Tom Hanks stars as the charming but fiendishly eccentric Goldthwait Higginson Dorr III Ph.D.--a Southern gentleman and expert thief who masterminds a casino heist with a motley crew of goofy crooks. Setting up operations at the boarding house of the widowed Baptist-loving sassy Mrs. Munson (Irma P. Hall) Dorr convinces the older lady that he requires her cellar for his Renaissance-period music ensemble to practice. The band is in actuality his criminal team which plans to use the space to dig a tunnel into a riverboat casino and rob its safe. But with this oddball crew comprised of the hip-hop stylin' Gawain (Marlon Wayans) a janitor at the casino; ex-hippie and Irritable Bowel Syndrome sufferer Garth Pancake (J.K. Simmons); The General (Tzi Ma) a stoic chain smoking tunneling pro; and Lump (Ryan Hurst) an ex-football player whose brains are in short order problems are bound to arise. God-fearing Southern woman Mrs. Munson is initially charmed (after all they're not playing that "hippity-hoppity" music as she calls it) but once she catches wind of their scheme the dastardly characters must find a way to dispose of her. But how?
Stepping in the shoes of the great Guinness who played an almost Phantom of the Opera version of the English gallant Hanks creates an over-the-top Southerner who's part William Faulkner part Colonel Sanders. An eloquent Edgar Allen Poe-quoting dandy Hanks wears antebellum all-white and speaks with antiquated turns of phrase that are supposed to be alternately appealing and anachronistically funny. Supposed to be. Though under the direction of Joel Coen who can wring an effortless inspired verbose Kentucky character out of George Clooney in O Brother Where Art Thou? Hanks' oddities are obvious at every turn. The performance is strained--right down to his goofy laugh--and unlike Guinness we never feel Dorr's underlying evil the element that made the original character so deliciously funny. This is a darkly comic character Hanks manages to make cute. The rest of the crew fares little better with the talented Wayans resting on easy "bust a cap in yo' ass" ghetto humor and Simmons' suffering one too many unfunny times from a bout with IBS (since when did the Coens resort to bathroom humor?). Hall is the saving grace here from back-talking her charges with gusto to giving a hilarious speech about the depraved elements of "hippity-hoppity music" to mistaking Dorr's dubious title of Ph.D. as "like Elmer Fudd?" she's a terrific comic foil. Too bad the cast didn't have enough stimulating material to bounce off her.
The Coen brothers usually work expertly with caricatures carefully balancing cartoonish madcap with people we actually care about. From Nicolas Cage's brilliant Hy in Raising Arizona to Jeff Bridges's pot-smoking The Dude in The Big Lebowski to Clooney in the aforementioned O Brother they're the masters of broad. Here however they make a misstep in both casting Hanks (Billy Bob Thornton would have been more appropriate) and to a larger extent messing with a movie that didn't need messing. The original 1955 version (directed by Alexander Mackendrick and also starring Peter Sellers) is darker than the Coens' take which relies more on slapstick and lunacy. Nevertheless the picture is technically gorgeous with cinematographer Roger Deakins creating a perfectly sunny Southern town mixed with a gothic underbelly of doom and tuned to an enlivened Gospel music score. And there are funny bits for sure played out in that precise unique Coen rhythm but given their past and potential genius the Coens are certainly capable of better. The Ladykillers lacks what we've come to know them for--a killer comic instinct.
Dr. Joe Darrow (Kevin Costner) loses his wife Emily (Susanna Thompson) in a bus accident in Venezuela. Emily who was a pediatric oncologist had been sent there on a medical mercy mission and was trying to leave when the accident occurred. Six months later Joe is having a difficult time coming to grips especially because her body was never recovered. He immerses himself in his work as the head of emergency services but his friends are all very concerned. Concerned that maybe he's going crazy. See Joe who usually doesn't believe in the afterlife thinks Emily may be trying to communicate with him. First he gets weird messages from some of Emily's cancer patients who claim they have talked to Emily and that she wants Joe to go "inside the rainbow." Then at home he feels a presence in the house and thinks his wife may be working some voodoo through many dragonfly references a personal totem to Emily because of a birthmark on her shoulder in the shape of the insect. It's supposed to be spooky right about now but it's more laughable than anything else. The journey Joe finally embarks on leads him back to Venezuela where he desperately searches for a piece of Emily's soul. Can we say closure anyone?
Where has the Kevin Costner we all remember from the Dances with Wolves days gone to? Since his Academy Award-winning opus Costner has managed to make as many bad films as he possibly could. Maybe being in a huge-budget film like Waterworld and having it tank miserably (otherwise known as the Heaven's Gate curse) has affected his judgment. In any event Costner does his best to keep afloat in this movie playing the rational Joe a man who is a "mind without a heart." But ultimately he spends most of his time losing his mind over all the strange "happenings" around him rather than playing the part of a grieving husband. Just one word of advice: Get a new agent Kevin. It's also not quite clear why some really great actors such as Kathy Bates and Linda Hunt decided to take small meaningless parts in the film. Everyone in the film is a cliché down to the children on the cancer ward who are wise beyond their years and the disapproving hospital administrator played by Joe Morton who wants Dr. Joe to take a break. There was a colossal waste of talent in this movie.
In an attempt to capitalize on the whole spooky ghost genre done so well in films such as The Sixth Sense and What Lies Beneath Dragonfly just falls flat as a pancake. Director Tom Shadyac (Ace Ventura: Pet Detective; Patch Adams) just doesn't have the same skills of a M. Night Shyamalan to pull something like this off. Admittedly there are moments when you jump as "the big spooky thing" happens even though you can see it coming a mile away but the film seems superficial rather than cutting deep in Joe's psyche--it's unimaginative in all its elements. The "clues" that finally get Joe on the road to Venezuela--the dragonfly paperweight flying off the table cancer kids eerily repeating the same thing over and over again--are forced and not in any way poignant. Only in the conclusion when Joe realizes why he's been sent on this journey does the story take a nice twist. Some may call it sappy but it worked on some level. Still we are talking about only 10 minutes of the film.
Jake Hoyt (Ethan Hawke) has one day and one day only to prove himself to his new partner Alonzo Harris (Denzel Washington) a 13-year vet of the LAPD narcotics division. Harris' years of hardcore experience on Los Angeles' meanest streets though have turned him into the same sort of criminal he's supposed to be putting away. At first it seems Harris intends to teach Hoyt his own brand of justice: that in order to catch the big fish sometimes officers must throw the smaller ones back. But as the hours slip away Hoyt learns just how bad his badass partner really is--Harris starts out as a taunting joker who just wants to give Hoyt a hard time but by nightfall he's turned into a full-blown monster bent on saving his own skin no matter what.
This two-man show is really a one-man show. It's Washington's game all the way as he bursts the almost priestly bubble of do-goodness that has surrounded him like a halo for most of his career with a sudden murderous burst of gunfire. In Day he is larger than life; clad in black leather and huge jewelry he towers both physically and psychologically over a scrawny goateed Hawke (looking like he just walked off the Reality Bites set) who tries valiantly to keep up with his Oscar-winning co-star. It's not that a perfectly wet-behind-the-ears Hawke doesn't adequately carry off the acting required for the situation he's in but really we're supposed to believe he hold his own in a fistfight-turned-deathmatch against guys more than twice his size? For his part Washington chews the scenery like it was his last meal as Alonzo goes from bad to worse but he sure makes it look fun.
Director Antoine Fuqua (Bait) used to direct music videos for artists like Coolio and it shows. Love the cool camera angles the warped POV shots the primary colors and raw soundtrack. And Fuqua's not afraid to show the L.A. streets at their worst. The first two-thirds are masterful work in character study as the line between good and evil becomes increasingly blurred. But by the final third the plot disintegrates getting hacky and waaayy contrived especially the "Hey! It just so happens..." coinky-dinks and a laughable ending that falls flat as a pancake and panders to an urban audience almost to the point of patronization. Most of this movie is so over-the-top it would be unwatchable were it not for its charismatic lead.