Zootopia 2: Another sure-fire hit!

Zootopia 2 (2025) • View trailer

4.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, for action violence and mild rude humor

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.30.25

This was a brave gamble.

 

2016’s Zootopia was a perfect film, and (as I wrote, at the time), a work of subversive genius: an enormously clever project that functioned both as a charming, suspenseful and exciting adventure, and also as a compelling parable of tolerance and inclusion.

 

While doggedly pursuing a fleeing suspect through waterlogged Marsh Market, Nick and
Judy accept transport from a rather unusual source.

Making a sequel, and risking the possibility of tarnishing the original film’s reputation, seemed foolhardy.

But they pulled it off.

 

Trust the talent involved: Co-directors Jared Bush and Byron Howard have returned, along with all the key voice actors. Bush also has the sole writing credit, and his cunning script is another impressive blend of cheeky character interaction, suspenseful action set-pieces and sly references to real-world issues, once again set in an alternate animals-only universe that hilariously sends up human behavior.

 

This film’s overall look and settings are just as visually rich and detail-laden as its predecessor, once again stuffed with far more sight gags and little bits of sidebar business than can possibly be absorbed in one viewing. 

 

The core plot also involves a cheeky nod to 1974’s Chinatown, which is rather audacious on Bush’s part.

 

Events resume where they left off. Plucky bunny Judy Hopps (voiced by Ginnifer Goodwin) and street-smart con artist-turned-good-guy fox Nick Wilde (Jason Bateman) have become the newest partner team in Zootopia’s police force. This naturally annoys the much larger, more ferocious teams of Hoggbottom and Truffler (razorback hogs), Bloats and Higgins (hippos) and Zebro Zebraxton and Zebro Zebrowski (zebras, of course … and the coolest cops in the station).

 

Mindful of the high expectations under which she and her new partner are operating, and desperate to prove that their first success wasn’t a fluke, Judy naturally disobeys orders, much to Nick’s exasperated consternation. She recklessly follows another of her shrewd hunches, nearly ruins an ongoing investigation, and wrecks untold city property during the first of this film’s madcap chase sequences.

 

This naturally confirms the dismissive opinions of her razorback, hippo and zebra colleagues, and also earns a stern public scolding by exasperated Chief Bogo (Idris Elba).

 

Privately, though, Bogo tells Judy that he likes and respects her, but warns that her unchecked behavior could jeopardize the dreams of other rabbits hoping to follow in her footsteps. Elba’s softened tone, during this gentle caution, is note-perfect.

Air: A perfect swish

Air (2023) • View trailer

4.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for frequent profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.7.23

Nothing beats a story well told.

 

Nike’s early effort to partner with basketball’s Michael Jordan seems an unlikely topic for a fact-based mainstream drama, but in director Ben Affleck’s hands, the result is mesmerizing.

 

The magic moment: Nike creative guru Peter Moore (Matthew Mayer, left) outlines his
innovative shoe design plan for sports scout Sonny Vaccaro (Matt Damon, center) and
marketing VP Rob Strasser (Jason Bateman).

And that remains true, every minute, even though we all know this saga’s outcome.

 

Credit Affleck’s sublime handling of a cast that dazzles in every scene, along with William Goldenberg’s staccato editing and scripter Alex Convery’s sharp, shrewd and thoroughly absorbing script; it positively roars with captivating, Aaron Sorkin-style dialogue that sizzles when delivered by this roster of accomplished scene-stealers.

 

Who knew sports endorsements could be so fascinating?

 

Affleck opens with a lightning-quick montage of iconic early 1980s moments, movies, products, TV commercials and cultural touchstones: the perfect way to establish the struggling effort of distant-third Nike to establish itself as a basketball-branded shoe, running dead last behind Converse and Adidas.

 

The former had Magic Johnson and Larry Bird; the latter had the “cool” factor that made it the shoe kids wanted to wear. Adidas also had its eyes on draft pick Michael Jordan, a hot-prospect guard from the University of North Carolina.

 

The problem, as former NBA draft pick-turned-Nike exec Howard White (Chris Tucker) explains to colleague and basketball scout Sonny Vaccaro (Matt Damon), is one of image. In a ferociously funny, rat-a-tat lecture delivered in Tucker’s inimitable style, Howard points out that Nike is “known” for making jogging shoes … and no Black kid would be caught dead jogging.

 

Up to this point — as the story begins — Sonny hasn’t had much success recruiting top players to the Oregon-based company’s basketball division. The situation has become so dire, the board of directors is threatening to shutter the basketball division. 

 

“I told you not to take the company public,” Sonny laments, to friend and Nike founder/CEO Phil Knight (Affleck).

 

Sonny — who lives and breathes basketball, and has an instinct for talent — can’t get enthusiastic about any of the other draft pick candidates; he’s interested solely in Jordan. But the rising young star has eyes solely for Adidas, and doesn’t even want to hear from Nike. Nor will Jordan’s shark-in-the-waters agent, David Falk (Chris Messina) — despite a respectful professional kinship with Sonny — do anything to facilitate such a meeting.

 

Sonny shares his frustration with longtime friend and Nike marketing VP Rob Strasser (Jason Bateman), who is sympathetic but similarly stymied. And it must be noted that the dynamic between these four men — Sonny, Phil, Howard and Rob — is strained, as is the atmosphere within Nike’s headquarters. 

 

Even so — even when tempers are so frequently frayed — Affleck and Convery never lose track of the camaraderie, friendship and loyalty that bond these guys.

 

Zootopia: A menagerie of fun

Zootopia (2016) • View trailer 
Five stars. Rated PG, and needlessly, for mild rude humor
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.4.16

I’ve said it before: Many of the best scripts these days are attached to animated films.

Disney’s Zootopia is work of subversive genius: an enormously clever project that functions both as a charming, suspenseful and even exciting adventure, and as a compelling parable of tolerance and inclusion. Its arrival in theaters today could not be more perfectly timed, given the current state of this country’s social fabric.

Hoping to track down a license plate that'll lead to a key suspect, and with time of the
essence, Officer Judy Hopps is forced to deal with a sluggish DMV clerk misleadingly
named Flash, much to the amusement of the foxy Nick Wilde.

Pixar’s Wall-E was pretty sneaky, in a similar vein, with respect to its strong environmental message about the need to be better stewards of planet Earth. But Zootopia is even more pointed, without really seeming that way. Rarely has a moral gone down more easily, or more enjoyably.

I’m reflexively wary of screenplays that credit multiple writers, since too many cooks generally spoil the soup. But executive producer John Lasseter’s success in fine-tuning by committee definitely pays off here: This film’s eight (!) credited writers have delivered a savvy, witty narrative that flows smoothly from one scene to the next, carefully developing numerous character dynamics, and building to a delightfully satisfying conclusion.

Even the small stuff is handled well. Following Chekhov’s maxim that every memorable element in a story must be necessary and irreplaceable, we get a thoroughly satisfying payoff — during this film’s climax — to a cute bit in the first few minutes: something that you’re likely to dismiss as a throwaway giggle, until its resurrection. That’s the hallmark of skillful scripting, and an excellent indication of the meticulously crafted care that has gone into this project.

Better still, all these elements are chaperoned with similar skill by co-directors Byron Howard, Rich Moore and Jared Bush.

Our saga takes place in an alternate universe where all the other members of God’s mammalian kingdom have evolved to control their world. (In other words, no people.) As explained during a school play prologue featuring a young and irrepressible bunny named Judy Hopps, their society has evolved beyond the traditional roles of predator and prey, so that all animals co-exist peacefully, and with the belief that no matter what your species — from the largest elephant to the tiniest shrew — you can become anything your heart and dedication desire.

Even so, the unspoken reality is that larger and more powerful animals (“predators”) generally are viewed as higher-class, and possess esteemed and politically controlling careers. Lower-ranking mammals — particularly smaller herbivores (“prey”) — remain a lesser group, consigned to farming or blue-collar livelihoods, and often are looked down upon ... despite being the majority of the overall population.

Horrible Bosses 2: Fire 'em all!

Horrible Bosses 2 (2014) • View trailer 
2.5 stars. Rated R, for relentless profanity and crude sexual content
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.28.14

Director Sean Anders apparently was content to let this film’s three stars — Jason Bateman, Jason Sudeikis and Charlie Day — babble through much of their obviously improvised, rapid-fire dialogue.

Oddly enough, Rex (Chris Pine, right) doesn't seem all that bothered after learning that our
inept heroes — from left, Dale (Charlie Day), Nick (Jason Bateman) and Kurt (Jason
Sudeikis) — planned to kidnap him. Seems that Rex has his own issues with his wealthy,
overbearing father...

Sometimes the results are amusing.

Usually ... not.

Dumb-bunny comedies often aren’t nearly as funny as those involved seem to think, and that’s definitely the case here. Nor are the “even funnier” out-takes, which unspool over the closing credits, as uproarious as Bateman, Sudeikis, Day and their co-stars want us to believe.

This film’s 2011 predecessor was pretty thin gruel to begin with: a potty-mouthed waste of time and talent that was little more than a race to the tasteless bottom by all involved. The notion that it did enough business to warrant a sequel is astonishing, but Hollywood — as always — lives by the quote often attributed to H.L. Mencken: “Nobody ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public.”

And so here we are, with a second dose of Nick (Bateman), Kurt (Sudeikis) and Dale (Day).

This new entry is slightly better, thanks to the presence of co-star Chris Pine. He thoroughly embraces his gleefully condescending, spoiled rich guy role with a breezy élan that adds momentum to this fitful comedy every time he pops into a scene. He’s genuinely funny, and manages to be such without relying on the vulgarity that’s pretty much everybody else’s sole defining character trait.

The plot, then:

Having decided that working for “horrible bosses” undervalues their true potential, Nick, Kurt and Dale have become entrepreneurs with their own home care product: the so-called “Shower Buddy,” just the sort of gadget that pops up on late-night TV commercials for $19.95. Their effort to promote this item on a local morning chat show doesn’t quite work as expected, but the exposure does bring them to the attention of father-and-son investors Bert and Rex Hanson (Christoph Waltz and Pine).

Overjoyed by an initial order of 100,000 units, our three stooges overlook the cautionary step of obtaining a down payment in order to fund this massive production run. Bert subsequently cancels the order — which he intended to do all along — knowing full well that Nick, Kurt and Dale will be forced to foreclose. At that point, the Hansons will scoop up the entire company and all those Shower Buddies at fire-sale prices.

It’s merely standard-issue corporate raider behavior, which Bert cheerfully acknowledges, knowing full well that our hapless idiots can’t do anything about it.

This Is Where I Leave You: Too much left behind

This Is Where I Leave You (2014) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated R, for sexual candor, profanity and drug use
By Derrick Bang

Family dynamics can be messy, even disastrous ... which undoubtedly explains the popularity of stories with dysfunctional kinfolk.

It’s comforting to think that we’re not the only ones with a loser younger sibling, or a daft uncle, or a waspish parent.

When Hilary (Jane Fonda, center) reveals that her just-departed husband's final wish was
for his entire family to sit Shiva for a week, this comes as ghastly news to her estranged
children: from left, Wendy (Tina Fey), Paul (Corey Stoll), Judd (Jason Bateman) and
Phillip (Adam Driver).

Even more comforting, after a moment’s reflection, to realize that such situations must be quite common, if they wind up as popular books and movies that feel familiar to so many different people.

Novelist Jonathan Tropper has made a career of scathingly hilarious novels about hapless protagonists buffeted by crises involving careers, parents, siblings, spouses and other elements forever beyond their ability to control. Indeed, “control” — or the lack thereof — is Tropper’s go-to plotline: His classic protagonist is a guy who assumes he's got his act together, only to discover that catastrophe waits just around the corner.

No surprise, then, that one of Tropper’s books — This Is Where I Leave You — has migrated to the big screen, albeit with mixed results. Tropper adapted the novel himself, so we can assume he made a point of retaining key character arcs, comedic encounters and snarky one-liners. He also has the benefit of a large and talented ensemble cast: a collection of potential scene-stealers forever in danger of upstaging each other, much the way large and boisterous families frequently spin out of control.

But I’m not sure Shawn Levy’s overly broad, slapstick sensibilities make him the best director for this project. Subtlety isn’t in Levy’s vocabulary, as proven by uneven, overblown farces such as Date Night, the Steve Martin Pink Panther remake, and the ongoing Night at the Museum franchise. Tropper’s books resonate because of their unerring blend of comedy, pathos and redemptive self-awareness; Levy’s shrill, shrieking approach to humor tends to overwhelm everything else.

Which is a shame, because a dozen richly flawed characters wander throughout this often chaotic narrative, and we can’t help feeling that some of their best interactions got left behind. Instead, we’re treated far too often to (for example) a toddler who drags his potty chair from room to room, plunking onto the seat whenever the urge strikes, and then proudly displaying the results to everybody at hand. Us included.

Which, naturally, includes an episode of poop flung onto an unprepared adult.

When that sort of material emerges within the first 10 minutes of a film, we can't help expecting an overall tone that will undercut the gentler, redemptive moments to be found within Tropper’s script.

Bad Words: D-I-S-A-P-P-O-I-N-T-I-N-G

Bad Words (2014) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rating: R, for relentless profanity and crude language, sexual content and brief nudity
By Derrick Bang

While not the total train wreck that its pleading, seemingly anxious social media publicity campaign might suggest, this little flick also isn’t much to write home about.

An unexpected act of kindness by young Chaitanya (the utterly adorable Rohan Chand)
prompts a smile from the curmudgeonly Guy Trilby (Jason Bateman), who until this
moment hasn't displayed anything close to a sympathetic bone in his nasty body.
Somehow, though, the sight of Guy looking cheerful is even scarier...

First-time scripter Andrew Dodge definitely wants the Bad Santa vibe, and at times he comes close ... but that dark-dark-dark 2003 comedy was an inspired blend of talent (Billy Bob Thornton) and superior material: a perfect marriage that Dodge too frequently fails to consummate with this film’s Jason Bateman, who both stars and makes his big-screen directing debut.

I’ve never understood Bateman’s appeal. As with Paul Rudd — another over-valued and under-talented, so-called comic player — Bateman swans his way through every role with condescending indifference, as if wanting to ensure that we all understand the big favor he’s doing us, merely by appearing on the screen. It’s an irritating affectation, as far removed from actual acting as a singer lip-synched by somebody off-stage.

But I digress.

Goodness knows, it’s long past time to satirize the rarefied, hyper-competitive world of children’s spelling bees. Given that Jeffrey Blitz’s marvelous documentary — Spellbound — came out more than a decade ago, some sort of comedic riff should have followed within a few years. On the other hand, there’s something to be said for waiting, since Bad Words has the good fortune to ride the serendipitous publicity of the jaw-dropping competition at this year’s Jackson County Spelling Bee, held just a few weeks ago, when the event finale had to be postponed after the remaining two contestants went 66 rounds without breaking their stand-off ... because the organizers ran out of words (!).

Bad Words never quite gets the mix right, however. Humiliating children via edgy humor is a dicey prospect, requiring a razor’s-edge awareness that going too far risks alienating one’s audience. Ultimately, Bateman and Dodge don’t skewer spelling bees with near the wit or snarky panache that, say, director Michael Ritchie and scripter Jerry Belson brought to 1975’s Smile, their dead-on assault on teenage beauty pageants.

I’ll say this for Bad Words, though: All concerned don’t waste any time. At an economical 88 minutes, this unsettling comedy never becomes tedious.

Trouble is, it never quite achieves glory, either.

Bateman stars as Guy Trilby, a smug misanthrope introduced as he crashes a regional qualifier for the prestigious Golden Quill National Spelling Bee. Trilby gets away with this scheme by exploiting a hiccup in the official rules; he never completed eighth grade, and therefore remains eligible ... despite being 40.

Identity Thief: Two hours stolen from our lives

Identity Thief (2013) • View trailer
One star. Rating: R, for violence, vulgarity, relentless profanity and frequently crude sexuality
By Derrick Bang

Some things just aren’t funny, and identity theft is high on that list. Any veteran of the struggle to reclaim bank accounts, credit ratings and the rest — and that’s quite a lot of people, at this point — will be thoroughly disgusted by an effort to paint the process as “amusing.”

Having just caught up with the woman (Melissa McCarthy) who hijacked his bank
account and good name, Sandy (Jason Bateman) spoils her day by revealing his
genuine driver's license. Alas, that won't cut much ice; he's a few seconds away
from a sucker-punch to the throat. 

But that didn’t stop scripters Craig Mazin and Jerry Eeten from trying to fashion a comedy out of this topic, a task at which they failed miserably.

Identity Thief signals its tawdry, numbnuts lack of redeeming virtues almost immediately; it’s one of those gawdawful flicks that has you scanning for exits before 5 minutes have passed, in case rapid flight is the better part of valor.

Trust me: It’s your best option.

Seth Gordon has gone nowhere but down since coming to Hollywood’s attention with 2007’s The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters, a whimsical and thoroughly fascinating documentary about an unemployed Washington teacher’s attempts to break a longstanding record in the arcade game Donkey Kong.

Since then, Gordon has burnished his rep with clumsy, badly paced and thoroughly humorless junk such as Four Christmases and Horrible Bosses. He seems to fancy himself a low-rent Judd Apatow wannabe, trolling in projects that offer the same uncomfortable blend of profanity, vulgarity, moron slapstick and “funny” violence.

Yes, indeed: Nothing elicits chuckles like the sight of a woman being smacked by an SUV and then hurled, like a sack of potatoes, to the side of a highway ... after which she gets up and dusts herself off, apparently having bruised no more than her dignity. Uh-huh.

The degree of Gordon’s miscalculation, in that scene alone, can be clocked by the gasps of horror as the woman was hit ... and the muted, barely there wisp of nervous laughter when she stood up and made light of the incident. You lost a theater filled with viewers there, Seth.

Actually, that’s not true; you lost ’em a good hour before that.

Jason Bateman is a reasonably funny and competent actor cursed by the worst taste in projects, often ghastly attempts at romantic comedy such as Couples Retreat and The Switch. He also was part of Gordon’s Horrible Bosses debacle, and these aren’t even the most awful; all three of his 2012 films — The Longest Week, Hit and Run and Disconnect — barely achieved theatrical release. Never heard of them? Consider yourself lucky.

The Change-Up: Same old, same old

The Change-Up (2011) • View trailer for The Change-Up
2.5 stars. Rating: R, for pervasive strong crude sexual content and language, nudity and drug use
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.5.11


The Change-Up makes me want to gather signatures for a petition to be circulated throughout Hollywood, demanding a moratorium on three things:

1) Body-swap movies. I suppose this premise goes back to Mark Twain's The Prince and the Pauper, but it didn't become a movie subgenre until the original Freaky Friday, in 1976. Since then, we've endured All of Me, Vice Versa, Dream a Little Dream, 18 Again, Like Father, Like Son, a remake of Freaky Friday, It's a Boy Girl Thing and ... you get the idea. Enough, already!

Mitch (occupying Jason Bateman's body, center) listens as Dave (occupying
Ryan Reynolds' body) attempts to explain their predicament to his
understandably dubious wife, Jamie (Leslie Mann). Actually, this is one of
the film's funnier scenes ... which doesn't set the bar very high.

2) Flying excrement. Apparently, this is considered the height of vulgar humor these days. And with the initial envelope having been shredded, now we're scraping bottom by making the consequences worse. Ergo, in The Change-Up, dedicated daddy Dave Lockwood (Jason Bateman), pulling late-night diaper duty, winds up with a mouthful of projectile poop. What's next ... being forced to watch the victim involuntarily swallow?

3) Deliberately unpalatable nudity, often blended with kinky sex. Once again, numbnuts writers chase each other down the drain of depravity, looking to break yet another taboo. In this case, career horndog Mitch Planko (Ryan Reynolds) enjoys getting it on with a 9-months-pregnant hottie. Whom we see in the altogether. Note: The scene is designed not to demonstrate the radiant, healthy sexuality of a pregnant woman — which I'm sure is uppermost on the minds of all pregnant women — but solely for a cheap, gross-out laugh. Making it offensive on two levels.

Ahem.

As expected, The Change-Up is nothing more than yet another of this year's tedious and vulgar moron comedies: a derivative, desperate, deliberately disgusting waste of its stars' talents.

Bateman and Reynolds are funny guys. No question. Reynolds demonstrated quite a flair for physical and situational comedy with 2009's The Proposal, and Bateman has been the best part of numerous misfired flicks that didn't deserve his participation. (Honestly, Jason, you need a better agent.)

Director David Dobkin previously brought us Wedding Crashers and Fred Claus, so he's obviously accustomed to lowest-common-denominator humor. Nothing wrong with that, as long as something about the project feels fresh; casting and energy deservedly turned Wedding Crashers into a hit. But The Change-Up feels like something cobbled together by a couple of junior high school lads seeking to include as much profanity and as many bare breasts as possible ... even when neither is justified.

No surprise there: Scripters Jon Lucas and Scott Moore come to us from Four Christmases and both Hangover entries. I cite all these titles to let fans of the above-mentioned flicks know that they'll be in familiar territory here.

Or perhaps not. The Change-Up attempts to wring a moral from its tired, high-concept premise, and that works against the arrested adolescent hijinks crammed into damn near every scene.

Horrible Bosses: Rather horrible, all right

Horrible Bosses (2011) • View trailer for Horrible Bosses
Two stars. Rating: R, for pervasive profanity, crude and sexual content, and drug use
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.8.11


Imitation isn’t merely the sincerest form of flattery; in Hollywood, it’s a way of life.

After deciding to do away with their mean, conniving bosses, our three put-upon
heroes — from left, Nick (Jason Bateman), Kurt (Jason Sudeikis) and Dale
(Charlie Day) — seek advice from Dean "MF" Jones (Jamie Foxx), the baddest
cat in the city's worst neighborhood.

When some bottom-feeder unexpectedly made a fortune with Saw, within 12 months we were wallowing in the sewage of numerous quickie torture-porn imitations. A few years before that, American remakes of Japanese horror flicks were the rage. Want superheroes? These days, you can’t check out newspaper or online movie listings without encountering half a dozen Spandex-clad champions of justice.

Which brings us to vulgar moron comedies.

Judd Apatow and the Farrelly brothers have strip-mined this genre for several years, with results that have been uneven at best; every successful 40-Year-Old Virgin has been accompanied by lesser cousins such as Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, Step Brothers and the ill-advised remake of The Heartbreak Kid. Superduds, all.

But the surprise success of 2009’s The Hangover really put Hollywood on notice, and now — two years later, which is about as quickly as perceived trends can be acted upon — we’re paying the price. This year already has brought us swill such as The Dilemma, Hall Pass and the pallid sequel to The Hangover; fairness dictates that I acknowledge enjoying the pleasant surprise of Bridesmaids, which boasts the same pedigree.

Still to come, in the next few months: The Change-Up and Our Idiot Brother.

And the topic of today’s conversation: Horrible Bosses.

More than anything else, this weak excuse for a comedy hints at an insubstantial, one-sentence concept pitch by no-talent hacks attempting to get the attention of a gullible (desperate?) studio exec: “I know, I know; let’s do a potty-mouthed comedy retread of Strangers on a Train ... you know, the one where they swap murders!”

And thus a movie is born. Oh, joy.

I’ll give director Seth Gordon credit for attracting A-list talent; quite a few high-caliber actors wander through this limp noodle. Trouble is, they’ve little to do; as is typical of a clumsy script, individual scenes seem stitched together more of necessity than logical narrative progression.

Writers Michael Markowitz, John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein haven’t even tried, and the proof is most visible in the blank character slates with which our three protagonists must struggle. Watch this flick — if you must — and then ask this key question: Do we know anything about Nick (Jason Bateman), Dale (Charlie Day) and Kurt (Jason Sudeikis), aside from the fact that each has a horrible boss? Anything about their private lives? Hobbies? Dietary preferences? Whether they’re kind to animals?

Paul: Sci-fi nerd delight

Paul (2011) • View trailer for Paul
3.5 stars (out of five). Rating: R, for profanity, occasional rude humor and brief drug use
By Derrick Bang


Genre geeks who flocked to 1999’s Galaxy Quest will get an equal kick out of Paul, and for many of the same reasons; this new comedy sends up the whole sci-fi nerd universe with equal mischief.

On top of which, we know we’re in for a good time when the British writing/acting team of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost uncorks a fresh endeavor. And if this new effort isn’t quite as sharp as Shaun of the Dead or Hot Fuzz, it’s still an amusing romp with enough satiric zingers — and affectionate pokes at sci-fi fandom — to satisfy its target audience.

Graeme (Simon Pegg, far left) and Clive (Nick Frost) have plenty to worry
about, once their extraterrestrial new friend takes the wheel of their RV, in
order to escape pursuit. Matters are further complicated by the fact that they've
sorta-kinda kidnapped Ruth (Kristen Wiig), a devout Christian whose close
encounter with this alien visitor proves, ah, life-changing.

Pegg and Frost star as Graeme Willy and Clive Gollings, two British genre geeks who’ve taken the vacation of their dreams in the United States, by starting at San Diego’s annual Comic-Con and then touring UFO-themed “hot spots” in the American heartland — Area 51, the “black mailbox” — in a rented RV.

They also possess a smattering of their own geek cred: Clive has written a sci-fi novel, Jelva, Alien Queen of the Varvak, which Graeme has illustrated. Most infamously, the book’s cover sports a sexy drawing of a green-skinned alien babe with three breasts ... an anatomical curiosity that prompts commentary from everybody who sees it.

Granted, it’s not hard to send up the whole Comic-Con experience, but Pegg and Frost nonetheless have a good time during the montage prologue that opens this film; they cover everything from the crazed costumes to the outrageously overpriced genre paraphernalia. Clive has his eye on an awe-inspiring, bushido-style sword, but he can’t surmount the four-figure price tag; naturally, the poor guy leaves the booth muttering dire imprecations in flawless Klingon.

The boys also queue up in order to get a signature from their idol, renowned sci-fi author Adam Shadowchild (Jeffrey Tambor, appropriately condescending). The hilarious running gag here is Shadowchild’s list of credits; later, on several occasions, as Graeme and Clive are forced to explain who the author is, they rattle off increasingly wacky lists of the guy’s published books.

Once on the road, our heroes turn camera-crazy at each significant UFO tourist site ... and, before long, wind up with a most unusual hitchhiker. That would be Paul, a bona-fide extra-terrestrial on the lam from “The Big Guy” back at Area 51, who wants to remove his brain in order to study some of this alien’s more, ah, unusual talents.

Paul has been a “guest” of the U.S. government since the 1940s, when he had a spaceship mishap. Ever since, he has been something of an informational and psychological resource for shadowy federal agents. This story’s central conceit is that Paul — a not entirely random name given this unusual visitor — has been responsible for helping our government “shape” the American perception of life on other worlds. Paul’s input has even influenced several generations of sci-fi writers and filmmakers; you’ll quickly recognize the voice of the famous director who, in a brief flashback, is heard seeking advice on a project.

And, needless to say, Paul’s “office” is amid the stacked contents of a huge warehouse that looks every inch like the final shot from Raiders of the Lost Ark.

The Switch: Awkward Fit

The Switch (2010) • View trailer for The Switch
Three stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for sexual candor, fleeting nudity and brief drug use
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.26.10

Some films don't find their footing right away, and The Switch is a good example. 

New York stock trader Wally Mars (Jason Bateman) and TV chat show exec Kassie Larson (Jennifer Aniston) are longtime best buds, having somehow side-stepped the discomfort resulting from a romance that never quite took off. That's what we're told, at least, but the plain fact is that Bateman and Aniston seem supremely uncomfortable around each other as we meet them, their dialogue sounding flat and unconvincing. 

Striking a humorous blow for nature vs. nurture, Wally (Jason Bateman, right)
discovers that he has a great deal in common with young Sebastian (Thomas
Robinson), the son he never knew. Alas, this isn't necessarily good news, since
the boy's mother has no clue about the extent of Wally's, ah, involvement with
the boy's conception.

There's little evidence, based on what we see, that Kassie would put up with a guy as self-absorbed and pessimistic as Wally. 

One suspects co-directors Josh Gordon and Will Speck simply don't understand the requirements of a romantic comedy, a suspicion fueled by previous credits that include the Will Ferrell comedy Blades of Glory and the (deservedly) failed TV series Cavemen. These guys go for broad strokes, and a film such as The Switch requires a lighter touch. 

I'm certain, for example, that Gordon and Speck are responsible for the most pointlessly unnecessary bit of male nudity I've ever seen in a film of this nature: a naked stage production of some Shakespeare play that Wally and Kassie just happen to take in. This screen extra's bared buns, along with a subsequent party scene that includes a fleeting puff of marijuana, are blatantly cynical: included solely to obtain the more demographically desirable PG-13 rating. 

But the directors aren't solely to blame. Screenwriter Allan Loeb — who adapted a short story by Jeffrey Eugenides, author of The Virgin Suicides (which was made into a much better film) — can be fingered for the clumsy "conversations" that pass between Wally and Kassie. 

Honestly, they look and act like total strangers pretending to be bosom pals. Doesn't work. 

Up in the Air: Rarefied air

Up in the Air (2009) • View trailer for Up in the Air
4.5 stars (out of five). Rating: R, for profanity, sensuality and fleeting nudity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.7.10
Buy Blu-Ray: Up in the Air [Blu-ray]


When Columbia Pictures released The China Syndrome on March 16, 1979, just 12 days before Pennsylvania's Three Mile Island turned fiction into uncomfortable fact, more than a few editorials discussed this unsettling convergence of art and real-world events.

Pure coincidence, of course, given the several years required to get any film from concept to screen. But there's no denying the degree to which The China Syndrome subsequently tapped into the late 1970s Zeitgeist and general paranoia concerning nuclear power plants. Indeed, the film quite probably had far too much influence — to this day — on subsequent political decisions made regarding the nuclear power industry.

After watching Natalie (Anna Kendrick) struggle to maneuver her old-fashioned
suitcase -- which isn't even that large -- Ryan (George Clooney) buys her a
more efficient bag, like his, and brutally instructs her in the "proper" way of
packing. No surprise: She resents this...

Similarly, 1999's American Beauty truly caught the mood of that decade, with screenwriter Alan Ball exploiting his gift for slightly exaggerated truth to denounce our corrupt, overly materialistic and unwholesomely narcissistic society, as viewed with growing clarity by one man doing his best to escape it. Director Sam Mendes' film became the mirror in which we viewed ourselves, as the millennium approached, and the reflection wasn't terribly inspiring.

Art sometimes speaks to us, as a nation, on a level that far exceeds its creators' wildest expectations. It's lightning in a bottle: You can't plan or design it. Coincidence frequently plays a role, as if God — or your supreme being of choice — occasionally likes to look down and go boogah-boogah-boogah.

Jason Reitman's Up in the Air — collaboratively scripted with Sheldon Turner, and adapted from Walter Kirn's novel — is such a stunningly accurate commentary on Where We Are Right Now, that it's positively spooky.

It's not merely a function of putting faces to the down-sizing epidemic that has booted so many people from their jobs, although that's part of the well-seasoned recipe that makes this film so thought-provoking. Far more relevant is this script's savage indictment of the illusion of "contact" that we have via cell phones, e-mail, texting, tweeting and whatever else arrives in the next five minutes: technological substitutes for actual human interaction.

"People don't look each other in the eye much anymore," Reitman comments, in his film's press notes, "and we have fewer relationships."

This is not a good thing.

The phenomenon is all around us, the trend increasingly disturbing. How many friends and family members skipped traditional holiday greeting cards this year, for the "easier" — read: less personal — option of group e-mail?

You won't get any warm fuzzies by hanging the paper print-out of an e-mail over the fireplace.

And here's the limit, at least at our home: We received a card from friends — who grudgingly get points for that much — that had no message inside, beyond a Web address where we could find their "holiday greeting" to all. (Yeah, we'll get right on that.)

But I digress...