Leatherheads (2008)

George Clooney's LEATHERHEADS falls into the same category as fun films like THE IMPOSTERS and (very specifically) THE HUDSUCKER PROXY, recalling the (largely forgotten) screwball comedies of the 30's and 40's. And while it doesn't reach the dizzying heights of those films made famous by the likes of Cary Grant and Irene Dunne, it gets a lot right, and comes off as a refreshingly pleasant comedy, a nice alternative to the glut of Apatow-influenced movies that have been playing as of late.

Not that there's anything wrong with those comedies. But with seemingly six such films coming a month, something that plays by an older set of rules feels like a breath of fresh air. And 90% of this credit should go to Clooney, who knows how to milk comedy out of ordinary moments without having to always play it over the top. The opening scene is fantastic and, as noted elsewhere, probably displays the finest cow acting outside of TOP SECRET! I've ever seen. As Dodge Connolly, the star of the Duluth Bulldogs, a professional football in 1925 that's in danger of going under, Clooney gets to play the Cary Grant role to the hilt, complete with the snazzy one-liners and the wonderful facial expressions, especially during any scene involving getting punched or tackled.

Both John Krasinski and Renee Zellwegger as the other two thirds of the obligatory love trinagle work their roles well. Krasinski in particular uses the boyish charm from The Office to great effect in a role that changes over the course of the movie. Zellwegger stays away from the obvious tough girl reporter imitation that Jennifer Jason Leigh used in HUDSUCKER and instead just plays it straight with a hint of sarcasm and confidence. But the real joy is in the supporting cast, made up of Coen Brother alumni like Stephen Roont (great in every role he takes) as the drunk reporter and Wayne Duvall as the coach of the Bulldogs. Clooney obviously learned a lot from his time with the Coens, and LEATHERHEADS benefits by wisely giving many of the best moments to the supporting cast instead of completely focusing on the stars.

The football scenes are played for laughs, not authenticity, so if you're looking for a fond, historical view of how football worked in the early days, this probably isn't going to do it for you. Most of the funny moments are in the trailer, but there's enough left to provide some good laughs and surprises, especially with the pivotal final game that manages to tie everything up in a neat little package.

It may seem like an odd fit for Clooney following on the heels of both GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD LUCK and MICHAEL CLAYTON, but as a throwback to the movies I grew up on LEATHERHEADS was a nice afternoon date with my wife.

Leatherheads (2008)

George Clooney's LEATHERHEADS falls into the same category as fun films like THE IMPOSTERS and (very specifically) THE HUDSUCKER PROXY, recalling the (largely forgotten) screwball comedies of the 30's and 40's. And while it doesn't reach the dizzying heights of those films made famous by the likes of Cary Grant and Irene Dunne, it gets a lot right, and comes off as a refreshingly pleasant comedy, a nice alternative to the glut of Apatow-influenced movies that have been playing as of late.

Not that there's anything wrong with those comedies. But with seemingly six such films coming a month, something that plays by an older set of rules feels like a breath of fresh air. And 90% of this credit should go to Clooney, who knows how to milk comedy out of ordinary moments without having to always play it over the top. The opening scene is fantastic and, as noted elsewhere, probably displays the finest cow acting outside of TOP SECRET! I've ever seen. As Dodge Connolly, the star of the Duluth Bulldogs, a professional football in 1925 that's in danger of going under, Clooney gets to play the Cary Grant role to the hilt, complete with the snazzy one-liners and the wonderful facial expressions, especially during any scene involving getting punched or tackled.

Both John Krasinski and Renee Zellwegger as the other two thirds of the obligatory love trinagle work their roles well. Krasinski in particular uses the boyish charm from The Office to great effect in a role that changes over the course of the movie. Zellwegger stays away from the obvious tough girl reporter imitation that Jennifer Jason Leigh used in HUDSUCKER and instead just plays it straight with a hint of sarcasm and confidence. But the real joy is in the supporting cast, made up of Coen Brother alumni like Stephen Roont (great in every role he takes) as the drunk reporter and Wayne Duvall as the coach of the Bulldogs. Clooney obviously learned a lot from his time with the Coens, and LEATHERHEADS benefits by wisely giving many of the best moments to the supporting cast instead of completely focusing on the stars.

The football scenes are played for laughs, not authenticity, so if you're looking for a fond, historical view of how football worked in the early days, this probably isn't going to do it for you. Most of the funny moments are in the trailer, but there's enough left to provide some good laughs and surprises, especially with the pivotal final game that manages to tie everything up in a neat little package.

It may seem like an odd fit for Clooney following on the heels of both GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD LUCK and MICHAEL CLAYTON, but as a throwback to the movies I grew up on LEATHERHEADS was a nice afternoon date with my wife.

Doomsday (2008)

There's comes a point in DOOMSDAY, Neil Marshall's follow-up to his excellent THE DESCENT, when you have to make a choice. You can either accept what you see on the screen as a film that liberally "borrows" from such 70-80's entertainment like ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK, MAD MAX BEYOND THUNDERDOME and THE WARRIORS and ride with it, going with the flow or you can chalk up all the preceding to a hack job and walk out. You can revel in the over-the top action and violence, dialog that sounds like it was directly lifted from some of the above-mentioned films, and an obligatory dance/rave about as embarrassing as you can imagine and call it "loving homage." Or you can pull out the double barrels of movie death (uninspired and unoriginal) and write Marshall off as yet another bright star that all too quickly dimmed.

I'm not about to change your mind in either case. And there's no way I can convince anyone that this is a great movie - it isn't. It doesn't flout convention, make you think, or even really show you anything that you haven't seen before. Besides, anything I could say in defense of DOOMSDAY has already been said in this excellent review by Ron Gonsalves over at www.efilmcritic.com. Go and read that - it basically goes over all the points I was going to cover after seeing the film last week. Especially the GRINDHOUSE bit at the end...damn you, Gonsalves (damn you to Hell) - that was the one thing I thought I would have to offer up that would have been unique. Because that's precisely what DOOMSDAY offers us - a loving, sincere tribute to the SF/action films that were so popular back when skinny ties and Chess King were the rage at your local mall.

In brief, something called the Reaper virus is infecting the British Isles, killing off thousands of people, forcing England to attempt containment by erecting an enormous wall around Scotland (something I've been advocating for years). 30 years later the virus turns up in London and satellite images show that somehow there are people in Scotland who managed to survive the virus. A crackerjack team led by the delicious Kate Beckinsale clone Rhona Mitra is sent over the wall to find a cure within 48 hours before the Thames is flooded.

Or something like that - the plot gets a little hazy as to why they only have 48 hours. Anyway, over the wall they go to find that not only are there people living in Scotland, but there are two warring factions - one led by Malcolm McDowell, who in the mirror image of his real life lives in a castle and forces everyone to wear armor and/or peasant clothing and basically act medieval. His son commands a band of youths straight out of the ROAD WARRIOR, complete with football gear, mohawks and a penchant for human flesh. Sadly, this familial dichotomy isn't explored in depth - instead it allows Mitra the chance to kick ass in essentially two different films, which is cool in and of itself.

DOOMSDAY gives you everything. There are machine guns, bows and arrows, knights and gladiator fights. Our hero drives a Bentley and has a robot eye that she can take out and record things. Large, obese men dance the can-can. Human beings are eaten, cows are run over, and one innocent bunny is obliterated. Neil Marshall casts a loving eye over a largely forgotten genre and serves up what will be a fun midnight movie 5 years from now.

Enjoy.

Doomsday (2008)

There's comes a point in DOOMSDAY, Neil Marshall's follow-up to his excellent THE DESCENT, when you have to make a choice. You can either accept what you see on the screen as a film that liberally "borrows" from such 70-80's entertainment like ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK, MAD MAX BEYOND THUNDERDOME and THE WARRIORS and ride with it, going with the flow or you can chalk up all the preceding to a hack job and walk out. You can revel in the over-the top action and violence, dialog that sounds like it was directly lifted from some of the above-mentioned films, and an obligatory dance/rave about as embarrassing as you can imagine and call it "loving homage." Or you can pull out the double barrels of movie death (uninspired and unoriginal) and write Marshall off as yet another bright star that all too quickly dimmed.

I'm not about to change your mind in either case. And there's no way I can convince anyone that this is a great movie - it isn't. It doesn't flout convention, make you think, or even really show you anything that you haven't seen before. Besides, anything I could say in defense of DOOMSDAY has already been said in this excellent review by Ron Gonsalves over at www.efilmcritic.com. Go and read that - it basically goes over all the points I was going to cover after seeing the film last week. Especially the GRINDHOUSE bit at the end...damn you, Gonsalves (damn you to Hell) - that was the one thing I thought I would have to offer up that would have been unique. Because that's precisely what DOOMSDAY offers us - a loving, sincere tribute to the SF/action films that were so popular back when skinny ties and Chess King were the rage at your local mall.

In brief, something called the Reaper virus is infecting the British Isles, killing off thousands of people, forcing England to attempt containment by erecting an enormous wall around Scotland (something I've been advocating for years). 30 years later the virus turns up in London and satellite images show that somehow there are people in Scotland who managed to survive the virus. A crackerjack team led by the delicious Kate Beckinsale clone Rhona Mitra is sent over the wall to find a cure within 48 hours before the Thames is flooded.

Or something like that - the plot gets a little hazy as to why they only have 48 hours. Anyway, over the wall they go to find that not only are there people living in Scotland, but there are two warring factions - one led by Malcolm McDowell, who in the mirror image of his real life lives in a castle and forces everyone to wear armor and/or peasant clothing and basically act medieval. His son commands a band of youths straight out of the ROAD WARRIOR, complete with football gear, mohawks and a penchant for human flesh. Sadly, this familial dichotomy isn't explored in depth - instead it allows Mitra the chance to kick ass in essentially two different films, which is cool in and of itself.

DOOMSDAY gives you everything. There are machine guns, bows and arrows, knights and gladiator fights. Our hero drives a Bentley and has a robot eye that she can take out and record things. Large, obese men dance the can-can. Human beings are eaten, cows are run over, and one innocent bunny is obliterated. Neil Marshall casts a loving eye over a largely forgotten genre and serves up what will be a fun midnight movie 5 years from now.

Enjoy.

Rambo (2008)

Wow.

Sylvester Stallone is 61 years old. I point that off right in the beginning because as you watch RAMBO, the third sequel to feature Vietnam veteran/Green Beret John J. Rambo from FIRST BLOOD, you'll see a 61-year old man almost outrun a massive explosion, rip a man's Adam's Apple out using his fingers, and rack up a body count to rival anything that came out in the heyday of 80's and 90's DTV action films. And as you watch this you will probably laugh a bit, but if you've got any sense of humor for this type of movie you will also say "Wow." A lot.

Look. RAMBO isn't a great movie. It may not even be a good movie. But it's so sincere in its execution, and so serious in providing as much action and viscera as possible, that you can't help but grudgingly give Stallone a little respect. Like ROCKY BALBOA (a much better film in my opinion), Stallone isn't cashing in on another popular franchise. He really wants to give this character a sense of closure, and wants to do it on his terms. And RAMBO, for better or worse, is a film that feels like it's the sole product of one man's vision.

Burma is the setting this time around, and Stallone starts the movie with actual footage of the atrocities that have plagued the country for years. If nothing else it's a bold attempt to shed light on the plight of a country that gets far too little media attention. Despite this overtly political beginning, RAMBO feels in no way like a "message" movie. The plot is simple: Rambo, now living in Thailand as a snake wrangler (yes, you read that right) reluctantly agrees to ferry a group of missionaries into Burma. The missionaries are (of course) captured, and it's up to Rambo, along with a motley crew (of course) of mercenaries to bring 'em back alive.

That's it. The movie's short and to the point. And apparently the point is to kill, maim, and literally explode as many people as possible in just under 90 minutes. This may be the most brutal movie I've ever seen in a mainstream theater. I guess in tone this is more akin to FIRST BLOOD than RAMBO III (thank God), but the action is frankly so gratuitous as to be almost unbelievable. During a village raid the bad guys (I don't even remember why now) come in and proceed to blow the living crap out of the place.

This includes bayoneting children and lobbing them into fires.

Read that again. It happens. Limbs are thrown around with abandon. Entrails are spilled and you won't see this many heads rolling outside of a Judas Priest concert (didja catch my subtle reference to the immortal Priest sing "Some Heads Are Gonna Roll?" Didja?)

But that's not all the 80's fun you get. The mercenaries take every opportunity to roll, flip, and kill bad guys as uniquely as anyone else. I think I counted seven somersaults that ended up in either gunshots or crazy knife kills. Rambo is an enormous presence on screen. He looks 12 feet high and carved out of the side of a mountain. His worn countenance works to the film's advantage - anyone else and we wouldn't have sat through the film. But you can always count on Rambo to gets the audience cheering, and despite it's obvious cheap budget, simplistic plot, and literally tons of gore, the latest RAMBO was a amusing if slightly guilty ride.