The tenets of the martial arts as they apply to Fred Simmons (co-writer Danny McBride)--a self-absorbed self-deluded strip-mall Tae Kwon Do instructor--are explored in this appealing indie farce. When Fred’s not belittling or berating his students he’s espousing his loony philosophies and demonstrating his own (mediocre) prowess at Tae Kwon Do--utterly convinced that he is the living embodiment of the art. Life throws him a curveball--or gives him a karate chop to the neck if you will--when he discovers that his bimbo wife Suzie (Mary Jane Bostick) has been playing around. His inner strength shaken to the core Fred tries to apply the very teachings he espouses to his own mess of a life succeeding only in making it messier. Nevertheless as befits come-from-behind stories like this fate has a way of smiling on the underdog--no matter how stupid he may be. McBride soon to be seen in Tropic Thunder and Pineapple Express plays it perfectly straight as the pompous boor who’s not nearly as smart sexy or savvy as he thinks he is. Instead he’s smug smarmy and would be utterly unbearable were it not for the clueless charm that McBride plays him with. It’s a splendid comedic performance. Bostick complements McBride perfectly as the bubble-headed salon-tanned stereotypical dumb-blonde wife who just can’t seem to keep her hands to herself--and we’re not talking about the martial (or even the marital) arts. Ben Best who also collaborated on the screenplay with McBride and Jody Hill comes into the game late as Fred’s chop-socky idol the equally smarmy Chuck “The Truck” Wallace whose own adherence to the contemplative and spiritual nature of the martial arts is as bogus as Fred’s. As the most stalwart of Fred’s students Spencer Moreno and Carlos Lopez IV stand out with director Hill himself rounds out an enthusiastic cast of up-and-comers. The true success of the film is its confident execution which belies Hill’s first-timer status. The Foot Fist Way is consistently funny not because of the slapstick gags--although those work too--but in the pitch-perfect realization of characters that in other hands might well have been insufferable. Instead they’re amusing and appealing--even more so the worse they behave. The Hollywood landscape is littered with slob comedies that mistake lowbrow idiocy for inventiveness. The Foot Fist Way never makes that mistake and it moves speedily and entertainingly enough that its slow patches are quickly forgotten and forgiven.
We meet our lovers in the Bahamas. Jared (Paul Walker) is a dive bum looking for his big break. Samantha (Jessica Alba) Jared's devoted girlfriend is happy handling sharks at the Atlantis resort and living with her man in a trailer on an idyllic beach. Wouldn't we all? Except maybe the shark part. When Jared's best bud Bryce (Scott Caan) shows up with a new girlfriend Amanda (Ashley Scott) things get a little dicey. It starts off when the four divers discover a legendary shipwreck rumored to contain millions in gold. Soon visions of wealth and greed are swimming in their heads. But also nearby on the ocean floor is a sunken plane full of cocaine. Uh-oh. The friends make a pact to keep quiet about both discoveries so they can excavate the shipwreck and claim it before a rival treasure hunter Bates (Josh Brolin) can beat them to it. Of course their plan goes awry as plans are wont to do. The nefarious smugglers looking for their underwater stash are lurking about. So Bryce and Amanda come up with a new plan of their own. You know nothing good is going to come of this.
Into the Blue is a perfect vehicle for its four lead hotties especially Walker. He's at best when he doesn't have to say too much and can just stand there looking buff and beautiful. At least Walker has played it pretty smart with his career up to this point. He's so far resisted trying on an accent and doing a period drama content being the pretty boy who makes action movies such as The Fast and the Furious and its sequel. And that's just fine by us. As his sultry paramour Alba--who's having quite a year with Sin City and Fantastic Four under her belt--isn't required to do much either but look stunning in her scantily clad wardrobe. She'll no doubt be the reason most of the male population will flock to see this. But when it comes down to protecting herself from the bad guys she can also wield a pretty mean machete. Her Sam has got a lot of guts evoking images of her character in the ill-fated TV show Dark Angel. Rounding out the cast is Scott (Alba's Dark Angel co-star) as the lanky Amanda a squirrelly girl with her own agenda and Caan as the snarky Bryce. The Ocean's Eleven actor is great at playing the hothead you want to slap for being so clueless but who grows on you nonetheless.
Into the Blue tells us that there is $6 billion worth of buried treasure in the world's oceans just waiting to be discovered with a major portion of it buried near the Bahamian islands. If that isn't enough incentive to just chuck everything go live in the Bahamas and be a treasure hunter then feasting your eyes on the scenery in this movie just might do the trick. After helming Blue Crush in lush Hawaii director John Stockwell--who's definitely a sucker for surf and sand as well as the word "blue" in the title of his films--gets his feet wet again in Into the Blue. Really wet. Shooting a film in which three-quarters of it is underwater was an arduous task especially on the actors who all had learn how to free dive which is snorkeling in deep water for extended periods of time. But much like its obvious inspiration The Deep Into the Blue is really all fluff without much substance. It's just a giant excuse to watch beautiful people frolicking in beautiful backdrops with sharks drug dealers and action sequences thrown in for good measure. And you know that really isn't such a bad thing.
Let's give a big hand to the two newest members of the Mile High Club. Yes total strangers Oliver (Ashton Kutcher) and Emily (Amanda Peet) hook up during an otherwise quiet flight from L.A. to New York City. Heck the two don't say a word until they bump into each other at the baggage claim. "Blah blah it's ruined " Emily moans the second Oliver opens his big mouth. How sweet. How could they not be soul mates? So what if they share nothing in common aside from a mutual attraction? The bashful Oliver's an aspiring Internet entrepreneur eager to marry the perfect woman live in a beautiful house and drive the flashiest car. The outgoing Emily's an actress with less talent than Paris Hilton and a thing for lousy musicians and writers. So why do director Nigel Cole and screenwriter Colin Patrick Lynch insist on making this lousy love match? They even drag this dead-end romance from the late 1990s to today as Oliver bets Emily $50 that he will have the life he desires in just seven years. Predictably absence makes the heart grow fonder and whenever they cross paths--from a day in New York City or a night in L.A.--they fall more in love with each other. Of course there's always something preventing them from making a commitment. Yawn. By the time Oliver and Emily decide it's now or never they've grown so whiny and wearisome you won't care whether they spend the rest of their lives together or apart.
Kutcher promises to slip on his tighty whities and model again for Calvin Klein if A Lot Like Love reigns supreme at the box office. Sorry girls that won't happen. But Kutcher does flash a little flesh when he drops his drawers for Peet. Otherwise he doesn't display much of anything else in his most wretched offering since My Boss's Daughter. If ever Kutcher wanted to prove he can inject a little charisma or personality into an underwritten role A Lot Like Love offers him his greatest opportunity. But he blows it. Or maybe he's not capable of doing anything other than getting so flustered he can barely spit out his words as he does in all his witless comedies. Kutcher's Oliver Martin is as bland as his name and as dull as his line of business. This makes it tough to believe Emily--in the form of the spunky Peet--would even think twice about pursuing a relationship with this drip. Then again the relentlessly grating Emily isn't exactly a prize catch negating Peet's efforts to give A Lot Like Love a little pungency. You have to pity Peet: she so willingly participates in one farcical flop after another--from Whipped to Saving Silverman to The Whole Ten Yards--that she's dangerously close to ruining what was never really a particularly promising career.
Ever cleaned out the back of your car and found a soundtrack CD you forgot you bought? Those CDs always boast great pop songs that you never hear on the radio anymore. But no matter how many times you listen to the songs you can't remember the film that accompanied the soundtrack. That's A Lot Like Love: terrific soundtrack lousy movie. To lazily evoke a sense of time and place director Nigel Cole leans heavily on well-worn hits from the late 1990s and early 2000s by Smash Mouth and Third Eye Blind. That would be all well and dandy if Cole at least injected A Lot Like Love with some comic pizzazz. For a film told over the course of seven years A Lot Like Love moves slowly awkwardly and uneventfully. Perhaps Cole left his sense of humor back in England where he directed the screwy Saving Grace and the plucky Calendar Girls. Or maybe he's more comfortable chronicling the misadventures of middle-aged women than the bed-hopping antics of self-involved twentysomethings. He gets so desperate for laughs that he makes Kutcher and Peet spit water at each other during a dinner eaten in silence. But the most grating moment sadly recalls Say Anything's sweet and touching climax: rather than blast Peter Gabriel's In Your Eyes from a boom box a guitar-strumming Kutcher instead serenades Peet with an unfunny off-key rendition of Bon Jovi's "I'll be There For You." OK so maybe not every song on the soundtrack deserves another spin.