big big ideas.

As it is, however, author/director David Mamet’s script is surprisingly transparent – but only to a point. If you’re not familiar with Mamet’s oeuvre of written work, you would think the script is interesting but a little predictable. Not totally, though. If you do know Mamet, you have to see it just to see how the all-time greatest proponent of the F word managed to crank out a PG 13 movie.

With stars like Campbell Scott (co-author and director of Big Night) and Steve Martin (also author of LA Story and Picasso at the Lapin Agile), you know this is going to be one literary piece of film. But don’t let that dissuade you! Surprisingly, while smart and quick and snappish, the staginess of the dialogue defeats the excellent acting on the part of the male leads. Mamet directs his men with ease, but, as in Speed the Plow, he doesn’t seem to know what to do with women. Rebecca Pidgeon plays the new assistant to Scott, and her delivery of this deadpan testosteroni is sadly wooden. In the complicated weave of Mamet’s script, her contribution sticks out like a splinter and doesn’t serve the otherwise smooth work of Scott and Martin.

It’s still fascinating and mind-bending, and eminently entertaining. Carter Burwell (of Coen Brothers movies scores) delivers a very yummy score as always. It helps fill the gaps in Pidgeon’s sadly robotic performance. I don’t know just what her deal is in this movie, whether the had contracted testosterone poisoning from the director or if she was just directed contrary to everything her character needs to be. But don’t let it keep you away – it’s a cool movie. I wish I could say more about it.

MPAA Rating PG
Release date 4/3/98
Time in minutes 112
Director David Mamet
Studio Sony Pictures Classics

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Lost in Space

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OK, it *is* better than Batman and Robin – the movie that, wonder of wonders, did not precipitate the deportment of writer Akiva Goldsman. My companion and I wondered on the way home whether Akiva stayed up at night purposefully writing garbage and thinking, “Oh, man, they wouldn’t produce THIS!” and laughing. Then some crackhead in Armani throws $90 million or more at it and suddenly Akiva sees his name pulse at him during the loud techno rave end credits and he must think, “Dammit, why didn’t I change my name?”

It’s lame. It’s not offensive (OK, that stupid F&#@(!$% yellow monkey is more offensive than being mooned by a hemorrhoid clinic) but it is stupid and lame and underwhelming. Heather Graham (Rollergirl) has the best lines in the movie – real zingers too, and Mimi Rogers follows with some slightly more tired but still serviceable quips of her own. I appreciated that Mimi actually looked old enough to be William Hurt’s wife. Oh, William. Ye of such a fine previous career. He was wooden and lame and tired and you people know I don’t like to criticize actor’s performances unless they can’t help themselves. I was never a viewer of the TV show and I understand that the movie is taking a radically different tone than the wacky campy papier mache TV show, BUT shouldn’t we at least want our hero to live? I could not have cared less about anyone except maybe Rollergirl. And even so I was ashamed that she would follow up a wonderful movie like Boogie Nights with the simian star of Ed. With lines like “Detente is a wonderful thing.” Oooh, did you go to film school?

Gary Oldman must have sunk into a wicked cocaine problem since Air Force One, because he wants us to believe Dr. Smith is evil, but we have nothing to base that on. He speaks (as I am sure you have seen in the preview) of his own wicked nature, but really, he’s just the guy with the accent. I was so disappointed to remember reading that he said this character was one of his favorites. The best part with Smith is, sadly, a Jim Henson’s Creature Shop creation voiced by Oldman. Oh woe.

The music is half new school I’m gonna get the Oscar out from John Williams and half old school wah wah Sid and Marty Kroft. Interesting but frightening. The whole movie is just unsatisfying and dull, no more, no less.

I know the Robot was important on the show – but as a standalone movie, what the hell was it doing here? Was it their food prep automaton or their high-colonic administerer? “Destroy! Destroy! Destroy Friday evening!” Oh and did I mention that the whole family is really important bit is hokey, sad, *and* poorly executed? Well, I meant to. After I put ointment on the welts from having been beaten with their goofy priorities message, I will.

As always, I have something nice to say which is that the computer generated stuff at the beginning of the movie is totally lusciously beautiful gorgeous expectations-raising eye candy. Then the stupid yellow monkey comes and I think about how nice cyanide gas must smell. There is literally NO reason for that expensive effect to exist, and did I mention that it was a dreadful, poorly thought out illogical mess too? Oh the shame. And to think THIS of all movies is the one to knock Titanic out of the number one slot. Oh, couldn’t it have been a decent movie? The place was packed! But hopefully word of mouth will kill it and we can all forget it ever happened. Evil may know evil but moviegoers don’t. I knew it would suck and I had to protect you, Dear Readers.

Akiva, start packing.

*Note: this film was originally rated Dollar Movie, which fell between Catch the Network Premiere and Catch It On HBO.

MPAA Rating PG-13
Release date 4/3/98
Time in minutes 131
Director Stephen Hopkins
Studio New Line Cinema

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Wild Things

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Whatever you have heard cannot prepare you for the sheer humidity of this movie. A small town in Florida where everyone automatically thinks of sex whether they are washing the jeep in skimpy white cutoffs or docking a sailboat or frying an egg or even plotting a surprisingly elaborate little scheme that I was grateful was better than it suggested itself to be. Yeah yeah yeah and there is girl on girl action and a little full frontal male nudity. Yahoo. Denise Richards is the most realistic looking android I have ever seen – and I could still see the servos. In fact, I was not aware that there was a special high school just for supermodels and pre-Citizenship Academy Starship Troopers. No wonder everyone is always thinking about sex!

The previews for this secretly satisfying but of fluff make it out to be the sexiest thing since Melrose Place Cheating Summer Nights – yet the whole thing looks vaguely like a perfume advertisement. As the movie began I noted that all the blood was in the groin and not in the head – but I am pleased to announce that I was wrong. Do not mistake me – this is not a “good” movie by any means, but it beats the crap out of Skinemax for plot content and actually serves up almost as much skin.

Siskel and Ebert (remember, they loved Kingpin?) gave it two thumbs up – and Ebert wrote that paean to sexless trolls, The Valley Of the Dolls. Keep that in mind. I can appreciate T&A from my male friends’ perspective but this seemed so lame and shallow and any-excuse-to-show-nipplage I was disgruntled. Later I wrote, “transparent but improving.” That would be my summation, really. It’s a difficult journey and had I been watching it on cable I would have been long gone, but with my butt in the seats and my hard-earned money in the register and you, Dear Readers, clamoring for my opinion, well, I stayed. And I was glad I did. Oh the shame.

I am told the music (which irritated the crap out of me) was very Twin Peaksish. I will let the masses decide. If nothing else, it was simple and redundant, George S. Clinton was the music man and I suspect this is not the fellow from the P-Funk All stars. Just a hunch. The director John McNaughton, previously did Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, and I have to give him points for not pigeonholing himself. I do believe he sees the prurient in all of us.

Funny line many will miss: Kevin Bacon is a sex crimes cop who is badgering Matt Dillon about two rapes he is accused of, and Dillon says “Let him look into the Kennedy assassination,” which of course is funny because Kevin Bacon was also in a little movie called Footloose. I mean, JFK.

The Hawaiian shirts are TOTALLY awesome in this movie. And don’t rush out when the credits start to roll – there is more, and it’s cool. Too bad it too so long to get there.

MPAA Rating R -sexuality, nudity, language & some violence.
Release date 3/20/98
Time in minutes 106
Director John McNaughton
Studio Columbia Tristar

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Mr. Nice Guy (1998)

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Now I’m a big Jackie Chan fan like anyone, even though I have only seen a few of his movies (which, I am assured, are still not as good as Project A Part 2 and Drunken Master) but I cannot recommend this movie. The fight scenes were not the usual jaw-dropping gorgeousness that I have come to expect, and the silliness was more silly like a porn movie than silly like a modern-day slapstick Buster Keaton. Only one scene was what I could consider “proper” Jackie Chan, a scene in a construction area with wacky flapping doors and dangerous power tools – and I had to wait an hour and 10 minutes to get to it.

It wasn’t directed by Stanley Tong (perhaps his DGA membership was revoked after Mr. Magoo) and maybe that is the problem, Jackie was not given the freedom to be Jackie and we the audience were not considered. Early in the movie the camera passes through a room full of brooms and ladders and my pulse raced, thinking of the fun to come. If you have seen a decent Chan movie you know of which I speak. A hideously looped drug lord premise and the red headed Aussie lady from NYPD Blue attempted to fashion a movie out of the mess written by Edward Tang and Fibe Ma. Jackie is a TV chef who accidentally gets involved. YAWN. He’s just a nice guy, with a woman assistant, a girlfriend, and the Aussie tabloid reporter babe, and no hilarity or ass kicking ensues.

Some truly awful post-principal photography decision was to make scenes that were not slo-mo into slo-mo as if that would add anything. I don’t even mean like John Woo some bad boy is coming over the hill slo-mo, I mean a n d s h e ‘ s r u n n i n g t o c a t c h t h e b u s slomo. YAWN. Plus since it was shot with the wrong speed film, it just looked messy and pixelated, like the end of Toys. Weird blurry closeups and truly addictive use of the afterthought slo-mo combined with little or no intrigue, humor, or ass kicking, and what do you have? A big truck and $6.75 down the tubes.

Never mind poorly thought out details, like a cinema-quality video tape supposedly taken in secret from a corner of the room (complete with cuts and angles and music), or the painful uselessness of the bloopers at the end – a Jackie staple – but they’re ACTING bloopers? Who cares? Where’s the ambulance?

I was saddened.
*Note: this film was originally rated Dollar Movie, which fell between Catch the Network Premiere and Catch it on HBO

MPAA Rating PG-13
Release date 3/20/98
Time in minutes 83
Director Sammo Hung
Studio New Line Cinema

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The Big Lebowski

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I don’t know what to recommend you spend for this movie. As a Coen brothers fan, I want all Coen movies to be seen by everyone. As a movie goer struggling to write reviews that will touch the people in the heartland, my automatic response is that some people just won’t like it, because they will be distracted by the things I found wrong with it, but not notice all the things that are so right with it. If you have never seen a Coen brothers movie before, do not start with this one. As a Coen brothers fan, I was disappointed – but only because their movies like Fargo and Hudsucker Proxy and Raising Arizona are such delicious treasures that an “average” one like this is a let down, but it is not by any means, a bad film. I must stress that. Two of the people I saw it with found it to be sublime and perfect. I was entertained and amused, but…well, you’ll see.

I missed writing down the name of the music archivist during the opening credits and never saw it again – but he did some amazing work. The soundtrack is really interesting and special and sold out all over town! Roger Deakins, the god among cinematographers who made The Shawshank Redemption so beautiful, is not doing anything particularly magical ALL the time, but there are some seriously cool shots.

The Big L is populated with the Working Title Films stable of actors, all good, all doing something different, and all doing something great. John Goodman is so good at being the abrasive idiot of a VietNam vet that he is, he transcends just annoying his fellow characters and starts to annoy you. But you have to forgive him because he’s great! Jeff Bridges is new to the fold, and here he is The Dude. He’s the perfect LA stoner adult who just can’t be bothered with the crazy wacky world around him. Accidentally, he is swept into the world of a man with the same name as himself (Jeff Lebowski) and we are swept along as well.

The look is sort of signature Coen- but I found it unpalatably Hollywood. Maybe because it was shot in LA, they wanted to make it flat and fake. A friend suggested the movie is in Dude-O-Vision – we see the action in the film as he does. The Dude is inundated with interesting people – the film is chock full of great characters that never get borne out – but out of sight, out of mind. Strange recurring themes like Chinamen and the randomness that plagues all real people, and the bizarrities of the truly stupid people of the world are explored lovingly. There is a lot to like and enjoy about this film. John Turturro plays a creepy bowler named Jesus (not Hay-soos, but Jee-zus) and he is so showcased and so unused. Very frustrating. Julianne Moore’s vaginal art world woman was interesting if perhaps not too much so. The Nihilists, chock full of rock and roll cameos, could have been really interesting but instead they were just…left overs.

The part where I come up with “I don’t know” is where, when the movie is over (and I had to be told it’s over in an inconsistently trite manner), I felt empty, unsatisfied, unresolved…not that I have to have pure resolution, but I felt like I had eaten a great meal and then thrown it up. It was disheartening. Perhaps, along with my friends theory of Dude-O-Vision, that habitual stoners feel like that at the end of the day as well – vaguely unsettled. They had a good day, sure, it was a cool groove, man, but what, now it’s over? What happened?

MPAA Rating R -strong language, drugs, sexuality, brief violence.
Release date 3/6/98
Time in minutes 117
Director Joel & Ethan Coen
Studio PolyGram Films

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Wings of the Dove

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Wings of the Dove is a bummer. That said, it’s a smoothly scripted, nicely acted, beautifully shot bummer that makes you think about the nature of love and the strength of the lies we tell ourselves. Ooh, deep, huh? After garnering 4 Oscar nominations, I knew I had to see it to make any kind of informed commentary on the awards.

Helena Bonham-Carter’s nominated performance is strong, but not necessarily anything I can’t imagine someone else doing. This may be unfair of me to say – I find it difficult to qualify acting performances, and her character is very interesting and layered, but at the same time, I just wasn’t blown away. I think the role of her ill American friend Milly (Allison Elliott) was more complex on the visible surface than Bonham-Carter’s – this could be either Elliott’s strength or B-C’s weakness, I can’t say. Anyway, my point is lost here – it’s good, and interesting.

Helena loves a man below her station, and her friend is rich and dying. She sees a solution and goes after it, and then I wouldn’t say mayhem or wackiness ensues so much as complications and heartbreak. Henry James is not known for his fluffy comedies, so don’t go expecting Jane Austen. But do go expecting to see gorgeous views of turn of the century clothing waltzing attractively around England and Venice. The relationship between the three principles is complicated and painful. If you are feeling bad about a relationship you are in, this is not the movie to see. But it is worth seeing, even if only for a Matinee. I give it that rating because, well, I don’t understand Bonham-Carter’s appeal to the other two people. Ah well.

Those lured by rumors of menage-a-trois will be disappointed, but there is nudity.

MPAA Rating R for sexuality.
Release date 3/13/1998
Time in minutes 110
Director Iain Softley
Studio Miramax

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The Man in the Iron Mask

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Forget for one moment that the star is Leonardo DiCaprio, as King Louis of Brooklyn. Forget also that Alexandre Dumas pulled this story out of his butt based on a notation in prison records. If nothing else, we can all remember that while Leo may be a heart stealer in Titanic, he is no Jeremy Irons. Or Gabriel Byrne. Or Gerard Depardieu (in his most charismatic role since, well, I can’t remember). Or even the reptilian John Malkovich, who I think is a good actor but just creepy looking and too Chicago in his dialect no matter what. King Leo is not even as strong as Anne Parillaud (as Anne) but he is a fine match for Judith Godreche (Christine). It was a tad distracting that director Randall Wallace chose not to have anyone bother to even have so much as a formal stage English dialect – and so, Leonardo looked silly. The weave in his hair didn’t help matters.

If you don’t know, the older gentlemen are the 3 musketeers and D’Artagnan, and DiCaprio is King Louis and his twin brother Phillipe. Somehow, Phillipe was just…better. Maybe they actually got two actors. DiCaprio was amazing in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape but somehow was floating on his laurels in his scenes with all the heavyweights, notably Irons. Woof! But the Sun King was no more from France than the Coneheads.

A casting kudo – whoever found Peter Saarsgard to play Malkovich’s son is pure genius – the accent, the flat tone-on-tone coloring of his voice – at one point a letter from Saarsgard is read in his voice as voice-over and myself and my companion both wondered why Malkovich would have written that letter. Oops! The costumes and sets are fabulous, the whole thing looked great. It opened too early in the year to be remembered at Oscar time but I hope people recall how nice and dirty and real it all was – yay production designer!!
Bonus points for the masquerade ball and the mask bit. OK, sure, despite not having read the book, it was a tad predictable and easy, but not in a bad way. It’s not brilliant but it is definitely entertaining.

Overall I had a great time watching this movie – even when the story felt glossed over or maybe even lubricated to facilitate cramming a little morality lesson in, it was still enjoyable. Louis the Sun King was indeed young and foolish and randy and an egomaniac. His older Musketeers, brave, full of loyalty and honor and duty and fellowship, are a striking contrast in generational thinking, without many years difference between them. It had an interesting (and I am sure unintentional) analogy to Old and New Hollywood – where someone like Matthew McConaughey can become a star before his movie is even released, yet someone like Steve Buscemi can never play the game and rise above his means. Young Hollywood wants it all now and Old Hollywood wants the journey. Of course I don’t mean Tony Curtis and Charleton Heston Old Hollywood, I mean like Harrison Ford and Susan Sarandon – the marked difference by only a decade or two in attitudes and lasting power.

MPAA Rating PG-13
Release date 3/13/98
Time in minutes 117
Director Randall Wallace, William Richert
Studio United Artists

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U.S. Marshalls

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There is nothing wrong with this movie, really, it’s a nice, fast-paced, generic clone of its predecessor The Fugitive, it just doesn’t deserve that much of your money. OK, remember how on Three’s Company, our trio lived in fear that Mr. Roper, the land lord, would kick Jack out because he wasn’t really gay, so Mr. Roper became sort of a friendly bad guy? Then he and his wife got their own spin-off called The Ropers, as if we actually cared enough about their lives to watch them for 30 minutes without the benefit of those cute young tenants of theirs? And remember how in the Fugitive, we know Harrison Ford is innocent, but he’s still being hunted by the US Marshal Tommy Lee Jones, who is ostensibly a good guy but we have to root against him catching Ford? US Marshals = The Ropers.

Take The Fugitive, add a little Con Air, take away the charismatic stars of Con Air, drop in the total lack of tension in Airport 75, a sprinkling of Die Hard 3, and you have a nice, generic Hollywood action movie for early spring. Directed by Stuart Baird (Executive Decision), one would expect some genuine cool ass-kickin. This time, he substitutes a little banal cross-intrigue and a ludicrous premise. Actually, the semi-political clusterfuck double-cross twist is the only thing that makes this movie watchable.

Wesley Snipes (the fugitive) is no Harrison Ford but he does insert something interesting into the movie – however, he’s on the lam and he hasn’t even been convicted – somehow, mobilizing the authorities across the state and even across state lines seems a little…drastic. Robert Downey Jr plays a morally ambiguous tagalong and all I could think was, “Robert, isn’t it nice not being strung out? Do movies and play with your son – look, aren’t you having fun tromping through the woods with a big gun? Stay clean, man.” He looked hollow. Boing – plot explanation out of the blue, roll credits. Nice and tidy.

The same team that backed up Tommy Lee Jones chasing Ford is back (there were other people?) and that is kind of cool, I guess. An amusing bit of dialogue, taken out of context, sums up my feeling about the film:
(lady from Lee’s team) I’ve never seen that before.
Lee: I have.
So have we. I can’t believe they even put his line in the preview – don’t *remind* us it’s a rehash, er, remake. I mean, sequel.

*The original rating for this film was Dollar Movie.

MPAA Rating PG-13
Release date 3/6/98
Time in minutes 131
Director Stuart Baird
Studio Warner Brothers

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Dark City

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As anyone who has seen the preview knows, Dark City is dark, Dark dark. One would be tempted to write off the movie based on its very blatant “look at all the cool visuals in this movie!” style trailer, but I think that the discriminating viewer can take a chance on this one. Mostly unfamiliar Rufus Sewell stars in a movie populated by mostly unfamiliar faces (save Jennifer Connelly, you know, from Labyrinth, and of course Kiefer Sutherland – oh, and for us RHPS fans, Richard O’Brien!) which adds to the weirdness of the mood. Sewell does not look like a leading man, which makes his perfect for this part. He’s interesting and unknowable, and that works great.

The Dark City they live in is dark for a reason (actually, if anything, some things are overexplained) and broodingly stylish in that Gotham-City Blade Runner noir style. It should comfort you to know that there is a *reason* the city looks that way that extends beyond the art department’s jones for gorgeousness. What you can see, looks really friggin cool. Some of the look is central to the plot and I don’t want to give anything away – it’s actually sort of complicated. I have talked to a number of people who still missed the point after the movie was over so let me just say it’s not a Blade Runny future and it’s not supposed to be a specific place (the film makes this abundantly clear, I don’t know WHAT these people were thinking).

Sutherland seems to be playing someone his father’s age, always breathless and Peter Lorre-esque, vaguely seeming like he should have seemed after coming off Flatliners, instead of engaged to Julia Roberts. O’Brien is playing way against type as a creepy, ethereal bald guy with evil intentions and unearthly origins. Oh, wait.

The plot is interesting – my main complaint about the movie is that it was cool and original up until the pre-climactic obstacle for our hero (this gives nothing away, it’s basic Film 101) – and then it goes straight down. The third act is totally clunky and Hollywood and loud and silly – after the creepy elegance (overall) of the rest of the movie, the ending is an utter letdown. I feel like I have been saying that a lot lately. Oh, and considering how much of this movie is computer generated, there are wires ALL OVER the place. And I don’t mean like, peering, squinty-eyed at the screen thinking, “Hey, I think I see a wire,” I mean green and yellow cables with visible texture. You can create that huge shifting city scape but neglect to spend the extra $100 on erasing a few giant cables? I saw more wires in this movie than in Plan 9 From Outer Space! And Ed Wood had a good excuse why he couldn’t digitally remove them!

Other than that, I thought it was cool and interesting. Maybe I’ll rent the Crow now.

MPAA Rating R for violent images and some sexuality.
Release date 2/27/98
Time in minutes 103
Director Alex Proyas
Studio New Line