African Adventure — Safari in the Okavango: The ones that got away

African Adventure: Safari in the Okavango (2007)
Three stars (out of five). Rating: suitable for all ages
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.12.09



You can't help wanting to swat all the reeds away.

Director Ben Stassen's cleverest touch in his newest giant-screen IMAX production, African Adventure: Safari in the Okavango, was his decision to incorporate a "prow's-eye view" during much of the film.

Take a good look at this photo, because you'll get closer to a hippo here than
at any point in this largely disappointing film, which too frequently fails to
obtain — or provide — the "money shots" that characterize other, much
better nature documentaries.

As South African zoologist Liesl Eichenberger and wildlife filmmaker Tim Liversedge take their tiny craft through the weed- and reed-choked waterways of Botswana's Okavango Delta — a flooded region that can't help making American viewers think of the Florida Everglades — their passage is recorded, in part, by an IMAX 3D camera that has been mounted at the very tip of the boat, right at the waterline.

The resulting effect is akin to slowly swimming through these waters, and having to push aside the flora that sticks up from the water. Indeed, the camera lens itself plunges right into the reeds, which gently part as the boat moves forward.

The feeling of actually being there is beyond tantalizing; it's amazing how much this relatively simple little trick fools our brains as we sit comfortably in the darkened theater.

I wish the rest of the film were equally satisfying.

Granted, African Adventure: Safari in the Okavango is a welcome relief from the seemingly dozens of ocean- and underwater-themed IMAX films that have proliferated of late. It's a (mostly) above-ground excursion through a region of Africa that remains largely unknown to us outsiders. In fact, as the narrator informs us, the Okavango's comparative isolation — the degree to which it remained hidden from the rest of Africa, let alone the world — left it largely unexplored until fairly recently.

It's a fascinating ecological paradise: a flooded 20,000-square-kilometer maze of lagoons, channels and islands ... in the middle of an otherwise arid and inhospitable desert.

Eichenberger and Liversedge are entertaining guides; they know the region but aren't the slightest bit blase about its many wonders. Eichenberger's enthusiastic smile is particularly infectious.

But while Stassen's film is visually opulent and the subject matter quite fascinating, the 41 minutes pass so quickly that we're left hungry. To a degree, that's partly because of what the film doesn't show us.

Watchmen: Tick-tock...

Watchmen (2009) • View trailer for Watchmen
Four stars (out of five). Rating: R, and quite generously, for nudity, profanity, sexual content and urelenting graphic violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.6.09
Buy DVD: Watchmen • Buy Blu-Ray: Watchmen (Director's Cut + BD-Live) [Blu-ray]


Fans of Alan Moore's Watchmen are in for a ripping good time, because director Zack Snyder's big-screen adaptation of this seminal 1980s graphic novel is geek paradise.

The film is impressive faithful to its source material, and at just shy of three hours, Snyder and screenwriters David Hayter and Alex Tse have plenty of time and a massive canvas on which to reproduce all the important details, large and small, that made Moore's ground-breaking deconstruction of superheroes so memorably engrossing.

Having decided to defy the government's ban on their activities, the costumed
heroes Nite Owl (Patrick Wilson) and Silk Spectre (Malin Akerman) derive
considerable pleasure from quelling a prison riot while searching for one of
their comrades.

You will not, however, find Moore's name anywhere on this project, which claims simply to have been adapted from the work by Dave Gibbons (the original 12-part comic serial's artist) and "DC Comics." The notoriously eccentric Moore, no fan of the film industry — despite what I'd argue are honorable big-screen renditions of his other works, From Hell and V for Vendetta — refused to allow his name to be used to help sell this film.

Hey, his loss.

Watchmen belongs to the recent trend that reasonably questions whether super-powered beings automatically would be virtuous beacons of integrity. Obviously, they wouldn't all be; a certain percentage of any subset of humanity would include those with opportunistic streaks and even criminal tendencies.

Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely ... or, to employ one of this story's catch-phrases, Who watches the Watchmen?

Moore's saga, obviously written in a white heat of rage prompted by his perception of where the world was going in the 1980s, takes place in a slightly altered universe where "Masks," as superheroes have been dubbed, began operating in public during the WWII years. Oddly, they're a mostly American phenomenon, which generates considerable nervous tension on the part of other world powers.

When President Nixon later calls on the Masks to help the United States win the Vietnam War, the Soviet Union's perception of American arrogance escalates a nuclear missile build-up that prompts worried scientists to set their "doomsday clock" to scant minutes before the midnight of annihilation.

(In a deliberate nod to Dr. Strangelove, a scene in Nixon's war cabinet shows various generals cheerfully acknowledging the necessity of insane levels of collateral American lives lost, when — not if — this war begins. One can hear the echo of the grinning George C. Scott, as he ruefully admits that we'd "get our hair mussed.")

Echelon Conspiracy: They're spying on us!

Echelon Conspiracy (2009) • View trailer for Echelon Conspiracy
3.5 stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for violence, intense action, profanity and mild sexuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.5.09
Buy DVD: Echelon Conspiracy • Buy Blu-Ray: Echelon Conspiracy [Blu-ray]

Proving once again that an unpretentious B-flick can be much more fun than many of its puffed-up Hollywood cousins, Echelon Conspiracy is a cheerfully mindless good time at the movies.

Director Greg Marcks' fast-paced cyber-thriller has been released with little fanfare in this late winter dead zone, and that's a shame; Marcks' film deserves more attention than it's likely to get surrounded by the likes of Confessions of a Shopaholic and the pointless (albeit popular) remake of Friday the 13th.

Having finally realized that the messages on his spiffy new cell phone aren't
always helpful, Max (Shane West) and his somewhat mysterious new friend,
Kamila (Tamara Feldman) decide to ignore the silly thing ... at which point
our hero gets another text warning that failure to comply will result in his
swift and unpleasant death. (Have a nice day!)

Mind you, Echelon Conspiracy suffers from a serious case of deja vu, since screenwriters Kevin Elders and Michael Nitsberg have concocted a narrative that bears more than a passing resemblance to last year's much more expensive Eagle Eye. (One wonders which script was registered first.)

Both films, I hasten to add, are wholly preposterous ... but somehow Echelon Conspiracy is easier to go along with, probably because it doesn't take itself nearly as seriously.

Trouble-shooting software wonk Max Peterson (Shane West), having just completed a routine assignment in Bangkok, is surprised to receive a package at his hotel room. He finds a way-cool cell phone inside the box, which has no return address or indication of sender.

The phone springs to life on its own, and encourages Max to take advantage of an unpublicized bargain at the hotel, and thus stay an extra night. Max does so, and his world is rocked shortly thereafter, when he realizes that the plane he would have taken — had he left on schedule — has just crashed.

The phone's text messages subsequently encourage a trip to Prague, and a stay at a hotel/casino where Max has an amazing string of luck at slots and blackjack, by obeying the suggestions coming to him from ... somewhere.

This unlikely financial windfall brings him to the attention of casino security chief John Reed (Edward Burns), a transplanted American once employed with the FBI. While dodging Reed and his minions, Max also runs afoul of American covert ops agent Dave Grant (Ving Rhames); the latter gets first crack at our engaging young protagonist.

In due course, we discover that Max is the latest in a string of apparently random Americans who've received these phones; the only difference is that all the others are dead, each having perished under unusual circumstances. Grant believes that, as with the others, Max is being set up to perform some sort of function; the questions are what and why, not to mention who's pulling the strings.

Additional complications arrive courtesy of a chatty Prague taxi driver (Sergey Gubanov, as Yuri), who moonlights as a resourceful computer hacker, and a mysterious young woman (Tamara Feldman, as Kamila) with a come-hither smile and a suspiciously timed "meet cute" moment, which Max chalks up to more good fortune.

I've Loved You So Long: Love hurts

I've Loved You So Long (2008) • View trailer for I've Loved You So Long
3.5 stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, and much too harshly, for dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.27.09
Buy DVD: I've Loved You So Long • Buy Blu-Ray: I've Loved You So Long [Blu-ray]

Writer/director Philippe Claudel's I've Loved You So Long makes an intriguing companion piece to Anne Hathaway's Academy Award-nominated performance in Rachel Getting Married ... but I'm not sure anybody could survive such a double-feature.

Both films deal with the attempt to re-knit the frayed threads of an estranged family, while also exploring the notions of redemption and contrition ... and the guilt carried by those who know they're damaged goods, and haven't yet learned how to forgive themselves.

Michael (Laurent Grévill) pays the aloof Juliette (Kristin Scott Thomas) a
compliment; she wants to believe him, isn't quite sure she can, but nonetheless
smiles in embarrassment and nervously brushes her hair aside. This film is
filled with small moments, all of which bu ild into a compelling stury of one
woman's struggle to move past her pain.

But whereas Rachel is a straightforward study of a fractured family dynamic during the tempestuous weekend revolving around a wedding celebration, I've Loved You So Long is a much quieter picture, with a mystery at its core, that takes place during a much longer period.

Quieter, perhaps, but no less painful.

We first meet Juliette — Kristin Scott Thomas, her impeccable French once again on display — in an airport waiting lounge. She twitches and smokes nervously, the cigarette held almost like a protective weapon, her wary eyes displaying the terrified uncertainty of a forest creature poised to bolt from an as-yet unseen predator.

Outside, a younger woman (Elsa Zylberstein, as Léa) roars up in her car, aware of being late, and races into the terminal. Even without dialogue, we understand that Léa felt it important to be on time, and worries that her tardiness may have consequences.

The two women meet, their faltering greeting suggesting neither intimacy nor familiarity. We therefore blink upon discovering that they're sisters.

The details emerge slowly; some crucial information literally arrives only as the film concludes, and the screen fades to black.

Juliette has just been released from a 15-year prison term. During that time, Léa has grown from a doting teenage younger sister into an accomplished college professor, wife and mother. The crime for which Juliette was sentenced hangs between them, but remains unspoken; it was, however, horrific enough to have made their parents sever all ties with Juliette, and insist that Léa have no contact with her.

But now, as an adult, Léa has found her own voice and obeyed her conscience; she wants to re-establish the sibling relationship. And so — with the reluctant agreement of her husband, Luc (Serge Hazanavicius) — she has invited Juliette to live with them, for as long as it's necessary to regain her bearings, find a job and resume her place in the world.

Luc isn't happy with the arrangement, but he's willing to accept it ... to a point.

Confessions of a Shopaholic: No account

Confessions of a Shopaholic (2009) • View trailer for Confessions of a Shopaholic
Two stars (out of five). Rating: PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.20.09
Buy DVD: Confessions of a Shopaholic • Buy Blu-Ray: Confessions of a Shopaholic (Two-Disc Special Edition + Digital Copy) [Blu-ray]

I tried to imagine, while leaving the theater with such a rancid taste in my mouth, whether I'd have loathed the heroine of Confessions of a Shopaholic even if the film had been released at a time when the entire U.S. economy weren't tanking.

Oh, yes, I decided.

After indulging in another spending binge, Rebecca (Isla Fisher, center in light
cap) is confronted by "Shopaholics Anonymous" group leader Miss Korch
(Wendie Malick, holding Fisher's arm), who insists on the "tough love"
measure of forcing our heroine to donate everything she just purchased to a
charity outlet. Naturally, this will include a bridesmaid's dress for Rebecca's
best friend's wedding, layering even more "comic tension" into this big-screen
adaptation of Sophia Kinsella's popular book.

Absolutely.

That said, I cannot imagine what was going through the minds of everybody at Disney, to have made them believe that filmgoers wouldn't revolt at the very sight of this thumpingly laughless tribute to conspicuous, debt-laden con- sumption.

Intelligent people — those with a shred of perception — understand that some stereotypes wear out their welcomes; some even become offensive over time. Al Jolson's blackface routine in The Jazz Singer would elicit riots today. Dudley Moore's cuddly bazillionaire in 1981's Arthur was pretty much the last "lovable souse" that Hollywood dared put on the big screen.

And, let's face it, now is not the time to expect us to embrace this film's ditzy-but-good-hearted-deep-down Rebecca Bloomwood (Isla Fisher), who spends herself into multiple calamities during the course of this clumsy, gaspingly ill-conceived attempt at a romantic comedy.

"Desperate" is the word that comes to mind, when scrutinizing this ill-conceived flick. That single word covers Fisher's performance, director P.J. Hogan's efforts to wrest a few giggles from the lifeless script, and Disney's damn-the-torpedos decision to punish us with the wretched result.

Granted, Sophia Kinsella's book — and its sequels — obviously struck a chord with a subset of readers: most specifically those who identified with a financially challenged heroine who couldn't fathom credit card interest penalties if her life depended on it.

But scripters Tracey Jackson, Tim Firth and Kayla Alpert retained only the basic concept while strip-mining Kinsella's novel, and moving it from England to the United States (a serious miscalculation, right off the top).

Somehow, they left all the charm behind. What emerges, under Hogan's ham-fisted guidance, is just this side of a train wreck.

The International: Bad credit risk

The International (2009) • View trailer for The International
Three stars (out of five). Rating: R, for violence and profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.13.09
Buy DVD: The International • Buy Blu-Ray: The International [Blu-ray]


Given that big-bank CEOs have fallen somewhere south of Nazis and Islamic fanatics, on the scale of villains we love to hate, The International should have had everything going for it as a slick, fast-paced popcorn thriller.

Having almost caught the shadowy assassin responsible for countless clever
murders, Interpol agent Louis Salinger (Clive Owen) is horrified to see the
fellow roar away in a car, after first having struck one of the good guys.

Indeed, it begins well enough. The global conspiracy is appropriately sinister; the strings are pulled, Illuminati-style, by clandestine, high-powered individuals with the clout or financial control to compromise any legal pursuit; our heroes are fueled by the grimly determined knowledge that they're pursuing a just and noble cause.

Then everything goes to hell in the third act.

I've long been disenchanted by a certain type of thriller that inevitably concludes when a lone-wolf hero triumphantly annihilates his top-dog opponent, having previously mowed down all underlings. But however briefly satisfying such a denouement might be, it comes with a nasty hitch: If all the bad guys have been killed, nobody is left to corroborate our protagonist's version of events.

Depending on the type of story — if, as often is the case, our hero has operated "outside the law" — you couldn't script a worse finale, since only unpleasant options remain for what happens to this character 10 minutes after the film's narrative wraps up.

Well, yes, actually; you could script a worse finale, and Eric Warren Singer did so here. Having reached the final few scenes in The International, one is left with the inescapable realization that nothing has been accomplished. The heroes have wasted their time, and we've wasted our time watching them do it.

Director Tom Tykwer — still well remembered for the verve of his 1998 break-out cult hit, Run, Lola, Run — seems far more involved with a superbly choreographed shoot-'em-up at New York's Guggenheim Museum, than he is with irritating details such as bringing his film to a reasonable conclusion.

Granted, it's a helluva setpiece — with staging, style and tension to burn, not to mention a clever nod toward that old "enemy of my enemy is my friend" mantra — but it's a weak sequence on which to hang an entire movie.

Honestly, Clive Owen was a lot more fun in 2007's utterly ludicrous Shoot 'Em Up. At least that film had the good sense not to take itself seriously.

Oscar Shorts 2008: Good things in small packages

Academy Award Shorts (2008)
4.5 stars (out of five). Unrated, with profanity, fleeting nudity and dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.12.09


I cherish well-crafted short fiction.

Any halfway talented creative typist can clumsily hack through a narrative in a 749-page novel, but genuine talent is required to enchant readers with a 15-page short story. It's an artform too often overlooked ... particular these days, as the markets for short stories — magazines, anthologies — become ever-more- endangered species.

The young star of director Steph Green's New Boy faces the worst fate that
could befall any child: the first day of school in a new classroom, in mid-session
and miles and miles from the home — and way of life — that he knows.
Fortunately, Irish writer Roddy Doyle, on whose story this film is based,
understands that kids have a way of working out their own problems.

In just the same way, short films separate the truly gifted from Hollywood's inept, overpaid and often laughably arrogant names du jour. Economy of storytelling is of paramount importance in a short: Every scene — indeed, every frame — must advance the narrative. Nothing can be superfluous, if the finished product is to achieve the impact desired by its creator.

Once upon a time, way back in the day, short subjects were as much a part of the movie-going experience as the newsreel and a second, full-length B-feature. Patrons entered the theater in the late afternoon or early evening, and were entertained for four or five hours. All for the price of a single ticket.

Recognizing the short subject's place in all this, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences added two Academy Awards categories — live action and animated — in 1931. And, for the next three-plus decades, that made perfect sense.

But as the 1960s yielded to the '70s, and short subjects went the way of double- features, mainstream Oscar-watchers began to wonder why these two categories remained: Where, after all, could one go to see these nominated mini-movies? And if only a select few get to see them, then why bother with the Academy Awards categories?

Typical short-term thinking.

In the first place, today's talented makers of short films are tomorrow's equally talented makers of feature-length masterpieces.

In the second place, a few years ago the Academy quite wisely began to market the 10 nominated shorts in a road-show package aimed at arthouse theaters; Sacramento's Crest Theater got on board, and now we can see what the fuss is about.

Quite a lot this year, as it turns out.