reVIEW (26)
FRAGILES (FRAGILE)
[3 of 3]

Mercy Falls Children’s Hospital on the Isle of Wight is in the process of shutting down. With only eight children left in the ward, and a skeleton staff to keep things running, Amy Nichols (Calista Flockhart) is brought in, after the sudden departure of the previous night nurse.
It isn’t long however, before Amy discovers something is terribly wrong in Mercy Falls, something that causes children’s bones to break inexplicably, something that haunts the deserted halls and abandoned floors of the hospital.

Fragiles (Fragile) is Jaume Balaguero’s third feature, and in many ways, it’s the closest he’s come to mainstream horror. Taking a premise, setting, and threat that are genre conventions, Balaguero gives them all enough of his own personal spin to make this one a worthwhile watch.
As with anything shot by ace cinematographer Xavi Gimenez, Fragiles looks great. And with an effective central performance by Flockhart—who largely manages to make the audience forget the manic insanity of Ally McBeal with her haunted portrayal of Amy—there is much to recommend here.

Admittedly, I do miss Balaguero regulars editor Luis De La Madrid and composer Carles Cases; all due respect to Jaume Marti and Roque Banos. However, what haunts Mercy Falls is one freaky-a$$ looking thing that raises the hackles. (And though that doesn’t completely make up for those absences, that does go some way to appeasing me.)
It should also be noted that Paco Plaza (who is co-directing the upcoming [Rec] with Balaguero) did some second unit work on Fragiles.

Yes, compared to Los Sin Nombre and Darkness, Fragiles seems pretty old school, but the narrative and characters are solid, and the direction is as certain and assured as it was in Balaguero’s previous works.
So if you’re into Balaguero (or just enjoy your horror), you really should check out Fragiles.

Parting shot: Among the awards won by Fragiles: the Barcelona Film Award for Best Editing (Jaume Marti, who is also editing Brad Anderson’s upcoming Transsiberian) and the Goya for Best Special Effects.

(Fragiles OS courtesy of tepasmas.com; Fragile OS courtesy of filmaxinternational.com; UK quad courtesy of calistaflockhart.net.)

FANTASTIC FOUR:
RISE OF THE SILVER SURFER
(Review)

If you’re a comic book fan who loves a good film adaptation of your favorite hero—and what self-respecting fanboy doesn’t?—the 80’s were not a kind decade to you.
DC’s Superman franchise was running on empty with Superman III, and that particular flight ended in a messy crash with Superman IV: The Quest For Peace. Meanwhile, Tim Burton was yet to redefine the superhero film at the tail end of the decade.
But for all the misfires DC had at the time, Marvel was by far the more evil villain in that scenario.
There were low budget attempts at Captain America and The Punisher, and inept TV stabs at Thor and Daredevil, all of them not particularly good, and some, downright dreadful.
Funnily enough, these days it feels like a Marvel renaissance, with most of their efforts falling squarely into the not-particularly-good-and-some-downright-dreadful category.
Granted, the effects and costumes are way better, but a lot of the plots and scripts, and some of the performances, could very well have traveled here on a time machine from the good old 80’s to leave us comic geeks with sleepless, rant-filled nights.*

At this point, I should establish that Marvel’s latest, Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer, is actually better than some past turkeys like Ghost Rider, Daredevil, and Elektra. FF:RotSS is even better than its predecessor (see reVIEW (1); Archive June 2007).
That doesn’t make it a good film though.

The plot is just as threadbare as the original’s: the Silver Surfer (frequent Guillermo Del Toro collaborator Doug Jones, voiced by Laurence Fishburne) arrives on Earth to prepare it for the coming of the dreaded Galactus (in this incarnation, a planet-devouring cloud), thus disrupting the fourth attempt at a proper wedding by Reed Richards (Ioan Gruffudd) and Sue Storm (Jessica Alba).
The U.S. Military gets Reed to help them, Victor Von Doom (Julian McMahon) crashes the party, Galactus arrives, but is thwarted by our heroes.
In the midst of all this, what I can only assume are attempts at “fun” and “funny”—schtick that barely manages to be juvenile hi-jinx—pepper the 92 minute running time like fleas on a mangy dog. (And though it’s good that all the power-switching becomes a climactic plot point, the bachelor party dance is still a particularly atrocious bit.)

Just as in Fantastic Four, where there was no joy to be found in a plot, we also don’t really see much in the way of characters again.
Even Chris Evans, whose superficial Johnny Storm was the highlight of the team in the first film, doesn’t seem as convincing as he once was. And what could have been an interesting character arc (as Johnny learns some much-needed lessons in responsibility) is not fully explored.
There’s some conflict with Sue wanting a normal married life away from the media spotlight, but it’s pretty much lip service and doesn’t have the ring of authenticity.

It’s really only when the CGI takes center stage that the film becomes halfway decent, particularly when Galactus arrives to devour the Earth, ironically, the sequence that could potentially piss off countless fanboys with its depiction of the Jack Kirby planet-eater as a roiling cloud.
With visual effects by Weta, The Orphanage, and a handful of other effects houses, the spectacle is certainly not too shabby. But without any honest emotional underpinnings and real characters, the film cannot generate any genuine tension and is grossly unsuccessful in involving its audience in its story. Without characters to truly care for, all we’ve got here that merits any sort of attention are pixels; pixels that are sure pretty to look at, but certainly not pixels worth any sort of emotional investment.
Did it look impressive? At times, it actually did.
Did I feel for once that there was any real danger, that the Earth stood on the brink of total destruction, and that all life as we know it was in jeopardy?
Certainly not.

If there is any triumph to be found here, it’s that director Tim Story managed to deliver a better film than the sad-a$$ original. (At the very least, Story’s got a better track record than Mark Steven Johnson. Already guilty of inflicting Daredevil upon us, Johnson outdid himself with the horrible Ghost Rider; review in Archive March 2007.)
But it’s a hollow victory, as FF:RotSS is nowhere near being a good comic book film adaptation; it’s the kind of comic book film where the heroes still have time to do some goofy skywriting even as Venice is sinking into the sea.
It’s all ultimately very inconsequential and disposable, like a planet that’s had the life sucked out of it by Galactus. And where’s the fun in taking an hour-and-a-half long round through lifeless territory?

* The other thing that’s different about Marvel’s current crop of stinkers is that a lot of them are making money. Ghost Rider is actually the 13th biggest film of the year at the moment, with a total gross of $115, 802, 596. FF:RotSS is 10th, with $128,879,368! (And these are just the domestic figures for the U.S. box office.)

(Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer OS courtesy of kinopoisk.ru.)

THE NUMBER 23 (Review)

I’m not exactly sure what went wrong.
I mean, I have fond memories of The Lost Boys and St. Elmo’s Fire, and Flatliners wasn’t entirely without merit. (Of course, I haven’t seen these films in quite some time, so they may look like entirely different movies now, under a more adult, more discerning eye.)
I think it all began to go wrong around Dying Young.
Then there was Batman Forever. And Batman & Robin. And 8MM.
Phone Booth was passably watchable, but not enough to wash away the horrid aftertaste of his previous fiascos.
But then there was the awful stumble that was The Phantom of the Opera, a film which seemed far too interested in showing off its sets than in the performances of its actors, and whose musical numbers seemed a pale imitation of those in its theatre incarnation.

I am, of course, referring to Joel Schumacher, and despite all the horrible misses he’s racked up in my books, I’m still occasionally curious to see whether he can again direct a film that is actually something I’d want to watch more than once.
Well, The Number 23 isn’t it.

Walter Sparrow (Jim Carrey) is an unassuming dog catcher who becomes obsessed with the number 23 through a second hand book given to him as a birthday gift by his wife Agatha (Virginia Madsen).
The book (The Number 23, written by Topsy Kretts—yes, Topsy Kretts), is the unlikely first-person narrative of someone who asks to be called “Fingerling,” a tattooed, saxophone-playing detective whose childhood seems to mirror Walter’s own. And as Walter’s identification with Fingerling grows, he likewise falls under the spell of the number 23.
As Sparrow’s obsession grows deeper, his wife and son Robin (Logan Lerman) are drawn into the mystery as well, as the family moves towards the ultimate truth behind the book and Walter’s own life.

Now, a lot of the time, I find Carrey’s particular acting tics too distracting, so much so that it seems to be the character playing Jim Carrey and not the other way around.
In The Number 23 though, Carrey is able to keep himself restrained just enough to allow Walter to be Walter.
Sadly, Carrey is failed by the script (by Fernley Phillips), which ultimately falls back on a painfully convenient resolution, and Schumacher’s direction (particularly of the sections of the novel, where we see a tattooed Carrey playing a not-too-convincing gumshoe in Schumacher’s torrid version of noir).
Though the central mystery is functional enough to keep the audience’s attention, and the final reveal does address the question that may crop up in some viewers’ minds (why does an apparently well-adjusted individual like Walter fall under the number 23’s spell so readily?), the film itself doesn’t really come together in a satisfying way.

Granted, it’s better than some of the more recent psychological thrillers out of Hollywood like Hide and Seek and Identity, The Number 23 still ultimately rings hollow, particularly in its resolution. Somehow, the dramatic weight of the decision made seems brushed aside and taken for granted, in favor of an ending that should appease any portions of the audience who demand justice, whatever the cost (including the effective crippling of a story that could have risen so much higher).

The truth behind the mystery also doesn’t really address the exact manner in which the second-hand book falls into Walter’s hands, at least not in any logical way that makes sense, and not without having to bring in fate and destiny and quite possibly the supernatural into the post-film discussion. It’s all a bit much, given the overriding sense that the film itself isn’t of much consequence to begin with.

So, Schumacher doesn’t quite get it. Again.
I’m honestly uncertain what he needs to do to come up with a film that’s worth the film stock it’s shot on (if that’s not too anachronistic a turn of phrase in this day and age of digital film).
I guess he needs to start with the script. Some of his failures—particularly Batman & Robin and 8MM—had terrible scripts.
Then he needs to rethink his visual approach. Oftentimes, he crosses the line into territory that is gaudy and overly florid, and this merely distracts the audience from the story being told onscreen.
If he does this, then just maybe, he’ll come up with a winner. Or at the very least, win me over.

Parting shot: Two of Schumacher’s next reported projects (the horror film Town Creek, and The Crowded Room, based on the true story of a man with 24 personalities) pique my interest, so my dance with Mr. S is not yet at an end…

MERCURY MAN (Review)

My abiding interest in live action superheroics (which I’ve mentioned round these parts before) brought me to the Thai film Ma noot lhek lai (Mercury Man).
And… well…

Chan (newcomer Wasan Khantaau) is an impulsive firefighter who ends up getting stabbed with a mystical amulet that turns him into the eponymous, superpowered Mercury Man. This stabbing occurs during the jailbreak of one Osama bin Ali (erstwhile rocker Arnon Saisangcharn), an Afghani terrorist with a major hate for the great ol’ U S of A (the reason for which is conveniently—and awkwardly—shown to us via flashback).

Here’s where things go seriously awry. Osama is broken out of jail wearing the fakest beard this side of Props `R’ Us. Then, what does good old Osama do once free to pursue his anti-American sentiments? He luxuriates in the decadence of mousse, eye shadow, and lip gloss! Well, I guess you can get seriously effed up if your wife and child get offed by infidel Westerners, right?

Then, a female warrior (Jinvipa Kheawkunya; who we’d seen earlier in the film at a Tibetan temple) pops up in Chan’s life, explaining that should he lose control over his emotions, he will literally burn up, incinerating himself from the inside out. And how does Chan go about testing this ridiculous claim? By leafing through an issue of Penthouse.

Uh-huh.

And when Chan decides to take the full superhero plunge, his costuming needs are addressed by the fact that… wait for it… he has a transsexual sister who designs costumes! Said sister is played by the real life inspiration for the film Beautiful Boxer, “Nong Toom” (Parinya Kiatbusaba), who Project Runways her bro some superhero duds right before she is kidnapped by the sultrily eyeshadowed Osama.

Well, at the very least, it’s a wee bit more probable than Peter Parker suddenly becoming a great designer and tailor because of a death in the family. (And Merc’s costume is actually sort’a cool, like Grendel with some tat-like designs over the body suit.)

I’ll leave the discovery of the remainder of this gloriously cheesy film’s plot points to those of you curious enough to give it a look-see. And for those of you who do, you’ll possibly like what you see when it comes to the fight choreography, courtesy of Panna Rittikrai, who taught Tony Jaa all he knows and gave us the kick-a$$ moves in Ong-Bak.

Of course, given that this is a superhero movie, and ostensibly one for the family (let’s just overlook the whole Penthouse thing, shall we?), the fight scenes here have nowhere near the brutal realism of those in Ong-Bak, but they are a damn sight better than some of those seen in Hollywood superhero movies like Elektra or Stan Lee’s Lightspeed (recently reviewed here). And though the cinematography and editing don’t always conspire to give us the best view of the action, this is solid stuff for martial arts junkies. (The use of an “ionic field generator” to weaken our hero allows the production some interesting lighting opportunities in the Sin Club fight scene, during which Merc is set alight, and… well, see it for yourself.)

And though this is an equal opportunity film: much of the supporting cast gets in on the butt kicking too—including Chan’s sis, and Osama’s lab geek with the multi-coloured hair (apparently, Osama likes his henchpeople to look fabulous too)—this dilutes the third act as we cut back and forth between duels, when our attention should be riveted on Merc alone. (Not to mention a protracted sequence which features neither Merc nor any of the film’s supporting cast, a sequence which slows down the third act’s momentum even more.)

Aside from the action, what also sets Mercury Man apart from your average Hollywood superhero film, is the choice of a baddie like Osama bin Ali (and not because of his penchant for looking good while being bad). This one’s a terrorist with a clear anti-US agenda who sends his minions out like good little suicide bombers, endangering the local McDonald’s, internet cafes, bars, the headquarters of the “American For Child Fund” (!), and other sundry establishments and places of work. We’re definitely post 9/11.

Another noteworthy aspect is the CGI work, which, given its modest-by-Hollywood-standards budget (reportedly, Mercury Man was made for around a million US dollars), looks pretty keen at times. Not perfect, mind you, but given their monetary limitations, commendable nonetheless.

Some more pluses are the mythological elements, as well as the application of Buddhist belief onto the superhero template.

But all this is potentially overshadowed by the sheer amount of goofiness that goes on during Mercury Man’s running time (including the “Spidy” graffiti and Spider-Man t-shirts), the patently ridiculous plot, and bad acting from the extras and some of the supporting cast.

So, watch Mercury Man if you’ve a mind, and watch it for the action, if nothing else.

And just maybe, if you’re in the right frame of mind, this could slide into that wonderful area of so bad, it’s good.

(Originally posted 020807)

EL LABERINTO DEL FAUNO (PAN’S LABYRINTH) (Review)

Ever since I saw Guillermo Del Toro’s strange little vampire film Cronos, I knew this was a filmmaker I needed to keep my eyes on. And over the years, he has not disappointed.

After Cronos, the director had his first brush with Hollywood with Mimic. A flawed creature feature marred by studio interference, Mimic was still nonetheless recognizable as the work of an evolving storyteller.
Del Toro then went on to El Espinazo Del Diablo (The Devil’s Backbone), a ghost story set in an orphanage in 1939 Spain.
This quietly chilling tale was quickly followed by his second Hollywood feature, Blade II. Popcorn movie, yes. But this was popcorn laced with buckets of butter, blood, and adrenaline, and was far superior than its predecessor, Stephen Norrington’s Blade.
Working with comic book artist Mike Mignola on Blade II then led to Hellboy, the film adaptation of Mignola’s comic book of the same name.
Then, last year brought us what many (including myself) consider his best work to date: the darkly magickal El Laberinto Del Fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth).

Set in 1944 Spain, El Laberinto Del Fauno tells the tale of Ofelia (Ivana Baquero, who won a Goya1 for Breakthrough Performance), whose widowed mother Carmen (Aridna Gil) has recently married one Captain Vidal (Sergi Lopez, known for doing light romantic comedies). Vidal has his heavily pregnant wife and stepdaughter transported to the outpost he is commandant of, an outpost beset by the activities of a band of rebels, covertly being helped by a couple of the camp’s insiders: Mercedes (Maribel Verdu) and Dr. Ferreiro (Alex Angulo, who worked with Pedro Almodovar on Carne Tremula—Live Flesh).
And as socio-political turmoil rages around her, book-loving Ofelia discovers that there is another facet to the world she lives in, a facet of magick and fairies and ancient fauns, who reveal what could very well be her secret destiny.

Mining the Alice in Wonderland template and placing it in the context of a country torn by civil war, Del Toro takes us deep into the maze of a child’s life, a child whose world is undergoing upheaval, just as the larger world around her is experiencing the wracking pains of a global war. And in doing so, he does what every director should do: tell us a moving, involving story that is, ultimately, about something more than just the narrative, and, in the process of storytelling, shows us something we’ve never seen before.

For those who may be inclined to dismiss El Laberinto Del Fauno as a frivolous work of fantasy, understand that the “real world” elements of the film—particularly the rebels fighting for a cause they are putting their lives on the lines for—are treated with the utmost seriousness. One only need see Lopez’s coldly cruel Captain Vidal dealing with a suspected insurgent using only a wine bottle to be convinced that this is not a whimsical children’s movie.

And as for Del Toro showing the audience cinematic sights heretofore unseen, three words.
The Pale Man.
For my money, the Pale Man is one of the creepiest movie characters to have graced the silver screen in 2006. (He, along with the assorted residents of Silent Hill, made last year a year when the darkened theater once more became a place of unease and dread.)

Though Del Toro’s work has always displayed elements of the fantastic, in his non-Hollywood work (Cronos, El Espinazo Del Diablo, and El Laberinto Del Fauno), it is apparent that however scary his ghosts and vampires and fauns are, what is far more terrifying are the forces of the mundane, the men whose world these creatures move through.

Coping with the horrors her world presents her with, Ofelia moves through the ritualized paces of the traditional Quest (three tasks to perform before she can come into her destiny), speeding her inexorably towards the film’s moving climax.
Just as we are witness to Ofelia’s journey through her own metaphorical labyrinth, so we see the other characters of the tale, navigating their own personal mazes as best they can, shedding blood and tears in equal measure, as they struggle towards some greater understanding of their lives.

And when we finally emerge at the film’s denouement, we are exposed to the savage, uncompromising beauty of the narrative’s end. This is a beauty which both ravages and scours, and yet, feels right somehow, as if there was no other way this story could have ended.
Standing there, with that cold knowledge now a part of us, we look back, yearning for a fleeting glimpse of a fairie’s wing, or the earthy smell of an ancient faun, wondering if there is any way we can return to our innocence and ignorance, but knowing we cannot.
For a lesson, once learned cannot (and should not) ever be forgot.

With El Laberinto Del Fauno, Del Toro has secured his place as a master storyteller on the stage of global cinema, racking up nominations and wins at the Goyas and the BAFTAs.2 It also garnered six Saturn nominations.3 And in a few days’ time, we’ll see if Oscar loves it too.4
Here’s hoping.

1 The Goyas are Spain’s equivalent of the Oscars. El Laberinto Del Fauno won 7 out of its 13 nominations. Aside from Breakthrough Performance, it won for Original Screenplay, Cinematography, Visual Effects, Film Editing, Sound, and Makeup and Hair Design.

2 Its BAFTA wins were Film Not in the English Language, Costume Design, and Make Up and Hair (3 out of 8 nominations).

3 Its Saturn nominations are for Best International Film (where it’s up against Gwoemul), Best Supporting Actor (Sergi Lopez, up against Superman Returns’ James Marsden), Best Performance by a Younger Actor (Ivana Baquero, up against Gwoemul’s Ah-sung Ko and Superman Returns’ Tristan Lake Leabu), Best Direction (where Del Toro is up against good friend Alfonso Cuaron, as well as Bryan Singer), Best Writing (where Del Toro bangs heads with Michael Dougherty and Dan Harris, for Superman Returns), and Best Make-up (going up against Slither and The Descent).
As you can see, I’m very conflicted when it comes to the Saturns…

4 Its 6 Oscar nominations are for Best Foreign Language Film, Best Original Screenplay, Achievement in Art Direction, Achievement in Cinematography, Achievement in Makeup, and Original Score.

Parting shot: It’s also up for two Independent Spirit Awards, including Best Picture.

(Originally posted 022307)