Angel Has Fallen: A devilishly good time

Angel Has Fallen (2019) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated R, for profanity and violence
By Derrick Bang

The third time’s definitely the charm, for this series.

Were it not for A-level casts toplined by Gerard Butler’s indestructible Mike Banning, 2013’s Olympus Has Fallen and 2016’s London Has Fallen would have vanished from the face of the planet, due to their outrageously stupid scripts, unforgivably cowardly characters, and offensively jingoistic political undertone.

On the run, and with almost nobody to trust, Mike Banning (Gerard Butler) chances a
phone call to his wife, knowing full well that the FBI has tapped his home phone.

Both typified the exploitative action swill that Cinemax programmed in late-night time slots, back in the 1980s.

Given that series creators Katrin Benedikt and Creighton Rothenberger have been on board throughout, this third entry was approached with more than a little skepticism. But I’m happy to report that Angel Has Fallen is vastly superior to its predecessors; indeed, you’d never believe it came from any of the same folks. Credit likely belongs to new co-scripters Matt Cook and Robert Mark Kamen, the latter a seasoned veteran who has written and co-written crowd-pleasing hits as diverse as The Karate Kid, The Fifth Element and the Transporter series.

In short, Kamen knows how to concoct and pace an effective thriller. More to the point, his stories always have heart, and this new Fallenentry is no different; it includes a level of emotional gravitas that was completely absent in the first two films, whose characters had the depth of tissue paper.

On top of which, the core plot is an always reliable chestnut invariably tapped during the third or fourth season of successful television investigative dramas: the ol’ “We’ve all trusted this guy for years, but now — solely because of circumstantial evidence — we’re gonna believe that he’s been an evil bastard all along.”

Contrived, yes. But undeniably effective, because it puts our hero in the situation beloved by Alfred Hitchcock: on the run from good guys and bad guys.

In fairness, said circumstantial evidence is quite formidable. While keeping President Allan Trumbull (Morgan Freeman) company during a restful fishing trip in the middle of a freezing-cold lake, Banning and his Secret Service team are attacked by a phalanx of explosive drones. Thanks to quick thinking, Banning saves Trumbull’s life, but only barely; the president remains hospitalized, in a coma. Recovering is uncertain.

Banning, in turn, awakens to find himself handcuffed to a hospital bed. As he stares in disbelief, FBI Special Agent Thompson (Jada Pinkett Smith) coldly informs him that he’s the lone survivor, the entire rest of the Secret Service team having been wiped out. Far more damning, the tech-laden van from which the drones were fired has been found, and it’s laden with Banning’s DNA. The cherry on top: $20 million in a clandestine account under his name, with the funds traced back to — we pause, for emphasis — the Russians.

(How’s that for election interference?)

A Walk in the Woods: Lackadaisical stroll

A Walk in the Woods (2015) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated R, for profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.4.15

It’s easy to understand why the outdoors-y Robert Redford would be drawn to travel author Bill Bryson’s delightful 1998 account of his less-than-illustrious attempt to walk the famed Appalachian Trail ... all 2,200 miles of it, stretching from Georgia’s Springer Mountain to Maine’s Mount Katahdin.

After a particularly difficult day, Bryson (Robert Redford, right) and his good friend Katz
(Nick Nolte) take shelter in a small hut, only to discover — thanks to a scale map of the
entire Appalachian Trail — that they've made far less progress than expected.

The resulting film, gestating since Redford acquired the adaptation rights in 2005, is amiable enough, if superficial: a gentle account of two codgers impulsively deciding to tackle this hiking challenge, and the reality check that almost immediately dimmed — but didn’t quite extinguish — their ambition.

Rather too gentle, alas.

This big-screen Walk in the Woods is disappointing on several levels, most notably because we’ve lost the book’s primary asset: Bryson’s wonderfully wicked, sharply perceptive sense of humor. I usually decry movies that rely on voice-over narration as a crutch, but this one begs for just that touch. (Recall how much Jean Shepherd’s off-camera commentary helped 1983’s A Christmas Story.)

Bryson’s rich voice is wholly absent here, and that’s not merely disappointing; it calls this film’s very existence into question.

Not only that, but Redford’s take on Bryson is all wrong. Redford makes the writer laconic and reflective: a man who keeps close counsel, rarely initiates conversation, and responds briefly, if at all. That’s an apt definition of Redford’s longtime screen persona, as opposed to the quick wit, thoughtful ripostes and sharply descriptive commentary that have characterized Bryson for years.

The second major issue is one of actor hubris. Redford may have been one of the best-preserved 79-year-olds on the planet, when he shot this film, but one cannot ignore the physical limitations that nature imposes with maturity. At 74, co-star Nick Nolte looks 90 (which, yes, is intentional ... to a point).

Age, by itself, certainly is no impediment to endeavors that require stamina and physical competence. Age plus an absolute lack of preparation, however, is an entirely different matter. As depicted here, Bryson’s decision to embark on this expedition — rightly recognized as bonkers by his wife, Catherine (a radiant Emma Thompson) — is a visceral reaction to the death of a friend. A sudden need to prove something.

But the real Bryson was 44 when he began his equally mad journey on March 9, 1996. We can assume that his companion — played here by Nolte — was of a similar age. Let’s just say that ill-prepared fortysomethings are far more credible, under subsequent circumstances, than ill-prepared seventysomethings.

Based on the way Nolte’s red-faced, overweight character huffs and puffs his way through the initial modest climb, he’d have stroked out before the sun set on their first day.

The Company You Keep: The guests exceed their talking points

The Company You Keep (2012) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rating: R, for profanity
By Derrick Bang

Almost four decades later, Robert Redford continues to flee from The Establishment.

The Company You Keep has some pleasant echoes of 1975’s Three Days of the Condor, particularly during the first act. Granted, this new thriller lacks any sort of spy element, but in both cases Redford’s man on the run must outwit better organized and far more numerous pursuers, while we audience members attempt to solve the twisty mystery that fuels the hunt.

FBI Agent Cornelius (Terrence Howard, left) is quite annoyed by the arrogance displayed
by journalist Ben Shepard (Shia LaBeouf), and even angrier that rookie agent Diana
(Anna Kendrick) apparently allowed her previous relationship with this reporter to
cloud her professional judgment. Somebody's head is about to roll; meanwhile,
long-dormant domestic terrorists continue to elude what Cornelius regards as justice.

The political element is significantly different, however, reflecting a greater maturity on Redford’s part. His CIA researcher in Three Days of the Condor was an undisputed good guy caught in a conspiracy that anticipated the energy crisis: a vividly black-and-white scenario that ultimately made a savior of the great Fourth Estate, and its ability to keep the American public informed about vile doings.

Screenwriter Lem Dobbs’ view of newspaper journalists is a bit more complicated in The Company You Keep, and the political subtext is various shades of gray; indeed, it could be argued that Redford’s character here deserves to be caught and punished. Absolute right and wrong are more difficult to pin down, although confirmed leftists will be cheered by the fact that various good fights still seem worth the effort.

The tone also is agreeable; the shrill preaching that characterized Redford’s previous political drama, 2007’s Lions for Lambs, is largely absent here. Granted, this new film also relies too much on talking heads at times, particularly during a final act that wears out its welcome; some judicious trimming could have made a better-paced drama out of this somewhat self-indulgent 121-minute experience.

That said, it’s hard not to be impressed by the cast Redford assembled (he also directed). You’ll rarely find an ensemble as accomplished as Julie Christie, Susan Sarandon, Chris Cooper, Stanly Tucci, Richard Jenkins, Brendan Gleeson and Nick Nolte; and tomorrow’s stars are equally well represented by Shia LaBeouf, Brit Marling and Anna Kendrick.

Many of these performers pop up in relatively small roles, which ordinarily might be distracting, or invite an accusation of stunt casting. But everybody perfectly fits their parts, and it’s hard to argue with the results (at least, from an acting standpoint). In that sense, The Company You Keep hearkens back to Hollywood’s golden age, when similarly star-laden casts weren’t all that unusual.

Parker: Solid adaptation of a literary anti-hero

Parker (2013) • View trailer
3.5 stars. Rating: R, for violence, profanity, sexual candor and nudity
By Derrick Bang

The best film Jennifer Lopez has made thus far remains 1998’s Out of Sight, director Steven Soderbergh’s slick adaptation of the Elmore Leonard novel that introduced feisty bounty hunter Karen Sisco.

Parker (Jason Statham), posing as a wealthy Texas oil tycoon, accepts Realtor Leslie
Rodgers' (Jennifer Lopez) offer to show him various properties in Palm Beach. She
thinks he's looking for a house to buy; he's actually trying to figure out where some
former associates might have gone to ground ... because he'd really like to see them.

(Sisco, obviously too cool a character to drop, resurfaced — this time played equally well by Carlo Gugino — in a woefully under-appreciated 2003 ABC television series that ran only seven episodes, out of the 10 completed, before the plug was pulled. Fans wait in vain, to this day, for DVD afterlife.)

Crime thrillers appear to be Lopez’s forté, as opposed to the limp romantic comedies into which she invariably gets cast. I say that on the basis of her similarly slick and engaging work in Parker, based on an equally gritty novel by yet another veteran American thriller writer: the recently late and much lamented Donald E. Westlake.

A bit of history: Westlake employed the pseudonym Richard Stark when writing his Parker novels, from 1962’s The Hunter through 2008’s Dirty Money. The debut novel has been brought to the big screen twice: in 1967, as Point Blank, with Lee Marvin as “Walker”; and in 1999, as Payback, with Mel Gibson as “Porter.” Other Parker novels have been adapted for stars such as Robert Duvall, Jim Brown and Peter Coyote, all of whom played the character under a different name (Westlake having insisted on that, to retain control of his creation).

Although the revenge motif employed in this new film strongly echoes The Hunter, it’s actually based on a much later novel, 2000’s Flashfire. Scripter John J. McLaughlin deserves credit for a slick, polished and deliciously snarky adaptation, while Hackford gets to resurrect thriller chops he hasn’t exercised since 1984’s Against All Odds.

Let it be said, however, that Jason Statham owns this film, as is the case with pretty much everything the rugged action star embraces. His British origins notwithstanding, he’s the ideal personification of Parker: appropriate age, ideal physical presence, proper attitude. Marvin and Gibson weren’t bad, but Statham delivers just the right blend of resourceful arrogance, foolhardy stubbornness and wounded pride.

Parker’s all about commitment: If you promise to do something, you’d damn well better do it ... or risk the consequences. He’s also a career thief and cold-hearted killer, if a situation demands it: definitely a template for later series characters such as Lawrence Block’s Keller and Lee Child’s Jack Reacher. And, like those other modern-day warriors, Parker isn’t a psychopath; he’s capable of kindness — after a fashion — and bears no ill will toward the innocent.

Statham nails that duality, as well.

Gangster Squad: Cheeky, audacious portrait of 1950s Los Angeles

Gangster Squad (2013) • View trailer
3.5 stars. Rating: R, for nonstop violence, gore and profanity
By Derrick Bang

It’s a can’t-miss formula that goes back to the days of vintage Hollywood Westerns: the few against the many, particularly in a righteous cause.

Electronics nerd Conwell Keeler (Giovanni Ribisi, center) overhears some delectable
information from the bug he planted in mobster Mickey Cohen's home, while squad
members John O'Mara (Josh Brolin, left) and Jerry Wooters (Ryan Gosling) determine
how best to use this revelation.

This already engaging dynamic was enhanced by turning the underdog heroes into rag-tag misfits, with the genre expanding to include war and crime (or the war on crime). Some of the best examples have become cinema classics, such as The Magnificent Seven — and its forbearer, The Seven Samurai — and The Dirty Dozen. My own list of personal favorites includes Where Eagles Dare.

Director Brian De Palma upgraded an early 1960s TV show and brought Sean Connery an Academy Award as the moral center of 1987’s The Untouchables. A decade later, that film’s 1930s Chicago setting shifted to 1950s Los Angeles with director Lee Tamahori’s stylish handling of Mulholland Falls. Even post-WWII crime thrillers weren’t quite this noir.

All of which brings us to director Ruben Fleischer’s energetic Gangster Squad, based on Paul Lieberman’s book of the same title, and adapted with snap by Will Beall, who employs the same crisp sparkle he has brought to several episodes of television’s Castle. The dialogue sizzles, the dames are delectable, the actors chew their lines with the snarling fury of a hungry lion tearing into a steak, and the action has the rat-a-tat ferocity of the Tommy guns wielded on both sides.

Although Lieberman brought veteran journalistic skills to his well-researched account of gangster Mickey Cohen’s attempt to seize control of Los Angeles during the 1950s, this film probably bears no more relation to actual history than Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained. Some of the names will be recognized, but the execution here feels more like Mission: Impossible and L.A. Confidential, with a soupçon of 21st century sass.

And — sad to say — plenty of violence and some unnecessary gore. The story may demand a vicious streak, but must we really watch a man torn in half after being chained to two cars accelerating in opposite directions? Surely that image could have been left to our imaginations, rather than splattered across the screen ... along with the yummy glimpse of wild dogs tearing into the remains.

But then, Fleischer also is the gleeful maniac who upped the snark count in walking dead flicks, with 2009’s Zombieland, so I guess it’s in his genes. And, in fairness, everything that follows the aforementioned dismemberment — a prologue, of sorts, to set the mood — involves somewhat more palatable gunplay. And a few knives. And some acid. And ... well, you get the idea.

Arthur: Poor little rich remake

Arthur (2011) • View trailer for Arthur
Three stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for sensuality, profanity, drug references and relentless alcohol abuse
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.8.11


Director Jason Winer's most impressive accomplishment, in his remake of 1981's Arthur, is keeping a lid on his star's aggressively flamboyant tendencies.

A little bit of Russell Brand goes a very long way.

Breakfast time in the Bach household often is conducted well after the noon
hour, as Hobson (Helen Mirren) patiently prepares a meal for the utterly
helpless Arthur (Russell Brand), who couldn't boil water without destroying
half the kitchen.

Indeed, I'd argue that Brand is best used as a supporting player, where his shenanigans can provide an ostentatious counterpoint to calmer leading players; in just such a capacity, he was one of the brighter spots in the mostly forgettable Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Alternatively, Brand completely overwhelmed last year's Get Him to the Greek ... which, I've no doubt, delighted both his fans and anybody who enjoys the similarly overplayed antics of, say, Will Ferrell or Steve Coogan. Larger-than-life comic personalities rarely "act" in their films, as opposed to simply playing unvarying versions of their successful stage personas.

In which case, let the viewer beware.

But Brand manages to be occasionally endearing here, as Arthur Bach: a spoiled-rotten, super-rich, arrested adolescent who never refuses an opportunity to make headlines while concocting new ways to embarrass his mother. Vivienne (Geraldine James) runs the family corporate empire, her husband — Arthur's father — having (wisely?) passed on when his only son was 3. Subsequently raised in a sheltered environment by an absentee single parent too frequently in the boardroom, Arthur has turned unrestrained hedonism into an Olympic-caliber sport, believing that one cannot have too much wine, too many women (often simultaneously) or too much song.

All this is a constant source of irritation to Hobson (Helen Mirren), Arthur's patient, long-suffering but mordantly prickly nanny. Hobson tirelessly cleans up after her charge, having done so for decades. And if this is motivated at least in part by affection, as opposed to a regular paycheck, that's difficult to discern ... initially, anyway.

Oh, yes: Arthur also drinks. Constantly. Excessively. With the intention of humorous effect.

Therein lies a problem.

The original Arthur, brilliantly written and directed by Steve Gordon — who died, tragically, just after the release of this, his big-screen debut — was designed as an homage to 1930s Hollywood screwball comedies, which existed in the same sort of rarefied, fantasyland atmosphere populated by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dance flicks. This was an era of archetypes rarely seen in our more cynical, obnoxiously politically correct 21st century: dumb blondes, honorable cowboys, hookers with a heart of gold, and — most crucially, for our purposes — lovable drunks. Gordon's "Arthur" was a hit not just because of star Dudley Moore's spot-on performance, but also because the entire film so perfectly imitated this bygone era, while ostensibly being set in the present day.

Even as Arthur fell in love with the plain, working-class woman who taught him about the value of self-reliance — an improbably cast Liza Minnelli, but hey, she made it work — Gordon was careful not to slide too far into the real world. The bubble would have burst.

Winer and screenwriter Peter Baynham, in their remake, exercise no such caution ... and more's the pity.

The Spiderwick Chronicles: Enchanted land

The Spiderwick Chronicles (2008) • View trailer
3.5 stars (out of five). Rating: PG, for fantasy violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.21.08

Nickelodeon continues its impressive run of high-quality family films, with a handsomely mounted and highly entertaining adaptation of The Spiderwick Chronicles, based on the cleverly packaged quintet of books by artist/author Tony DiTerlizzi and author Holly Black.

After his brother is kidnapped by goblins, Jared (Freddie Highmore) and his
new friend, Hogsqueal, watch with mounting horror as the other boy is
questioned by the sinister ogre who rules the forest.

Young readers who've exhausted the Harry Potter and Lemony Snicket titles are bound to enjoy this saga (really only one book divided into five easily digestible chapters). And while it's inevitable, in our post-Potter world of youth-oriented fantasy, that all "new" books get compared to J.K. Rowling, that isn't terribly fair to DiTerlizzi and Black.

The Spiderwick Chronicles, published in 2003, stands quite well on its own. By design, the story is more American and comfortably contemporary than most fantasy titles for young readers, and DiTerlizzi's lovely line art plays a major role in the narrative's enchantment factor. Indeed, I haven't seen a young reader's book so perfectly married to its artwork since Garth Williams' illustrations graced E.B. White's Charlotte's Web and Stuart Little.

The film adaptation, which contains a bit more depth and angst than most so-called children's films, comes from Karey Kirkpatrick, David Berenbaum and — here's a surprise! — indie filmmaker John Sayles, who usually only works on his own projects. But it's a natural fit: Sayles explored Irish fables and mystical creatures superbly with his own 1994 film, The Secret of Roan Inish, which remains one of the gentlest and most beautifully rendered all-ages fantasy films I've ever seen.

The adaptation of Spiderwick concentrates of books one and five in the set, pretty much abandoning the additional creatures and narrative complexities found in books two through four, but that's all right; Kirkpatrick, Berenbaum and Sayles deftly capture the tone and spirit of the entire saga. (Young readers hoping to meet the river troll, the phooka and the forest elves may feel differently.)

The film also draws considerable power from the impressive performances delivered by 15-year-old Freddie Highmore, continuing the splendid body of work that began with Finding Neverland and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. And that's "performances," plural, because in Spiderwick he plays identical twins Jared and Simon Grace.

It's not merely a matter of superb special-effects work, although the scenes involving both boys are amazing. Highmore crafts two dissimilar personalities that are so distinct that at times, even knowing better, I thought I was watching two different actors. Jared and Simon look quite the same, and yet they also look different, and it's more than the clothes and the hair. Depending on which boy he's playing, Highmore modulates his body movements: the way he stands, tilts his head, uses his eyes to probe a darkened corner or somebody else's expression.

Highmore's work moves beyond "gimmick" and becomes wholly accepted by us viewers. He's good enough that, were Oscar-like awards granted to children's films, he'd deserve to be nominated for both roles.