Scale things down from the Capitol Building explosions, the venomous terrorist ploys, and the overarching subtext of international warfare, and you've got the real fun of White House Down: its character. Yet another melding of astronomical disaster and human charm from Independence Day director Roland Emmerich, the D.C.-set thriller actually veers the lot of its attention away from collapsing buildings (thankfully) and towards the nuanced moments between its affable stars: Secret Service hopeful Channing Tatum and freshly passionate commander in chief Jamie Foxx.
As an unlikely camaraderie forms between the two stars — who are forced to band together when Washington faces the wrath of American activists — we warm up to not a security guard and a president, but the men who occupy these positions: a lifelong underacheiver trying to get his act together to impress his intellectual middle school-aged daughter (who becomes one of the many hostages taken by the West Wing assailants) and a working class do-gooder who, while still enamored with his new place in the world, shows signs of cynicism about the political system and no shortage of conflict over the choices he's had to make... not to mention a nasty smoking habit he's trying to kick (gee, I wonder who he's supposed to be?).
Setting their differences aside in the interest of their country — Tatum's John Cale is a veteran and suggested conservative, while Foxx's President Sawyer ensnares the rage of his old white constituents for his peace-lovin' ways and lack of military background (seriously, who could he be?) — and of Cale's daughter Emily, the two develop a "buddy cop" formula that provides as many warm laughs as it does action thrills.
Thanks to the allure and comic chops of Foxx and, yes, Tatum, this motif seldom misses the mark. It's when the film aims in a different direction, shooting for sincere intensity over action-heavy candy, that some of the luster is lost. Never boring but sometimes hard to watch, thanks to the heavy artillery that is a terrorist ploy so vividly embedded in current events, the film loses its sense of "fun" in a plot that is at times too close to home. With the baddies led by Washington insiders — many of whom are not devoid of humanity but simply corroded by a flawed system and imperfect policies — White House Down sometimes seems to be a movie about our political situation, rather than a movie using our political situation to deliver a fun summer actioner. Unfortunately, the teetering of this line doesn't inject the film with depth as much as it does to confuse the viewer on what to feel.
Are we meant to ponder the gravity of White House Down's international climate? At times, it seems as though Emmerich is inviting us to do so... but then, a federal agent makes a crack about the president using a rocket launcher, or a plucky tour guide goes ape s**t on a terrorist for breaking a West Wing antique. We're back in the realm of the ridiculous, where we, and the movie, belong.
And when it keeps to this territory, White House Down is as much fun as you might want it to be. Oddly, when we think back on Independence Day, we don't cite the explosions and sweeping battles, but the laughable quips and exclamations — the "Welcome to Urf!"s and "Nobody's perfect"s. And that same human charm ebbs and flows throughout White House Down. When it veers from this path, honing in on an imperiled D.C. or a vindictive gang of vigilantes, we just wait for the fun again. But no more than a scene later, it's back, rocket launched right at us.
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If you thought the Viking Age was uninteresting in that old history textbook Pathfinder does it one better by actually upping the boring ante. In fact even ye Old World buffs out there will be disoriented. It’s set “600 years before Columbus ” when “people had to guard America’s shores from marauders.” One of those most noble guardsmen was Ghost (Karl Urban). Native Americans happened upon him as a young orphan boy and decided to raise him as one of their own--even though he was never truly accepted due to his unknown ancestry. Fifteen years pass and Ghost once a frail child has blossomed into a beast-sized man capable of warding off almost anyone. His size and skill set come in handy when Norse invaders look to raise hell in his village. Armed with horses swords and thorny helmets they kill and maim everyone in sight and mostly get away with it. That is until they mess with the object of Ghost’s affection Starfire (Moon Bloodgood) thereby seriously messing with Ghost. You don’t put Ghost in a corner! Beefcake actors are apparently a dime a dozen these days and Pathfinder lead Urban does nothing to separate himself from the supporting actors of his own movie let alone from the aforementioned Hollywood stereotype. Looking like a runway model on steroids the Lord of the Rings and Bourne Ultimatum star only stands out aesthetically here and is in danger of being pigeonholed and typecast for a long time to come. Unless he can somehow show a different side Urban will wind up on a long list with the likes of wrestlers-turned-actors who can’t act. Thing is in Pathfinder he can’t even manage the uber-virility his character is meant to project. Bloodgood (Eight Below) meanwhile owner of the best non-porn name in showbiz holds her own and softens things up in a movie otherwise completely dominated by males. And finally there's veteran Native American actor Russell Means (Natural Born Killers) who as the Pathfinder himself at least lends some desperately needed credibility. Looking up a director’s name and past work isn’t a fair way to pre-judge his or her movie but it may sometimes hint at what you’re in for. Take Pathfinder for example: Director Marcus Nispel's past work includes Texas Chainsaw Massacre and music videos. Massacre was terrible and music videos are stylized; thus we arrive upon Pathfinder which is terrible and stylized. When parents complain about violence in the movies this should be their focal point. Nispel like other offenders is unable to ever refrain and beheadings and such in all their slow-motion glory resemble fun video games. Not that his lack of morality makes Pathfinder the crap it is however. That blame rests on his apparent decision that such violence is all moviegoers want to see. And it is perhaps the sheer lack of a story that accentuates how mediocre the violent scenes really are--scenes that are meant to leave us agape in amazement as if we’ve never seen a loose eyeball on the screen before. On a (lone) positive note though the set design seems up-to-snuff.
When ordered to fire a long-time janitor named Stavi (Luis Avalos) Steve Barker (Johnny Knoxville) softens the blow by hiring him to mow the lawn at his apartment complex. Steve didn't provide him with health insurance so Stavi naturally loses a few fingers in a mowing accident and now it'll cost thousands to save the digits. What's a guy to do? Why of course fix the Special Olympics—a suggestion of Steve's degenerate uncle Gary (Brian Cox) who's also in the financial dumps. Former track star Steve reluctantly goes along with the scam and competes in the Special Olympics. His competitors are quick to pick up on his ruse but they decide to help him after Steve explains his motive. He must also try not to disappoint Lynn (Katherine Heigl) the beautiful volunteer who doesn't know of his real identity. What's a guy to do? Take the high road of course. Certainly Knoxville—of Jackass infamy and debauchery—would have no moral trepidation about headlining offensive exploitative crap like The Ringer but stardom beckons him if he only he stops aiming so damn low! His performance here was probably not as easy as it'd seem but it's reasonable to think that Jackass stunts involving a bottle of absinthe and some paper cuts to the cornea quickly eliminated any butterflies. What Knoxville has in spades is that rare charisma to prevent him from ever looking uncool. Then there's Cox the latest revered journeyman to sell his soul on the cheap for a role completely beneath him. Mostly disabled actors round out the cast uttering any and all funny lines but there's something fundamentally wrong when the audience erupts in laughter before the lines are even delivered. Though the Farrelly brothers—directors of There's Something About Mary and Dumb & Dumber--only acted as executive producers of The Ringer their lowbrow stamp is smeared all over. Directing chores were handed over to Barry Blaustein prolific writer of comedies like Coming to America making his feature directorial debut. The Ringer delivers on its promise of frat-dude humor and Blaustein certainly knows how to make his leading man shine—but it does so in cheap sophomoric ways.
Based on an autobiographical novel by British author Nick Hornby about his obsession with football (soccer to us American folk) Fever Pitch gets a stateside makeover. Of course the term "sports fanatic" takes on a whole new meaning when you're talking about an avid Red Sox follower. I mean it takes a special kind of person to unconditionally love a baseball team that until last year was considered cursed because it hadn't won a World Series since 1918. This is what business consultant Lindsay Meeks (Drew Barrymore) learns when she meets and falls for Ben Wrightman (Jimmy Fallon) a charming happy-go-lucky high school math teacher who also happens to be a Red Sox nut. Since they fall in love during the winter Lindsay is already hooked once summertime rolls around and she witnesses how truly deep Ben's obsession goes. That's OK she can handle it. She's an ambitious workaholic bucking for a promotion and can relate. But really she can't. Ben's level of commitment to the team goes way beyond what she expected and Lindsay realizes she needs more from him than he seems willing to give. Can Ben give up his beloved Bosox--even as they enter into one of the most incredible seasons in baseball history--just so he can be with his beloved? Ah the course of true love never runs smooth.
It took her awhile to find her true calling but Drew Barrymore has finally cornered the market on sweet and appealing romantic comedies. The Wedding Singer Never Been Kissed 50 First Dates all hit home runs. It's because Barrymore plays it smart and finds the right leading guys to connect with and she's got her own obsession with Saturday Night Live alums. First Adam Sandler and now Fallon. For all his juvenile behavior on SNL Fallon actually pulls off Pitch's very adult romantic duties with aplomb even if he still maintains his ever-present boyish quality. The best thing about these two is that they make Lindsay and Ben's love affair and its progression genuine. From the first date during which Lindsay comes down with the stomach flu and Ben gently takes care of her to their bittersweet split after he blames her for missing the best game the Red Sox ever played against rivals the New York Yankees their relationship never rings untrue. It'd be nice to see them paired up again. Maybe they could have a love triangle with Sandler. Yeah that's the ticket!
They can do it. Peter and Bobby Farrelly can actually make a movie that doesn't include one fart joke. Wow. So what do you think it is about Fever Pitch a cute love story that curves dangerously away from their usual broad and outlandish efforts that appeals to the brothers Farrelly? Could it be that they are enormous Red Sox fans? Aha! Apparently the guys had to chase this one pretty hard before the powers that be decided to let these two pranksters handle the job. But they had help. Scripted by another well-known comedy duo City Slickers' Lowell Ganz and Babaloo Mandel Fever Pitch starts off slow but builds momentum. It keeps to the classic boy-meets-girl boy-loses-girl and boy-gets-girl-back scenario but adds in the whole baseball extremist element. To be honest it's pretty darn fascinating to learn about the Red Sox's romantic heart-wrenching superstitious history. But the most amazing thing about the making of Fever Pitch is that it actually had to be done on the fly--well at least the ending. As it turns out during the filming the Boston Red Sox actually went on to win that elusive World Series championship. No one thought it was going to happen. No one planned for it. But it sure makes for a fairy-tale ending doesn't it?
Go ahead and throw logic out the window on this one folks. A mysterious Tibetan monk with no name (Chow Yun-Fat) has spent a lifetime protecting an ancient document known as the Scroll of the Ultimate--a parchment that will yield unlimited power to anyone who reads it. After running around the globe for 60 years the Monk knows it's time to hang up his robes and find a new guardian but spotting a successor isn't easy in the hustle bustle of the 21st century where Tibetan traditions and rituals are almost non-existent. Maybe the next protector should be the crafty rebellious pickpocket Kar (Seann William Scott) who learned martial arts from watching kung-fu movies; after all Kar helps the Monk escape from the scroll's most avid pursuer Strucker (Karel Roden) a sadistic old Nazi who wants to use the its power to rid the planet of inferior races. Or maybe the Monk's successor is the elusive but beautiful bad girl Jade (James King) whose skills are numerous and who seems to pop up to help Kar whenever he gets in a jam. Whomever the Monk eventually chooses they must first unite to battle the ultimate enemy--and keep the scroll safe.
If it weren't for Yun-Fat Bulletproof Monk would be pretty hopeless. The charismatic actor finds a nice balance no matter what he does and in this case he resists the obvious temptation to play the Monk as a fish out of water in the big city. Since he's long been one of Chinese cinema's most well-known action heroes he's definitely in his element in Monk standing on top of a car with guns blazing and the Zen master persona he discovered in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon serves him well here too. The script requires him to spout off fortune-cookie mumbo jumbo but he manages to do it without sounding ridiculous. The petite King actually holds her own as the brawny-yet-brainy tough chick but the wisecracking Scott is completely out of his element for the first time in his career. He handles the little comedic tidbits well but in no way is it possible to believe that the "Dude" who couldn't find his car and the jackass who drank someone else's bodily fluids in American Pie can be a martial arts hero who saves the planet. It just isn't going to happen.
Bulletproof Monk relies on the ghosts of movies past including Crouching Tiger and the 1986 Eddie Murphy stinker The Golden Child for its plot which results in a film that's chock full of cliches especially the evil Nazi who has spent 60 years chasing after the scroll using his tow-headed granddaughter whose cover is an organization for human rights to do the dirty work. A few bright moments with Yun-Fat coupled with director Paul Hunter's good use of fast-paced martial arts action make the rest of this unimaginative movie somewhat palatable--even novices Williams and King look good doing the moves--but all in all Bulletproof Monk is shooting blanks.
With its twisty-turning plot and military setting Basic could be the love child of an illicit affair between The Usual Suspects and The General's Daughter; it even borrows the star of the latter. In Basic John Travolta plays Tom Hardy a former Army Ranger and interrogator extraordinaire who's now a DEA agent in Panama suspended from duty on suspicion of bribery. He's hitting the rebellious law enforcement officer's requisite bottle of Jack Daniels heavily--until an old friend on the local army base Col. Bill Styles (Tim Daly) calls him in to investigate the disappearances and probable deaths of an elite group of trainees and their commander Sgt. Nathan West (Samuel L Jackson) during a training session in the Panamanian jungle. Staff investigator Lt. Julia Osbourne (Connie Nielsen) a plucky Southern gal who's none too pleased with Hardy's invasion of her turf is assigned to help Hardy question the unit's surviving members Kendall (Giovanni Ribisi) and Dunbar (Brian Van Holt). As their stories unfold over a series of flashbacks the interrogators discover a military underworld of drugs murder and coercion--and the mysterious existence of a rogue Ranger unit called "Section 8." Now for an interrogation of our own. Is the plot convoluted? Sir yes sir! Is it too tricky for its own good? Sir yes sir! Thank you soldier. You may stand down.
The trigger-finger pointing winking cluck-clucking "gotcha" persona Travolta (Swordfish Domestic Disturbance) creates in Hardy is as appropriate to the story as it can possibly be; the way he manipulates his subjects under interrogation is much the same way the story manipulates its audience. He leads them--and the observant Lt. Osbourne--to believe one thing then pulls the rug out from under them to prove the old cliché of military movies: that nothing is as it seems. In Nielsen's (The Hunted One Hour Photo) Osbourne we're given a character who could lead us through the jungle of the plot (she discovers the "facts" at the same time as the audience so her reaction is meant I suppose to be ours) but since Hardy spends much of his time making her look and feel like an idiot she comes off as one and frankly so do we. The talented Jackson (Changing Lanes) mostly does the bellowing drill sergeant bit while Ribisi (Heaven) as the homosexual son of a high-ranking general talks like he has cotton wool in his mouth and moves and twitches like he's mildly brain-impaired. (His character's not supposed to be; he only got shot in the leg.) One bright spot in this movie is the featured role for hunky Van Holt (Windtalkers Black Hawk Down) whose chiseled good looks and heroic demeanor make him a shoo-in should anyone ever make a live-action Johnny Bravo movie.
Director John McTiernan has given audiences some heavy-duty action in Die Hard Die Hard With a Vengeance and The Hunt for Red October but he's also the director who brought us such gems as Rollerball and Last Action Hero so it's not surprising that in Basic we get some action and intrigue paired with the out-there story stylings and narrative confusion of some of his less successful work. Here each flashback brings new information that conflicts with what we've been told before and the story never really resolves those conflicts in any satisfying way. The "big twist" at the end instead of bringing it all together creates gaping holes in the plot or at least creates so much doubt in the story we've just spent an hour and a half watching that it's easy to get fed up with trying to figure it out. Naturally no one likes to be spoon-fed plot resolutions but in order for twists to work they have to give the audience something to focus its doubt on--they can't just call the whole kit and caboodle into question. We have to be able eventually to figure it out. But hey maybe we aren't supposed to work out the details; after all this movie with its catchy one-word title and colorful cast of characters is just begging for a sequel: Basic 2: Explaining the First Movie.