The Covenant: Promises to keep

The Covenant (2023) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for strong violence, frequent profanity and brief drug content

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.21.23

Although director Guy Ritchie’s harrowing war drama is a fictionalized extrapolation of actual events, it’ll resonate strongly with anybody horrified by what has become of Afghanistan.

 

Americans who served there likely will find this particularly grim viewing.

 

Although Sgt. John Kinley (Jake Gyllenhaal, right) has been told that the road ahead is
safe, he eventually yields to the insistence of his interpreter, Ahmed (Dar Salim), who
is convinced that something is amiss.

Ritchie and his co-writers — Ivan Atkinson and Marn Davies — have concocted a nail-biter that shines a spotlight on the many thousands of Afghan translators and military personnel who were shamefully abandoned when American forces withdrew in May 2021 … despite having been promised visas and safe passage to the States, for themselves and all family members.

Nor was this merely a case of being “left behind.” It was — and remains — common knowledge that the Taliban would hunt down, torture and execute Afghans who previously worked alongside U.S. and NATO forces. 

 

One of a well-crafted story’s strongest assets is its ability to transform an abstract — “thousands” — into a tightly focused saga of symbolic individuals. That’s definitely the case here.

 

It’s March 2018, the setting Bagram Air Base, Parwan Province, in Taliban-occupied Afghanistan. Army Sgt. John Kinley (Jake Gyllenhaal) — on his final tour of duty, looking forward to returning home to his wife and children — leads an elite unit tasked with finding Taliban munitions. A routine search at a vehicle checkpoint goes awry when two of Kinley’s men — one of them the group’s Afghan interpreter — are killed by a lorry bomb.

 

Back at base, in need of a new interpreter, John selects Ahmed (Dar Salim) from half a dozen willing candidates. John is impressed by Ahmed’s ability to speak “four languages worth speaking,” but is cautioned about the newcomer’s reputation for independent thinking.

 

As it soon turns out, Ahmed knows stuff … lots of who, what and where. Even so, the initial dynamic is prickly; John, not accustomed to being questioned by a “mere translator,” views such behavior as borderline insubordination. (“Actually,” Ahmed retorts at one point, “I’m here to interpret.”) Gyllenhaal’s gaze and attitude stop just shy of being condescending or racist; John simply is more accustomed to strict protocol and the military chain of command.

 

Salim, in turn, grants Ahmed a multitude of depth via his expression and body language: intelligence, wariness, quiet nobility and — most of all — mild amusement, at the arrogance of Americans who claim to “know better.”

 

When the unit is deployed once again on the house-by-house search of a nearby village, Ahmed’s initial efforts to help — outside his interpreter duties — are rebuffed by John, who nonetheless notes the accuracy of the new man’s input. A few sorties later, armed with information on two potential Taliban IED manufacturing sites, Ahmed’s instincts prove very helpful during a drive to the first.

Strange World: Very strange film

Strange World (2022) • View trailer

Two stars (out of five). Rated PG, and too generously, for dramatic intensity and relentless peril

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

This film’s title couldn’t be more apt.

 

Writer/co-director Qui Nguyen must’ve been smoking the good stuff when he concocted this psychedelic fever dream of an animated fantasy, and I’m amazed Disney was willing to release it. The chaotic, so-called story is a random mess that demands far too much patience from viewers, before finally sorta-kinda delivering a mildly clever ecological message.

 

Jaeger (far left), his son Searcher (center) and grandson Ethan, attempt to bond over
an elaborate card game, while faithful pooch Legend and the blobby blue Splat
participate in their own way.

Getting there, however, is a tedious assault on the senses.

One must be careful, particularly with fantasy, to establish a firm set of rules … and then follow them. If reality — as we know it — is to be warped, events must emerge in a manner that remains comprehensible.

 

But Nguyen and co-director Don Hall throw far too much stuff on the screen, and their core character story element — the often fractious relationship that results, when fathers expect too much of their sons — gets lost in this cacophonous assault on the senses.

 

We get tired of all the stuff and nonsense, long before the (supposedly) happy ending.

 

In an effort to make sense of the senseless…

 

Brawny, laugh-in-the-face-of-danger Jaeger Clade (voiced by Dennis Quaid) has long been an exploratory hero in the hamlet of Avalonia, a pre-industrial community surrounded on all sides by an extremely tall mountain range. His previous exploits notwithstanding, Jaeger is determined to discover what’s beyond those mountains.

 

All of his death-defying expeditions have been made alongside his son Searcher (Jake Gyllenhaal), a teenager when we first meet him. Alas, Jaeger is blind to the fact that Searcher is a reluctant companion at best. The story begins with Jaeger’s latest effort to summit the mountains, which goes awry when Searcher is distracted by an odd, lime-green plant with small spherical “fruit pods” that give off an electric charge when touched.

 

Searcher wants to return to Avalonia with this plant, believing it could become an important power source. Jaeger stubbornly insists on pushing ahead … by himself.

 

Flash-forward 25 years.

 

Searcher has become a successful farmer of pando, the name he has given to the plant that now covers massive acres of his land. He has a wife, Meridian (Gabrielle Union); they have a 16-year-old son, Ethan (Jaboukie Young-White).

 

Jaeger has been missing the entire time: presumed dead, and honored with a statue in the town square.

 

Ambulance: Dead on arrival

Ambulance (2022) • View trailer

No stars (TURKEY). Rated R, for intense violence, bloody images and relentless profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.8.22

This may be the most annoying movie ever made.

 

It’s certainly one of the worst.

 

With his get-rich-quick bank heist gone south, deranged psychopath Danny Sharp
(Jake Gyllenhaal, left) screams at the pursuing police vehicles to "Stay back!",
while his adopted brother Will (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) tries to keep their speeding
ambulance on the road.

Director Michael Bay has cornered the market on high-octane junk — witness his ever-more pathetic string of noisy, soulless Transformer epics, not to mention 2019’s similarly wretched 6 Underground — but this one plumbs hitherto untapped depths of awfulness.

The English language, graced with such a vast and colorful collection of adjectives and adverbs, is insufficient to adequately explain just how deplorable this film is. (But I shall try.)

 

Chris Fedak’s bone-stupid, so-called script hasn’t a shred of credibility, and his dialogue is as limp as a dead banana. The one-dimensional acting ranges from ludicrously stoic — notably Garret Dillahunt’s somnambulant, I’ve-wandered-in-from-another-movie portrayal of LAPD tactical SIS Capt. Monroe — to over-the-top, foaming-at-the-mouth derangement (Jake Gyllenhaal, take a bow for a performance so bad, you’re guaranteed a Razzzie Award).

 

Cinematographer Roberto De Angelis relies heavily on swooping, swooshing, barrel-roll, upside-down, skyscraper-hugging drone shots guaranteed to send unprepared viewers into motion-sickness shock: all assembled and cut at hyperspeed by a team of editors — Doug Brandt, Pietro Scalia and Calvin Wimmer — who obviously laced their morning coffee with meth.

 

Note to Mr. Bay: The mere fact that you can do something with drone cameras, doesn’t mean you should. And the result sure as hell isn’t anything approaching art or craft. 

 

Not even 10 minutes into this barrage of wretched excess, I was fighting vertigo and nausea.

 

The “story,” such as it is.

 

Decorated military veteran Will Sharp (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), at wit’s end trying to navigate insurance restrictions, can’t get clearance for the expensive surgery required to fix his wife’s unspecified medical condition. (Of course it’s unspecified; otherwise, Fedak would have had to do actual research.)

 

Will therefore — unwisely — seeks a loan from his motor-mouthed career criminal brother, Danny (Gyllenhaal). Instead, Will gets roped into joining a motley, heavy caliber-toting crew on a “perfectly planned” heist to steal $32 million from a nearby bank.

 

Elsewhere, we meet plucky ambulance EMT Cam Thompson (Eiza González), who can “keep anybody alive for 20 minutes, but can’t keep a partner.” She trades flirty, tone-deaf banter with newly assigned colleague Scott (Colin Woodell).

 

Elsewhere, we meet patrol officer Mark (Cedric Sanders), who encourages his rookie partner Zach (Jackson White) to try for a date with a cute teller at — wouldn’t you just know it — the same bank Danny’s crew is about to hit.

 

Spirit Untamed: Hobbled horse

Spirit Untamed (2021) • View trailer

Two stars. Rated PG, and needlessly, for mild peril

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.4.21

Although little girls probably will embrace this film, debuting today at movie theaters, the rest of the viewing demographic will be unimpressed.

 

When her beloved horse is snatched by a heartless wrangler, Lucky (far left) enlists the
help of best friends Pru (center) and Abigail, as they pursue the nasty desperado.

Unlike the first film in this franchise — 2002’s Spirit, Stallion of the Cimarron, which is a lush, hand-drawn production with genuine heart — this new entry is soulless, coldly calculated product. The simplistic script — by Aury Wallington, Kristin Hahn and Katherine Nolfi — does little beyond re-booting the origin story from Wallington’s 2017-19 TV series offshoot, Spirit Riding Free.

 Scant effort is made to individualize most of the primary characters, who aren’t much more than stereotypical tics and hiccups. Goodness, the villain of the piece — voiced by Walton Goggins — isn’t even granted a name.

 

Co-directors Elaine Bogan and Ennio Torresan bring nothing to the party.

 

Even the CGI animation is flat and uninspired. The entire production has the bland, lazy, slapdash and cloyingly sweet atmosphere of something that was rushed to market, with minimal concern for quality. It’s an overlong TV episode with delusions of grandeur: not quite My Little Pony territory, but darn close.

 

Young Lucky Prescott (Isabela Merced) never knew her mother, Milagro Navarro, a famous horse-riding stunt performer from Miradero, a small town (this from the press notes) “on the edge of the wide-open frontier.” Ergo, figure mid-19th century American West. Although Lucky has grown up on the more “civilized” East Coast, she has her mother’s rebellious streak and love of danger.

 

This greatly concerns her Aunt Cora (Julianne Moore), who decides to move them back to Miradero, where Lucky’s father, Jim (Jake Gyllenhaal), may have better luck controlling the girl.

 

Although initially out of place in this raucous railroad town, Lucky soon becomes best buds with Abigail Stone (McKenna Grace) and Pru Granger (Marsai Martin). Each is bonded to a horse — Boomerang and Chica Linda, respectively — which proves useful when Lucky becomes infatuated with a newly captured wild Mustang she dubs Spirit.

 

This Mustang also catches the eye of a heartless horse wrangler (Goggins), who hopes to capture both Spirit and the extensive herd that he led in the wild. The girls, in turn, are determined to stop him.

 

That’s it for plot. 

Spider-Man: Far from Home — Sticky situations

Spider-Man: Far from Home (2019) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for sci-fi action violence and mild profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.5.19

Life goes on, even for superheroes.

Particularly for superheroes.

Having helped defeat a massive elemental monster, Spider-Man (Tom Holland, left) is
gratefully surprised when his assistance is acknowledged with sincere respect by the
more flamboyantly super-heroic Mysterio (Jake Gyllenhaal).

In the wake of early spring’s Avengers: Endgame, fans have been curious about the direction subsequent Marvel Universe films would take. Spider-Man: Far from Home provides some answers, but mostly stands on its own as Tom Holland’s second starring outing in the iconic web-slinging costume (in addition to his co-starring appearances with Captain American and the Avengers).

At its best, the Chris McKenna/Erik Sommers script successfully evokes the geeky, angst-ridden vibe of the early 1960s Stan Lee/Steve Ditko comic books, when Peter Parker was a reluctant costumed hero, and mostly a nerdy, misfit high school teen forever questioning the slightest thought, word or deed. He epitomized the early Marvel archetype: a hero laden with insecurities.

Holland’s Peter Parker isn’t exactly burdened by doubt, nor is he the shy introvert that Lee and Ditko created. This Peter also isn’t completely friendless; he’s blessed by constant support from best bud Ned (Jacob Batalon), and the relationship with his Aunt May (Marisa Tomei) is much more a closeness of equals, than the comic books’ doddering parent/guilty child dynamic.

In this film continuity, both Ned and Aunt May know of Peter’s web-slinging activities, which allows for playful banter.

But Holland’s Peter is flustered in the presence of über-cool, tart-tongued Michelle Jones (Zendaya), the girl he has long worshiped from afar. (She more commonly goes by the initials MJ, evoking fond memories of the comics’ original Mary Jane Watson.) Holland is endearing as he spins increasingly silly scenarios about “the perfect moment” to confess his love for MJ, while Ned shakes his head in disbelief.

As the story begins, everybody in Peter’s high school continues to grapple with the disorienting aftermath of “the blip,” which returned half the world’s population following a five-year absence. Trouble is, that half — including Peter, MJ and Ned — came back at the same age as when they left, whereas those left behind are five years older.

The latter include Peter’s new nemesis, the arrogant Brad (Remy Hii), who has transitioned from a similarly uncool nerd into a heartthrob determined to make MJ his own. The perfect opportunity arises when a small group of students earn a European vacation, under the close (?) supervision of two clueless teachers (Martin Starr and J.B. Smoove, perhaps hitting the dweeb key a little too hard). First stop: Venice.

Stronger: A quiet triumph

Stronger (2017) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated R, for frequent profanity, graphic injury images, and fleeting sexuality and nudity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.22.17

Some things transcend their real-world existence.

Football is a crowd-pleasing spectator sport; baseball is ... something more. Baseball inspires myth-making films such as The Natural and Field of Dreams. You simply can’t imagine football doing the same.

Jeff (Jake Gyllenhaal) takes a few tentative steps on his new prosthetic legs, much to the
overly eager delight of his helicoptering mother (Miranda Richardson, center), and the
cautious concern of his girlfriend, Erin (Tatiana Maslany).

Los Angeles and Chicago are cities. New York and Boston are ... dreamlike.

Boston’s intangible, ferociously indomitable spirit (“Boston strong!”) has much to do with the triumphant, fist-pumping exhilaration that powers Stronger, but director David Gordon Green’s fact-based drama likely will be remembered best for its quieter, intimate moments. Two will linger in my mind for a long time: one for its near-silent emotional intensity; the other for the heartbreaking wallop of an unexpectedly personal story, related by a late-entry supporting character.

Both are staged, lensed and performed impeccably; both are moments of pure cinema magic. And if the rest of Green’s film doesn’t live up to those high points, it nonetheless remains inspirational and thoroughly satisfying.

Stronger, based on Jeff Bauman’s best-selling 2014 memoir of the same title, depicts his agonizing emotional and physical struggle after losing both legs during the April 2013 Boston Marathon bombing. His saga captivates for all sorts of reasons; his being a survivor at times seems incidental.

Jeff’s presence at the finish line was sheer caprice; he “showed up” in an effort to win back the on-again/off-again girlfriend (Erin Hurley) who was running the race. In the blast aftermath, he likely would have died, were it not for the rapid intervention of Carlos Arredondo, a Costa Rican-born American peace activist who attended the marathon for his own deeply personal reasons.

Immediately upon regaining consciousness after surgery, still intubated and unable to speak, Jeff indicated — by writing — that he’d seen one of the bombers; his description of Tamerlan Tsarnaev helped police and FBI narrow down the suspect list.

All of which gives this film a hefty emotional center, although scripter John Pollono wisely focuses on the all-important relationship between Jeff and Erin. Everything else flows from that bond.

Life: Terminate all support

Life (2017) • View trailer 
Two stars. Rated R, for violence, gore and profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.24.17

Director Daniel Espinosa opens his sci-fi chiller with an absolutely stunning sequence: a vertigo-inducing montage that tracks through the narrow, weightless chambers of an orbiting International Space Station, showing each of its six astronaut crewmembers at work.

With a rapidly growing and ferociously hostile alien whatzit close behind, David (Jake
Gyllenhaal) and Miranda (Rebecca Ferguson) "swim" through the corridors of the
International Space Station, hoping to trap their pursuer in a single compartment.

The verisimilitude is uncanny, with cinematographer Seamus McGarvey heightening the cramped, claustrophobic environment while tilting this way and that, his camera completing full 360-degree turns as the crew members drift and pull themselves, weightlessly, through every wholly realistic detail of production designer Nigel Phelps’ meticulously constructed corridors and modules.

This is golly-gee-whiz filmmaking at its finest: a prologue clearly intended to one-up Alfonso Cuarón’s equally mesmerizing opening sequence in 2013’s Gravity. This one runs at least five spellbinding minutes, and it’s all — even more amazingly — a single shot, with no cutaways. (Or let’s put it this way: If camera trickery somehow feigned the single shot, the effect is seamless.)

This spectacular preface complete, the action ceases briefly in order to present the film’s title — L – I – F – E — in a somber, sinister font.

At which point, you should get up and leave, because things go downhill from there.

Quite rapidly.

Scripters Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick have delivered another textbook example of the so-called “idiot plot,” which lurches from one crisis to the next solely because each and every character behaves like a complete idiot at all times. Our real-world ISS astronauts should sue for character assassination.

Although at its core a shameless rip-off of Alien — with superior, up-to-the-nanosecond special effects — there’s a major difference between this film and that 1979 classic. Sigourney Weaver and her comrades weren’t blithering idiots, and — important distinction — the biologically fascinating critter they faced may have been powerful and dangerous, but it was mortal.

The whatzit foolishly unleashed in Life has the unstoppable fantasy omnipotence of Jason Voorhees or Freddie Krueger. Much worse, these supposedly intelligent, vigorously trained scientist-astronauts are just as foolish, foolhardy and emotionally immature as the slasher fodder in those doomed teenager flicks.

It’s therefore impossible to root for them, or care about them, because Espinosa and his writers treat them like disposable meat-bags. And, given the extraordinary production detail against which this imbecilic story is told, that’s a crushing disappointment.

Everest: Grim, heroic tragedy

Everest (2015) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang

Human grit and determination know no bounds, even to the point of neglecting experienced judgment and common sense, in pursuit of ... what, precisely? Bragging rights?

Seems a pretty thin return for risking one’s life.

Granted clear skies and ideal climbing conditions, the members of two teams — from left,
Scott Fischer (Jake Gyllenhaal), Jon Krakauer (Michael Kelly) and Beck Weathers (Josh
Brolin) — begin their final assault on Everest's summit. Alas, conditions won't remain
mild for long...

Icelandic director Baltasar Kormákur’s Everest persuasively conveys the jovial, devil-may-care resolve and physical grit that characterize those bent on conquering Earth’s highest and most dangerous summit. The international cast is convincing, particularly while depicting the 24/7 adrenaline rush that fuels such folks during the weeks of preparation leading up to an ascent.

But this isn’t action-oriented melodrama, in the mold of (for example) Sylvester Stallone’s laughably improbable Cliffhanger. Scripters William Nicholson and Simon Beaufoy have based this film’s narrative on the ill-fated 1996 Everest expeditions that turned tragic with the arrival of a particularly nasty blizzard. Allowing for modest artistic license — and with Nicholson and Beaufoy doing their best to adapt sometimes conflicting accounts from the five (!) books written between 1997 and 2014 — the resulting story feels both authentic and even-handed.

But if some of this film looks familiar, there’s good reason: We’ve been here before. The 1998 IMAX documentary of the same title, the giant-screen format’s biggest hit to date, devoted a chunk of its 45-minute running time to this catastrophe; indeed, Kormákur’s new film references the presence of the IMAX production team.

More recently, documentarian David Breashears’ Storm Over Everest focused exclusively on this 1996 climb.

But even the most successful documentaries never achieve the mainstream penetration of a big-budget, Hollywood-type production, and there’s no denying that these events cried for just such treatment. Kormákur’s heartfelt drama likely will be the final word on this subject, and it’s a worthy historical document.

More than once, in fact, I was reminded of British director Charles Frend’s superlative 1948 drama, Scott of the Antarctic, with John Mills starring as the British explorer whose team tried to become the first to reach the South Pole. Kormákur’s new film is in worthy company.

Prisoners: We cannot escape our nature

Prisoners (2013) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rating: R, for profanity, torture and disturbing violent content
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.20.13

Revenge thrillers have become a violent — often tawdry — Hollywood staple.

Not this one.

When Alex (Paul Dano, on his back) is released for lack of evidence, Keller (Hugh
Jackman) angrily confronts the younger man, convinced that he knows more than he's
telling about the disappearance of two little girls. Given time to think and plan, Keller
will continue this "conversation" in a less public setting, and with a decidedly more
dangerous intensity.

Prisoners is a brooding, atmospheric slow burn: part character drama, part mystery, part thriller ... and all-consuming. It has a distinctly European feel despite the small-town Americana setting: very much in the unsettling mode of French director George Sluizer’s 1988 chiller, Spoorloos, which he remade five years later with an American cast, as The Vanishing.

Prisoners comes from the capable hands of Québec-born director Denis Villeneuve, whose résumé includes tension-laden dramas such as Maelstrom and Polytechnique, and who garnered an Oscar nomination for 2010’s Incendies. Point being, Villeneuve has a superb sense of atmosphere and a knack for making the most innocent scene feel enshrouded by a blanket of malevolence.

He also has a gift for drawing persuasively authentic performances from his actors, and that’s certainly the case here. While the entire cast is compelling, stars Hugh Jackman and Jake Gyllenhaal are sensational. Both are gifted actors; both have been fine before. Under Villeneuve’s capable guidance, they’re even better.

The story opens on a cold, overcast Thanksgiving Day in a working-class Pennsylvania suburb: the kind of town where kids set up lemonade stands. The homes and yards are tidy but looking a bit distressed: fading paint and weather-beaten vehicles a testament to folks barely hanging on during the tough economy.

Out in the nearby woods, Keller Dover (Jackman) offers a solemn prayer to God before encouraging teenage son Ralph (Dylan Minnette) to squeeze the trigger and claim his first deer. It’s a clean shot; as they drive the carcass home, Keller — a survivalist by nature — explains that they must be prepared at all times, must be their own strongest advocates, must expect to take charge when others inevitably fail.

Keller collects his wife, Grace (Maria Bello), and their 6-year-old daughter, Anna (Erin Gerasimovich); the family strolls up the street to celebrate the holiday with best friends Franklin and Nancy Birch (Terrence Howard, Viola Davis). Ralph pairs off with teenage Eliza (Zoë Soul), who disapproves of the elder Dover’s fondness for hunting; Anna and 7-year-old Joy (Kyla Drew Simmons) play together with the exuberance of small children.

Cinematographer Roger Deakins’ camera ... hovers. We feel nervous: can’t explain why. Even as the adults relax after the huge meal, Franklin sharing his lamentable trumpet skills, the utter normality of this staunchly American ritual — playing out, we know, in similar homes across the entire country — is pregnant with building tension.

And yet it’s simply an ordinary celebratory tableau. All is right with the world.

Until, suddenly, it isn’t.

Source Code: Tick ... tick ... tick

Source Code (2011) • View trailer for Source Code
3.5 stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for dramatic intensity, violence and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.1.11


Some stories are gangbusters on the printed page, but far less successful on the big screen. The mediums are distinct, each with advantages and disadvantages; what can feel elegant, lyrical and intriguing as prose can wind up clumsy, tiresome and contrived as a film. There's no getting around the fact that we imagine certain concepts better in our minds, while reading; being confronted by a visual adaptation in real time winds up less satisfying.

Colter Stevens (Jake Gyllenhaal) hasn't the faintest idea how he wound up
traveling on this particular train, nor does he understand why Christina
(Michelle Monaghan) flirtatiously chats him up with such familiarity; she's a
complete stranger to him. But she — and everybody else on this Chicago-bound
train — are about to become very important, as Stevens gradually understands
and accepts the responsibility of a most unusual mission.

Source Code is somewhat unsatisfying, which is a shame; Ben Ripley's original screenplay is fascinating — if rather derivative — and director Duncan Jones does his best to minimize its built-in weaknesses.

The premise is classic sci-fi, the setting uneasily contemporary: A man on a Chicago-bound train (Jake Gyllenhaal) wakes with a start from what feels like an unsettling dream. The woman sitting opposite (Michelle Monaghan, as Christina) obviously knows him, and chats animatedly; he hasn't the faintest idea who she is. The routine stuff of travel with a large group of strangers plays out — spilled coffee, punched tickets, impatient and oblivious passengers — while our bewildered protagonist attempts to process his disorientation. They stop once, at an outlying station, then resume their journey.

Minutes later, not far from the city, a massive explosion destroys the entire train, killing everybody on board.

Our hero comes to his senses in what looks like a simulator capsule, now suffering a similar type of dislocation. Gradually, a "handler" communicating via a monitor screen (Vera Farmiga, as Goodwin) talks him back to his own self. Military training takes hold: He's Colter Stevens, apparently participating in some sort of test, or something. Goodwin is vague about details; a fussy scientist type in the background (Jeffrey Wright, as Rutledge) orders her to "send him back."

And poof! Stevens is back on the train, resuming the ride from the same waking point, re-living the same events, although experiencing them differently, because he remembers everything from the first time around. But the outcome is the same: Eight minutes later, the bomb goes off and everybody dies ... at which point, he regains consciousness back in the simulator. Or whatever it really is.

Stevens gradually learns — as do we — that he's part of a military/scientific emergency operation that has been mobilized in the wake of the aforementioned catastrophe. Somebody has blown up the train, whether terrorists or a lone loony, and has threatened to explode an even larger device in the heart of Chicago. Through means we really don't need to obsess about, Stevens' consciousness can be "projected" into one of the train passenger's minds, shortly before the catastrophe, in effect taking over that person's body and soul. Because of the nature of the explosion, deductive logic suggests that the bombmaker is within viewing range of the train, perhaps initially as one of the passengers. Stevens' assignment is to figure out who is responsible, and then convey this information back to HQ, so that the impending larger attack can be stopped.

Love and Other Drugs: Good medicine

Love and Other Drugs (2010) • View trailer for Love and Other Drugs
3.5 stars (out of five). Rating: R, for nudity, strong sexual content, profanity and drug use
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.26.10

Early into Love and Other Drugs, novice pharmaceuticals rep Jamie Randall (Jake Gyllenhaal) shadows Dr. Stan Knight (Hank Azaria) as a means of currying favor with this potential client.

Dr. Knight has something of a mischievous streak – not to mention a fondness for attractive women – and therefore allows Jamie to attend a routine exam with new patient Maggie Murdock (Anne Hathaway). She doesn’t think anything of Jamie’s presence, assuming an intern/doctor relationship; the situation turns eyebrow-raising when, as the exam concludes, she asks the doctor to take a quick look at one of her breasts.

Maggie (Anne Hathaway) can't stand Jamie (Jake Gyllenhaal) at first sight, but
of course that'll change; how could any woman resist his endearing, aw-shucks
charm?

The scene is staged for its erotic potential – Jamie about to enjoy a quick glimpse of forbidden fruit – and we figure, hey, it’s Anne Hathaway; director Edward Zwick will shoot the scene from behind her, preserving the actress’ modesty and allowing us to see Gyllenhaal’s Jake try not to appear lecherous. Plenty of comic potential there.

But no: The camera doesn’t cut to a different angle as Hathaway slips out of her top, and suddenly we become complicit in Jamie’s sneak peek … and the resulting scene, handled with bland insouciance by Hathaway, becomes even more erotic.

This scene is typical of Zwick’s approach in this film, which soon becomes unexpectedly, deliciously earthy and carnal in the manner of a cheerful French sex romp: a tone very few American-made films ever pull off. The film’s three screenwriters – Charles Randolph, Marshall Herskovitz and Zwick, loosely adapting Jamie Reidy’s book, Hard Sell: The Evolution of a Viagra Salesman (and no doubt that little nugget of information just made your eyebrows shoot up) – understand that young couples in the throes of a new relationship spend a lot of time in bed, and also spend a lot of time OUT of bed, but still in the buff, rejoicing in their shared exposed selves.

Hathaway and Gyllenhaal, bless ’em, are game for anything; as a result, we connect with these characters at a level of intimacy that seems at odds with the film’s often mocking tone.

It’s a deft juggling act, but Zwick pulls it off. Love and Other Drugs veers wildly from one mood to another, ranging from playful sexiness and blatant comedy to increasingly powerful poignance. We watch the story itself blossom from adolescent foolishness to adult maturity, much the way Maggie helps Jamie grow up and become a better person.

Jamie is introduced as the ne’er-do-well member of an otherwise accomplished family, bright but self-destructive, and running a distant second to a dweebish younger brother – the hilarious Josh Gad – who scored a big hit with an Internet start-up. It’s the 1990s, and such things remain possible; the trouble is, Jamie has only one talent: scoring with chicks.