Black Book

Wow! I loved this movie. And not just for the nekkid-udity. In the same way David Cronenberg's recent less-is-more approach has made his movies stronger, ("A History of Violence," "Eastern Promises"), Paul Verhoeven manages to make a sprawling story intimate, and the whole thing seems so effortless. Bad guys turn out good, and good guys turn out, well, they turn out too. You don't see the twists and turns coming, you're so engrossed you forget that the thing's called "Black Book" and you're treated to a new WWII angle: high adventures of the mighty Dutch Resistance! Go on and make it a double feature with Verhoeven's 1977 "Soldier of Orange," starring Rutger Hauer.

14...oh, wait.

If I had a readership, I would apologize for my absence. As it is, I'll just resume whispering into the abyss. Now where was I? Yes. Following ho-hum reviews when it ran in theaters, "1408" enjoyed a wave of critical reconsideration when it arrived on DVD that persuaded me against my better judgement to give it a chance. But let's just acknowledge the 800 lb. gorilla. You can't make a movie, let alone a Stephen King movie, about a haunted hotel without coming up short against "The Shining." There's no unifying logic here that explains what force is at work other than, as Sam Jackson's hotelier exclaims, "...it's an evil fucking room." But more like an evil fucking prop comic, the room throws gag after tired gag at Cusack, hoping something will resonate and send him bounding out the window. But the frights aren't scary, with the single exception of a "gotcha!" at the end, which inexplicably takes place after the action has moved beyond the hotel. And there's a confusing detour late in the movie that climaxes with a wide-eyed, mugging Cusack shot in 360 degree rotation that reminded me of the goofy old Wayne's World segue, "noonil, noonil, noonil, noonil." But I can only blame myself. If I'd done my homework, I would have noticed that "1408" was directed by the same guy who brought us this disappointment.

Wes Anderson Discusses Suicidal Characters

Movie director Wes Anderson has denied reports Owen Wilson's troubled private life contributed to his latest film character - a man with suicidal tendencies. A depressed Wilson allegedly slashed his wrists in an apparent suicide attempt at his home in Santa Monica, California last month. And, in a bizarre coincidence, his latest movie character is involved in a deliberate motorcycle accident in The Darjeeling Limited. But filmmaker Anderson insists Wilson had no hand in writing the role. He says, "It (suicide theme) comes more from me than Owen. He is just playing a role. There's not much else there. People can't avoid making connections, but they are making them after the fact." And Anderson also plays down speculation Wilson was responsible for the scene in 2001 movie The Royal Tenenbaums, which the pair co-wrote, where his brother Luke Wilson's character tries to kill himself by cutting his wrists. He adds, "I wrote that character myself. Owen was not in on that one."

www.imdb.com

Thoughts on Owen Wilson

It occurs to me that Owen Wilson co-wrote "The Royal Tenenbaums," and maybe Richie Tenenbaum's attempted suicide was more significant to Owen Wilson than a simple plot device. I guess now is a good time to go back and watch it again. The only conclusion I can draw at the moment is that it seems sadness can stalk you whatever your station in life.

Hellboy: Sword of Storms

Have you ever dated an old girlfriend’s sister? Yeah, me neither. But I imagine it’s something like watching this cartoon after loving the live-action movie. She shares the same back story and a familiar wit, she even sounds similar, but while you find her comfortably attractive, she’s just different enough to remind you that she’s not the girl you loved.

Which is just another way of saying this thing isn’t drawn by Mike Mignola. He wrote the script and served as a consulting producer, but farmed out the penwork to a nice enough fellow named Sean “Cheeks” Galloway. (Trivia: “Cheeks” is my Dad's nickname too; so-dubbed because in our family, as with the Clemens', we, how to put it politely? Let's just say we derive our power from our legs.) But I digress. Instead of the wonderfully dirty and detailed look of the Hellboy comics and Screw-On Head...


...we get something more like a Saturday morning episode of Lilo & Stitch.

I know filmmaking's an industry, and I suppose you’ve got to promote the product you’ve got, but there’s a disappointing lowest common denominator moment in one of the mini-docs when an animator concedes that “you don’t want to add too much detail, because a character picks things up and carries them around,” which, presumably, would make animating them that much more tedious and difficult. Okay, so the object is to crank it out and damn the artistry? Got it. But half of Hellboy’s appeal is the look. If I can mix my metaphors, this is is like wrapping a VW Bug around a Panzer chassis. “Beep, beep, kid stuff coming through.”

But there are vestiges of the good old days. All of the lead actors from the movie return to voice their characters. So despite the fact that Ron Perlman conspired with Dan Hedaya to ruin what could have been one of the most beautiful and exciting movies of the 90s, Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Alien: Resurrection, he is the one and only Hellboy. He personifies an unflappable, world weary, garbage man, taking out the paranormal trash. And Selma Blair protests too much in the mini-doc when she claims her voice is her weakest instrument. She nails Liz Sherman’s wounded vulnerability. And Doug Jones, well, he’s just from another planet. Morpheus, er, Lawrence Fishburne is capital-t, capital-m, The Man, but they didn't need him to voice the Silver Surfer. Jones could have brought the whole package there too.

So in the end I guess I’d make out with that old flame's sister, but I’d really be hoping we could give it another shot and go see Hellboy 2: The Golden Army together.