Movie Reviews

Pawing the spy beat to save the world

(Top to bottom) Butch (voiced by Nick Nolte), Diggs (James Marsden), Catherine (Christina Applegate) and Seamus (Katt Williams) are on the case.  (Warner Bros. Pictures)

Cats & Dogs:

The Revenge of Kitty Galore

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Running time: 82 minutes

MPAA rating: PG (animal action and humor)

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"Cats & Dogs:

The Revenge of Kitty Galore"

It's been a pretty ruff summer for live action movies with talking dogs.

"Marmaduke" was definitely yapping up the wrong tree back in June, even with Owen Wilson providing vocal life to the cartoon favorite's live action outing.

Now comes "Cats & Dogs:  The Revenge of Kitty Galore," the follow-up to "Cats & Dogs" of 2001.  That's an eternity between movies in doggie years, of course.  Chances are that the film's target audience of youngsters will have no, or very little connection to the first adventure.

The sequel is bigger and better with animals that really appear to be talking.  We can attribute much of that to advancement in technology as much as anything else.

The bottom line is extremely silly cat and dog spy adventure drivel in bits.  Some work better than others.

Parents may delight to some extent in the stars and former stars who ham it up giving voice to their respective critters.  Veteran songstress Bette Midler gets so far into her vocalization of feline villainess Kitty Galore, for instance, I can almost imagine her coughing up a fur ball at some point.

Also, I never thought I'd hear the lazy, raspy voice of Nick Nolte coming out of an Anatolian Shepherd.  But that's the "Affliction" star as Butch, the gruff DOG agent that's been pawing the beat for some time.

Canines and felines are forced to work together to go after evil in this one.  Christina Applegate brings an impressive balance of toughness and smarts to Catherine, the agent from rival MEOWS.

We only have to look as far as hairless Ms. Galore and the Bond-like opening credits that rookie feature film director Brad Peyton splashes across the screen to deduce that what comes next will be a heated up Cold War-like spy caper.

The only thing those who missed the original "Cats & Dogs" need to know is that animals talk when humans aren't around.  In fact, some of man's best friends and purring kitties have secret lives as elite spies.  In addition to fetching balls and rubbing between the legs of their so-called masters, they might just be off on a grand adventure when the humans aren't looking.

Kitty Galore, once a MEOWS agent, has gone rogue.  Unless cats and dogs put aside their inborn differences, the evil kitty with the Midler meow might just rule the world with a diabolical plot she's planning.

"Cats & Dogs:  The Revenge of Kitty Galore," available in 3-D (which adds a little pop), will entertain young, inexperienced movie-goers the most.

Know this, parents.  You'll need to put on your silly hats as well, or it'll be a long dog (and cat) day afternoon at the movies.

Oliver Stone's South American prez tour

Oliver Stone, left, and Hugo Chávez are greeted by the press.
(Cinema Libre Studio)

South of the Border

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Running time: 78 minutes

No MPAA rating.

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"South of the Border"

Say what you will about Oliver Stone, the multi-Academy Award winning filmmaker.  But the guy is no slouch when it comes to gaining access.

Stone, no stranger to cinematic politics with Oscar noms for "Nixon," "JFK" and "Salvador" and a win for "Born on the Fourth of July," took a little road trip to South America in January, 2009.

His offbeat, odd little documentary, "South of the Border," is a filmed diary of a trek to visit controversial Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez that expanded to five countries and chats with seven presidents of the region.

While it fascinates for much of its short running time of just under 80 minutes, filmgoers might be a little startled by what jumps out of them at times.

Stone, looking like he's about to pop a shirt button and perhaps start an international incident at any moment, obviously wants to show that Chávez isn't the monster the "mainstream U.S. media makes him out to be."

Stone kicks a soccer ball around with some South American leaders, sips a little Chardonnay with others and spends quite a bit of screen time fawning about how different some of them are compared to their political reps in El Norte.

During visits with Chávez, Evo Morales of Bolivia, Lula da Silva of Brazil and even Cuba's Raúl Castro  (and others), Stone lobs the kind of softball questions entertainment journalists have been tossing him at film junket interviews for decades.

It's more amusing most of the time than journalistically intriguing, really.  Stone's lazy, soft voice is no challenge to the hard-hitting style of Oscar-winning documentary filmmaker Michael Moore ("Bowling for Columbine," "Sicko").  There is some appeal, but it springs from feisty, casually entertaining moments instead of in-your-face, confrontational hard questions.

With Stone, at least where "South of the Border" (which contains some subtitles) is concerned, the getting there and rubbing shoulders with South American leaders appears to be the primary interest.

That and taking shots at conservative U.S. media, of course.

Mommy maybe a little too dearest

Marisa Tomei and Jonah Hill as unconventional mother and son in "Cyrus."  
(Fox Searchlight Pictures)

Cyrus

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Running time: 92 minutes

MPAA rating: R (profanity and some sexual material)

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"Cyrus"

The comedy/tragedy masks that define theatrical drama almost morph into one pained grin with "Cyrus," a most unconventional darkly comic romance.

If you think the lovers triangle playing out down the multiplex hall between a werewolf, a vampire and a high school senior named Bella is creepy weird, you're right.  But the relationship tension of "The Twilight Saga:  Eclipse" pales, if you'll excuse the pun, in comparison to the sad sack divorcee, the spunky new girlfriend and the other man in "Cyrus."

That's because the other guy happens to be the new girlfriend's 21-year-old son.  

John C. Reilly ("Step Brothers"), Marisa Tomei ("The Wrestler"), Jonah Hill ("Get Him to the Greek") and Catherine Keener ("Please Give") top an ensemble cast assembled by film-making brothers Jay and Mark Duplass ("The Puffy Chair," a festival fave).  

The Duplass brothers shoot fast and loose and in the actors' faces.  So when their shaky, hand-held HD camera fills the frame with Reilly's face, we get two-foot pock-mark caverns and enough remorse to set the mood indigo for a dozen down-and-out divorced guys.

Even seven years after his marriage to Jamie (Keener) has ended, Los Angeles freelance editor John (Reilly) is falling apart at the notion that she's about to remarry.  They're best friends these days, so Jamie and her fiancé Tim (Matt Walsh) insist that John tag along to a party.

When John gets way drunk and ducks into the bushes to, uh, water the daisies, Molly (Tomei) appears suddenly and alters John's course of action in at least two directions.  They appear made for each other.  And when they're at John's house nothing comes between them.

Molly's vague on the details of her life, though.  So one night John follows his new girlfriend home.  The next morning, another man strolls out on the front porch.

A middle-aged woman juggling a new boyfriend and the fragile emotions of an adult son is -- in itself -- hardly jaw-dropping screenplay fodder these days.  But the Duplass brothers, who write and direct and allow their actors free rein to improvise, have upped the ante considerably.  

Mom and Cyrus (Hill) are more than just mother and son.  They are best friends.  And I don't just mean they like to hang out together.  They're the touchy-feely type of best friends.  When Cyrus, a struggling new age musician, gets his music vibe on in the den, Mom dances along with him like you wouldn't expect; very close indeed.

Yuk?  Almost, but not quite.  The very thin line between comedy and tragedy is straddled throughout "Cyrus."  Pain comes with love and Cyrus, it appears to John, comes with the territory.  

Reilly, a gifted character actor, milks the morose perfectly.  When "Cyrus" shifts into a "War of the Roses" thorny look at a horrible hook-up with a glimmer of hope, Reilly takes over, guiding younger and suddenly hot comic Hill through some difficult confrontational passages.

Tomei and Keener, rock solid actors of the female persuasion, are up to the challenge of dredging dismal emotions in the name of entertainment as well.

The Coen Brothers ("O Brother Where Art Thou?") have for years been where the Duplass boys are striving to get to.  The latter duo isn't quite there yet.  "Cyrus" spends too much time in the emotional darkness to maintain even a pained comic tone.

They're getting there, though.

'The A-Team': On the rogue again

Liam Neeson as the "A-Team" leader.
(20th Century Fox)

The A-Team

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Running time: 117 minutes

MPAA rating: PG-13 (intense sequences of action and violence throughout, profanity and smoking)

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"The A-Team"

Welcome to '80s Reboot Week at your neighborhood movie house.

Film-goers might just feel like they're in a time warp as they stroll multiplex hallways and see the re-imagined "Karate Kid" in one theater and a reconfigured "A-Team" in another.

It should surprise no one that "The A-Team" is a B-movie.

The campy TV action series that occupied NBC prime time from 1983 to 1987 provided an action fix, not logic.  The redux tones down the campy nature a little.  You'll never hear B.A., Mr. T's old character, growl, "I pity the fool," for instance.  Audiences are more sophisticated these days, according to the "A-Team" words of wisdom spun in the film's press notes.

This time we get nuance, if you'd like to call it that.  The first time B.A. batters bad guys with his fists, we notice the word "Pity" tattooed on the fingers of one hand and -- don't get ahead of me -- "Fool" on the other.

Mixed martial artist Quinton "Rampage" Jackson steps in as B.A., the A-Team wheel man who's in the wrong line of work to have a serious fear of flying.  At the center, though, is Liam Neeson as cigar-chomping leader and tactician Col.  John "Hannibal" Smith (the George Peppard role).  

Rising star Bradley Cooper ("The Hangover," "All About Steve") is Face, designated ladies man and sm-o-o-o-th talker.  Sharlto Copley, who sprang to the forefront from nowhere as Wikus in last year's "District 9," steps into the role of crazed-genius pilot "Howlin' Mad" Murdock.

Co-stars include excellent actor Patrick Wilson ("Watchmen") as mysterious CIA weasel Lynch, Jessica Biel ("The Illusionist") as Capt. Sosa, a former love of Face's, and somewhat laughable lines like this:

Face to Capt. Sosa during a heated confrontation:  "I forgot how beautiful you are."

"The A-Team," lensed north of the border with the Vancouver area of Canada doubling for Mexico, Baghdad, Germany, Los Angeles and other locales, rattles the theater speakers and singes the screen with plenty of fast-paced adrenalin-pumping explosions and near-cartoon-like action.

These special ops experts survived combat in Middle East conflicts.   The '80s quartet cut their teeth on napalm and treachery of the Vietnam War era.  Both sets of misunderstood soldiers of fortune were wrongly accused of walking off with war booty (robbing the Bank of Hanoi on TV/ stealing $100-bill U.S. currency plates from Baghdad in the current skirmish).

Director Joe Carnahan ("Smokin' Aces," "Narc") co-wrote this screenplay with actor/writer Brian Bloom (who plays Black Ops leader Pike) and Skip Woods, who co-wrote "X-Men Origins:  Wolverine" and penned the sly action-crime saga "Swordfish."  

There's just a hint of retro in this adventure that culminates in a big, explosive finish at the L.A. harbor.  Anyone who saw "MacGruber" recently might have slight "MacGyver" flashbacks.  The "A-Team" is plenty adept at warrior arts and crafts at a moment's notice and at grabbing odds and ends for parts to homemade weapons of mass destruction.

Quickly forgettable, "The A-Team" is like a carnival ride that briefly thrills and is fun, but won't linger long in the brain.

Raunchy 'Greek' remembers 'Sarah Marshall'

Jonah Hill, left, and Russell Brand go "Greek."  (Universal Pictures)

Get Him to the Greek

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Running time: 109 minutes

MPAA rating: R (strong sexual content and drug use throughout,  pervasive language, nudity)

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"Get Him to the Greek"

"Get Him to the Greek" is a spin-off of "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," director Nicholas Stoller's 2008 romantic breakup comedy.

Don't call it a sequel, though.  "Get Him to the Greek" features two actors, Jonah Hill and Russell Brand, from the earlier hit.  But only one character made the squad cut.  Think of it as "The Scorpion King" branching out from "The Mummy" franchise, or "Wolverine" going back to his steel-finger roots  sans the other "X-Men" freaks.

Aldous Snow (Brand), the British rock star who showed up with vacationing title character Sarah Marshall (Kristen Bell), is front and decidedly off-center in the new comic misadventure.  Hill returns as well, but not as Matthew, the groupie, songwriting Hawaiian resort waiter he played a couple years back.

This time Hill takes on Aaron Green, a Los Angeles record company underling.  Green has three days to jet to London, pick up trashed, boozing, drugging rock star Snow and get him first to New York for an appearance on "The Today Show" and then to L.A. for a make-or-break reunion concert at the Greek Theater.

"Get Him to the Greek" spills onto the screen from the Judd Apatow stable of "Knocked Up," "Superbad" and "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," among others.  It feels more like "The Hangover," in that it spews alcohol, sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll debauchery to new cinematic lows.

Stoller, who also penned the script, was correct in assuming there was more comic money in the bank when it came to Brand's over-the-mountaintop rock star persona.  And he was correct that Brand and Hill created some comic sparks in "Sarah Marshall."  His problem here is assuming that Hill (who strangely draws top billing) and Brand can sustain that level of amusement for the entire length of a feature film.

Snow doesn't board the plane quietly or on schedule, of course.  There is much partying to do.  Many girls to kiss, a few car hoods to stomp and liquor to drink, spill and spew.  The rock music god who once flew high on hits, is now riding high on debauchery.

His girlfriend, former supermodel Jackie Q. (Rose Byrne of "Damages" and "Knowing" on TV) launched the binge by saying during a TV interview that Snow is no fun since he chucked the booze seven years earlier.  So Aaron, a semi-family guy having trouble with his live-in girlfriend Daphne (Elisabeth Moss of "Did You Hear About the Morgans?") back home, enters a perfect storm of booze and remorse.

Who knows if this is the last we'll see of Brand as rocker Aldous Snow, which is beginning to come across as his "Borat" to Sacha Baron Cohen.  Know this, though, Brand is a movie star poised to break out in a huge way.

Hill, a decent enough actor, can be funny in brief support spurts; with Adam Sandler and Seth Rogen in last year's "Funny People," for instance.  The third time he threw up in this wild comic ride, though, I began to focus on anything other than his face.  (You can't trust a spewer after three projectile incidents.)  

"Get Him to the Greek" isn't as consistently funny as you might expect or as I would like.  Like "Sarah Marshall," however, it occasionally detours into bittersweet heartfelt drama that provides the lower regions of the emotional roller coaster.

'Prince' is a pauper compared to the masters

You call this a dagger?  Dastan (Jake Gyllenhaal) with the knife that can roll back time.  (Walt Disney Pictures)

Prince of Persia:

The Sands of Time

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Running time: 116 minutes

MPAA rating: PG-13 (intense sequences of violence and action)

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"Prince of Persia:

The Sands of Time"

Audiences settle for so much less at the movies these days.

By today's milquetoast standards, "Prince of Persia:  The Sands of Time" provides adequate action-adventure swashbuckling in the sands of 6th century Persia.  It's the wink-at-the-audience comic tone that pales in comparison to previous rollicking adventures, though.

For anyone who remembers "Raiders of the Lost Ark," the first Indiana Jones action, comedy and romance frolic of 1981, or perhaps the fun-filled soldier-of-fortune saga "Romancing the Stone" in 1984, a weakly imitation grown out of a video game compares rather poorly.

This is an era when so-so is often hyped into super-duper.  At least in this gimmicky tale (Come on, a dagger that can reverse time?) popcorn munchers in the dark are treated to above average acting, decent special effects and lead actors easy on the eyes.

Jake Gyllenhaal, an Oscar-nominated actor looking a little self-conscious about playing a joystick-driven hero, takes the title role.  A street urchin taken in by the king (ho-hum), Dastan (Gyllenhaal) follows his heart to do the right thing after storming a castle in the fictional holy city of Alamut and, quite by accident, mind you, stumbling upon the aforementioned magic dagger handed down by the gods.

The screenplay, bearing more hand prints than a newborn kitty in an orphanage, may be pedestrian.  But at least versatile British director Mike Newell ("Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," "Mona Lisa Smile")  knows how to make the most out of what he's got.

And what he's got here is a one-dimensional, yet flashy yarn that moves fast.  In fact, it only slows down for alluring love/hate glances between Gyllenhaal and his ingénue, budding actress Gemma Arterton as "Come hither, no don't" princess Tamina.

To tell you the truth, I had more fun concentrating on the support players.  Oscar-winner Ben Kingsley (remember "Gandhi"?) looks like he's enjoying himself as sly, beloved Uncle Nizam.  And you can't help but like Alfred Molina ("An Education," "Spider-Man 2") as Sheik Amar, the devious, ostrich racing entrepreneur who'd probably be running Goldman Sachs if he could operate in today's market.

Gyllenhaal, on screen most recently in "Brothers," makes a better dashing sword-swinger than I thought he would.  That's because the rising star who drew his Oscar nomination opposite the late Heath Ledger in "Brokeback Mountain" ( 2005) makes the audience believe he is a prince with a heart of gold who'll use his back-to-the-future dagger for good, not evil.

Arterton, Agent Fields in the Bond adventure "Quantum of Solace," still has some work to do as the sometimes pouting woman hiding true grit until the right time to expose it.  It's an old formula that generally still works, though, and the two leads do stir up a little screen heat in the desert.

"Prince of Persia," no doubt the first in a sword-and-sandal franchise if it flexes muscles at the box-office, is adequate, if not extraordinary weekend movie entertainment.  It's got solid elements, just no spark to ignite something magical.

Since it comes from video game source material and doesn't thrill, amuse or tug the heartstrings like the previous masters, let's just call it a token effort and be done with it. 

Sex, terrible twos, shoes and the blues

Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) is stylin' along the beach at Abu Dhabi.
(Warner Bros.)

Sex and the City 2

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Running time: 146 minutes

MPAA rating: R (harsh profanity, strong sexual content, nudity)

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"Sex and the City 2"

"Sex and the City" movies:

That's where grown women go to swoon like love-struck teenagers at romance, riches and designer shoes just like their daughters roll their eyes back in ecstasy for the brooding vampires and hunky werewolves of the "Twilight" franchise.

It's all slightly decadent fantasy-romance at a distance.  Dangerous?  Who knows?  But at least there's cinematic equality.  The men have their wealthy suave anti-heroes in iron super-suits, while the boys can visually play with "Transformers" and think of Megan Fox.

"Sex and the City 2," the sequel to the first feature in 2008 and, of course, the opulent flirty comic HBO series (1998-2004), is all about the terrible twos.  Or, to pinpoint the dilemma, the two-year itch.

Charlotte (Kristin Davis), with two kids (including a constantly crying toddler) at home, represents the usual definition of the term in this overlong sequel written, directed and produced once again by Michael Patrick King (a holdover from the TV series).

Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) grates the nerves of her law firm boss (an all-too-brief cameo by comedian Ron White) who can't stand strong women, and Samantha (Kim Cattrall), still single and on the prowl as usual, battles the onset of menopause.

The heart of the "Sex and the City" feline-like foursome, of course, is clever essayist Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker).  Carrie has her man, Mr. Big (Chris Noth), and her big -- make that gigantic -- walk-in closet.  What's missing after two years of co-inhabiting as a married couple is, says Carrie, "sparkle."

Carrie still wants to do the town.  Big, meanwhile, has grown so accustomed to the designer couch that he might sprout potatoes at any moment.  What to do, what to do?

In the vintage musicals of the '40s, someone would shout, "Hey, let's put on a show!" about this time.  But this film pays homage to Busby Berkeley musicals in the first reel with an extravagant gay wedding complete with swans, an all-male chorus in white and Liza Minnelli in black.

So it's off to the new Middle East (with Morocco doubling for the United Arab Emirates).  Via a contrived plot twist, a filthy rich investor invites Samantha to check out his gaudy, extravagant hotel in Abu Dhabi.  She will if her gal pals can tag along on the sheik's Dirham.

From this aisle seat, it seems odd that writer-director King chooses to take his central characters so identified with the Big Apple on what is basically a Hope and Crosby road trip to the casbah.

Leave it to Carrie, though.  She finds designer shoes even in a crowded marketplace.  And when she's not trying on shoes more befitting a genie, old flame Aidan (John Corbett) sort-of magically appears to scratch (and possibly infect) the two-year itch.

I like the way King evens the score a little when it comes to opposite-sex ogling.  In "Sex and the City 2," the dirty old men of Hollywood (in control for decades) take a backseat to a woman who views male bodies as slabs of beefcake.

At two and a half hours, though, even Samantha's funny menopause rants become tiresome.  This is a frivolous, overly indulgent, two-Cosmos (at least) sequel.

'MacGruber' is funny, outrageously raunchy

Will Forte trying to diffuse trouble  as MacGruber.  (Rogue)

MacGruber

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Running time: 90 minutes

MPAA rating: R (harsh profanity, extreme violence, strong crude and sexual content, nudity)

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"MacGruber"

"Ninety minutes, MacGruber!"

That was my admittedly negative thought going into the screening of "MacGruber" Thursday night.  

My skepticism about turning yet another three-minute "Saturday Night Live" skit into a feature film soon segued into:

"Hey, this is around-the-bend goofball fun, but it's also -- how can I delicately put this -- NASTY!"

Raunchier than "The Hangover," which is no easy feat, "MacGruber" fills the screen with Will Forte as the seriously off-kilter, bull-headed action hero with a carry-over '80s mullet hairstyle and -- at least once -- a stalk of celery up his arse.

I told you it was raunchy.  Forte co-wrote the devilishly raucous script with "SNL" writers John Solomon and Jorma Taccone, who makes his feature film directing debut.

"MacGruber" offers no pretense of Academy Award campaigns to come, or even an attempt to be taken seriously.  The aim here is silly fun in the outrageous "Austin Powers" mode.   From this aisle seat, it's the most entertaining "SNL" skit supersize since the late John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd hit the big-screen road as "The Blues Brothers" 30 years ago.

Ten years after his wedding and his bride Casey (Maya Rudolph) blew up in his face, gadget special operative MacGruber is lured out of a South American monastery by his old commander, Col. Faith (Powers Boothe).  MacGruber agrees to leave behind his decade of peace for two reasons:

His old nemesis, black market arms dealer Dieter Von Cunth (Val Kilmer), has stolen a missile with a nuclear warhead and is up to no good.

Also, the kids of the South American village, whom he believed adored him, tell MacGruber to "go s%&)$ himself."

It's that kind of lovingly sarcastic movie, folks.  This kind of over-the-top silliness may not be your cup of cinematic cappuccino.  If it is, however, the trio of creative minds behind this nonsense spare no raunchy laugh, pratfall or nudie gag along the way.

Forte, a solid member of the current "Saturday Night Live" troupe, appears right at home in the shaggy MacGruber wig and the bumbling persona.  This special ops hero prefers gadgets to guns, but he's not above going for the throat to drive the humor home.  And you can take that throat reference literally.

Ryan Phillippe ("Flags of Our Fathers," "Crash") makes the most of his chance to flex comic muscles as Lt. Dixon Piper, MacGruber's reluctant comrade in arms.

Kristen Wiig, the finely tuned comic engine that makes "SNL" worth watching after 35 years, excels here as Vicki St. Elmo, MacGruber's assistant.  The writers are smart enough to allow Wiig enough screen time to explore hilarious nuance in a character that only sets up the time line in the TV skits.  By the way, the love scene in this film is the funniest I've seen since Woody Allen got horizontal with Diane Keaton in "Play It Again, Sam" in 1971.

"MacGruber" is far from a perfect film.  The dialogue is stilted at times.  And even though the actors appear to be acting in a skit from time to time, it never feels like the "MacGruber" skit from "SNL" stretched thin to an hour and a-half.

In fact, when Vicki calls out "Three minutes, MacGruber" to the anti-hero, you might just feel like you're sharing a dark room with an old familiar friend.

Slightly off the robust entertainment target

 

Robin Longstride (Russell Crowe), a straight shooter.  (Universal Pictures)

"Robin Hood"

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Running time: 140 minutes

MPAA rating: PG-13 (violence including intense sequences of warfare, some sexual content)

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"Robin Hood"

When Russell Crowe and Ridley Scott re-team for the umpteenth adaptation of the Robin Hood legend, we get a fair dose of "Gladiator," a little "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner," major sword-clanking battles in Sherwood Forest and, by Scott and Crowe dark standards, Merry Men merriment.

"Robin Hood," which co-stars Cate Blanchett, William Hurt, Max Von Sydow and other fine actors, is the fifth collaboration for the New Zealand born movie star and his prolific British cohort in the director's chair.

Move often than not, the modus operandi has been tough guys in seriously dangerous situations.  "Gladiator" earned an Oscar nomination for Scott and a Best Actor golden statuette for his leading man.   Crowe and Scott reunited for "American Gangster" in 2007 and the thriller "Body of Lies" a year later.

In between, the duo took a little wine and cheesy movie break in France.  With Scott calling the shots, Crowe drank a little wine, wooed a pretty damsel and fell into an empty swimming pool.  That was "A Good Year." (2006)

"Robin Hood" begins in France as well, but there's little time to sit around sipping Chardonnay.  It's 1199 and archer Robin Longstride (Crowe) is among King Richard the Lionheart's (Danny Huston) troops laying siege to a French castle.  

Here we go again.  It's obvious from the spectacular opening sequence that the tag-team of Scott and Crowe are ready to rumble on a very large scale again.  If you were awake in high school history class, you may recall that the king doesn't walk away from the battle (despite winning).

It's nothing new for legends that loom large on our movie screens to be kneaded more than a little for mass market consumption.  "Robin Hood" screenwriter Brian Helgeland, who shared an Academy Award with director Curtis Hanson for "L.A. Confidential" in 1997, has no restraints when it comes to a legend that began in 9th century medieval oral history.

So forget what you know about Douglas Fairbanks as the hooded crusader in 1922 ("Robin Hood"), Errol Flynn in 1938 ("The Adventures of Robin Hood") and Sean Connery in 1976 ("Robin and Marian").  I trust you've already filed Kevin Costner's wobbly British accent in "Robin Hood:  Prince of Thieves" (1991) so far back in your memory bank that it couldn't reemerge even if you wanted it to.

This "Robin Hood" is essentially a prequel; Robin the Hood back story.  Once the skilled archer gets out of the stocks (for mouthing off to the king) and bonds with a handful of loyal rowdy followers (the Merry Men), the mission begins to return the fallen king's helmet to the Queen Mother (Eileen Atkins).

Robin, who grew up without a father, also agrees to return a dying prodigal son's sword to the doomed soldier's father.  That may seem like a lot of chores for a future hero of Sherwood Forest to bog himself down with.  But since this movie ends where most Robin Hood flicks begin (Sequel anybody?), there's no plot-point agenda.

Marion, tough and no one's damsel in distress as portrayed by Blanchett, turns out to be the revered old man's (Von Sydow) daughter-in-law.  Only in the movies does a stranger move into a lady's bedroom and pose as her husband to keep peace in the land.  That works fine for a day or two.  But then the need to scratch the old Scott-Crowe itch kicks in, and ferocious battles rage with lives and, in fact, England itself on the line.

"Robin Hood" squeezes in a wee bit of merriment.  Mark Addy ("The Full Monty"), who toned down his British accent a little to star in the U.S. sitcom "Still Standing," earns some laughs as mead-swilling Friar Tuck.  William Hurt plays it serious as Sir William Marshal, though, turning in one of his finest performances in years.  And Mark Strong (Lord Blackwood in "Sherlock Holmes") is about all anyone needs as nasty villain Sir Godfrey.

At two hours and 20 minutes, "Robin Hood" indulges itself too long on screen.  Technically it's on target, though, if you appreciate boiling oil dumped on soldiers and enough flying arrows to block out the sun at times.  Generally, however, Scott and Crowe are both on top of their  game.

And the game here is tweaking a mystery folk hero into a bankable new epic movie franchise.

Come on 'Babies,' light my fire

Hold the phone, that's Baby Hattie of San Francisco.  (Focus Features)

Babies

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Running time: 79 minutes

MPAA rating: PG (Cultural and maternal nudity throughout)

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On the Web

"Babies"

Call me a cinematic crybaby if you must, but I was expecting a little more from "Babies," the documentary chronicling the development of newborns around the world over a two-year period.

Maybe I've been spoiled by British filmmaker Michael Apted's brilliant growth-spurt study of British lads and lasses in the "Up" series, which drops in on the subjects every seven years to update their life stories.

Before I get run out of town for failing to cheer the innocent gurgles of newborns in San Francisco, Tokyo, Mongolia and Namibia of "Babies,"  however, know that French director Thomas Balmès successfully captures first gurgles, early crawling and shaky steps in four distinctively different environments.

It's an unusual documentary, though, because there's no interaction between the filmmaker and his subjects.  We see young personalities emerge somewhat, but never do the parents utter a word to the filmmaker about their relationship with their new child.

It's a bit like a visit to a human zoo, really.  We get closeup views of little Hattie in San Francisco being given all the comforts a U.S. child can enjoy.  That contrasts abruptly (in fact, a little shockingly at times) with Ponijao, the eighth of nine children of the Namibian family.

Ponijao might just be the happiest baby of the foursome featured.  And that's despite crawling around in dirt much of the time and competing with flies for mother's milk.  Yet no narrator verifies the happiness of an African family in an environment that will seem not only remote, but primitive to many viewers.

This was all the brainchild of French producer/actor Alain Chabat, who played Napoleon in  "Night at the Museum:  Battle of the Smithsonian" last year.  Chabat, according to the film's press notes, thought it would be fascinating to watch vastly different newborns adjust to their surroundings, their families, their pets and the wide, wide world itself from the time they're born until they stand -- a little wobbly perhaps -- on their own feet.

I agree.  For some reason, however, the magic you might expect never really generates.  All four of the children are adorable, of course.  The awwwww factor is definitely present throughout.

But even as the Japanese and U.S. babies romp with their mommies in mother-child class groups and the two in the plains of Mongolia and a village in Namibia grow up in earthy, basic homes, the fascination level diminishes rapidly.

For all its promise, "Babies" makes 79 minutes feel like a near-eternity.  Let's put it this way.  The toddlers weren't the only ones who enjoyed a little nap time.