Safe Haven: A truly delightful surprise

Safe Haven (2013) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rating: PG-13, for dramatic intensity and mild sensuality
By Derrick Bang

Films made from Nicholas Sparks novels tend to follow a predictable — and quite irritating — pattern.

Could anything be more cute and cuddly? Having finally learn to trust the joy of getting
to know new people, Katie (Julianne Hough, center left) finds herself falling in love with
Alex (Josh Duhamel) and his two children, Josh (Noah Lomax) and Lexie (Mimi Kirkland).
Alas, Katie's past threatens to catch up with her, a development that could mean ... ah,
but you'll have to discover that for yourself.

We meet two or more engaging characters in the first act, often but not always young people, at least one of whom carries a Heavy Burden. A relationship develops in the second act, often built on a foundation of Valentine’s Day-perfect dialogue that overcomes initial shyness or mutual wariness. Written correspondence often (always?) plays a key role.

We get to know and like this couple, and feel they deserve happiness. Then whoosh, fresh tragedy strikes — sometimes unbelievably contrived (remember what happens to Richard Gere, at the end of Nights in Rodanthe?) — that leads to a bleak and shattering epilogue. But that’s okay, y’know, because those left behind are grateful for the experience, having grown into better human beings.

Lather, rinse and repeat.

Message in a Bottle was the first Sparks novel to hit the big screen, back in 1999; true to form, it concludes on a grim note. Things improved with The Notebook, due both to that novel’s structure and the 2004 film’s sensational cast. But since then, we’ve slogged through a series of soggy, manipulative and increasingly unsatisfying tear-jerkers, often selected as vehicles for up-and-coming young stars: Dear John (Channing Tatum and Amanda Seyfried), The Last Song (Miley Cyrus and Liam Hemsworth) and The Lucky One (Zac Efron and Taylor Schilling).

Great stuff for folks who enjoy having their emotions yanked about, I suppose, but far too much been there, endured that for the rest of us.

No surprise, then, that I greeted the impending arrival of Safe Haven with very little enthusiasm.

Which simply goes to show the folly of assumptions. The thoroughly enjoyable Safe Haven is by no means typical of Sparks’ overworked formula; indeed, if I hadn’t known of his involvement going in, I’d have assumed that some other writer had concocted the tale. (Until the epilogue, anyway, at which point we smile, nod and say Ah, yes, there’s the Nicholas Sparks touch. But that’s okay in this case.)

Rock of Ages: Somewhat chipped

Rock of Ages (2012) • View trailer
3.5 stars. Rating: PG-13, and quite generously, for sexual content, lewd behavior, profanity, revealing clothing and nonstop alcohol abuse
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.15.12

This film is a shotgun wedding of Moulin Rouge and The Rocky Horror Picture Show, with a bit of Phantom of the Paradise (remember that one?) sneaking in from beneath the woodpile.

When club owner Dennis Dupree (Alec Baldwin, right) finds himself without an
opening act for the evening's big event, new waitress Sherrie (Julianne Hough)
suggests her boyfriend, Drew (Diego Boneta, background), and his band. Dennis'
assistant, Lonny (Russell Brand), thinks this is a great idea ... but Dennis isn't
as certain.

At its best, the result is raucous, exuberant and quite funny, notably when the tag-team of Alec Baldwin and Russell Brand take the screen. But all that cheeky energy aside, Rock of Ages sags badly at times; it’s much too long and self-indulgent. The third and final act, when we finally cruise into it, feels more like the fifth; the wafer-thin story isn’t strong enough to support all the glitter and musical bombast.

The film is adapted from Chris D’Arienzo’s rock/jukebox musical of the same name, which opened in Los Angeles in 2005. A short Off-Broadway run eventually followed in late 2008; the show transitioned to Broadway in the spring of 2009 and has remained a popular draw ever since.

Sadly, that happy fate probably doesn’t await this big-screen adaptation.

The time is 1987, a musical breakpoint in terms of both art and commerce: LPs are on their way out, rapidly being forced off store shelves in favor of new-fangled CD “longpacks.” Similarly, glam, heavy metal and power-rock are being threatened by the onset of grunge, rap and (God help us) boy bands.

Perky Sherrie Christian (country singer Julianne Hough), seeking fame and fortune, departs Tulsa, Okla., with a one-way ticket to Los Angeles. Her destination: the Bourbon Room, a landmark but now dilapidated rock ’n’ roll club (probably suggested by the Troubadour). Historically, the club is famed for having introduced many now-famous acts, none more celebrated than Stacee Jaxx (Tom Cruise), lead singer of the band Arsenal.

But the Bourbon Room is in trouble these days; owner Dennis Dupree (Baldwin) faces a whopping unpaid tax bill. And although Dennis’ right-hand man, Lonny Barnett (Brand), insists that rock ’n’ roll will never die, such pronouncements won’t keep the IRS at bay. And as if this weren’t bad enough, Dupree and his club have been targeted by Patricia Whitman (Catherine Zeta-Jones), the ultra-conservative wife of newly elected Mayor Mike Whitman (Bryan Cranston).

Sherrie’s barely off the bus when she loses her possessions to a mugger, but that’s all right; she’s just as quickly “rescued” by Drew Boley (Diego Boneta), an aspiring rocker who works behind the bar at the Bourbon Room. Just like that, Sherrie has a new job, a new boyfriend and close proximity to the music scene she loves so much.

Only in the movies, right?

Footloose: A bit TOO loose

Footloose (2011) • View trailer for Footloose
Three stars. Rating: PG-13, for profanity, sensuality, violence, and teen drug and alcohol use
By Derrick Bang


Those with the chutzpah to re-visit an older film need to remember the essential rule of remakes: They’d better be at least as good as — if not better — than the original. Otherwise, what’s the point?

And since few filmmakers are interested in remaking bad films, that generally sets the bar pretty high.

Ariel (Julianne Hough, center) loves showing off her hot little body, much to
the amusement of Ren (Kenny Wormald, at her right), and a massive country
line dance is a great place to kick up one's heels. Although this dance sequence
and others display plenty of energy, this remake doesn't have nearly as much
heart — or savvy restraint — as the 1984 original.

Director Craig Brewer broke the rule.

At first blush, he seems an odd choice for a remake of 1984’s Footloose. Brewer’s most visible credentials include 2005’s Hustle and Flow and 2006’s Black Snake Moan, both quite gritty, vulgar and sexually charged. The latter, thanks to an eye-popping star-slut turn from Christina Ricci, is almost a masterpiece of hilariously bad behavior.

And, in fact, misguided dollops of vulgarity are the first problem with Brewer’s update of Footloose. Most of the off-color remarks spring from the lips of Willard (Miles Teller), the cornpone best bud whom Boston-bred Ren McCormack (Kenny Wormald) cultivates after a forced moved to Hicksville USA, otherwise known as the sleepy town of Bomont.

Willard’s of the opinion that Bomont would be more tolerable with regularly scheduled wet T-shirt contests, and he’s not above asking a waitress — during a brief visit to a rowdy big-city nightspot — whether the barmaids serve drinks stuffed between their boobies. Actually, he may have said titties, but it scarcely matters; the line fell with the thud of cast iron.

Not that a kid like Willard wouldn’t have said such a thing; it’s probably perfectly in character, in the real world. But not for this character, and not in this story.

Brewer — who also takes a co-scripting credit, for “expanding upon” Dean Pitchford’s original story — thumbs up the volume of the original film’s core elements, apparently assuming that this is the difference between life in 1984 and life in 2011. As a result, the plot elements are meaner, and everybody here is louder, cruder, nastier and — with respect to some of the patronizing adults — more aggressively stupid.

Dennis Quaid needlessly hammers the arrogantly pious mien of the Rev. Shaw Moore, a role handled with much better grace and subtlety by John Lithgow, back in ’84. The villain of this story, a thuggish lout named Chuck, challenged Ren to a tractor duel back in ’84; this time — with Chuck given homicidal inclinations by Patrick John Flueger — it’s a four-way demolition derby with tricked-up school buses, in a scene that rather oddly evokes Mad Max and The Road Warrior.