WHAT IT’S ABOUT?
Set against the background of 1920s Spain where repression and political upheaval enveloped a nation on the verge of civil war Little Ashes focuses on the emergence of three young artists Salvador Dali Luis Bunuel and Federico Garcia Lorca. When Dali arrives fresh-faced at the University at the age of 18 Bunuel and Lorca welcome him into their decadent group and the trio become fast friends. Their budding friendship is soon threatened however when Dali and Lorca develop a special bond in which their sexual and artistic explorations collide with personal ambition love of country and their own passion for each other.
WHO’S IN IT?
In a performance shot before Twilight made him an international star that women swoon over Robert Pattinson may surprise fans with his spot-on portrayal of the sexually confused over-the-top artist Salvador Dali. With his signature handlebar mustache and a serviceable Spanish accent Pattinson captures the essence of the young Dali convincing in his depiction of the artistic tirades bisexual encounters and egotistical conceit that informed the great painter’s early years. As the object of Dali’s early affections newcomer Javier Beltran is intriguing as the fatalistic and seductive playwright and poet Federico Garcia Lorca while Matthew McNulty is quite fine as Bunuel who himself would go on to become one of Spain’s - and the world’s - most important film directors. As Magdalena and Gala the women who try to tame these artists Marina Gatell and Arly Jover are beautiful and effective even though their roles are really sideshows to the film’s true focus and intentions.
Despite the low budget Madrid in the '20s is nicely suggested and meticulously recreated. Director Paul Morrison has a nice feel for the period and a good eye for casting these tricky roles.
The film tries to bite off more than it can chew covering too much of the era and coming off as a mere overview of these times and key relationships. The idea of seeing the artists as young men is good but not enough time is taken to really show what they are made of. The artistic fire and sexual freedom that must have been prevalent then is glossed over and not totally convincing. This probably would have worked better as a TV mini-series.
BUT SHOULD TWILIGHT FANS LINE UP?
As his first film post-Twilight it won’t matter. Robert Pattinson may be de-fanged here but this independent art-house item won’t be around long enough to become a blip on his new fandom’s radar.
NETFLIX OR MULTIPLEX?
This small flick probably won’t find its way to the local mall. Considering the hard “R” nature of the material Pattinson’s adoring young flock will probably have to wait to see it on DVD anyway.
The story arc of Bridget Jones Part Deux is identical to the first except for one little detail: Instead of trying to find a man Bridget Jones (Renee Zellweger) worries about losing the one she's got. She has already climbed her highest mountain and dreamed her impossible dream she has her soulmate Mark Darcy (Colin Firth) all wrapped up in a little bow and yet the movie keeps going. And going. In the short span of four weeks together Bridget and Darcy have already become the couple that don't speak. She stares at him while he sleeps. He chastises her for it grumpily she apologizes and then she freaks out thinking that he will break up with her. Rinse and repeat. His slinky secretary (Jacinda Barrett) flirts ominously. Bridget feeds her insecurities by stuffing her face drinking like a sailor and then slurring insults at whatever passing character will provide the maximum of shame and embarrassment. It's charming really. Hugh Grant rears his scaly head as former paramour Daniel Cleaver and a song and dance routine breaks out in a Thai prison. I wish I was kidding.
The massive appeal of the character from the books and the first film isn't that difficult to understand. Bridget isn't the smartest girl or the prettiest girl or the thinnest girl but she still wins Prince Charming. She's sweet though and she's funny and she offsets Darcy's stuffiness in a neatly symmetrical opposites attract way. But if the point of Bridget the First is finding the character's attractiveness within the point of the sequel is that Bridget is fat and stupid and the object of our ridicule.
Zellweger famously put 25 pounds back on to reprise the role but this time it seems closer to 50. Bridget's fat is zoomed in on enlarged jiggled fetishized and dragged through pig dung. And her unabashed quest to humiliate herself in public knows no bounds. None of this is exactly Zellweger's fault--the screenplay is terrible for starters--and yet all of it is. She decided to take on a sequel with a character that had absolutely nowhere to go and she doesn't muster the energy needed to save her this time. Even the acclaimed Oscar-nominated English accent sounds a little shaky.
Grant and Firth are caddishness and constipation personified but the stereotypes are way too easy. Firth's Darcy is depicted as a saint of course but one begins to wonder what sickness lurks within a man who watches idly as his girlfriend humiliates herself so brazenly. Grant's Cleaver with his thirst for random conquest is at least explainable. But Darcy seems to crave a woman who will need a quick hook at every social event and a bib at every restaurant. Maybe it's not the slinky secretary Bridget should be worried about it's the bag lady feeding the pigeons. On a positive note Jacinda Barrett is hands down the greatest actress who has ever emerged from MTV's The Real World.
Beeban Kidron who directed the hideous drag melodrama To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything Julie Newmar clearly doesn't get the Jones phenomenon. She ratchets up the camp factor well past tolerable pushes it into misguided slapstick and culminates in nails-to-the-chalkboard shrillness in the Thai prison. And making matters worse not a shred of effort appears to have been expended to make the whole undertaking any more original. Entire scenes are repeated from the first movie. The "Ugly Sweater" scene. The "Big Underwear" scene. The "Fight" scene. And so on. This isn't the first time a sequel has been a glorified remake; Desperado and Terminator 2 spring to mind. But at least those movies had some shred of ambition. Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason aspires to nothing and succeeds handsomely.