Excellent .....................****
Very Good .....................***
Good ...............................**
Fair ..................................*
Poor ...................... No Stars
Scroll down or click on the movie title to see its review:
El Cantante || Daddy Day Camp || Rescue Dawn
The Invasion || Kamp Katrina || No End In Sight
Rush Hour 3 || September Dawn || The Simpsons
Who's Your Caddy? || The Bourne Ultimatum
The Camden 28 || Descent
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El Cantante
****
J-Lo Back In Bittersweet Bio-Pic About 70s Salsa Singer
At the age of 17, Hector Juan Perez Martinez (1946-1993) dropped out of high school and emigrated to the U.S. from Ponce, Puerto Rico in pursuit of the American Dream. Upon his arrival in New York City, the aspiring singer was disappointed to see that the streets of Spanish Harlem were simply paved with asphalt instead of gold. Since the barrio failed to measure up to his expectations, he decided to move in with his sister, Priscilla (Romi Dias), who had an apartment in the Bronx.
Because he was blessed with such a gifted voice, Hector was able to land a gig as the front man for a sextet within a week. But it would be for another four years before he would change his last name to Lavoé (aka “The Voice”) and collaborate with trombonist Willie Colón on some groundbreaking salsa albums for Johnny Pacheco’s new Latino record label, Fania Records. The association would catapult them to superstardom in Nuyorican and Spanish-speaking circles; however, Hector was ill-prepared to handle his newfound status as an overnight sensation. Despite marrying Nilsa Rosado, the mother of one of his young sons, in 1969, he kept up his boozing and womanizing behind her back.
Worse, he began to shoot drugs intravenously which speeded the trajectory of his downfall. Ultimately, he became so unreliable, that Willie Colón abandoned the band and retired. It wasn’t long after the arrival of AIDS in the early 80s, that Hector discovered that he was HIV-positive. Meanwhile, he went broke and his son was shot to death by a friend. So, it’s no surprise that he eventually attempted to commit suicide by leaping off a ninth floor terrace. What is shocking is that he even failed in that endeavor.
One would think that Hollywood would have a hard time successfully turning the life of such a loser into a romantic love story, but that’s exactly what we have with El Cantante, a bittersweet bio-pic starring Marc Antony as the ill-fated salsa pioneer. Marc’s real-life wife, Jennifer Lopez, co-stars as Nilsa, though he only refers to her as Puchi, a nickname which might be a bad word in Espanol.
In fact, my only complaint about the film is that there were no subtitles accompanying about half the Spanish dialogue. As a result, I distinctly felt left out at those moments when the audience would laugh or otherwise react and I had no idea what had just been said.
El Cantante flourishes because of the outstanding performances on the part of Lopez and Antony, who throw themselves into the roles wholeheartedly in what was obviously a labor of love. Plus, the picture achieves much more than simply chronicling Hector’s checkered career and shaky relationship with his cranky, coke-addicted spouse. For it simultaneously serves as a reminder of all the great Latin sounds created in the 70s not just by Lavoé and Willie Colón, but by their equally-talented colleagues with names like Ray Baretto, Eddie Palmieri, Cheo Feliciano, Mongo Santamaria, Joe Bataan and Larry Harlow.
Certain to evoke a few tears from Fania fans with feelings of nostalgia for the bygone era.
Excellent (4 stars)
Rated R for sexuality, drug use and pervasive profanity.
In Spanish and English, but only partially subtitled.
Running time: 116 minutes
Studio: Picturehouse
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Daddy Day Camp
No Stars
Classic Take-The-Money-And-Run Sequel
Featuring Cuba Gooding, Jr.
Perhaps I spoke prematurely when I suggested in my review of License to Wed that Robin Williams had replaced Cuba Gooding, Jr. as the kiss of death on a picture. Not to be outdone, Cuba has staked a claim for a return of his crown as the “King of the Bomb” with Daddy Day Camp, a sorry sequel to Daddy Day Care.
Cuba’s father, Cuba Sr., made his name as the lead singer of an R&B group called The Main Ingredient, whose big hit was entitled “Everybody Plays the Fool." While the lyrics to that song read, “Everybody plays the fool, sometime,” it appears that Cuba Jr. has chosen to play the fool all the time since taking home an Oscar for shouting “Show me the money!” at Jerry Maguire a decade ago.
Apparently, Cuba took that character’s catchphrase to heart, given the woeful quality of his subsequent outings, from the dreadful What Dreams May Come to the insipid Instinct to donning a dress for the genderbending Boat Trip to bottoming-out as a hit man who both slept with and murdered his step-mother in Shadowboxer. Now, with Daddy Day Camp, he has taken another fat, seven-figure check to fill the shoes of Eddie Murphy, who opted not to reprise the lead role of Charlie Hinton.
It doesn’t help that Cuba has no sense of comedic timing and that he’s relying on an abysmal script of disconnected skits cobbled together by a quintet of hack screenwriters. Plus, the entire cast has been overhauled, with Charlie’s son Ben being played by Spencir Bridges, son of Todd “What You Talking about Willis?” Bridges of Different Strokes fame.
Still, the movie opens with an unnecessary tie-in reminding us about Eddie and company’s wacky antics in the original. Soon enough, Charlie and his best friend Phil (Paul Rae replacing Jeff Garlin) are escorting their sons to Camp Driftwood only to find the place in foreclosure. Instead of letting the nefarious owner (Lochlyn Munro) of neighboring Camp Canola take title to the property, they choose to purchase it first and to go into the day camp business.
Next thing you know, they have their hands full of gleefully misbehaving little monsters who keep the pair up to their eyeballs in feces, cooties, bus crashes, flatulence, projectile vomit, poison ivy, swift kicks to the crotch, urine balloons and wedgies. Fortunately, Charlie’s no-nonsense father, retired Marine Colonel Buck Hinton (Richard Gant) shows up just in time to get the kids in line and whip them into shape for the annual Olympiad showdown against arch-rival Canola.
An utterly predictable, unfunny, infantile test of patience and waste of ninety minutes of my life I can never get back. Show me the exit!
Rated PG for bodily humor and mild epithets.
Running time: 93 minutes
Studio: Sony Pictures
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Rescue Dawn
*** 1/2
Christian Bale Delivers Again As POW In
Vietnam War Saga Of Survival
Dieter Dengler (1938-2001) was born in the Black Forest region of Germany where, as a young boy, he watched Allied planes fly over his hometown during World War II. This whetted in him a desire to become a pilot, but by the time he was 18, he realized had no prospects of pursuing that dream in his native Deutschland.
So, he emigrated to America, became a citizen, and enlisted in the Navy.
Right after graduating from flight school early in 1966, he was assigned to duty aboard an aircraft carrier headed for the Gulf of Tonkin. Then, on the morning of February 1st, his Skyraider was hit by anti-aircraft fire while flying on a mission over North Vietnam. Lieutenant Dengler crash-landed the single-engine propeller plane in Laos where he was eventually apprehended and marched to a POW camp.
While imprisoned there, he was subjected to unimaginable forms of torture, until he executed a well-planned escape. Emaciated and near death after scavenging in the forest for about two months, Dengler was finally rescued by a squadron of helicopters that had spotted a crude "S-O-S" he had spelled out on a boulder.
A decade ago, this awe-inspiring tale of survival was the subject of a compelling documentary directed by Werner Herzog entitled Little Dieter Needs to Fly. Now, Herzog has turned the same story into an equally riveting bio-pic with the help of the latest nonpareil performance by Christian Bale as Dengler. Shot mostly on some spectacular Southeast Asian locations around the dense Thai jungle, the production benefits immeasurably from an unrelenting tension generated by its gritty super-realistic setting and maintained for the duration with the help of a well-executed script.
Bale imbues the adventure with a palpable sense of urgency, again going the extra mile in service of his craft, having thrown himself entirely into the role by shedding plenty of pounds to get that gaunt POW look. Plus, by doing all his own stunt work his gung ho enthusiasm ostensibly inspired the rest of the cast, especially co-stars Steve Zahn and Jeremy Davies who deliver perhaps the best outings of their respective careers as Dengler's disoriented and disillusioned fellow captives.
Further proof that Bale might be the best thespian around never nominated for an Oscar.
Rated PG-13 for war violence and graphically-depicted torture.
Running time: 126 minutes
Studio: MGM
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The Invasion
**
Kidman And Craig Co-Star In Remake Of
Invasion Of The Body Snatchers
The original Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956), starring Kevin McCarthy, was based on The Body Snatchers, a serialized novel by Jack Finney published by Colliers Magazine. That black-and-white, sci-fi classic was set in a California town where citizens were being murdered and mysteriously replaced by identical pod people.
A faithful remake was released in 1978, followed by a 1993 version, entitled Body Snatchers, which also remained true to the tenor of the source material. However, this 2007 edition, The Invasion, overhauls the franchise, despite crediting Finney as its source of inspiration.
The film stars Nicole Kidman as Dr. Carol Bennell, a psychiatrist living in Washington, DC, one of many cities where people have begun behaving strangely after the explosion of the Space Shuttle Patriot during reentry from outer space. Seems that the debris, which was scattered across a 200-mile wide alley from Dallas to DC, was somehow contaminated with an intelligent alien life force capable of reprogramming DNA.
Soon, this otherwordly catalyst starts causing a metabolic reaction in anyone who comes in contact with it, turning people into polite automatons willing to sacrifice their individuality for the sake of a mind-numbing conformity. So, it falls to Dr. Bennell, her boyfriend, Dr. Driscoll (Daniel Craig) and another colleague, Dr. Galeano (Jeffrey Wright), to figure out how to reverse the epidemic before everybody is turned into a sea of easily-managed, insufferably well-behaved robots.
The film features a silly subplot revolving around Carol’s frantically text-messaging her missing young son, Oliver (Jackson Bond), a spunky kid who had been left in the care of her possibly infected ex-husband (Jeremy Northam). While this sidebar might accurately illustrate the current fad in electronic communication, here, it proves to be more of an annoying distraction than a compelling cinematic device.
Not that the front story is any more credible. Can someone explain to me exactly how a horror flick about a scourge that’s making humanity more civilized is supposed to be scary? Intermittently amusing, tautly-edited and very well-acted, but hopelessly crippled ab initio by a fatally-flawed script.
Not exactly edge-of-your-seat excitement.
Rated PG-13 for violence, terror and disturbing images.
Running time: 93 minutes
Studio: Warner Brothers
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Kamp Katrina
****
Documentary Examines Plight Of Po’ White Folk
In Post-Katrina New Orleans
Because of the indelible images of masses of Black people abandoned on rooftops, under highway overpasses and at the Superdome, many people might think that only African-Americans were adversely affected by Hurricane Katrina. But the disaster has taken a terrible ongoing toll on po’ white folk, too, as chronicled in a compelling documentary entitled Kamp Katrina.
Directed by Ashley Sabin and David Redmon, the film follows the efforts of Ms. Pearl, an altruistic Native-American woman who, with the approval of her husband, David Cross, converted their backyard in to a tent village for locals left homeless in the wake of the flood that devastated the region a couple of years ago.
David operates a construction company and is willing to employ anyone camping out on the premises in order to help them get back on their feet. In fact, he establishes certain house rules, including no drugs and a mandate that everyone there find work of some kind, even if not with his company.
Unfortunately, the rent-free offer turns out to be flypaper for the disturbed, and what begins as a utopian oasis gradually turns into a never-ending nightmare. One guy snaps and tries to strangle his girlfriend because she asked him to find her a pot to pee in, literally. Another man is asked to leave because he was pressuring a pregnant woman to get high.
Unsavory characters are attracted to the area by a resident who starts dealing crack, while a delusional mental patient who calls himself The Prophet roams around mumbling to himself incoherently about this being the Apocalypse. A couple is kicked out after stealing a Tiffany lamp from the bedroom of the owners, and a rape victim warns another female to sleep with one eye open. So, it’s clear that what David and Ms. Pearl are dealing with here are the dregs of humanity, but the question is whether the squatters were already like this before Katrina or only bottomed-out after losing all their earthly possessions in the blink of an eye.
This picture is often touching, such as when the hosts play Santas at Christmastime and try to fill each person’s wish list. Surprisingly, most of the requests are for mundane, everyday items, like toilet paper or a tool bag. Unfortunately, the movie doesn’t exactly end on an upbeat note, since the toll takes a heavy emotional toll on everyone, including Ms. Pearl.
Plus, the mother of the newborn surrenders the baby for foster care, and another young woman suffers seizures from snorting coke. Mayor Nagin makes a cameo appearance to crush these displaced folks’ hopes for a helping hand by ending free meal and mental health programs and generally championing corporate interests over those of the longtime locals.
An eye-opening expose’ welcoming white Americans to the Third World.
Unrated
Running time: 108 minutes
Studio: Carnivalesque Films
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No End In Sight
****
Documentary Sees “No End In Sight” To Iraq War
This even-handed documentary reconstructs the comedy of errors which unfolded in Iraq in the wake of President Bush’s “Mission Accomplished” declaration. The picture reminds us that that there’s plenty of blame to spread around for the mess we’re in, given that so many Republican and military leaders were naively willing to rubber stamp the White House’s ever overly optimistic of the state of affairs over there.
From Vice President Cheney to Secretary of State Colin Powell to Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld to Director of Reconstruction Paul Bremer, all the Administration’s hatchet men are exposed here as inept idiots without a viable plan for winning the peace. Instead, they apparently played a dangerous game of hot potato with the press, taking turns tossing media microphones around to each other to make rosy predictions about the death throes of the insurgency and the prospects for the democracy.
What makes this movie most entertaining is the participation of former Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage and several other ostensibly disenchanted ex-insiders who gradually grew disenchanted and are now willing to trash the neo-con’s mismanaged master plan. The only problem with the anticlimactic production is that it arrives belatedly, at a juncture when John McCain is just about the only loyalist left still sipping the Bush Kool Aid.
So, while No End in Sight carefully makes a convincing case via damning news footage and confessional interviews, don’t be surprised if it all feels a little like preaching to the choir. Akin to Frontline devoting an entire episode to the tobacco industry’s cover-up of the link between smoking and cancer, as if everybody didn’t already know. Duh!
Rating: Unrated
Running time: 102 minutes
Studio: Magnolia Pictures
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Rush Hour 3
****
Chan And Tucker Teamed-Up Again To Chase
Chinese Crooks Around Paris
It’s almost unfair to their fans for Chris Tucker and Jackie Chan to take so much time off between making movies together. Finally, after a six-year hiatus the dynamic duo is back with Rush Hour 3, and the good news is that it’s well worth the wait.
This madcap adventure measures up to the prior pictures in every way, from the laff-a-minute hijinks to the genuine chemistry among the characters, to the carefully-orchestrated fight sequences. And although LAPD Detective Carter (Tucker) and Hong Kong Inspector Lee (Chan) are just up to their typical tricks, there’s something comfy about watching them in action again, even when you have a good idea what to expect. In fact, the pleasure probably comes from watching the pair perform in a fashion reminiscent of their earlier outings.
In any case, the story opens in L.A. where we find the motor-mouthed Carter demoted to directing street traffic while Lee is once more guarding Chinese Ambassador Han (Tzi Ma), as in the original. After an assassination attempt leaves Han seriously wounded, Lee promises the diplomat’s now-grown daughter, Soo Yung (Jingchu Zhang), to track down the shooter.
The trail leads to a gang of Asian mobsters in Paris, and our heroes soon reunite and make their way over to France to crack the case. The mismatched partners immediately resume their oil-and-water bickering, a winning study in contrasts in which high-strung Carter’s constant trash-talking, womanizing and general incompetence is offset by Lee’s relatively low-key demeanor and suave savoir fare.
A third stooge is added to the mix after they land in Europe, when George (Yvan Attal), an insolent cabbie with an attitude, becomes their regular driver. He can’t hide his contempt for American culture, and his presence not only infuses the film with some fresh energy but provides some of its most memorable moments of comic relief.
As always, the brand of humor relies on simplistic stereotypes associating, say, Asians with eating rice and speaking pidgin English, Blacks with acting a fool and being well-endowed, and now, the French with smelling and being rude. Fortunately, in the hands of director Brett Ratner, the material never crosses the line to coming off as mean-spirited, but remains the sort of good-natured ribbing unlikely to offend any ethnic group.
Despite the wafer-thin plot, at least the crime caper is compelling enough to keep you amused until the very end, though this is a flick to be savored scene by scene, for this joke, for that car chase, or for the grand-finale, a death-defying leap off the Eiffel Tower. Don’t forget to stick around for the credits, and you’ll be richly rewarded with a few minutes of equally-entertaining outtakes.
The best buddy-cop comedy since Rush Hour 2.
Rated PG-13 for profanity, sexuality, nudiy and action violence.
Running time: 90 minutes
Studio: New Line Cinema
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September Dawn
*
Western Recounts Religious Fanaticism Which Led To Mormon Massacre
September 11, 2001 wasn’t the first time that religious fanatics launched a bloody terrorist attack in the name of God on that day of the year. On September 11, 1857, a wagon train led by Captain Alexander Fancher (Shaun Johnston) was headed for gold-rich California when it was ambushed by Mormons as it was passing through Utah. 120 men, women and children perished in the little-known incident slaughter now referred to as the Mountain Meadows Massacre.
The faith-based slaughter was reportedly ordered by the territory’s Governor, Brigham Young (Terrence Stamp), who had declared martial law after hearing rumors that President Buchanan might be sending the U.S. Cavalry to depose him. For the Mormons had relatively recently taken refuge in Cedar City after being run out of Missouri a decade earlier, victims of religious persecution including the murder of their Prophet, Joseph Smith (Dean Cain).
So, Young dispatched Deacon John D. Lee (Jon Gries) to discourage Captain Fancher and company from stopping on their way out of fear that the strangers might get some fancy ideas about settling there permanently. When the weary wayfarers asked only for enough time to rest and recharge their batteries, Bishop Jacob Samuelson (Jon Voight) intervened on their behalf and they were initially granted permission to remain in the valley for a fortnight.
Then, during this interlude, Samuelson’s son, Jonathan (Trent Ford), locked eyes with Emily (Tamara Hope), the cutest available female among the campers, and the two fell madly in love and made a commitment to each other. However, this development didn’t sit well with Jonathan’s dad, especially when he got his marching order from above to slay all the strangers as revenge for the Mormon lives lost back in Missouri.
Released at perhaps the worst time for presidential candidate Mitt Romney, September Dawn is a graphic Western which sheds light on a shameful, long-suppressed stain on the resume’ of the controversial sect that later became the Church of Latter Day Saints. Not only does the movie remind us that Mormons have, historically, practiced polygamy, but now it adds to the mix the notion that they were once very violent religious zealots capable of committing ungodly atrocities.
Luckily, Mitt can breathe a sigh of relief, since the film was slapped together on the cheap, being marked by such dubious dialogue, shoddy special f/x and sloppy editing that it doesn’t even measure up, cinematically, to an episode of your typical, cowboy TV show from the 50s like Roy Rogers or The Lone Ranger. Get my drift, Kimosabe?
Rated R for violence.
Running time: 111 minutes
Studio: Black Diamond Pictures/Slow Hand Releasing
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The Simpsons
***
Bart And Company Brought Belatedly To Big Screen
Created by cartoonist Matt Groening in 1987, The Simpsons originally arrived on TV as the series of one-minute shorts featured on The Tracey Ullman Show. The satirical sketches lampooned modern American culture by viewing it through the perverse prism of the generally anti-social antics of a dysfunctional family named Simpson, including hapless Homer (Dan Castellaneta); his exasperated wife, Marge (Julie Kavner); contentedly underachieving son Bart (Nancy Cartwright); precocious daughter Lisa (Yeardley Smith); and mute infant Maggie (also Nancy Cartwright).
The popular segment made such a splash that it was spun off into a half-hour, prime-time program of its own three years later, and the rest, as they say, is history. Over the intervening 18 seasons, the caustic comedy has maintained its freshness by continuing to court controversy, never shrinking from its mission of tackling taboos and taking an ever-cynical slant on mainstream society.
Curiously, its readily-recognizable characters have become embraced as beloved icons, especially Bart and Homer, probably because their flaws resonate with their faithful fans as readily-recognizable, universal human frailties. Just as topical and as popular as ever, the show is not only the longest-running cartoon, but also the longest-running sitcom on television.
The only surprise about the screen version of The Simpsons is that it took 20th Century Fox so long to bring it to make it into a movie. Quite frankly, the film feels like an extended episode of the TV series, because the material is no more daring than what we’re already familiar with. Perhaps the producers simply see their primary job as protecting the brand’s franchise, but excuse me for expecting an experience which felt a little different from watching at home.
That being said, the picture does at least serve up an engaging adventure with a timely environmental theme. Early on, we’re treated to a funny skit lifted from Austin Powers, where we find a carefree Bart skateboarding naked with his privates coincidentally being covered by prop after prop as he negotiates his way around town. Meanwhile, Lisa is delivering a lecture entitled “An Irritating Truth” in which she warns her audience about the pressing problem of pollution in Lake Springfield.
The plot and local lake thicken, however, when selfish Homer secretly dumps a silo of pig poop there, anyway, thereby pushing the ecological balance past the tipping point. The government intervenes, and the EPA determines that the level of toxic waste warrants lowering a clear plastic dome over the entire city, trapping all the alarmed citizens inside.
Of course, it then falls to Homer to play hero and ultimately save the day, so that through his contrition, epiphany and transformation we might all learn a valuable lesson about commitment to community and appreciating our loved ones. Betwixt and between, nonetheless, the flick is heavily-layered with scads of trademark Simpson humorous asides, typical being the priceless scene where a bar full of patrons and a church full of parishioners instantly swap places upon hearing the same forecast of certain doom.
Brilliant, if belated, but be forewarned that The Simpsons, the movie, is merely The Simpsons, the television show, only on a much bigger screen and in an extended format. You want more, you got more.
Rated PG-13 for double entendres, animated nudity and crude humor.
Running time: 87 minutes
Studio: 20th Century Fox
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Who's Your Caddy?
No Stars
Ghetto Goes Golfing In Crass Color-Conscious Comedy
In Caddyshack (1980), arguably Rodney Dangerfield’s finest hour on film, the late comic stole the show as a nouveau riche tycoon who outraged the old-moneyed members of the exclusive country club he was thinking of buying. The running joke in that fish-out-of-water classic revolved around his bull-in-a-china closet boorish behavior and bad taste as he offended relatively-uptight members of polite society.
Who's Your Caddy resurrects the same premise, but basically in blackface, relying on the racist notion that you can take a brother out of the ghetto but you can’t take the ghetto out of the brother. The picture stars gangsta’ rapper Big Boi (aka Antwon Andre Patton) in the Rodney role, only typecast as C-Note, a mythical hip-hop icon from Atlanta who’s “getting his pimp thing together.”
Having made a mint in the music biz, he now has the cash to hang with the upper-class. At the point of departure, we find Mr. Note trying to integrate an all-white golf and polo gentleman’s club in South Carolina. Of course, this doesn’t sit well with the board’s president, Richard Cummings (Jeffrey Jones), since he’s recently rejected the applications of not only Reverend Al Sharpton and Rosie O’Donnell, but even former President Clinton.
Living large, C-Note arrives on the scene with a gaudy entourage in tow, starting with Lady G (Sherri Shepherd), a slutty sister who makes her entrance by propositioning the young valet parking her car with, “You still breast feeding?” The posse also includes kilt-wearing Big Large (Faizon Love), a well-endowed stud who’s not above going public with his privates. First chance he gets, he puts the moves on Cummings’ trophy wife (Susan Ward), who flashes her cleavage in appreciation.
Then there’s Dreadlocks (Finesse Mitchell), a wasted stoner who just wants to get high, and expects everybody else to join in. So, he’s not above spiking the brownies at a party or feeding weed to a horse in the paddock. Rounding out the crew is token-white Kidd Clean (Chase Tatum), the only hanger-on who doesn’t dress or behave like a clown. The beefy bodyguard’s real job seems to be to laugh at the antics of all the Blacks, especially his boss, who prances around preening in a throwback golf outfit, complete with knickers, saddle shoes, argyle socks and a garish, test-pattern blouse, all topped off by a tam o’shanter.
The plot thickens when C-Note, with help of that flamboyantly-effeminate, white character (Todd Sherry) cast in virtually every African-American comedy, purchases a piece of real estate with an interest in the country club and starts shooting his next music video on the 17th hole. Offended by the presence of the scantily-clad “video skanks,” Cummings hires Shannon Williams (Tamala Jones), a Harvard-trained attorney, to “wine and dine” the interloper to buy back the property for $3 million.
But rather than being swayed by “Abercrombie and Bitch,” C sees through the ruse and opts for a date with a stripper, “getting off the pole in 15 minutes.” Upping the ante, Cummings next hires a dwarf assassin (Tony Cox) to make him an offer he can’t refuse.
Who's Your Caddy is a relentlessly-crass enterprise that never makes any sense, unless thought of as an ongoing attempt to portray black folks in the worst possible light. Scriptwriter/director Don Michael Paul must shoulder the bulk of the blame for this disgraceful debut release of Our Stories Films, a Black-owned studio started by former BET Chairman Bob Johnson.
In fact, Johnson, who makes a cameo in the picture as himself, is just about the only African-American allowed to maintain a modicum of dignity in this overindulgence in insulting stereotypes. From the demeaning dialogue sprinkled with the N-word, the S-word and the P-word, to yet another Black man romping around in a skirt, to a Black female proudly referring to herself as a “queen b*tch,” to the celebration of drug abuse, indiscriminate sex and conspicuous consumption, one can only cringe when wondering what quality of fare might be next on Our Stories’ agenda, given that this one was proudly promoted as a wholesome family film.
The most degrading, minstrel coon show since Soul Plane!
Rated PG-13 for sexuality, nudity, profanity, ethnic slurs, crude humor, slapstick violence and drug use.
Running time: 93 minutes
Studio: Our Stories Films/MGM
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The Bourne Ultimatum
****
Damon Delivers Again In Action Adventure
As Amnesiac Assassin
Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) is a man without a past. After being found floating in the Mediterranean off the coast of Italy several years ago, he has been on an earnest quest in search for his identity. Suffering from amnesia since he came to, all he knows is that he’s a CIA-trained assassin and that, for some reason, the Agency now wants him dead, and is willing to go to great lengths to silence him permanently.
Since one of the staples of the action adventure genre is the presence of a fetching female for the chivalrous hero to protect, The Bourne Ultimatum flips the script by having CIA Agent Nicky Parsons (Julia Stiles) suddenly switch sides. Otherwise, the movie unfolds much like the previous editions of the spine-tingling franchise, and measures up to both in terms of intrigue and intensity.
At the point of departure, we find Bourne under the radar in Russia but about to be outed in England by a front-page story in The Guardian. After its publication, he ventures to England to track down the investigative reporter (Paddy Considine) about the sources on which the article’s speculations were based. Unfortunately, the CIA already has the journalist’s office near Waterloo Station staked out and someone puts a bullet in his head before he has a chance to talk.
The incident flushes Bourne out of hiding, and so kickstarts the latest manhunt which will have our peripatetic protagonist perambulating the planet, eluding and eliminating enemies across Paris, Madrid, Turin and Morocco as he collects clues which lead to a big showdown in New York City. This go-round Bourne must match wits with worthy adversaries in CIA director Ezra Kramer (Scott Glenn), internal investigator Pamela Landy (Joan Allen), special ops chief Noah Vosen (David Strathairn), field agent Paz (Edgar Ramirez), plus all the savage spies he can handle in wave after wave of all-out assaults.
The post-9-11 plotline is designed to question the CIA’s rationalization of resorting to rendition and suspect interrogation tactics in the age of the Patriot Act. But despite these politically-conscious pretensions, when push comes to shove, Bourne 3 basically remains a stunt-driven, Matt Damon vehicle about a relentless killing machine without a memory caught up in manic, mindless mayhem not of his own making.
How much harrowing paranoia can you handle?
Rated PG-13 for violence and intense action.
Running time: 111 minutes
Studio: Universal Pictures
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The Camden 28
****
Vietnam Era Entrapment Of Activists By FBI Revisited By Revealing Documentary
By 1971, the sentiment of the majority of Americans had swung to the side of the burgeoning antiwar movement, given the great number of boys returning home in body bags from Vietnam. Among those moved to civil disobedience was a group of Catholic conscientious objectors based in New Jersey.
Led by four priests who were as outraged by the human toll the conflict was taking on the non-combatants as on our soldiers, the clergymen and company asked themselves, “What do you do when you see a child on fire in a war that was a mistake? Write a letter?”
Taking to heart God’s commandment that “Thou shalt not kill,” the group decided that they needed to do something more than picket or sign a petition. The tactic they settled on was to break into a Selective Service office in order to shred any draft documents they could find.
Even though they joked about the possibility of there being a Judas in their midst, what they did not know, however, was that a member of their cell was, in fact, an FBI mole named Bob Hardy. Thus, when they hatched their plan in the wee hours of August 22nd, a dragnet of agents descended on them before they could do any damage.
Nonetheless, the intruders and all the members of their support team were arrested and charged with conspiracy to commit Federal crimes which would saddle them with sentences of up to 47 years each, if convicted on all counts. Dubbed the Camden 28, the accused mounted a spirited defense which appealed for a jury nullification of the charges based on the theories that the Vietnam War was both illegal and immoral and that the plot would never have been attempted without the involvement of the FBI, since its infiltrator had provided practically all the tools they were relying on to carry it out.
Directed by Anthony Giacchino, The Camden 28 combines archival footage with wistful remembrances by some of the surviving participants to yield a surprisingly timely picture, given the erosion of civil rights today in the wake of the Patriot Act. Edited in a fashion to recreate the mounting tension which undoubtedly permeated the courtroom over the course of the two-month trial, this gripping documentary might be best thought of as a reminder that peace is as every bit as patriotic an option as is war.
Furthermore, in revisiting the oppressive measures employed by the FBI via its COINTELPRO program during that era’s reign of terror, the viewer is simultaneously treated to a welcome message about the right, if not the duty, to challenge authority, especially in the face of corruption, intransigence and utter arrogance. Bring back the 60s, man!
Unrated
Running time: 83 minutes
Studio: First Run Features
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Descent
****
Rosario Dawson as Revenge-Minded Rape Victim
Maya (Rosario Dawson) is an honors student with a bright future at fictional Claremont College, at least until the fateful Fall she crosses paths with Jared (Chad Faust), a buff jock she meets one night at a party on campus. Beguiled by the exotic beauty of the ethnically-ambiguous brainiac, the handsome boy-most-likely makes a lame effort to win her with some transparent pickup lines.
Although she’s initially put off by the flirtatious football player’s amateurish overtures, against her better judgment, Maya still rewards his persistence by agreeing to see him again. After a couple of uneventful dates, she accepts an invitation back to his bachelor pad, only to see another side of the lecherous lothario suddenly emerge while they’re canoodling.
She makes it clear that she’s not ready for intimacy, yet Jared just won’t take “no” for an answer. And at this juncture, he makes a Jekyll and Hyde transformation into a monster. Given his physique, Maya doesn’t stand a chance when he decides to have his way with her, and during the brutal rape which ensues, the sicko adds insult to injury by referring to her by disparaging epithets such as “bitch” and “baboon” in an expletive-laced diatribe.
Maya is left too traumatized by the violation to report it to the authorities, and instead starts spiraling down a self-destructive path which includes drug abuse and sexual promiscuity. This sordid turn of events serve as the tragic prelude underpinning Descent, an intriguing character study which is as much a harrowing mood piece as it is a female empowerment revenge flick.
Rosario Dawson exhibits a previously unseen range, here, more than meeting the challenge of the most emotionally-demanding role of her career. This claustrophobic psychological thriller also marks the impressive writing/directorial debut by Talia Lugacy who has imbued her heroine with an inscrutability which keeps the viewer guessing and makes the denouement that much more shocking a reveal.
For, by the Spring semester, Maya’s once perky persona has degenerated into the introspective edginess of a hopelessly tortured soul, a development that makes her motivations almost impossible to read. Sadly, she looks depressed as if she’s merely going through the motions, even after landing a plum position with her favorite professor as teaching assistant.
Jared, who happens to be taking the course, is cocky as ever when Maya catches him cheating on a test. First, she threatens to report him to the dean, but eventually settles on luring the clueless creep to her lair for a surprise designed to even the score once and for all.
Rated NC-17 for profanity, ethnic slurs and a brutal rape.
Running time: 105 minutes
Studio: City Lights Media Group
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