Monsieur Ibrahim - REVIEWED 07/04, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

Based on French playwrite Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt's sixty-page 1999 novella and stage play 'Monsieur Ibrahim et les fleurs du Coran' - apparently the second offering from his 'Trilogie de l'Invisible' series, this decidedly small subtitled 2003 coming of age flick starring award-winning Omar Sharif as Ibrahim Deneji, aged shop keeper of a tiny cramped grocery and the personably sly ex-patriot Turkish mentor to sexually precocious Parisian teenager Moses 'Momo' Schmitt (Pierre Boulanger) during the 1960's is a surprisingly well-crafted piece of slow paced mature entertainment. There's still a devilish twinkle in seventy-two year-old Sharif's warm dark eyes, that flashes the wonderfully captivating spirit of Ibrahim's often playfully wry wisdom throughout here. Pulling you in closer, waiting to be tutored on the subtleties of life, even though whatever pearl he's ready to impart might not necessarily be in everyone's best interest. It's that underlying force embodied by this longtime famous screen actor - who was reportedly arrested, given a one-month suspended sentence and fined a hefty sum for head butting a police officer after an arguement broke out with a Pontoise casino roulette croupier two weeks before this film's premiere in France - that keeps this picture delightfully fresh. Boulanger also pulls in a magnificent performance here, as sixteen year-old Momo struggling for some semblance of self-worth under the claustrophobic depressive fog of his ever-distant yet oppressively judgemental father (Gilbert Melki), determined to find acceptance and human tenderness by turning to the prostitutes working the street across from his bedroom window, before quickly falling under Ibrahim's altruistic nurturing wing. Sure, there are gaps in momentum that make co-screenwriter/director François Dupeyron's efforts of widening these two main characters' horizons by sending them on a spontaneous roadtrip to the Middle East feel more like artsy travelogue filler at times, but those puzzling hiccups are thankfully sporatic and brief for the most part. This one really is an over-all gem, running the gamut from high drama to pernicious humour. It's also fun seeing French Cinema legend Isabelle Adjani trot around in her short cameo as a tight-bloused blonde actress on a nearby location shoot, and the soundtrack featuring memorable tunes from Chuck Berry and Domingo Samudio bring you right back to that American dance-crazed era - even though most of this ninety-five minute sleeper takes place in a rather decrepid corner of Paris. 'Monsieur Ibrahim' might be a tough one to track down, but do yourself a favour and do track it down as a fabulously satisfying R-rated escape well worth checking out.

Metallica: Some Kind of Monster
- REVIEWED 07/04, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

After fourteen years as famed bassist for the LA-spawned thrash metal band Metallica, Jason Newsted quit to officially begin his own music project called Echobrain. That ominous moment in 2001 is where directors Joe Berlinger's and Bruce Sinofsky's slightly meandering documentary 'Some Kind of Monster' kicks off its rather weepy confessional-like exposé of the remaining bandmates. Lyricist/vocalist James Hetfield, manic drummer Lars Ulrich, and lead guitarist Kirk Hammett scramble together the pieces with studio producer Bob Rock temporarily on bass for 'St. Anger' - their ninth album since Hetfield and Ulrich created Metallica back in 1981 - while kept in check by management-assigned therapist Phil Towle on hand over the two and half years of filming. I remember these forty year-olds when they started to emerge after years of building a huge fan base despite little to no radio play back near their beginning, so it was tough watching them mewl out continual reams of what felt like patronizing psycho babbley verbal hugs at each other for the camera, knowing full well that their infamously conflicting and often blunt egos were what made them one of the greatest heavy metal bands in music history. Sadder still is when Lars blankly points out that 'St. Anger' is the first album created with what he calls positive aggression, almost a year after Hetfield returned from a self-imposed eleven-month exile in rehab and about seventeen days following Ozzy Osbourne's former bassist Robert Trujillo being hired on to finally replace Newsted (and vice versa) before touring the new material. Sure, a lot of 'good old bad days' history and residual demons are somewhat politely covered for fans with heavy doses of predictable catharsis, and you are given some insight into how the guys hash out raw tracks in studio sessions that become monotonous by Day 600+, but a lot of this picture just seems staged as PR for their Grammy-winning record to an audience outside the usual MTV venues by these old lions still in love with the creative process and live performances but visibly tired of the lifestyle and each other. There's nothing new, really. It's hard to say if more of the candid 'peace talks' with ex-member Dave Mustaine or longer scenes with Ulrich's delightfully curmudgeon father Torben would have made any difference to the momentum, but what these main subjects have grown into (rebellious James the full-time daddy, arrogant Lars the drunken art collector) just aren't interesting enough as presented during this feature-length screening. Definitely rent this one as a vaguely worthy behind the scenes curiosity, but I suspect a lot of hardcore fans will feel as though they're sitting through a disappointing, cuss-filled Beach Boys reunion.

The Manchurian Candidate
- REVIEWED 08/04, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

Based on prolific writer Richard Condon's (1915-1996) famous novel about a brainwashed assassin first published in 1959, in this contemporary remake of the late great director John Frankenheimer's (1930-2002) renowned Oscar-nominated 1962 cloak and dagger thriller starring Laurence Harvey (1928-1973), Frank Sinatra (1915-1998) - who owned that film and reportedly had the clout to pull it from theatre circulation in 1963 after the assassination of his friend, US President John F. Kennedy, for fear of parallels between its characters and Lee Harvey Oswald being made, finally allowing its re-release in 1987 - and a very young Angela Lansbury in her intensely chilling, Golden Globe-winning performance, director Jonathan Demme casts Denzel Washington as severely beleaguered Major Bennett Ezekiel Marco. Marco ends up on a lone hunt for the truth about his small pre-Gulf War unit stationed in Kuwait, the three days they were supposedly lost in the desert after being ambushed by heavily armed militants, and the rice-sized metallic implant apparently manufactured by shadowy worldwide conglomerate Manchurian Global that he eventually gouges out of his shoulder, shortly after bumping into one of his former grunts over a dozen years following them being returned Stateside. Bad timing, considering Marco soon suspects all of his men were somehow subjected to secret invasive medical procedures - including his Medal of Honor-awarded ex-Sergeant Raymond Prentiss-Shaw (Liev Schreiber), who's currently on his party's fast track towards possibly becoming the next Vice President of the United States of America if his spooky and politically savvy widowed mother, Senator Eleanor Prentiss-Shaw (Meryl Streep), has her way - at any cost. Over all, 'The Manchurian Candidate' is an extremely fascinating and powerfully provocative movie in much the same ways as its hugely acclaimed cinematic predecessor. Aside from it virtually being released on the eve of an actual Presidential election rife with it's own bag of turmoil. And, where this newest version lacks in Frankenheimer's sometimes jarring black and white starkness, Washington balances that by pulling out all the stops in breathing much deeper life into the Korean War veteran role Sinatra capably played previously, in giving a paying audience this updated Post-Traumatic Syndrome survivor systematically spiraling out of control, fighting every inch of the way, from the stoic sobriety of being an exemplary military leader into little more than a trembling mess of obsessive paranoia. Brilliant. However, impressively strong performances from Schreiber and Streep give this thoroughly riveting maze of intrigue and unfolding secrets an additionally unsettling edge throughout this entire two-hour and ten-minute screening. This immensely talented trio individually explode off the big screen, creating a monumentally taut three-way dynamic as they all wrestle towards their specific goals. Sure, the ending does feel somewhat cobbled together at the last minute, but this offering is well worth the price of admission. I'd go into more detail, but words simply pale by comparison without spoiling the entire experience. You've really got to see it. It's also great to see longtime Oscar-winner Jon Voight given a meaty supporting part in a top-notch feature for a change. Absolutely check out this incredibly worthwhile big screen achievement that easily stands beside Frankenheimer's masterpiece as a truly memorable, acting award-worthy motion picture. Wow.

The Mother - REVIEWED 08/04, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

Former 'Coronation Street' Brit TV ten-year regular Anne Reid (age 69) stars in this fairly intense R-rated 2003 UK flick as May, a very recently widowed suburban Londoner who's somewhat willingly thrust onto a rather steamy path of sexual reclamation soon after her neurotic and needy single mom daughter Paula (Cathryn Bradshaw) asks her to befriend Darren (Daniel Craig, age 36) - Paula's emotionally wayward, on again off again lover - while he lazily completes the one-man construction of May's workaholic and distant son Bobby's (Steven Mackintosh) modern Downtown home's new backyard conservatory. Well, 'The Mother' certainly isn't for the faint of heart. Director Roger Michell ('Changing Lanes' (2002), 'Notting Hill' (1999)) gives you an often realistic and sometimes graphic interpretation of screenwriter Hanif Kureishi's ('My Beautiful Laundrette' (1985)) marvelously touching mature script, impressively captured by cinematographer Alwin H. Küchler throughout. The visuals alone, where you're given these elegantly blocked scenes in which half the screen is a bare wall, are deliciously artful and truly captivating. Küchler paints this film with an incredibly rich palette of unspoken lament and melancholy, as well as measured hope and stark lust. Reid is absolutely wonderful here, as her grieving character tries to deal with facing her own mortality alone and pretty well accepting her two self-absorbed adult children's cold detachment and eventual shocked disgust, while rediscovering that passionate part of herself lost to an unfulfilling long-time marriage to her ailing grey husband Toots (Peter Vaughan). Yes, a paying audience is exposed to subsequently raw moments between May and Darren in the bedroom, but there's much more to this deeply fascinating character study rife with flashpoint pettiness and brittle insecurities, as their lives become more complicated. By the time you see May pushed into a rather awkward situation with aged novice writer Bruce (Oliver Ford Davies), you're thoroughly convinced that whatever stigma remains attached to her intimacy with Darren is silly and outdated. Despite an uneasy realization that no good can come from that May-December tryst. It's actually quite surprising that we don't see more films taking on the topic of older women being with younger men explored with this kind of serious consideration. Particularly in light of the recent success of 'Something's Gotta Give' (2003) pairing Diane Keaton with Keanu Reeves opposite Jack Nicholson dating women half his age, for instance. Definitely check out this hundred and twelve-minute offering for its thoroughly astounding presentation and some great performances from a truly capable cast.

Maria Full of Grace - REVIEWED 08/04, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

Sixty-two thumb-sized ten gram latex packets; each worth $100 US and filled with pure Heroin, sit in the pit of pregnant seventeen year-old Maria's (Catalina Sandino Moreno) aching stomach on her first direct five hour and forty-five minute, twenty-four hundred and eighty-mile flight from Bogotá to New York City as a 'drug mule' for one of her homeland's notorious drug cartels. She needs the money to support herself, and her mother and single mom sister back in their tiny Colombian village, after this otherwise intelligent teenager's head strong pride sabotages her menial flower plantation processing job, and she meets Franklin (John Álex Toro) - a silver-tongued lady's man who offers her the chance to make a lot of money by taking this short trip to America. However, it's not long before Maria realizes just how life threatening her decision to swallow and carry those packets is, as she and her friend Blanca (Yenny Paola Vega, as another contraband courier) discover the horribly marginalizing truth in how they're treated. By her new boss Javier (Jaime Osorio Gómez), the Customs officers at JFK airport, and by her malicious Queens-based contacts. Wow. California-born writer/director Joshua Marston apparently took meticulous care in thoroughly interviewing several people whose lives have been touched by these insidiously dangerous smuggling rings, and the result is this - his incredibly powerful and captivating first-time full-length feature film. Moreno, an ex-patriot South American now working in the States, gives an astounding performance throughout as her character first strives to shed her hopelessly claustrophobic existence back home, and then is torn between returning to that familiar fate or trying to secure the beginnings of a better life in the Little Colombia quarter of Jackson Heights, New York. Outstanding. First time actor Orlando Tobon - whose actual twenty-year job of taking care of his fellow immigrants and overseeing the homeland burial of those lives taken by underworld violence has reportedly made him a well-respected real life community leader - truly is well-cast and fantastic as Don Fernando here. 'María, llena eres de gracia' (its Spanish title) is unflinching, gritty, and an extremely superior telling that easily pulls you in and keeps you hanging on the edge of your seat in desperation for Maria's plight. Sure, this hundred and one-minute subtitled picture does slightly suffer from its over-all supporting cast of unpolished actors at times, but it's the main players and their story that immediately grab a paying audience and definitely deliver. Marston's hugely satisfying screenplay masterfully doles out measured glimpses of hope, building upon the frenetic energy that runs up against each barrier systematically thrown in this girl's daunting path. The entire scene where Maria is held by two outwardly unsympathetic customs officials wonderfully depicts the sense of torturous bleakness that you can't help but imagine actually does happen on any given day to the scores of people who choose this type of work. I really can't say enough great things about this movie, it's just so strongly based in its believable reality and tends to haunt you after the closing credits. Do yourself a huge favour and check out this incredibly worthwhile dramatic offering. Awesome.

Mr. 3000 - REVIEWED 09/04, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

Nine years after the Milwaukee Brewers major league baseball club's infamously bombastic powerhouse batter Sam Ross (Emmy-winning comedian Bernie Mac; 'Mo' Money' (1992), 'Bad Santa' (2003)) finds out that three of the three thousand hits that he's since based his reputation and entrepreneurial retirement on were mistakenly counted twice, this forty-seven year-old laces up for spring training and returns to the game - much to the chagrin of this year's players, its quietly surly longtime coach Gus Panas (Paul Sorvino), and many of its dwindling local fans - in order to win back his legacy and secure his prized standing at Cooperstown, New York in the National Baseball Hall of Fame alongside such greats as Babe Ruth and Jackie Robinson, under a flurry of skeptical media scrutiny in this surprisingly worthwhile comedy from director Charles Stone III. Unlike 'Mr. Baseball' (1992) or 'Major League' (1989), this evenly paced tale of redemption marvelously succeeds in being more than merely a clichéd one-joke offering or an updated retooling of 'The Bad News Bears' (1976), as Mac works at giving a paying audience a fully interesting, oftentimes hilarious, complex human character stepping back in to his former life of glory but from a slightly more mature standpoint. You see this outwardly brash egocentric's mindset slowly change; as he realizes the error of his former ways through seeing the similar grand standing of young hitter T-Rex Pennibaker (Brian J. White; 'Me and Mrs. Jones' (2001), 'The Movie Hero' (2003)) and understands his true feelings for former girlfriend, ESPN reporter Maureen Simmons (Oscar-nominated Angela Bassett; 'Malcolm X' (1992), 'Masked and Anonymous' (2003)), on this last pitch for a second chance at greatness. 'Mr. 3000' is definitely the type of movie that stands firmly on the notion that the journey is far more captivating than the (in this case) unexpected results, and that's what makes this hundred and thirteen-minute screening such a far superior piece of pure entertainment from beginning to closing credits. Not in the hopeful yet melancholic way that 'The Natural' (1984) is, or even in how 'Bull Durham' (1988) relentlessly pokes fun at the game's roster of assorted oddballs. Sam Ross is clearly a guy whose Legend in his Own Mind attitude makes you love to hate him at first, until you quickly see him systematically reclaim his childhood love for the game and his determination to make things right - in his own street savvy but awkwardly funny way. Sure, there were moments when I felt as though I should have brought along a reference copy of noted father of American Baseball, Alexander J. Cartwright's (1820-1892), 1845 Knickerbocker Rules and its subsequent changes, but the game's somewhat esoteric technicalities don't really get in the way of thoroughly enjoying this runaway hit. It's also great to see a lot of cameos from recognizable commentators, including a couple of wonderfully self-effacing moments featuring Tom Arnold. Check out this thoroughly entertaining, irreverent sports comedy for a lot more than pinch-hit drama and locker room laughs. Good stuff.

Mean Creek - REVIEWED 09/04, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

"I'm a man who likes to follow through with what he's started." Those words hang like daggers over socially awkward, school playground bully George Tooney (Josh Peck; 'Snow Day' (2000); 'Spun' (2002)) in the small boat that he's been unsuspectedly tricked into by his recent victim Sam's (Rory Culkin; 'You Can Count on Me' (2000), 'Signs' (2002)) big brother Rocky (Trevor Morgan), as they and three others paddle down a lone stretch of an Oregon river towards George's awaiting fate. See, Tooney's been the bane of a lot of kids' lives over the years, and this Saturday-long faked birthday trip has been planned out by Rocky and his outcast buddy Marty (Scott Mechlowicz; 'Neverland' (2003), 'Eurotrip' (2004)) in revenge for mercilessly beating on Sam for innocently touching George's video camera one day. Marty's the man who likes to follow through - even after the rest of these conspirators change their minds, despite Tooney's relentlessly annoying behavior on board - but even he's capitulated to Sam's uneasy decision to call it off, before this fairly harmless schemed prank of childish humiliation suddenly goes terribly wrong during a heated argument while they're anchored above the churning under currents that serve to change all of their lives forever. In talking about his inspiration for this fairly dour independent offering, first time writer/director Jacob Aaron Estes explained that he was interested in turning the subject matter inside out by examining bullies as three dimensional characters. In that respect, this surprisingly drawn out eighty-nine minuter does vaguely give a paying audience measured glimpses into the mindset of not only the obvious tormentor George, but of Marty's simmering need to constantly intimidate everyone around him, as well as supply slight insight into the lives of their victims. Unfortunately, Estes' examination doesn't really go deep enough to warrant any kind of sustaining interest. Leaving you sitting in the dark, patiently waiting for the horrible deed at hand to happen so that this picture can get to its eventual point. As it stands, the point ends up being a fairly pedantic character study of these teens and children as they individually deal with what has happened on that secluded bend of water while the entire structure falls apart at the seams. In a somewhat familiar way that 'The River's Edge' (1986) dealt with the same traumatizing theme, actually. However, these young actors aren't given much of anything to work with here as this story grinds to an agonizing halt long before the closing credits. No recognizable reasons are actually given to care about these kids in the first place, beyond whatever screen presence they've brought. Sure, there are a couple of good lines and a handful of scenes that spark interest, before all of those potentials for a far more captivating effort over-all are summarily tossed overboard by what appear to be less capable hands. As though this director was merely going on his assumptions about what seeing somebody die might be like and how that could effect those unintentionally involved, instead of working harder at giving these actors something serious and meaningful to filter into the camera lens. It feels unfinished. 'Mean Creek' simply isn't a convincing enough presentation of this gritty and ugly topic, irrevocably diminished by mediocre performances by an otherwise talented troupe. I'm avoiding calling it an unequivocal turkey, but this unnecessarily boring cinematic endeavor is seriously undercooked and definitely could have benefited from a few more carefully researched pre-production rewrites.

The Motorcycle Diaries - REVIEWED 10/04, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

Long before Argentina-born medical school student Ernesto Guevara Lynch de la Serna (1928-1967) fled his dire political dabblings and unfulfilling jobs as a physician and travelogue writer in Guatemala for Mexico - where eventually meeting fellow exile Fidel Castro would plunge him into Guerrilla wars in Cuba, the Congo and Bolivia as the famed Ché Guevara - Ernesto (Gael García Bernal; 'Y tu mamá también' (2001), 'El Crimen del padre Amaro' (2002)) and old friend Alberto Granado (Rodrigo De la Serna; 'Nueces para el amor' (2000), 'Gallito Ciego' (2001)) joyfully straddled Granado's less than trusty 1939 Norton 500 motorcycle - christened 'The Mighty One' - and headed off on an eight thousand kilometre journey through Northwestern South America that would unceremoniously open their young eyes to the prevailing injustices of their time. Much to their chagrin, their planned four-month two-wheeled trek through Chile, Peru, Colombia and Venezuela ends up lasting over a year, from January 1951 to February 1952, and fills them with some larger than life anecdotes as supplies and cash quickly run out and they're left to mainly rely on Alberto's natural ability to tell tall tales in order to keep them alive and relatively out of too much trouble, finally beginning a three-week voluntary internship at San Pablo's secluded riverbank Leper Colony where Ernesto celebrates his twenty-fourth birthday, before parting ways in Caracas. Well, regardless of what you may or may not feel about Ché almost forty years after summary execution at the hands of a Bolivian firing squad launched his name into the annals of contemporary Marxist martyrdom for some and a sustaining Capitalistic industry for others, 'Diarios de motocicleta' (its original Spanish title); based on Guevara's book 'Notas de viaje' first published in English as 'The Motorcycle Diaries: A Journey Around South America' in 1966 and Granado's novel 'Con el Ché por America Latina', director Walter Salles ('Central do Brasil' (1998), 'Abril Despedaçado' (2001)) gives a paying audience an incredibly captivating glimpse into the mindset of a naively sensitive man coming from his lower middle-class upbringing to pretty well discover how the real world works for those burdened by a life of poverty, political persecution and physical deformities. In actuality, this wasn't Guevara's first expedition into such strife in Latin America. However, Bernal's portrayal immediately gives you the impression that he went into this second adventure completely unprepared for what lay in store for these two wide-eyed travelers shown taking what clicks out as joyride break at the end of Ernesto's second year at school here. Not really a catalyst for anything depicted before they hit the open, meandering stretch of gravel and mud roads at the city limits. Leading you to feel as though you're not really sitting through a true accounting of that trip or this neophyte who would become the man, but instead invited to enjoy a vaguely metaphorical romp featuring any young man's realization of what lays beyond the horizon of his insular environment. 'The Motorcycle Diaries' probably could have easily dropped its dubious connection to Ché all together, and would still have been a worthwhile movie. As it stands, because this cinematic offering is attached to this particular historically controversial figure, it tends to buckle under the weight of hard fact and the packed theatre of visibly serious moviegoers I witnessed armed with obvious expectations that they were going to somehow come away with a Cole's Notes-like insight. Something that never seems to be screenwriter Jose Rivera's intent at all, until the closing scene punctuated by the real Granado's suspiciously contrived cameo. Don't get me wrong, this subtitled slice of life still hits the mark as being an often humourous and entertaining mature drama throughout. Take it as that, leaving histrionics safely in your bookcase at home, and you're bound to have a great time. Check it out if you get the opportunity to spend time with this worthwhile independent offering of great acting and wonderful scenery, but you'll probably feel ripped off if you're hoping to discover any discernable pre-Revolutionary truths about Ché.

The Machinist - REVIEWED 12/04, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

Little more than a walking skeleton tightly wrapped in bleached, paper-thin skin, longtime National Machine factory worker Trevor Reznik (Christian Bale; 'Empire of the Sun' (1987), 'Reign of Fire' (2002)) believes there's a conspiracy brewing against him, after accidentally causing a lathe accident that horrifically mutilates a close co-worker (Miller, played by Michael Ironside; ('Starship Troopers' (1997), 'Maximum Velocity' (2003)). The signs are everywhere. In the accusing glares stabbing at him from the other men. From the unsympathetic manner of his new acquaintance, Ivan (John Sharian; 'Saving Private Ryan' (1998), 'Calendar Girls' (2003)). And, through the strange yellow note that suddenly appears on the kitchen refrigerator door of this dangerously emaciated and weary insomniac's stark one bedroom apartment. A childish hangman note done in black marker, with spaces for six unknown letters and room for a stick man to be drawn in dangling from a rope. Trevor's convinced that all of the clues are right in front of him. Right there, in front of his sunken eyes. He just has to think. Figure it out. Connect the pieces and solve the word game before it's too late. Get them, before they get him. Finish the hangman's word, now that two of the letters have been filled in by somebody. Maybe then things will get back to normal. Maybe then, Reznik won't have to keep turning to Stevie (Jennifer Jason Leigh; 'Road to Perdition' (2002), 'The Hudsucker Proxy' (1994)), a local prostitute, for some semblance of human comfort on the meter. This... this overpowering guilt and fear that haunts him might finally go away. Finally let him sleep. In peace. Let him date Marie (Aitana Sánchez-Gijón; 'A Walk in the Clouds' (1995), 'I'm Not Scared' (2003)), instead of just enjoying her company at the airport's Flyaway Café during her midnight waitressing shifts endlessly serving him coffee and pie. He just has to figure it out. Think. Ivan's the one who distracted him at work. Ivan scares him, but Trevor's convinced that Ivan knows more than he's letting on... Aside from the obvious - joining the body modifying ranks of Tom Hanks ('Philadelphia' (1993)), and Robert De Niro ('Cape Fear' (1991)), reportedly losing sixty-three pounds from his already lanky frame in order to weigh in at 129 lbs for this rather meaty leading role - Bale pulls in an astounding performance throughout this oftentimes intensely creepy, English-language psychological thriller from Spain. Director Brad Anderson ('Next Stop Wonderland' (1998), 'Happy Accidents' (2000)) wonderfully minimalizes Reznik's already stark world, deftly revealing the systematic madness that ultimately grips this outwardly horrifying character. Sure, it's fairly obvious from the outset that the veil separating grim reality from tortured imagination has been punctured beyond repair, but Scott Kosar's impressively crafted screenplay captured through cinematographers Xavi Giménez's and Charlie Jiminez's almost surgical lens keeps a paying audience completely locked in to this story of acute paranoia and self-destruction from beginning to closing credits. You can't help but want to know what brought Reznik to this point, and how this small on-screen circle plays a part in his obsessive quest for answers and salvation. Surprisingly, this hundred-minute story itself is relatively simple. Thankfully, 'The Machinist' is cleverly fleshed out in an incredibly intelligent manner, carefully using non-linear editing by Luis De La Madrid when necessary and brilliantly letting the camera tell a lot of it with remarkably detailed scenes. Both serving double duty in moving the atmospheric plot line along at a sharp pace, as well as presenting everything that you need in order for the conclusion to make any sense. Even something as simple as the subtle use of the colour red is amazing here. This nudity-tinged, R-rated film is an absolutely spine-tingling gem that's definitely well worth checking out. Probably before a meal...

Meet the Fockers - REVIEWED 12/04, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

Chicago Medical Center nurse Gaylord 'Greg' Focker (Ben Stiller; 'Reality Bites' (1994), 'Zoolander' (2001)) is having a great day. His and two-year fiancee Pam Byrnes' (Teri Polo; 'The Arrival' (1996), 'Beyond Borders' (2003)) airline tickets are bought and their travel bags are packed, and all lights are green for the first leg of their flight to Focker's family home via Pam's parents' place. Luck has shined on Greg's carefully planned schedule. That is, until they reach the suburban house of his soon-to-be father-in-law, Jack Byrnes (Robert De Niro; 'Casino' (1995), 'City by the Sea' (2002)), retired horticulturalist - read: thirty-four year CIA veteran. Then, as always, everything starts to fall apart. Starting with Jack's insistence that they all drive to the Focker's hundred year-old island paradise in his brand new, oversized motor home instead of flying. Followed by them bringing Pam's sister's precocious toddler Little Jack (played by Spencer and Bradley Pickren) along for the ride. It gets worse, as the Byrnes slowly realize that Greg has slightly fabricated his story about his playfully eccentric parent's, former lawyer/stay at home Dad Bernard 'Bernie' Focker (Dustin Hoffman; 'All the President's Men' (1976), 'Wag the Dog' (1997)) and home-based octogenarian sex therapist Roselyn 'Roz' Focker (Barbra Streisand; 'The Way We Were' (1973), 'The Prince of Tides' (1991)), and Jack then begins to suspect Greg has a fifteen year-old son from a teenaged tryst with the family maid. Jack's already seen how Greg handles being left alone with a kid, finding Little Jack glued to a bottle of rum and spouting an obscenity as the tot's first word. The Byrnes' Circle of Trust looks irreparably broken by a fairly big chink in the chain here. And, there's only one way to get to the bottom of it all: Sodium pentathol. What a stupid movie. Admittedly, I wasn't a complete fan of 'Meet the Parents' (2000) - the first offering this sequel carries over from - but, at least that one had enough physical comedy to keep the story moving along. In 'Meet the Focker's', a paying audience is basically subjected to far less actual funny stuff while these stereotypes lope around like lampshade-wearing office party buffoons, repeatedly chewing out the same bland double entendres by the truckload. Sure, it's a rare treat to see De Niro and Hoffman play off of each other, and they do work at fleshing out their diametrically opposing characters throughout here. However, there really isn't much else beyond their disappointingly superficial results worth sitting through. Stiller is, well, Stiller the undirected star again. A kind of Gene Wilder lite: Less fulfilling, more bawdy. Taking a strange glee in lazily defaulting to the exact same brand of "Ooh, look at me, I'm making a funny face and, ooh, I'm talking in a funny voice, isn't that hilarious" boring schtick seen in pretty well all of his movies where the jokes become torturously scarce fairly quickly. When you see him pulling pratfalls for no reason, you know the picture's in trouble. Met by the wasteland of impatience chuckles and dying brain cells of ticket holders convinced this hundred and twenty-eight minute snooze fest might pick up the pace before the sweet release of its closing credits. With the remaining on-screen co-stars essentially standing around collecting a paycheque, waiting for a clue. John Hamburg's and Jim Herzfeld's aggravatingly disappointing script simply feels like it was written in point form on a rather small napkin. In invisible ink. With the glimmering hope that putting these proven actors together in front of a camera would somehow fill in all of the blanks. Well, hope must've taken a holiday here. This cast, while mostly extremely talented elsewhere, end up floundering around under director Jay Roach's ('Mystery, Alaska' (1999), 'Austin Powers in Goldmember' (2002)) visibly absent direction. Even the brief real life Tom and Jerry Show, between the Byrnes' pernicious cat and the Focker's tiny dog already seen in the ads, puts the humans to shame in the laughs department. Awful.

Million Dollar Baby - REVIEWED 01/05, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

She found him where he always was: beating the odds by shoving coagulant and hard won tricks of the trade at some burgeoning fighter's deep impact facial wounds, under the evening ringside roar of a crowded boxing tournament match. This thirty-one year-old Southwestern Missouri girl named Maggie Fitzgerald (Hilary Swank; 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' (1992), 'The Core' (2003)), waitressing tables part time for some inner city LA greasy spoon, was convinced that her ticket to the big leagues started and ended with aged trainer Frankie Dunn (Clint Eastwood; 'Unforgiven' (1992), 'Blood Work' (2002)). Getting this grizzled warrior maker and Old School gym owner to take her on would be an impossible fight all on its own, but Maggie's entire life had been about fighting. Scrapping her way out of her white trash mother Earline's (Margo Martindale; 'Dead Man Walking' (1995), 'The Human Stain' (2003)) trailer park home, clawing every nickel and dime she earned into a mason jar until it was full enough to pay six months worth of time at Dunn's dim and ramshackle gym. Lacking everything except a relentless, unbridled passion for the sport - and with a little encouragement from Frankie's longtime friend and assistant Eddie 'Scrap-Iron' Dupris (Morgan Freeman; 'The Shawshank Redemption' (1994), 'Bruce Almighty' (2003)) - she would eventually change Dunn's mind. He would take her on, despite his gut instincts to the contrary, and meticulously hone her raw spirit into the rhythmic motion of an athlete. Even before he'd prematurely passed her off to a less than reliable manager, Frankie knew she had a shot at the title, stepping in to take her the rest of the way on his own. Nicknamed 'Mo Guishla' from Dunn's interest in the Gaelic prose of William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Fitzgerald and her growing series of killer first round knockouts would become legendary throughout her ranking a short two years later. That fact had already forced Frankie to up her standing to welterweight, inadvertently leading Maggie on an almost unavoidable path towards matching gloves against Germany's notorious champion, Billie 'The Blue Bear' (Four-time World Champion kick boxer and WIBF junior welterweight boxing champion Lucia Rijker; 'Rollerball' (2002)). A match that Dunn now wishes that he'd never agreed to. "Remember what happened to Axel," Maggie painfully breathes, citing her Daddy's decrepit old dog to her horrified manager now standing at the foot of her hospital bed. She had come this far, and had accomplished so much with her life, only to beg Dunn to do the unthinkable in her hour of desperate need. To destroy them both in one single act of compassion.

Wow. True to form, this incredibly outstanding drama based on the late Irish novelist Jerry Boyd's (1930-2002) - under the pseudonym 'F.X. Toole' - same-titled short story from his first and only compilation, Rope Burns: Stories From the Corner, published in 2000, delivers an extraordinary profile of these people and their individual stories. Sure, a lot of Canadian-born producer/writer Paul Haggis' ('Crash' (2004)) screenplay is reminiscent of 'The Shawshank Redemption' in its structure and the tone of this underdog's infectious enthusiasm in overcoming insurmountable odds. However, as with actor/director Eastwood's previous films - particularly 'Mystic River' (2003) - 'Million Dollar Baby' focuses on the residual effects of lives irreparably wounded by tragedy. He seems more interested in getting into the bones of these characters, digging out and examining the traumatized marrow that atrophies their otherwise pure belief in hope versus the brittle skepticism of a cruel and harsh world. And, in how that skepticism inevitably poisons everything it touches. The extreme emotions of swelling euphoria and bleak depression easily become tangible characters throughout this astounding hundred and thirty-seven minute, two-time Golden Globe winner and seven-time Oscar nominee. It's also great to see Eastwood and Freeman together on the big screen again, virtually reprising their off-the-cuff banter enjoyed in 'Unforgiven', while Swank deftly underplays her role in the long shadows of these two cinematic veterans obviously proving they're at the top of their game. Scenes with Ottawa's Jay Baruchel ('Almost Famous' (2000), 'The Rules of Attraction' (2002)) as the simpleton Danger Barch definitely lighten the greyness throughout as well. The only down side for a paying audience swept up in the momentum of this truly entertaining offering is that the wonderfully fresh story arc presented during the first three quarters does become overwhelmingly diminished by what plays out in the slightly overlong last quarter. Clearly, it's a memorable portion that will likely stay with you long after the closing credits, but it does tend to wallow without as much strength in dialogue or direction compared to the majority of what you've just sat through - or when matched with similar subject matter seen in such films as 'The Sea Inside' (2004). Definitely check it out as a truly powerful and worthwhile screening, but be prepared for this masterpiece to suddenly shift gears into the depths of depression without offering up much of a satisfying ending.

The Merchant of Venice - REVIEWED 02/05, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

Swarthy young Christian Italian Lord Bassanio (Joseph Fiennes; 'Shakespeare in Love' (1998), 'Enemy at the Gates' (2001)) finds himself deep in financial debt and with a heart that's very much smitten. Of course, it would seem that love is in full bloom for all those intent on such passions. Bassanio's like minded friend Lorenzo (Charlie Cox; 'Dot the I' (2003)) has also gleefully fallen, for a Jewish lady named Jessica (Zuleikha Robinson; 'Timecode' (2000), 'Hidalgo' (2004)), after finding her lacy white handkerchief left for him on the street in passing, under the warm moonlight of the previous evening; Much to the chagrin of her father, the aged and maligned money lender Shylock (Al Pacino; 'Donnie Brasco' (1997), 'The Recruit' (2003)), who fearfully suspects that she might leave both his home and their faith for this foolish Gentile. All the same, as Bassanio privately confides his own rather dual need of Portia (Lynn Collins; '13 Going On 30' (2004)) to his close, long time friend and Venetian merchant Signior Antonio (Jeremy Irons; 'The Man in the Iron Mask' (1998), 'Being Julia' (2004)), "Sometimes from her eyes I did receive fair speechless messages." Ah, swoon. Affording a second, much closer interlude with this fair and wondrous and extremely wealthy object of his lustful and greedy desires must be accomplished, however far beyond Bassanio's meager means she is. Well heeled suitors from as far away as France, Germany and Morocco already line a path to her Belmont island estate, eager to test their luck and win Portia's hand in marriage by finding her small gilded portrait within one of three metal boxes, as dictated by her deceased father's will. Money is needed in order to win such a treasure. And so, Antonio - impressed to help by their loyal friendship and the chance to regain at least a fraction of his loans, yet also temporarily cash strapped from recently dispatching his cargo ships to Tripoli, the Indies, Mexico and to England - offers what credit he can in catering to Bassinio's opportunistic wants. Sending them both into that water bound city's walled and gated Jewish Ghetto. To Shylock. It's there that a wicked plot is hatched, almost certainly sealing an old grudge's satisfaction, as Shylock coyly agrees to give them three thousand ducats interest free for the same number of months if Antonio - who has publicly treated him like a ragged dog time and again - will pledge himself on Bassanio's behalf to the grim conditions set forth in that dimly lit house that knows no kindly gestures from its master.

Much of the contextual history underpinning screenwriter/director Michael Radford's ('Nineteen Eighty-Four' (1984), 'The Letters' (2002)) impressively opulent stage to screen adaptation is definitely noteworthy while sitting through this latest kick at the famous comedic tragedy of love and vengeance set in Italy. Scholarly volumes have been written, but bare with me for a moment: As one of William Shakespeare's (1564-1616) most historically contentious of his thirty-eight plays, The Comical History of the Merchant of Venice (c.1596) is a product of its suppressively exclusive, pro-Protestant Elizabethan England age. Regarding The Bard's uncharacteristically complex stock character of "Shylocke the Iew", this widely known role - still considered a derogatory epithet by many - was clearly inspired in part by controversial English dramatist Christopher Marlowe's (1564-1593) earlier 1589 play, The Jew of Malta, and provoked by the very public, true conspiracy trial and subsequent execution in 1594 of Queen Elizabeth I's (1533-1603) Portuguese Jewish-born physician Roderigo Lopez. Shakespeare's original play also seems suspiciously submerged in three Centuries of scandalously perpetuated, anti-Semitic British politics which had forcibly converted or expelled openly practicing Jews since 1290, until the mid-1600's. The stage presentation of Shylock in his obviously intended form is a nasty reminder of that sad legacy, sparking outrage from the Anti-Defamation League as recently as 1981 in their case against PBS' proposed nationally televised BBC version of it in New York. That's what I was referring to, regarding context. Thankfully, much of the relevant history is actually acknowledged and embellished upon in creating a thoroughly captivating interpretation of the roles, with Pacino rising to the occasion here as this picture's memorable star attraction by giving a paying audience a somewhat empathetic yet pernicious character tilting towards thunderous madness, spinning his pound of flesh pact with Irons' Antonio - based on actual 13th Century erroneous Blood Libel myth involving Jews ritually killing Christians during Passover - into a much larger, doomed retribution against the relentless boot heel of society. Shylock is shown more as an admirably wily businessman you nervously what to see successfully distort the law, during a time when everyone was a bigoted product of their era. Over-all, greed, lust, stupidity, hatred and revenge are shown as intrinsic human flaws that exist regardless of creed or nationality, while attempting to remain accessible and editorially true to the original manuscript's 16th Century prose and sub text. However, only so much retooling can be done, without completely changing the play's unforgivably cold judgment. The remaining cast and the crew of supporting players do pull in fairly good performances throughout as well, somewhat overshadowed by Pacino but showing obvious playful enthusiasm for their lines as their comparably fluffy sub plots play out during this hundred and thirty-eight minute screening. As a richly embellished offering for contemporary, mature moviegoers that attempts to intelligently interpret Shakespeare's decidedly anti-Semitic play, 'The Merchant of Venice' is absolutely well worth checking out for the selectively brilliant acting and eye-popping art direction, but not particularly for its untempered and questionably perpetuated antiquated dogma.

Man of the House - REVIEWED 02/05, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

Texas Ranger Sergeant Roland Sharp (Tommy Lee Jones; 'The Fugitive' (1993), 'The Hunted' (2003)) is a tough, gruff, two buckled hard case law enforcer within reach of grabbing Morgan Ball (Curtis Armstrong; 'Revenge of the Nerds' (1984), 'Ray' (2004)) - his last solid lead nervously evading capture in the State's high profile case against enigmatic businessman John W. Cortland - when Ball escapes his and sniper-wounded rifle toting partner Margaret Swanson's (Liz Vassey) custody and is then silenced in a brutal back alley murder by a mysterious gunman who also clips FBI Detective Eddie Zane (Brian Van Holt; 'Black Hawk Down' (2001), 'S.W.A.T.' (2003)) at the scene. The trail goes cold and Cortland's trial is dismissed, but that homicide is unintentionally witnessed by five University of Texas Longhorn football cheerleaders who might be able to identify the tall or maybe short, dark or possibly light-haired with or without a goatee shooter, if they can mutually decide how he rates on the America's Most Wanted hottie meter. Bottom line is, a killer is on the loose in Dallas and these svelte and peppy school girls' lives are now in danger. Throwing Sharpe and young Rangers Holt and Riggs undercover on campus, and turning the sorority dorm of cheer squad captain Anne (Christina Milian; 'Love Don't Cost a Thing' (2003)), Barb (Kelli Garner; 'The Aviator' (2004)), Therese (Paula Garcés; 'Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle' (2004)), Evie (Monica Keena; 'Freddy Vs. Jason' (2003)) and Heather (Vanessa Ferlito; '25th Hour' (2002)) into a locked down safe house under constant surveillance, with Roland moving in as their new Assistant Coach until swift justice can be served. The rules: No cell phones, no pagers, no palm pilots or email, no unescorted contact with the outside world of any kind... and, put some more clothes on. However, Cortland's dirty tentacles reach deep, and he wants a safety deposit box key that should have been found on Ball's bloody corpse - as well as those pom pom waiving loose ends quickly eliminated. Zane also wants to know where the girls are holed up, and begins getting unusually close to Sharpe's unsuspecting daughter Anne, just as Roland lowers his stoic meticulous guard for the University's coyly interested English Literature professor Molly McCarthy (Anne Archer).

Well, this sporadically, potentially amusing comedy of errors sure isn't cinematic rocket science. Clearly, director Stephen Herek ('Holy Man' (1998), 'Rock Star' (2001)) is far more interested in setting up a series of silly and fairly staid punch lines throughout this ninety-seven minute popcorn flick than actually turning it into any sort of believable fish out of water cop story. Zane is never debriefed about who supposedly shot him, and the mere fact that nobody figures out these sassy white fringed witnesses are being hidden where they could easily be tripped over by even the most short-sighted of dim-witted bad guys (Ball is shot outside of a cheerleader competition, duh), pretty well tells you that there's not much in the way of intelligence weighing down John J. McLaughlin's and Scott Lobdell's trite little screenplay here. It's all about Jones having some fun with his big screen curmudgeonly persona seen in 'The Fugitive', 'U.S. Marshals' (1998) and 'Men in Black' (1997), while his young fluffy-headed, navel exposed co-stars incessantly wiggle and giggle for the camera throughout. The vacuum of working brain cells collectively doing little more than tenuously keeping this picture's ears apart is exasperating, frankly. To the point where Cedric the Entertainer's ('Barbershop 2: Back in Business' (2004)) ridiculously clumsy role as shady Pastor Percy Stevens actually becomes a memorable highlight during this disastrously stinky caper of familiar boring jokes, until the closing credits finally offer a paying audience sweet, sweet freedom and breathable oxygen. Yawn. Sure, the on screen chemistry between Jones and Archer is momentarily captivating, but it's never really allowed to mature beyond whatever these otherwise capable actors bring to the set as a dead end seguey back to the girls' deliriously enthusiastic, nauseating chirping. If you've seen the television ad or the movie trailer, you've pretty well seen whatever measurably worthwhile clips this embarrassing snooze fest has in store. Oh, how the mighty have fallen...

Miss Congeniality 2 - REVIEWED 03/05, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

Deemed a liability as an undercover field operative shortly after her nationally televised appearance as memorable runner up in the Miss United States Beauty Pageant, New York federal agent Gracie Hart (Sandra Bullock; 'Demolition Man' (1993), 'Practical Magic' (1998)) is given no alternative but to be filed away as a faceless desk jockey or accept the bad publicity beleaguered department's glamourous PR job as The New Face of the FBI. Gracie's already dealing with her personal relationship falling apart, so she takes on the new profile and all of the perks that go along with it: A high fashion wardrobe and a hair and make up staff, an insightfully embellished autobiography book deal and several daytime TV guest appearances. All the same, there is a problem. Ten months in, all of the relentless doting and fussing that she has to endure from appointed consultant Joel Myers (Diedrich Bader) isn't too much of an annoyance. His trite pearl of wisdom that "People care about people who care about themselves," has definitely been helpful in her adjusting to this Barbie doll lifestyle. No, the problem is that Hart and her ornery, tough as nails security woman Sam Fuller (Regina King; 'A Cinderella Story' (2004), 'Ray' (2004)) don't get along. From the moment they first met at headquarters, they've continually managed to bug each other, argue, pick fights, throw tantrums, and generally get on each other's nerves without really trying to. As far as Gracie is concerned, Fuller needs to leave. Fuller wants to leave, but their Chief of Operations Supervisor has already made it perfectly clear that this is Sam's very last career-saving chance to stay with the FBI. So, grudgingly, they're stuck together. However, their petty rivalry quickly becomes the least of their concerns when two hired goons mercilessly kidnap Hart's friend and Pageant Queen Cheryl Fraser (Heather Burns) along with the show's emcee Stan Fields (William Shatner) in Las Vegas, and the Bureau's notorious odd couple are jetted in to help investigate. Much to the chagrin of Nevada COS Collins, who brings them up to speed and then just as readily blows them off over a case of mistaken identity, forcing Gracie to take matters into her own hands before the ransom deadline is up - or Sam puts her in intensive care...

Well, there's really not too much going for this long awaited Bullock comeback and sequel to the comparably superior comedy 'Miss Congeniality' (2000). First of all, it's not particularly as funny in the wild and zany sort of way that the ads attempt to lead you to believe it is. Director John Pasquin seems more interested in presenting a light hearted dramatic caper laced with soft chuckles for these vaguely quirky stereotypes to awkwardly bounce off of each other throughout. The story itself is pure, cheesy pretense, lazily cut and pasted from a festering glut of pedantic cop buddy flicks spooned fed to moviegoers for decades. In that respect, there's nothing new here except for a lot more fuscha and feather boas. Sitting through it, you can easily stave off boredom by playing a game picking out what previous Hollywood hits and misses this one seems to have borrowed its ideas from: 'Running Scared' (1986). 'Red Heat' (1988). 'Showtime' (2002). With shades of 'Connie and Carla' (2004) thrown in for a touch of emasculate flare. Shatner is, well, typical Shatner. Yawn. Strangely, if writer Marc Lawrence had simply replaced his lazy screenplay's half dozen recognizably self-conscious and hammy jokes with more character development and thoughtful dialogue, 'Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous' (its complete title) might have actually been a better, far more entertaining movie over-all. It wouldn't have been labeled a comedy anymore, but it's hardly that as is. The straight acting scenes are surprisingly better than they could have been if the primary roles had been cast differently. Bullock and King are immediately great to watch together here as the only truly captivating aspect of this hundred and fifteen minute feature - consistently forcing a paying audience to sit up and take notice - with their clearly impressive acting abilities and their natural screen presence keeping you from throwing your arms in the air and walking out for your money back. Enrique Murciano (as Jeff Foreman, their FBI escort in Vegas) also pulls in a pretty good performance, when he's not desperately trying to get a laugh. Still, what these three actors bring to the set really isn't enough to make this turkey fly. It's still a terribly missed opportunity and a talent wasting disappointment that's barely worth the stock its filmed on. Which is a huge shame. As well, Peter Menzies Jr.'s paint by numbers cinematography and Garth Craven's unsure editing both conspire to sabotage whatever brief enjoyment you might get out of it. You're better off steering clear of this one.

Melinda and Melinda - REVIEWED 04/05, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

A small circle of Manhattan friends' enjoyable evening over Bistro wine and polite conversation turns into a Tragedy versus Comedy debate when the table's two playwrights are encouraged to spin their own story from an anecdote regarding surprise dinner guest Melinda Robicheau (Radha Mitchell; 'Pitch Black' (2000), 'Finding Neverland' (2004)). On the one hand, tragically, this emotionally fragile woman's shattered life takes a deeper turn for the worse almost as soon as she quietly falls in love with aspiring Opera composer and charismatic pianist Ellis Moonsong (Chiwetel Ejiofor; 'Amistad' (1997), 'Love Actually' (2003)) - thanks to the wandering eye of her high school friend and music teacher Laurel (Chloë Sevigny; 'Trees Lounge' (1996), 'American Psycho' (2000)). On the other, comedic hand, tenuously married and barely working New York actor Hobie (Will Ferrell; 'A Night at the Roxbury' (1998), 'Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy' (2004)) falls in love with recently divorced next door neighbour Melinda, and ineptly wishes for an easy way to be with her without hurting his independent movie director wife Susan (Amanda Peet; 'The Whole Nine Yards' (2000), 'Something's Gotta Give' (2003)) - despite the fact that Robicheau has met somebody else. Two sides of the same coin, tossed into the air from everyday life, where these fictional personalities and their individual traits and foibles decide distinctively differing outcomes during this intellectual amusement...

It's clear that legendary, two-time Oscar-winning writer/director Woody Allen will never make a name for himself in the movie business. Of course I'm kidding. Only just, these days. Everything that's needed for this 2004 flick to be an absolutely enjoyable screening is there in one form or another. It's got a great cast of obviously enthusiastic talent, and two thoroughly intriguing plots told simultaneously throughout. Clean camera work, good editing, and strong pacing. Unfortunately, most of its fairly stilted and antiquated dialogue tends to sabotage this movie. 'Melinda and Melinda' quickly becomes a trite darling of unbelievably fake characters, primarily because what they're saying - and the way in which they say things - doesn't ring true for a contemporary paying audience sitting through this modern cinematic experiment of creative duality. It's almost as though Allen is mocking his (maybe) vacuously elitist class of fans who gobble up oftentimes strange million dollar words apparently torn from the pages of an Evelyn Waugh (1903-1966) novel, frankly. To the point where you almost want this to actually be a Period piece set in the 1930's, just so that Mitchell and cast quit sounding like a bunch of Off Broadway grannies putting on heirs over tea on stage for cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond's lens. Remember how puffy and wooden Donald Sutherland and Stockard Channing sounded in the comparably superior 'Six Degrees of Separation' (1993)? This script's patter is worse. Sure, Ferrell is afforded a couple of memorably funny, Woody-esque moments, but they're woefully brief and hardly enough to save this hundred-minute disappointment. Yawn.

Millions - REVIEWED 04/05, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

Transplanted from their small Manchester house to the nearby suburbs shortly after the death of their beloved mother, seven year-old Damian Cunningham (first timer Alexander Nathan Etel) and his older brother Anthony (big screen newcomer Lewis Owen McGibbon), nine, are still adjusting to their new lives with their hard working electrical engineer Dad, Ronnie (James Nesbitt; 'Waking Ned Divine' (1998), 'Bloody Sunday' (2002)). Anthony would rather just surf the web, but freckle faced Damian builds a sprawling cardboard fort out of the big boxes that had carried their belongings into this sleepy, newly developed community huddled beside the train tracks. It's there, on a particularly sunny day, while his rocketeering imagination was lost within those narrow and wobbling walls shaken by the roaring din of passing freight cars - and he was surprised by an unassuming visit from a less than pious, pot smoking St. Clare (Kathryn Pogson) - that something miraculous bounced from the sky and landed in Damian's lap. A gift from God, he thinks. A big, heavy black Nike duffle bag stuffed to the seams with cash, actually, a fortnight before Britain's E-Day marks that country joining Ireland, France, and several other EU countries in adopting the Euro as legal tender. And, even more surprisingly, this isn't another one of Damian's Christian Saints obsessed childish hallucinations after-all. Well, the St. Clare bit might have been, but the loot of crisply bundled tens and twenties, fifties and hundreds weren't. "Don't tell anyone, especially Dad. They'll take forty percent for taxes... that's almost all of it," Anthony warns as the two boys stash their newfound two hundred and twenty-nine thousand, three hundred and twenty quid under his bed before Ronnie hustles them off to All Saints Public School. At one Euro equaling sixty-seven English Pence, it won't quite be worth millions to them in two weeks when the banks change over, but that's still more money than these two wide eyed lads know what to do with. That is, if they can figure out a way to inconspicuously exchange it all before the Pound Sterling goes out of circulation. And, before the shadowy stranger who's appeared at Damian's fort figures out that they have something very big, very lucrative and very very stolen that belongs to him...

What an hilariously charming children's film this is. Director Danny Boyle ('Trainspotting' (1996), '28 Days Later...' (2002)) manages to immediately and seamlessly plunge a paying audience into Damian's fantasy world, where a small roster of Saints - from St. Francis (Enzo Cilenti) to St. Joseph (Nasser Memarzia) to the big man, St. Peter (Alun Armstrong) - drift in and out of this little boy's life much like in a fairy tale. I call it a fantasy world, but you're never really sure if he's simply imagining these holy visions or if they're actually appearing in front of him at various times throughout this delightfully clever ninety-eight minute 2004 Brit feature. Keep an eye out for St. Joseph's truly funny Nativity Play cameo. What's clear is that Etal carries his lion's share role with astounding versatility, never once betraying his character's contagious naivete. He's still a child who wants to be a good boy and help people, without having any real notion of what money is worth, unlike his slightly older brother who's sloughed off childish ways for a keen interest in the price of material things, amassing wealth and using the power of money to get what ever he wants. Even these two differing personalities are wonderfully played off of each other with a kind of delicacy rarely seen on the big screen. Awesome. Frank Cottrell Boyce's screenplay is packed with little quirks of wry humour, aptly spinning thoroughly spell binding sub plots for Nesbitt and Daisy Donovan (as his love interest and Christian Aid charity worker Dorothy) to sink their teeth into. Part classic Tim Burton imagining, part son of 'Brewster's Millions' (1984), 'Millions' is a completely enjoyable, family friendly romp that will have you chuckling to yourself long after the closing credits - whether you're a kid or a kid at heart. It's really that good, folks. Sometimes heartwarming, oftentimes delightfully goofy, definitely do yourself a huge favour and check out this freshly inspired cinematic gem as a fun matinee on a rainy day or as a memorably worthwhile rental that you'll likely want to keep.

Mindhunters - REVIEWED 05/05, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

The small, isolated US Government restricted island of Oniega stuck fifty miles offshore becomes the temporary weekend home of seven bright, highly skilled FBI profiler recruits during a mysterious training exercise summarily concocted by their brashly unorthodox Quantico trainer Jake Harris (Val Kilmer). Bobby Whitman (Eion Bailey), Vince Sherman (Clifton Collins Jr.), Rafe Perry (Will Kemp), Lucas Harper (Jonny Lee Miller), Sara Moore (Kathryn Morris), J.D. Reston (Christian Slater) and Nicole Willis (Patricia Velasquez) all have their doubts as they watch smudged grey skies slowly swallow up the shrinking, unmarked black chopper that had delivered them to this derelict Navy SEAL facility along with an unknown guest: Observing Philadelphia Police Detective Gabe Jensen (James Todd 'LL Cool J' Smith). Harris had given them the tour, showing them where to bunk down, and walking them through the crater-pocked zone of bullet riddled mannequins and artillery torn buildings known as Crime Town, USA, but he was less than forthright about their simulated mission or the fictitious UNSUB called The Puppetmaster they were supposedly there to hone their training on. Now, they were alone. On this desolate isle of stray cats and rusted machinery, forced to wait for something to happen. It did. Reston was killed before their eyes, exactly when the broken watch stuffed into the brutalized corpse of an unlucky feline hanged in their barracks' washroom had indicated. None of them could believe it. Was this some sort of sick joke? However, another watch quickly appears, signaling that there's no time for panic or wild speculations. One of them has been marked for death. With no way to call for help or escape, two more watches follow the gruesome murder of a second fallen comrade, plunging these remaining survivors into a fear-stoked race against time as The Puppetmaster systematically preys upon each one of them for his or her own insane amusement...

This decidedly gory contemporary retooling of the classic whodunit 'And Then There Were None' (1945) has apparently been floating around Hollywood for the past couple of years, before finally making it to the big screen in limited release. Director Renny Harlin does a magnificent job of maintaining a ruthless level of intensity throughout, wonderfully throwing a paying audience head first into this diabolical blood bath mystery with an astounding immediacy. Hardly any scenes are wasted during the first hour and a half of this hundred and six-minuter, as writer Wayne Kramer's delightfully tight screenplay hammers away at this doomed cast of excellently chosen players. Sure, Kilmer essentially plays a watered down version of his starring role in 'Spartan' (2004) for his somewhat extended cameo here. Morris and Smith easily pick up the slack, though, with this remaining crew pulling in equally extraordinary performances from the material they've been given to work with. 'Mindhunters' ends up being one of the few stories where a lot of character development that would normally be needed in order to instill lasting attention isn't really necessary for it to work over-all. Part of what makes it hugely fascinating for armchair sleuths is that you're forced to observe all of these strangers as though one of them could be the potential killer, without you having much to work with from the outset. Brilliant. The use of compressed time is also masterfully orchestrated throughout, continually keeping you on the edge of your seat as this steadily dwindling group fights to solve the clues and save their lives. It's also packed with whopping surprises - such as Slater's slightly cheesy yet brutally early demise - to ensure that figuring out this puzzle actually does happen near enough to the closing credits. Awesome. However, this is still an aggravatingly flawed movie at times. The cheap scares and its rather fluffy use of high tech hardware quickly becomes annoying. And, the conclusion does tend to smack of unbelievable pretense, heavily relying on your willingness to forgive a blatant lack of foreshadowing as the script suddenly loses interest in making any sense once The Puppeteer's identity is revealed. An entirely different, far more superior last act could have easily been concocted to replace the inadequately disappointing one that sabotages everything preceding it, frankly. All the same, this R-rated picture is still an incredibly worthwhile crime horror that's well worth checking out at the rental racks. Good stuff.

Monster-in-Law - REVIEWED 05/05, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

A few short months, and everything is all fine again. Noted Day Time talk show host - no, make that legendary, five-time Emmy-winning human interest celebrity and dignitary interview journalist Viola Fields (Jane Fonda) of course knew that she'd been completely, uncharacteristically unprofessional that day, months ago, on the air live and in front of millions of her loyal viewers. Attacking that illiterate, five million album-selling blonde bimbette singer on camera like that was totally undignified. She really should have waited until the commercial break before flipping out. However, all that was behind her now. Viola had made it through her therapy unscathed, unburdened by the network's totally premature decision not to renew her long standing contract, and free to spend quality time with her beloved son Doctor Kevin Fields (Michael Vartan), the brilliant surgeon. What fun they'll have. They'll travel the world together. Take that trip to Africa that she's been promising to do, and drop by old dear friends such as the Dalai Lama and the President of... well, any of the ones that matter, really. The important thing is that she and Kevin spend as much time together as a family as possible. It'll be good for him. It'll help clear his mind, and get this silly notion of his to, of all things, marry his young, good for nothing, gold digging and probably a drug addicted illegal alien, son stealing and more than likely telling him that she's pregnant, little tart of a fling that Kevin's now dillusionally calling his fiancéé Charlotte 'Charlie' Cantilini (Jennifer Lopez), of all things. The tramp probably doesn't even wear shoes. Blah. Viola's trusted assistant Ruby (Wanda Sykes) suggests starting a pet project to fill the hours and days of retirement, and Viola has the perfect pet project in mind: If she can't drive this Charlie girl away, maybe she can pull a few strings and drive her crazy, so that poor Kevin will finally see her for who she really is...

Wow. To anyone who's actually been paying attention lately, it's been obvious since the release of 'Jersey Girl' (2004) and 'Shall We Dance?' (2005) that Lopez has finally gotten back on the right path in honing her impressive acting abilities that began with an astounding breakthrough performance starring in 'Selena' (1997). Now, she's even better, effortlessly combining personable grace with freshly wry wit, and clearly having a blast with her wonderfully smart comedic role playing opposite Fonda's much-anticipated return to the big screen. Sure, the latter star's incredibly strong aptitude for on-screen hilarity seen several times in the past does shine through with sometimes overwhelming, scene stealing clout. However, the need for a paying audience to immediately recognize and continually acknowledge that aspect of maternal/cinematic intimidation is exactly the point. Brilliant. Much like the recently released 'Guess Who' (2005), this hundred and two-minute chick flick squarely deals with a decidedly selfish, overprotective parent in imaginatively funny ways, with writer Anya Kochoff's truly clever screenplay easily out pacing everything seen from this genre in theatres in recent memory. There are so many great moments here, with my picks being the pills scenario, and the outlandish Tibetan outfit scene. Better than awesome. Director Robert Luketic just winds up these strong willed women, and lets them loose in front of Russell Carpenter's camera to reap absolutely hilarious mayhem come the last act. Not quite a contemporary screwball comedy, 'Monster-in-Law' is still memorable as being extremely well balanced with good dramatic romance, lots of devious scheming, and over-the-top craziness, with Sykes and Elaine Stritch (as Gertrude, Viola's equally venomous mother-in-law) beautifully adding to the mix with their own blunt wise cracks. Well paced, superbly written and extraordinarily presented throughout, this one's definitely a resounding, superior offering that will more than likely become a favourite rental for movie lovers - many of whom have probably already seen it on the big screen. Do yourself a huge favour and check out this top notch comedy riot.

Mémoires affectives - REVIEWED 05/05, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

Sorry, it wasn't possible. As much as I honestly tried to thoroughly enjoy every bit of this three-time Genie-winning, subtitled 2004 Canadian feature, it just wasn't possible. Unfortunately, co-writer/director Francis Leclerc's hundred-minute, French language offering tends to uncontrollably meander while it follows the rather somber story of middle aged rural Quebec veterinarian Alexandre Tourneur (Roy Dupuis; 'Jésus de Montréal' (1989), 'Les Invasions Barbares' (2003)), a gaunt shadow and hit-and-run victim revived from a year-long coma to stumble around in an amnesiatic fog while attempting to reassemble his shattered, forgotten life. Yes, cinematographer Steve Asselin's exquisitely stark camera work is absolutely spellbinding throughout, easily evoking comparisons to some of the more haunting and chalky paintings by venerable artist Alex Colville, but even that oftentimes lushly desolate big screen canvas isn't enough to save Leclerc's and co-writer Marcel Beaulieu's overtly exasperating screenplay. So, a paying audience is left drinking in these wonderfully powerful, stoic images - such Dupuis staring into the undulating black depths of a wintry mountain lake, as though he's poring through the jagged, jigsaw-like shards of his own broken memory for answers - awkwardly paired with rather clumsy dialogue and unsure pacing that quickly becomes aggravating and unnecessarily wasteful of everyone's time and energy. Disappointing. I'm still trying to figure out why this potentially extraordinary small drama suddenly detours into becoming a vacuously lazy thirty year-old murder mystery sparked by a laughably amateurish hypnosis session. Did somebody lose the only copy of the script's last two thirds amongst a pile of old Soap Opera teleplays minutes before shooting? Seems like it. Sure, Rosa Zacharie (as empathetic investigating police detective Pauline Maksoud) and Nathalie Coupal (as Alexandre's ambivalent ex-wife Michelle) clearly push their acting muscles and compelling natural screen presence to the limit, but their roles seem to largely be cobbled from ill-conceived pretense that offers them nothing particularly tangible to work with. It's shameful, really. Quite frankly, you're far better off simply steering clear of this surprisingly poor, artful cinematic sleeping pill, unless you're a video camera buff who enjoys seeking inspiration in between naps at the movies.

Madagascar - REVIEWED 05/05, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

This hugely entertaining, eighty-minute computer animated treasure from Dreamworks and co-directors Eric Darnell ('Antz' (1998)) and Tom McGrath truly is an irreverently hilarious movie throughout. Partly a recognizably wry homage to such films as 'Zoolander' (2001), 'American Beauty' (1999), 'Cast Away' (2000) and 'The Planet of the Apes' (1968), as well as television's 'Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom' (1963-1988), co-writers Mark Burton's and Billy Frolick's screenplay beautifully realizes and builds upon the immediately captivating personalities of these four anthropomorphized New York Zoo animals. The story revolves around Alex (voiced by Ben Stiller; 'There's Something About Mary' (1998), 'Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story' (2004)) the spotlight hogging lion, Gloria the Hippo (Jada Pinkett Smith; 'The Nutty Professor' (1996), 'Collateral' (2004)) and obsessive hypochondriac Giraffe, Melman Menkowitz (TV's 'Friends' (1994-2004) co-star David Schwimmer), ending up crated up, shipped off and unwittingly beached 7558 nautical miles from their pampered Manhattan lives when their street smart yet cheerfully naive, monochromatic friend Marty the Zebra (Chris Rock; 'Lethal Weapon 4' (1998), 'Head of State' (2003)) takes a nightly stroll to Grand Central Station on his tenth birthday to see the wilds of Connecticut. Them being stranded on Madagascar's tropical shore is a bit of a creative stretch - particularly considering it's erroneously presented as an unpopulated island inhabited by equally humanized lemurs - but, the sheer abundance of uproarious laughs doled out at a sharp pace quickly puts aside any grip of reality that a paying audience might cling to going in. Frankly, this picture's psychotic quartet of penguins and their deliriously bizarre, Three Stooges-like escape attempts to Antarctica easily steal the show here, with the delightfully smart dialogue bantered amongst all of these critters masterfully, relentlessly keeping you laughing out loud from beginning to closing credits. Kendal Cronkhite's art direction is superb, especially during the psychedelic steak sequences that also cleverly nod back to Charlie Chaplin's classic 'The Gold Rush' (1925). This really is a delicious Hollywood treat for avid moviegoers and cartoon connoisseurs of all ages. Remember the outstanding, high energy physical comedy of Disney's famed animated gems 'The Jungle Book' (1967) and 'Robin Hood' (1973)? Well, take that memorably side splitting mayhem and infuse it with the same sort of whiplash contemporary quips traded in 'Shark Tale' (2004) and 'The Incredibles' (2004), and you'll have a fairly good idea of how extraordinarily well crafted 'Madagascar' is. Yes, it does contain slightly sophomoric and thematically mature humour at times, but there really isn't anything here that parents of small children need to be too concerned about. Absolutely check it out on the big screen, as possibly the finest example of thoroughly captivating, family-friendly entertainment released so far for this summer. Awesome.

Ma vie en cinémascope - REVIEWED 06/05, (C) STEPHEN BOURNE

This 2004 Genie-winning, subtitled French Canadian biopic takes a surprisingly measured yet disjointed approach to tracing the life of singing sensation Alice 'Alys Robi' Robitaille (played by Pascale Bussières; 'The Blue Butterfly' (2004), 'Petites coupures' (2003)) - reportedly Quebec's first international star - during her stratospheric rise to fame and subsequent mental breakdown during the 1940's. While writer/director Denise Filiatrault (who also penned television's 'Alys Robi: The Broken Dream' (1994)) obviously takes great pains throughout this hundred and five-minute picture to illustrate Robitaille's institutionalized paranoia and madness, that aspect of this entertainer's experiences quickly becomes annoyingly detrimental to a paying audience's enjoyment of watching how a bright, precocious little girl from Saint-Sauveur repeatedly managed to be in the right place at the right time for her Latin-inspired vocal stylings to catapult her into virtually instant stardom at home, across Canada, and abroad. Robi resembled Rita Hayward and was a CBC radio personality who entertained the troops during WWII, toured the night club circuit across the Americas and the UK, and was primed to become the next starlet to take Hollywood by storm, before falling into career-destroying phobia and temporary obscurity in 1948. She's since penned two autobiographies, Ma Carrière, ma vie, and Long Cri dans la nuit: Cinq Années à l'Asile, published in 1980 and 1990 respectively. Quite frankly, the only reason that the name Alys Robi rings any bells for me is thanks to the triviality that the Sico Paint Company rewrote her chart topping song Tico Tico as their advertising jingle in the 1990's. After sitting through this flick, I wasn't particularly inspired to remember anything else - despite a twinge that I should have on some level felt motivated to both mourn and celebrate this bygone trailblazing chanteuse. However, 'Ma vie en cinémascope' takes a decidedly lazy view of research, dialogue, plot development, and movie making over-all, so I don't feel too bad about remaining indifferent. The screenplay's focus seems brutally unsure as Bussières is left to pretty well do whatever she feels like, whenever whatever passes for a script runs out of information, and another flash of madness or the two unnecessary nude scenes nudge you closer to the sweet, sweet freedom of the closing credits. Unfortunately, the unfinished script and the flashes of madness rear their ugly heads quite a bit, but the closing credits take a very long time to eventually release you from this disappointingly dull, amateurish turkey. It's as though Alys was just another boring person with a nice voice and big ambitions, and that Filiatrault's apparent fascination with grey asylum walls, electro shock therapy, and surgical lobotomies far outweighed any serious interest in thoroughly fleshing out Alice's tumultuous path, her doting father Paul (Michel Barrette), or her primary infidelities - touring stage comedian Oliver Guimond (Serge Postigo) and popular band leader Lucio Agostini (Denis Bernard) - as sources for a potentially compelling story that probably could have told itself in a far more captivating and interesting manner if left alone. As it stands, the poorly cobbled cinematic album that is 'Bittersweet Memories' (its alternative English title) falls flat during the highlights that matter, detours greatly from bothering to give insight, and simply becomes little more than a blatantly sycophantic showcase for Bussières' wildly affected, unconvincing performance. Do yourself a favour, save yourself the trouble of planning a trip to the theatre to see it, and wait a couple minutes for this vapid muddle to be mercifully edited down to an hour for TV.