Liam Neeson is that rare breed of actor who grows more badass with age who at the cusp of 60 appears quite credible besting men 30 years younger – or anyone else foolish enough to provoke him. In The Grey – a gripping but ponderous man-versus-wild epic directed and co-written by Joe Carnahan (The A-Team) – his foe is no less formidable than Mother Nature in all her fury. She has met her match.
Neeson plays Ottway a man whose sole job on an Alaskan oil rig consists of gunning down the occasional wolf that makes a run at an oilworker. (Fences apparently being in short supply in the Arctic.) Ottway is a hard stoic sort and one gets the strong sense that he tended toward irascibility even before his wife departed (for reasons not made clear till late in the film) taking with her his remaining purpose for living. He gains a new one appropriately enough when his flight home crashes down in the Alaskan wilderness killing all but a handful of its passengers. Ottway his survival skills honed in a previous life emerges as the only person capable of guiding them to salvation.
Carnahan surrounds Neeson with an ensemble of familiar types the most notable of which are Talget (Dermot Mulroney) the family man Henrick (Dallas Roberts) the conscience and Diaz (Frank Grillo) the jerk. They encounter the predictable male team-building hurdles puffing chests and locking horns before Ottway asserts himself as the Alpha Male. Figuring they’ll perish before salvation arrives they agree to make the perilous trek to the nearest human habitat braving any number of dangers the most fearsome of which are the ravenous “rogue wolves” that roam the landscape. (The film shot in British Columbia in conditions that were apparently every bit as brutal as they appear on-screen certainly looks authentic – both beautiful and ominous.)
When they aren’t battling the predatory lupine menace the men have time – far too much time – to reflect upon their plight and its existential implications. The Grey would have been perfectly enjoyable as a straightforward survival epic the “Liam punches wolves” movie promised by the trailer but Carnahan is intent on imbuing the film with a philosophical poignancy wholly unsuitable for a film featuring lines like “We’re in Fuck City population five and dwindling ” and “We’re gonna cook this son of a bitch!” – the latter uttered at the capture of one of the wolves. As a film Carnahan’s macho metaphysics leave The Grey feeling a bit overcooked.
While the original 1950s sci-fi cult classic pointed to the Cold War and the threat of nuclear war in a timely manner this The Day the Earth Stood Still is just a rehash. Do we really need Keanu Reeves to tell us how we’ve messed up the planet? In any case he plays Klaatu an alien being inside a human body who comes to Earth in a giant sphere to “talk” to our world leaders about our destructive behavior. In fact he’s the deciding factor on whether to destroy the human race in order to preserve Earth OR give us another chance. Of course no one is going to let Klaatu speak to the U.N. which leaves the alien no other choice. Until that is he joins up with a pretty scientist (Jennifer Connelly) and her stepson (Jaden Smith) and sees just exactly how warm and fuzzy humans can be. Oy. It might be too late though since Klaatu’s giant robot friend (“Gort” in the original) is already gearing up for his mission to kill and destroy. At least casting Keanu Reeves was a smart move. Klaatu’s lack of emotion and few words is right up the actor’s alley; he makes it look soooo easy. Connelly on the other hand is making the same mistake she did when she starred in Hulk -- playing a brilliant scientist of some kind who is inevitably wasted onscreen. Jaden Smith is kind of an impertinent little snot through most of the movie who wants Klaatu dead but suddenly changes his mind just at the right moment. And then there’s Kathy Bates as the Secretary of Defense who stonewalls Klaatu’s request to meet the world leaders. She nearly ruins the whole thing! It’s not that The Day the Earth Stood Still is a poorly made film. Director Scott Derrickson sets the right tone and aptly applies the state-of-the-art special effects when it’s needed -- especially when the robot starts to work his particular destructive mojo by unleashing millions of tiny mechanical bugs who eat through everything. The main problem with this remake is bad timing. The original was creepy and quiet and menacing with its alien takeover theme in a way moviegoers had never experienced in 1951; it hit a chord which has carried it through its cult status. But to redo it now when we’ve seen the same kind of movie done in so many better ways doesn’t make any sense. In trying to keep to the original’s spirit this Day comes off as derivative unimaginative and tedious. Should have left it alone folks.
Casino Royale starts at the beginning as James Bond (Craig) takes his first baby steps as a Double O agent. His first assignment is to track down a terrorist cell in Madagascar but he’s a bit of a loose cannon and things quickly go awry. Bond’s superior M (Judi Dench) is soon regretting giving the arrogant Bond the promotion. Nonetheless Agent 007 takes it upon himself to follow a lead to the Bahamas and discovers that all nefarious dealings point to Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen) a nasty fellow who has money ties to terrorist organizations. Le Chiffre is planning to raise money in a high-stakes poker game at the Le Casino Royale in Montenegro—and Bond gets in to beat him at his own game. Along with a hefty bankroll M also sends the beguiling accountant Vesper Lynd (Eva Green) to keep Bond in check. They are skeptical of each other at first but as the danger escalates it becomes apparent there is a growing attraction—and affection—between them. Natch. Can these two crazy kids make it work immersed in the cutthroat world of international intrigue? Well this is Bond after all—and we know how he ends up. Craig absolutely gets it. Whatever doubts people may have had when Craig was first announced as the new Bond are washed away in the first few minutes of the film. Sure if Casino Royale was anything like the last few Bond movies then maybe the understated Craig wouldn’t have fit in as well. But this is a different Bond. The British actor plays him not as the icon we’ve come to know but as a flawed man warts and all who flies by the seat of his pants isn’t necessarily refined and yes can even fall in love. Craig also raises the acting bar. His brief scenes with the impeccable Dench for example simmer and pop unlike anything we’ve seen before in a Bond film. Danish film star Mikkelsen (Pusher) is quite effective as the main baddie with a particularly gruesome physical malady while the always good Jeffrey Wright (Syriana) shows up as CIA Agent Felix Leiter. The one weak link unfortunately is Green (The Dreamers). She certainly looks the part of a “Bond girl ” but her Vesper is supposed to be whip-smart able to engage in witty banter with 007 and the French actress can’t quite pull it off. Craig needs more of a challenge. Too bad Judi Dench isn’t 30 years younger; she would have been perfect. Casino Royale the first book in the Ian Fleming series is basic Bond 101. Director Martin Campbell--who helmed Goldeneye Pierce Brosnan’s first and probably best foray into the franchise--strips it of all the far-fetched gadgets (save for a few new-fangled PDAs) and over-the-top action sequences leaving just good clean action devoid of any invisible cars armored Russian tanks and the such. Oh wait Bond does use a bulldozer at one point but that comes briefly in the middle of a rather extensive and hair-raising foot chase. It just proves action can be just as riveting without having to completely suspend your disbelief. Casino Royale is also rare in that it shows how Bond became THE James Bond the one we’ve seen in countless movies over the years in the stylish tuxes drinking the martinis driving the Aston-Martins and bedding all the beautiful women. Casino Royale breathes new life into the franchise and one can only hope they can keep up the good work without once again lapsing into the ridiculous.
The ennui of high-schoolers is a universal problem--a rite of passage almost--but it's usually a harmless one. In the case of the high school students at Westlake Prep a posh private school it turns into a deadly game. Owen (Julian Morris) is a transfer student from England and has a history of acting out. Once ensconced on campus it doesn't take him long to find a clique and revert to his old ways. Owen and his friends play a game in which they spread an online rumor that a serial killer called "The Wolf" is responsible for a recent on-campus murder and is set to strike again. Many of the aforementioned twists are revealed via AOL "Instant Messenger " which is suppose to be topical. By describing the killer's next victims they try to see how many students they can scare. But when the victims actually start to (seemingly) turn up dead--by the group's predicted methods of murder no less--Owen fears the game has turned real and deadly. Now this little clique that once sauntered about aimlessly and innocently in their debonair little uniforms begin to question one another.
Cry Wolf employs a bunch of unknowns to play the Westlake students and they all more than hold their own against Jon Bon Jovi. Yes that Bon Jovi. He plays Rich Walker aka Mr. Walker the schoolteacher who threatens to expose Owen's plans although Owen thinks he's up to much more than that. The rocker's trademark pearly whites are hard to not notice but he does display a surprising acting ability. It isn't like this is his first time you know. He did play the hunky painter in Moonlight and Valentino so at least he knows his way around a camera. As far as the lead relative newcomer Morris is the real revelation in an otherwise standard horror flick. He has a face that's recognizable--even if you don't know who he is--and an ability to make the nonsense he utters seem somehow believable. As his cohort Lindy Booth (Dawn of the Dead) plays Owen's female equivalent Dodger who turns out to be his ultimate arch-nemesis. But she suffers from something that happens when 26-year-olds are cast as 18-year-olds--she's wise beyond her years. Of course it's not her fault and she plays her conniving character with surprising proficiency. It just doesn't fit in with the rest of the milieu.
Cry Wolf marks Jeff Wadlow's major motion picture debut as a writer and a director. So that's two strikes against him already. Wadlow pulls out as many twists and thriller clichés as possible and in the process sends everyone spinning in circles including the audience. Of course playing with the whole "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" theme is interesting but the film repeatedly comes up with one cop-out surprise after another. If Wadlow can't write a character out of a major jam or implausibility he just compounds the problem by further perpetuating the illogical spin or simply concocting a whole new one which makes audiences "ooh" and "ah" for all the wrong reasons. Plus his writing style while appropriate for maybe a grown-up whodunit makes the "teenagers" too highfalutin as if they're reciting Shakespeare instead of just talking like well teenagers. High-school students don't muse with such rumination and clarity not even British ones. Cry Wolf should have just gone straight to video. At least then it might have had a chance with a cult following.