Fast Five: Over-revved

Fast Five (2011) • View trailer for Fast Five
Three stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, and much too generously, for profanity, sexual content and unrelenting violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.29.11


If the destruction of personal property were the benchmark of quality in a film, then this one would be a masterpiece. I've not seen so much gratuitous carnage since the Blues Brothers wrecked an entire shopping mall — amid dozens of needless close-ups of shattered storefronts and smashed merchandise — back in 1980.

Having rather miraculously escaped certain death while dangling from a speeding
train, Brian (Paul Walker, left) and Dominic (Vin Diesel) face a fresh problem:
They're about to roar off a cliff ... with nothing but a long drop below.

All attitude and relentless road rage, Fast Five is vacuous Hollywood product at its finest. Director Justin Lin rarely allows himself to be bothered by irritating details such as plot or character development; this fifth entry in the Fast & Furious series survives solely on macho posturing, scantily clad babes, screaming engines, spinning tires and gear-shift close-ups. I could make a rude comment about symbolism, and what the latter traditionally compensates for, but that'd be giving way too much credit to Chris Morgan's laughably dim-witted screenplay.

Admittedly, Vin Diesel isn't one of the world's great actors, but under better circumstances he can hold camera focus and deliver a line with gruff, teddy bear charm. But he can't make any headway with Morgan's lame dialogue here, which never rises above hilariously soap-opera-ish twaddle such as "It's all about family" ... this from a guy who has, during the course of this series, thought nothing of putting his sister and girlfriend — and anybody else who might have meant something to him — in harm's way every five to 10 minutes. Like they say, love can be cruel.

I'll give editors Kelly Matsumoto, Fred Raskin and Christian Wagner credit for momentum; they certainly move things along, in the manner of a relentless roller coaster. An endless roller coaster, at that; Fast Five clocks in at an indefensible 130 minutes, which is at least half an hour too long. Morgan pads his storyline with too many tiresome sidebar schemes and blown efforts, and of course we need the token street-racing sequence, with all-but-naked cuties draped provocatively over similarly hot cars. Even stalwart fans are apt to get restless as the third act drags on, by which time this franchise has attempted to re-invent itself as Dominic's Eleven.

That results from this story's extensive character reunion, drawing from faces going all the way back to 2001's The Fast and the Furious, whose success we can thank — or blame, depending on your taste — for the fact that we're still enduring this silly nonsense a decade later.

Lin opens this entry, as is customary, with a typically audacious stunt sequence that ignores both the laws of physics and the human body's resilience. With Dominic Toretto (Diesel) en route to a federal pen for the rest of his life, good buddy Brian (Paul Walker) and Dom's sister, Mia (Jordana Brewster), roar up behind the prison transport bus and execute a maneuver that flips the larger vehicle, rolling it like a huge metal sausage until it smashes into pieces at the side of this conveniently deserted road.

Cool, said my Constant Companion; Dominic and everybody else on that bus obviously just got pulped beyond recognition, so I guess we can go home.

No such luck. As half a dozen TV newscasters subsequently inform us, "Miraculously, nobody was killed." (Now, there's an understatement!) And, of course, everybody is accounted for except Dominic, who's gone with the wind.

From the archives: July 2008

Fantasy came in all sorts of flavors this month, but the summer's undisputed hit — and deservedly so — was director Christopher Nolan's accomplished second outing with Bruce Wayne's constantly stressed alter-ego, Batman. The Dark Knight is a superhero film for the ages, right up there with Spider-Man 2. Everything works in Nolan's film, and of course we'll also treasure it for Heath Ledger's memorably scary performance as the villain of the piece: the frightful Joker.

At the family-friendly end of the scale, the fresh adaptation of Journey to the Center of the Earth is a larkish delight, and perfect for all ages. Star Brendan Fraser once again demonstrates his deft talent for bringing credibility to even the silliest plot contrivance, and a good time is had by all.

ABBA fans were thrilled to find their favorite stage musical making its way to the big screen, and while Mamma Mia is fun in all sorts of ways, it would have been leagues better with a cast that could sing. I mean, Pierce Brosnan? Puh-leaze! Granted, ol' Pierce gives it the college try — as does Colin Firth — but these are actors, not singers and dancers, and the film suffers for the distinction.

As for the rest, Will Smith stumbled badly with his own superhero entry, a film that simply can't decide what it wants to be; and director Guillermo del Toro quite unwisely decide to make a sequel to his misfit superhero entry of a few years back. Both films fail because of inconsistent tone and a sniggering, jokey atmosphere that overwhelms any involvement we might have with these characters.

The month's pleasant surprise, however, was the overlooked and under-appreciated Swing Vote: an up-to-the-minute political comedy/drama that remains relevant to this day. Too many people have given up on Kevin Costner, and that's a shame; he's still able to uncork a winner every so often, and this one fits the bill. It's also a whimsical indictment of politicians behaving badly, and God knows we need to be reminded of that as often as possible.

Step into the Wayback Machine, and check 'em out:

• Animation Show 4

• Brick Lane

• The Dark Knight

• Hancock

• Hellboy II: The Golden Army

• Journey to the Center of the Earth

• Mamma Mia

• Mongol

• Swing Vote

Water for Elephants: Medium-top melodrama

Water for Elephants (2011) • View trailer for Water for Elephants
3.5 stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for violence, dramatic intensity and mild sensuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.22.11


Acting flavors of the month shouldn't be allowed anywhere near prestige projects.

The newbie's presence inevitably affects atmosphere and tone, and sometimes story elements are modified — or compromised — according to this fresh young talent's strengths ... or limitations.

When August (Christoph Waltz, left) begins to suspect that his wife, Mariena
(Reese Witherspoon), and Jacob (Robert Pattinson) have become more than
troupe acquaintances, he orchestrates a cruel charade and orders them to
participate; we nervously eye this uncomfortable game, while also wondering
why the circus owner has insisted on the presence of Rosie, the company's
new elephant star.

Robert Pattinson's most visible problem is an acting range that stretches most of the way from A to B. He delivers tortured angst quite well, having had plenty of practice as the sparkly vampire love interest in the Twilight series. The trouble is, Pattinson's apparent takes on more cheerful emotions — happiness, satisfaction, love — still look very much like ... well, tortured angst.

He's therefore quite credible here while pining for Reese Witherspoon, or one of the most personable elephants ever captured on camera ... although it looks very much like the way he pines for Kristin Stewart's Bella, in the Twilight movies.

When things go his character's way in Water for Elephants, though ... well, it's difficult to tell the difference.

In a nutshell, both Witherspoon and supporting actor Christoph Waltz act circles around Pattinson. They're so far superior that he all but vanishes from the screen: rather awkward, given that his character is this story's protagonist. Heck, Mark Povinelli, in a minor role as a dwarf circus clown named Kinko, is more credible — and gives us a better sense of his character — than Pattinson.

In most other respects, director Francis Lawrence delivers a respectable adaptation of Sara Gruen's best-selling novel, thanks in great part to a thoughtful, well-constructed screenplay from Richard LaGravanese (who also adapted The Bridges of Madison County and The Horse Whisperer, among his numerous other credits). He has, of necessity, condensed many of the events from Gruen's dense Depression-era saga; he and Lawrence also have made the story far more viewer-friendly, toning down both the period squalor and often shocking animal cruelty, as befits a gentler PG-13 rating.

So while this film affords a reasonable glimpse of the hard-scrabble conditions found within a third-rated Depression-era traveling circus, the cruelty and sadism displayed by numerous characters in Gruen's book have been condensed into a single, supremely malevolent figure: Waltz's August, owner/manager of the Benzini Brothers Circus ("the most spec-ta-cu-lar show on Earth!").

But his introduction comes later. We first meet Jacob (Hal Holbrook) in the present day: an old-timer disgusted with life in a nursing home, who has wandered off to visit a nearby circus. Jacob winds up recounting his youthful days to an interested listener, and thus we're whisked back to the 1930s, as a polished and confident veterinary medicine student (now played by Pattinson) prepares to take the test that will confer his degree. But the exam is interrupted by a crisis: Jacob's two loving parents have been killed in a road accident. The young man subsequently learns that he's penniless, his parents having converted their house and business into cash, in order to fund their only child's education.

Bereft and adrift, Jacob hits the road, unable to return to the life and career that had been so carefully planned.

(One would think, given the nature of Jacob's devotion to his mother and father, that he'd honor their memory by taking the damn exam and hanging up his vet-med shingle. But then, of course, we wouldn't have a story...)

From the archives: August 2008

This month's pleasant surprise was unexpected, to say the least: a two-year-old French thriller, finally making its way to the States, and based on a novel by American crime novelist Harlan Coben. An awkward fit, you might think ... but far from it. Tell No One wasn't merely one of the best thrillers I'd seen in years, at the time; it's still one of the best thrillers I've seen in years. If you've not yet had the pleasure, stop wasting time ... and if subtitles make you nervous, get over it.

Other worthwhile efforts included an engaging urban fantasy, a slick espionage thriller ripped from present-day terrorism concerns, and a charming return visit with the four young actresses who brought the first Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants book to the big screen three years earlier.

The month had its share of disappointments, of course, starting with the realization that George Lucas will sink to any necessary depths, in order to squeeze more money from his Star Wars franchise. While the extended Clone Wars chapter would have been easy to ignore as the ongoing TV series it became, I was forced to pay attention to the big-screen "film" that kicked things off ... and the word "film" appears in quotation marks for the simple reasons that Star Wars: The Clone Wars wasn't even a true movie, but rather the first few TV episodes strung together, to feature length. I call that dishonesty in advertising.

The jaw-dropper, though, was the degree to which Pineapple Express caught the public's attention. I guess there's no such thing as a failed stoner comedy, even one that boasts a wretched script, a $1.97 budget and ham-bone "acting" that wouldn't pass muster at a junior high school talent show. (And the fact that star James Franco was nominated for a Golden Globe Award, for his work in this film, says all that needs saying, about that body of voters.)

Equally ill-advised: the decision to remake Brideshead Revisited, which had been such a splashy, must-see TV hit as an 11-hour miniseries, back in 1981. File this attempt under "What were they thinking," and don't waste your time. Indeed, seek out the miniseries instead; three decades have passed, after all ... plenty of time to have forgotten all the wonderful narrative depth that kept so many viewers transfixed, back in the day.

As for the rest, step into the Wayback Machine, and check 'em out:

• Bottle Shock

• Brideshead Revisited

• Henry Poole Is Here

• Pineapple Express

• The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2

• Star Wars: The Clone Wars

• Tell No One

• Traitor

The Conspirator: Rule of panic

The Conspirator (2011) • View trailer for The Conspirator
Four stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, and much too harshly, for brief violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.15.11


Trust Robert Redford to find a historical courtroom drama that shrewdly echoes current events.

The Conspirator, set in the aftermath of President Abraham Lincoln’s assassination, focuses on what many view as a moral imperative: the need to adhere to the rules of American law, even — and most particularly — during times of national crisis. Vengeance, bloodlust and perceived expediency cannot be allowed to dictate our behavior, lest we sink to the level of those we presume to judge.

Having won his client, Mary Surratt (Robin Wright), the privilege of some fresh
air and sunshine after having been confined to a dingy, straw-filled cell, attorney
Frederick Aiken (James McAvoy) accepts an invitation to sit with her. Much to
his surprise, he's beginning to see this woman less as a "heinous Confederate,"
and more as a human being.

One cannot imagine a better project for Redford, who has based his recent directing career on politically charged content. While not nearly as shrill as 2007’s Lions for Lambs, this film is just as likely to divide viewers along predictable party lines, and that’s a shame; the message here is equally crucial for those on either side of the partisan divide.

For if nobody is safe from the possibility of a witch hunt dressed up to resemble a court of law, then we’re all vulnerable ... depending only on who’s in charge, or shouts the loudest, at any given moment.

That’s ... unsettling.

We tend to forget, all these years later, that Lincoln wasn’t the only target that fateful night of April 14, 1865; the assassins who shot him while the president enjoyed an evening of theater also attempted to kill Vice-President Andrew Johnson and Secretary of State William H. Seward. The goal was nothing less than a complete overthrow of government, arranged by ultra-loyalist Southerners inflamed by the outcome of the Civil War, just five days after Gen. Robert E. Lee had surrendered to Gen. Ulysses S. Grant.

The man responsible for killing Johnson succumbed to nerves and never made the attempt. Seward, recovering from a nasty fall a few weeks earlier, probably survived his attack thanks to the neck brace that deflected his would-be assassin’s numerous knife blows.

Lincoln died at 7:22 a.m. the following day. This film’s distributor, Roadside Attractions, deserves credit for cleverly releasing The Conspirator on April 15.

Historians generally agree that the plot was orchestrated by popular stage actor John Wilkes Booth, who was killed during the subsequent manhunt. Numerous other conspirators were rounded up, some of whom made no attempt to conceal their actions.

This film’s storyline, thoughtfully scripted by James D. Solomon and Gregory Bernstein, focuses on one alleged conspirator whose involvement seemed open to doubt: Mary Surratt, who ran the boarding house where Booth and his cronies frequently met to discuss their plans. Initially, Surratt was but one of scores of people arrested and imprisoned solely because they may have known or come into casual contact with Booth and his fellow plotters. But the suspects eventually were narrowed down to the eight people brought before a military tribunal that began May 1; Mary Surratt was the lone woman among the eight.

All were civilians, and all were tried not by a jury of their peers, but in front of a military court of nine officers who needed only reach a simple majority for conviction, and a two-thirds majority for a death sentence.

Rio: Samba-hued delight

Rio (2011) • View trailer for Rio
Four stars (out of five). Rating: G, and suitable for all ages
By Derrick Bang


I haven’t had this much fun south of the border, since Donald Duck met Joe Carioca and Panchito in 1945’s The Three Caballeros.

Rafael, right, a toucan deliriously in love with Rio and its annual Carnaval
celebration, insists that natural instincts will take over if Blu, left, simply tries
to fly. Blu has his doubts, and so does Jewel ... who already has seen a few of
the displaced Blu's unsuccessful efforts to leave the ground.

Rio is a joyous, giddy riot of color and song, anchored by captivating characters and propelled by a clever story that delivers plenty of fun — and a sly environmental message — while building to a suspenseful finale. This is, in short, another can’t-miss hit from Blue Sky Studios, the folks behind the equally polished Ice Age franchise.

A few elements — notably the placement of some songs — feel “borrowed” from the formula employed in Madagascar, but not to a bothersome degree; let’s just say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and let it go at that.

Mostly, director/co-scripter Carlos Saldanha scores by skillfully matching character to voice talent, supplying a narrative — with co-writer Don Rhymer — that opens with pizzazz and unfolds in distinctive chapters, and, perhaps more than anything else, reflects the obviously unabashed affection he has for his own home town of Rio de Janeiro.

Not since Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Amélie, and its delirious depiction of Paris, has a director concocted such an opulent valentine to his native city.

As this film’s press notes so eloquently — and truthfully — state, Rio is more than a point on a map; it’s a magical place, a state of mind, and an attitude.

The saga begins in the Brazilian jungle, as a baby bird delights in an explosion of colorful avian neighbors indulging in a choreographed winged dance that would do Busby Berkeley proud. Sadly, this euphoric moment doesn’t last; smugglers descend and snatch as many birds as they can toss into cages ... including our terrified youngster.

A long plane trip and a van mishap later, the tropical infant is close to death in a small, snowbound Minnesota community. Salvation arrives in the form of a little girl named Linda, who carefully plucks the tiny creature from its damaged packing crate, promising to care for it.

One charming montage later, the girl has grown up and become the owner of her own small-town bookstore; the bird has matured into a gorgeous blue macaw dubbed Blu. The two are inseparable, and I wish the film could pause long enough to spend more time with the daily routine enjoyed by these two best friends; it’s both droll and touching.

From the archives: September 2008

September can be a cruel month.

Summer is over, at least as far as Hollywood is concerned. We're therefore often stuck with leftovers that got pushed back, because of the (theoretically) better films that were given the prime months from May to July. And, indeed, September 2008 had its share of losers, most of which I didn't bother to discuss at length (although you'll find half a dozen of them cited in one I did suffer through, because of its Sundance Film Festival cred: the simply dreadful Hamlet 2).

Writer/director Diane English's ill-advised remake/update of The Women also is a classic September movie. What a sad, sad waste of a high-profile cast.

Alternatively, September can be great for counter-programming by films not necessarily intended to set the world on fire. The Coen brothers scored with their delicious Burn After Reading, a welcome return to the macabre blend of humor and drama they previously delivered so well in Fargo.

And look at this: back-to-back Penélope Cruz projects. Although both could be (unfairly) dismissed as superficial male sex fantasies, both occupy richer waters. Woody Allen's Vicky Cristina Barcelona got most of the press, but while it's an engaging lark, it doesn't have near the heft of the all-but-ignored Elegy: a truly powerful, poignant drama fueled by two excellent performances.

As for the rest, another ludicrous tear-jerker was made from a Nicholas Sparks novel — his formula has become both predictable and tiresome — and Ricky Gervais delivered a droll, delightful surprise with the low-key Ghost Town.

So, all in all, a mixed bag. You get to skip most of the September bombs, because I weeded 'em out for you. (It's my job.)

Step into the Wayback Machine, and check 'em out:

• Burn After Reading

• Eagle Eye

• Elegy

• Ghost Town

• Hamlet 2

• Nights in Rodanthe

• Vicky Cristina Barcelona

• The Women