Month: June 2015

By Joe Bendel. It will confirm the suspicions of parents who survived the Cabbage Patch riots of the early 1980s to learn those dolls were part of an evil scheme. Technically, these moppets are not called “Cabbage Patch Kids,” but the resemblance is striking. In all fairness, said dolls are all sweetness and innocence, but they come from a sinister factory. They are also flesh-and-blood, most of the time. One such doll will try to escape his evil overlord in Craig Goodwill’s self-consciously strange Patch Town, which opens today in New York.

Once upon a time, so to speak, Gregor, a well-meaning but short-sighted Russian inventor discovered there were real babies growing in his cabbage patch. He tried to adopt each and every one of them, causing considerable resentment with his biological son Yuri, but the volume was too great for him. Logically, he invented a machine that temporarily transformed the babies into dolls that were subsequently sent out into the world until they can be safely reclaimed. Tragically, Gregor soon dies, leaving the leaf babies entrusted to the cruel Yuri (a.k.a. Child Catcher). Yuri does indeed retrieve the dolls as the little girls they were entrusted to grow and forget about childish things, forcing the re-animated cherubs to toil in his Orwellian doll factory.

Jon and Mary are two such doll prols. They are timid by nature, yet they still managed to adopt a little baby girl, in clear violation of Patch Town law, because they are so full of love. When Yuri ominously sniffs them out, the terrified new parents have to make a break for our world. During the escape coordinated by Sly, the dodgy people trafficker and part-time department store Santa’s elf, Jon’s repressed memories come flooding back. He becomes convinced Bethany, the little girl he knew as his “mother,” can help if he can find her.

So yeah, Patch Town sounds like a cult film to beat the band, which is why it is so annoying that it never takes flight. Did we mention it is also a musical? It sort of is, but you will be hard-pressed to remember any of the tunes. The film apparently assumes the very fact that they are there is enough. Goodwill’s screenplay, co-written with Christopher Bond and Trevor Martin is even more problematic. Despite the strange universe they create, the narrative follows a disappointingly predictable pattern, with learning moments inserted in exactly the spots screenwriting handbooks say they should go.

With their rosy cheeks, Rob Ramsey and Stephanie Pltiladis look perfect as Jon and Mary, but they are wilting roses on the screen. As Yuri (and Gregor), Julian Richlings looks like he is trying to bulge his eyes so far out, he might have a stroke at any time. At least Zoie Palmer stays grounded and shows a respectable range as Jon’s grown mother, Bethany. Still, Suresh John’s Sly is the real saving grace, cutting through the film’s self-seriousness and heavy-handed messaging with tartly delivered sarcasm.

Patch Town is definitely a kitchen sink movie, but somehow Goodwill forgot to cram in the fun. The design team created an impressive looking dystopian urban fantasy world, but the confused anti-corporate soapboxing and blatant manipulation grow tiresome. It is the sort of film that looks so promising cult cinema connoisseurs will still want to judge it for themselves when it opens today (6/5) in New York, at the Cinema Village (but We Are Still Here should be a much higher priority).

LFM GRADE: C-

Posted on June 5th, 2015 at 2:51pm.

By Joe Bendel. Whether you believe or not, demonic possession is simply no business to trifle with, but kids will be kids. These kids in question are especially inept in social situations. The three high school chums hope to raise their place in the pecking order by taking the grand prize at their local horror film festival with real life exorcism footage. Unfortunately, it all gets more real than they bargained for in Kyle Steinbach’s Bad Exorcists, which screens during the eighteenth Dances With Films, in Hollywood, California.

The nebbish Charlie is being led-on by a chick who really isn’t his girlfriend, but she lets him think she is when she wants to exploit his good nature. He also happens to have a crush on the popular and reasonably together Lisa, who has just returned from her junior exchange year abroad. Matt is the Jewish kid at their Catholic school, who often serves as the devil on his friends’ shoulders. As for Dana, he is just a mess.

They have DIY horror movie aspirations, but not a lot of talent. However, Matt is convinced if they steal Sister Helen’s ancient exorcism manual and chant some of the incantations within, the authenticity will take them to the next level. Much to Charlie’s surprise and nervous excitement, Matt even recruits Lisa to star in their film as the victim of possession. Of course, as we can all see coming, by incompletely reciting the powerful texts over Lisa, they actually help facilitate her demonic possession.

There have been no shortage of horror comedies in recent years, but many have been rather darned amusing, by cranking up the energy level and avoiding Friedberg & Seltzer’s painfully stupid level of humor. Happily, Exorcists is one that makes the grade. There is nothing truly jaw-dropping or gut-busting about it, but the film is clearly in touch with both the horror and teen movie traditions, knowingly observing and tweaking their respective conventions. Steinbach keeps it all moving along at a healthy gallop and stages scenes of demonic horror that should satisfy genre diehards (that kid in the barn is pretty darn creepy).

Some cast members look a tad old for high school, but they all exhibit a natural facility for the American Pie-style humor. As Lisa, Claire Berger shows a particularly impressive range, earning laughs with deadpan sarcasm and totally going Regan MacNeil in the third act.

Yes, Bad Exorcists is definitely a bit of a meathead movie and the sexually voracious depiction of Sister Helen is highly problematic and may ultimately lead to a few days in Purgatory for the filmmakers (if demons are real, there is no reason to think it no longer exists). However, for horror fans it is just a fun film to watch, which is more than enough for a Saturday night in June. Recommended for midnight movie regulars, Bad Exorcists screens tomorrow, as part of DWF18.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on June 5th, 2015 at 2:50pm.

By Joe Bendel. Those wondering just how much Jackie Chan has shifted his focus from Hong Kong to the Mainland need only look at the evolution of his hit Police Story franchise. What started as comedic action romp revolving around Chan’s Royal Hong Kong Inspector Chan Ka-kui is now a moody thriller-morality play that might just break its anti-hero-ish Beijing Police Captain Zhong Wen. Chan is older and wearier, but it is still nearly impossible to keep the old cat down in Ding Sheng’s Police Story: Lockdown, which opens this Friday in San Francisco.

Old Zhong is already nearly done in when meets his daughter Miao Miao at a hipster night club. Their relationship has been strained since her mother died. Frankly, this get-together is not even her idea. She agreed to set-up the meeting to humor her older pseudo-lover, the club owner Wu Jiang. In retrospect, that was a mistake.

When he comes to, Zhong learns in no uncertain terms he and his daughter, along with twenty-some other patrons and employees are hostages in Wu’s concrete fortified club. Thanks to his modifications, it will be hard for Zhong’s colleagues to shoot their way in. Instead of ransom, Wu offers a baffling ultimatum, demanding small time criminal Wei Xiaofu be brought to the club. Zhong was the responding officer who arrested Wei, so this case is clearly personal, especially since several witnesses to the incident (in which a young girl died) are among Wu’s other captives.

Frankly, Zhong blames himself so much, he just might be the only cop Bill de Blasio would approve of. Needless to say, the events of that fateful night are considerably murkier than Wu realizes, but rightly or wrongly, Zhong still carries around a mountain of guilt. Lockdown is a drastic departure from its predecessors (arguably, this is more of a title appropriation than a reboot), but it is still a reasonably effective showcase for Chan’s mature acting chops. Yes, there is still more spring in his step than most fifty-nine year olds, but the centerpiece action sequence mostly involves him getting pounded by Wu’s Filipino henchman.

While Chan and Jing Tian forge some respectable father-daughter chemistry, the latter is never given a chance to exercise the monster action skills she displayed in Special I.D., which is a most unfortunate lost opportunity. It is a real shame, because most genre fans would be totally psyched to watch the extremely telegenic newcomer fighting side-by-side with the old rubber-boned veteran.

Although Liu Ye was impressively fierce as the Emperor in The Last Supper, he is frustratingly bland as the tortured and tormenting Wu. Despite their diverse nationalities, none of the secondary villains are distinctive to any appreciable degree either. However, Zhou Xiaoou adds a surprising potent element of pathos as the sad sack Wei.

Everyone will duly note Lockdown’s “Die Hard in a night club” concept, with liberal elements of Lethal Weapon’s Sgt. “Too Old For This” Murtaugh thrown in for good measure, but its borrowings were maybe not be so conspicuous in its target market. That is fair enough, considering Hollywood’s magpie tendencies. In fact, it is a slick looking production, thanks to the metallic neon set design and Yu Ding’s noir-ish cinematography. The weak bad guys are a drawback, but action fans will still enjoy watching a new and largely credible outing from Chan. Recommended for his fans, Police Story: Lockdown opens this Friday (6/5) in San Francisco at the 4-Star Theatre and in Los Angeles at the Arena Cinema.

LFM GRADE: B-

Posted on June 3rd, 2015 at 2:47pm.

By Joe Bendel. To celebrate the opening of his life story’s big screen treatment, Brian Wilson recorded a new rendition of the title song with a group of school children to benefit the music education nonprofit, Little Kids Rock. Happily, Wilson is now in a position to give back. It was not always so. This was not due to a lack of willingness, but more fundamental mental health issues and the unscrupulous psycho-therapist who swooped in to exploit him. Both Wilson’s struggle to re-establish control over his own life and his musical virtuosity are dramatized in Bill Pohlad’s Love & Mercy, which opens this Friday in New York.

Unfortunately, reports that Wilson stayed in bed for two or three years were more or less true. He had very real (but treatable) mental health challenges, including depression and schizophrenia. Of course, that made it considerably easier for a charlatan like Dr. Eugene Landy to dominate every aspect of his existence. Utilizing a split time line, Pohlad cuts back a forth between the initially heady days of the Pet Sounds studio sessions and the tightly regimented Landy years. It is not hard to spot at least one of the root causes of Wilson’s depression. That would be his domineering and dismissive father Murry.

To its credit, L&M is not all about the Landy scandals and a pat triumph over adversity. The best scenes of the film—by far—follow Wilson recording Pet Sounds’ instrumental tracks with the Wrecking Crew session players. Frankly, it is cool to see those often uncredited veteran sidemen get their due in a film besides their own wildly entertaining documentary. In a lovely little supporting performance as legendary drummer Hal Blaine, Johnny Sneed becomes a personable, drily witty Obi-Wan figure for Wilson. Clearly, Pohlad and screenwriters Oren Moverman and Michael A. Lerner get the significance of everyone involved in those sessions.

In a strange way, Paul Giamatti’s Landy is much like Vladimir Chertkov, the Svengali like historical figure he played in Michael Hoffman’s Tolstoy drama, The Last Station. Having had the practice, he can portray a sinister manipulator better than anyone. Both Paul Dano and John Cusack come across like emotionally stunted man-children as the younger and older Wilson, respectively, but they are duly reflecting reality. Bill Camp also takes a decidedly villainous turn as Murry Wilson, but he stops well short of eye-rolling Mommie Dearest-Ossage County territory. As the spirited girlfriend determined to rescue Wilson, Elizabeth Banks also brings notable energy to an underwritten role, making many somewhat clichéd moments admirably watchable.

Frankly, the entire film is a good deal better than the tabloid-driven TV movie it might sound like. Not everyone in the Beach Boys’ world will appreciate it, most likely including Mike Love, who as played by Jake Abel, comes across as a real hit-craving jerkweed—but that’s his business. As a film about musicians and the debilitating effects of mental illness, it is quite smart and honestly rendered. Recommended for fans of Brian Wilson, the Wrecking Crew and Cusack (in his most presentable film in years), Love & Mercy opens this Friday (6/5) in New York, at the Chelsea Bowtie and the AMC Village 7.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on June 2nd, 2015 at 1:05pm.

By Joe Bendel. Last year’s Cannes Film Festival was rough for Tim Roth. First Grace of Monaco was roundly booed when it opened the festival and then FIFA’s self-funded film was even more harshly received. The timing for what has been universally described as a “propaganda film” continues to be so awkwardly bad, you have to wonder if a higher power is out to sabotage it. Mere days after fourteen high-ranking FIFA officials were indicted, Frédéric Auburtin’s United Passions opens this Friday in New York.

It all started innocently enough. A group of European football association presidents joined forces, in hopes of codifying standardized rules for international matches. Much to their regret, the mean old English initially refused to join out of elitist snobbery, or so Auburtin suggests. At least for a few years, it was run without controversy by first president Robert Guérin and general secretary Carl Hirschmann, but the fast and loose dealings commenced with the election of Jules Rimet. Uruguay had pledged to spend liberally on the inaugural World Cup, and ever so conveniently the member associations voted accordingly.

To an extent, United Passions (a title that sounds like it was the ill-conceived product of a marketing brainstorming session) throws long time FIFA president João Havelange under the bus. He is constantly apologizing to his long suffering general secretary Sepp Blatter for mistakes that were made and the mysterious emptiness of FIFA’s coffers, but the film never explains what’s, why’s, or how’s. Instead, the altruistic Blatter simply cuts a personal check to cover FIFA’s payroll.

There is a certain degree of irony whenever Russia’s favorite son, Gérard Depardieu appears in a sports film, but that is the least of Passions’ problems. In fact, he is perfectly presentable as the reportedly not so athletic Rimet. On the other hand, Sam Neill would probably prefer to forget the baffling, vaguely South African accent he uncorks for the Brazilian Havelange. Looking visibly embarrassed, poor Tim Roth tries to call as little attention to himself as possible as Blatter, the unassuming crusader against corruption. At one point, St. Sepp (who Havelange praises for “being good at finding money”) stands accused of his predecessor’s misdeeds, but defends himself with what must be the dullest, drabbest climatic speech in the history of cinema. It doesn’t matter, the fix was in.

Passions commits enormous sins of omission, but its worst oversight is the lack of dramatic development. We see little more than vignettes illustrating “great” moments in FIFA history, interspersed with World Cup montages and hackneyed scenes of a pick-up game in some racially balanced third world slum designed to clumsily illustrate the game’s unifying global significance. However, there is not a lot in terms of character or plot for viewers to sink their teeth into. Instead, we hear Blatter identify a problem, which he then presumably solves since we hear nothing about it four years later.

As if the weak narrative and conspicuous white-washing of FIFA’s corruption were not bad enough, the film displays an outrageous bias against the English, time and again featuring British characters making ridiculously racist statements. This simply is not a film that deserves to be taken seriously on any level. However, it is precisely the big screen treatment Blatter and FIFA deserve. Hopefully, they are happy with it, since they paid for it.

Indeed, this is truly a Blatter production. It is a staggeringly arrogant, insular, and tone-deaf work that assumes the rest of the world is stupid. Compared to Passions, See You in Montevideo and Montevideo—Taste of a Dream, the unapologetically sentimental, patriotic, and generally pleasant Serbian films about the first Yugoslavian World Cup teams are like the best of Rocky, Bull Durham, and Chariots of Fire all rolled together. Not recommended, United Passions opens this Friday (6/5) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

LFM GRADE: F

Posted on June 2nd, 2015 at 1:05pm.