Movie Reviews: February 2010

Rounding down the usual suspects

Well, at least they got the title right.

"Cop Out" is just that, a lazy, clichéd excuse for a buddy cop action comic-drama.

Bruce Willis and TV comedian Tracy Morgan are the unfortunate actors out front.

I was the unfortunate film critic sitting in the dark wondering why time was standing still.

The only thing that kept my mind occupied (a little) was wondering how much longer director Kevin Smith can ride his "Clerks" success.

Willis (the "Die Hard" franchise), a talented big-screen vet who should know better, and Morgan play -- sort of -- Brooklyn cops with pressing agendas not necessarily related to police work.

Paul (Morgan) is convinced that his wife Debbie (Rashida Jones of "Parks and Recreation" on TV) is cheating on him. Jimmy (Willis) needs to somehow come up with almost 50,000 bucks to pay for his daughter's wedding.

In between, screenwriting brothers Robb and Mark Cullen (TV writer-producers trying the big screen) send the 21st century Keystone Kops on a quest to reclaim a rare 1952 baseball card. Ho-hum.

Along the way they'll rescue the ingénue, befriend a likable cat burglar (talented Seann William Scott) and, if you're like me, make you ponder why you're in the theater for this piece of buddy-cop toxic topic waste.

Smith has made a couple of interesting films since "Clerks," his only real knockout, of 1994. The fact that Hollywood continues to green-light projects with the creative free spirit in the director's chair shows faith, if not dogma.

"Cop Out" has no chance to become anything more than a cliché of successful buddy-cop comedies like the "Lethal Weapon" franchise featuring Mel Gibson and Danny Glover.

Willis and Morgan are no Gibson and Glover, although they aren't given much of a chance to really give it a comic-action go.

The film's opening scene, an embarrassingly lame affair where Morgan chants movie cop lines while overplaying the interrogation of a suspect, arrests any real forward comic movement before "Cop Out" gets out of the opening blocks.

If I've seen a less entertaining buddy cop comedy, I've buried it so deep in my subconscious I can no longer retrieve it.

Sorry, "Cop Out." Looks like you're it.

Posted by Larry Ratliff at 10:22 AM in 0-1/2 jalapeños, action, crime, drama, film, R, raunchy comedy | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

It takes an exiled world figure to know one

"Who are you?"

"I'm your ghost," Ewan McGregor's character says to Great Britain's former prime minister in Roman Polanski's crafty suspense-thriller "The Ghost Writer."

Perhaps by accident, perhaps not, Polanski and one of the key characters in his first contemporary thriller in more than 20 years are mysterious public figures in exile.

Adam Lang (Pierce Brosnan) is conveniently on a U.S. lecture tour as news begins to leak in Great Britain linking the former prime minister with unscrupulous activities including unauthorized torture of terrorist suspects.

Polanski, the Academy Award-winning filmmaker, is currently under house arrest in Switzerland. The acclaimed director of "Rosemary's Baby," "The Pianist" and others continues to fight extradition back to the United States on an old charge of taking flight after pleading guilty to having sex with a 13-year-old girl in the late 1970s.

Old news or not, Polanski's chess game with international justice remains in the news. Because of the exile/exile connection, it constantly spices up the mystique of "The Ghost Writer."

Oddly, Polanski's latest film unfolds primarily in the United States; in a chilly, well-guarded seaside island fortress of Martha's Vineyard.

McGregor's ghostwriter, who remains unnamed throughout, hops over from London to hunker down for a whirlwind, one-month rewrite of the former prime minister's memoirs.

Polanski, of course, did not venture stateside to the Boston area for reasons made clear above. So what we get with "The Ghost Writer" is a danger-around-every-corner suspense-laden tale set in the U.S., but filmed over three months on location in Germany and at Studio Babelsberg in Berlin.

Polanski's creative heart, however, resides somewhere in "Chinatown," U.S.A.

Not since the brilliant cat-and-mouse game that was "Chinatown" in 1974 has Polanski -- or cinema in general, really -- examined political power boiled down to this raw state of hubris. Aided by an eerie musical score that wails bouncy imminent danger, suspense literally pops off the screen.

The ghost has no interest in politics, really. He's just out to make a quick $250,000 if he can rewrite a politico's memoirs in the unreal deadline time of one month. Once he meets Lang, however, skeletons begin falling out of the closet almost literally. The previous ghostwriter died suddenly and mysteriously a couple of weeks before the new one arrives.

Danger lurks, whiskey swirls in glasses and Lang's frosty wife Ruth (superbly performed by Olivia Willams) warms up to the point of toastiness to the hired wordsmith while hubby is away having dinner with U.S. heads of state.

What a cast. Brosnan, last seen as the front end of a horse (actually a Centaur) in "Percy Jackson & the Olympians," is pitch perfect as the slithery prime minister. McGregor ("Amelia") is on target as well.

And they have stiff competition from the ladies in the cast. In addition to Williams (also superb as Miss Stubbs in "An Education"), Kim Cattrall, of "Sex and the City" fame, struts her dramatic stuff beautifully as the prime minister's all-too-personal personal assistant.

Polanski fashioned this fascinating intersection of danger, conspiracy and more danger from the 2008 best seller "The Ghost" by Robert Harris. Harris, who conspired with Polanski on the screenplay, has said the movie improves on his printed work.

"The Ghost Writer" is a major film from a hugely talented filmmaker. Earlier this week, Polanski took best director honors at the Berlin Film Festival.

Posted by Larry Ratliff at 12:05 AM in 3-1/2 jalapeños, based on a book, books, drama, film, PG-13, spy thriller, thriller | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Guy, interrupted

One has flown over the cuckoo's nest in Martin Scorsese's mentally and physically stormy "Shutter Island."

It's 1954, and a patient in an isolated island mental institution for the criminally insane off the coast of Boston has gone missing. The acclaimed Oscar-winning director ("The Departed," "Raging Bull") focuses on frequent leading man Leonardo DiCaprio as Teddy Daniels, the U.S. Marshal assigned to the case.

A side note: Something interesting happened just now. The first time I attempted to type Leonardo DiCaprio, I actually punched the keys to form Leonardo De Niro. I suppose that's because I was thinking of Scorsese's former fave leading man, Robert De Niro.

The De Niro of a decade or two ago -- the De Niro of "Raging Bull," "Cape Fear" and other Scorsese collaborations -- would have grabbed this mysterious leading man role by the throat as he stalked around in this Gothic mystery-thriller.

DiCaprio, while adequate, never out-maneuvers Scorsese's amazingly intricate, chilly detail of an isolated world gone mad. You've heard of actors chewing the scenery. In "Shutter Island" the scenery chews its leading man. Even the button a guard pushes to open gates within the mental institution is likely to send chills down your spine.

DiCaprio, despite his three Oscar nominations for "Blood Diamond," "The Aviator" (directed by Scorsese) and "What's Eating Gilbert Grape', not so much, at least from this aisle seat.

So we look elsewhere for something to rivet our attention and hold it for two hours and 18 minutes. "Shutter Island," based on Dennis Lehane's 2003 best-selling thriller and adapted by Laeta Kalogridis ("Night Watch"), moves from room-to-room, gloom-to-doom as if mired in molasses.

A storm settles over the island (conveniently cutting off telephone communication) and intensifies into a Category 5 hurricane as the mystery and growing danger escalate. Have the inmates taken control of the asylum and locked up the real doctors, orderlies and guards? You might wonder that, as I did for a time.

And here's something else. The idea of serious danger looming among stranded strangers as a hurricane rages outside is nothing new. Serious film buffs and movie-goers with long memories will recognize the similar set-up from "Key Largo," the late John Huston's classic of 1948.

No character appears settled in this unsettled atmosphere. It got on my nerves a little that Mark Ruffalo, playing DiCaprio's new partner, keeps calling his fellow U.S. Marshal "boss." Otherwise, Ruffalo turns in a fine, wily performance. Ben Kingsley and legendary actor Max von Sydow are outstanding -- as good as you would expect them to be, in fact -- as doctors in charge.

And Jackie Earle Haley ("Watchmen," "Little Children") drops by to play one creepy scene as George Noyce, an inmate locked away in dark, dank Ward C. Haley, it seems, is Hollywood's new go-to-guy when the scene calls for macabre on ice.

Another performance stands out, however. Michelle Williams, who deserved the Oscar nomination she got for "Brokeback Mountain" in 2005, is superb in the challenging role of Dolores, Teddy's (DiCaprio) former wife.

Technically outstanding, "Shutter Island" sloshes along and along. Even for something driven by mystery and noir, the storm lingers too long before clearing.

Posted by Larry Ratliff at 11:36 AM in 3 jalapeños, based on a book, books, drama, film, R, thriller | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

Children of the fright

An epic shrouded in black-and-white photography and mystery, "The White Ribbon" chronicles a pre-World War I German village unraveling at the seams.

As imminent unease and danger hang heavy over the small village in North Germany, the stark, stoic influence of Ingmar Bergman, the late Swedish filmmaking master, hovers as well.

"The White Ribbon," in German, Italian, Polish and Latin with subtitles, is, unofficially at least, writer-director Michael Haneke's homage to the 1960 horror-mystery "Village of the Damned."

The children here don't have eyes that glow, as the little demons' eyes did in "Village of the Damned" (and John Carpenter's remake). These eyes do, however, provide a window to the tormented soul, or perhaps to a vapid place where the soul should be.

This is also not the kind of film that fills in all the blanks for the audience. The children of the village seem oddly detached as a series of calamities occur. Someone ties a trip wire in the path of the village doctor, who's on horseback. The doctor is horribly injured. Also, a farmer's wife suffers a grisly death.

And so it goes, with a backdrop of a fire-and-damnation preacher (Burghart Klaussner) who ties his son to the bed at night in a desperate attempt to fend off oncoming puberty.

The schoolteacher (Christian Friedel), who fights his own ongoing battle with the increasingly unruly students, is about as close to normalcy as Haneke allows. After all, Haneke is the filmmaker who made the shocking home invasion horror-thriller "Funny Games" twice; in his native German in 1997, then in English and set in the U.S. in 2007.

Winner of the Palme d'Or (best film) at last year's Cannes Film Festival, "The White Ribbon" is also a Best Foreign Film nominee in the upcoming Academy Awards race.

While Haneke insists that a logical explanation for every bizarre act exists within the film if audience members use their imaginations, casual movie-goers may emerge back out into the theater lobby shaking their heads.

Haneke is extremely adept at setting a mood, however. Thanks to his eerie, effective use of black-and-white photography, the blank expressions on the children and many of the adults combine with ominous shadows to blur perception.

Unlike in "Funny Games," where most of the violence erupted in plain sight, however, the camera usually arrives at the scene of baffling crimes after the fact.

Just what those facts are depends to some extent on the eyes of the beholder.

Posted by Larry Ratliff at 12:10 AM in 3-1/2 jalapeños, drama, family drama, film, foreign film, R, religion | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

'Happy' go yucky

Anyone who has never been to a world-class film festival like Cannes, Toronto or Sundance can come away from "Happy Tears" with a sense of the freewheeling festival experience.

"What was that?" is a common phrase when filmmakers run wild with their imaginations in a showcase, festival environment.

Combine that feeling with the "Happy Tears" cast led by Parker Posey ("Broken English," "Fay Grim"), once known as the Queen of the Indies, and you'd think you'll be ready to gulp down a quick coffee and run back to the theater for more (a common film festival practice).

Just one problem, though. While "Happy Tears" is quirky enough to pose as film festival fodder, it falls short when it comes to offbeat entertainment. Posey, Demi Moore ("Mr. Brooks") and veteran actor Rip Torn share the screen in a barely functional tale of family dysfunction.

Torn ("Men in Black"), a good actor grabbing some not-so-good headlines recently for breaking into a bank with a loaded gun while intoxicated, drops his drawers on cue as Joe. He's a 70-something father losing his marbles and control of his bowels at the same time.

One daughter, Laura (Demi Moore), has already arrived in Pittsburgh to help. Jayne (Posey), perhaps unable to face a father who's lost his grasp on reality, delays her arrival by shopping for expensive boots in San Francisco before getting on a plane.

Once the prodigal daughter arrives, Laura, the practical, but financially struggling one, and Jayne, who married into money and weirdness, bond a little. They also try to figure out why dad is letting a floozy named Shelly (Ellen Barkin like you've never seen her) hang around.

Writer-director Mitchell Lichtenstein, who shocked more than a few film-goers with his horror-comedy "Teeth" in 2007, pulls back the creative reins a little here. Actually, I prefer the "What the ...?" reaction to a femme fatale with killer private parts in "Teeth" to what goes on in "Happy Tears."

Weirdness prevails with no consistent tone in this wacky family comic-drama. Moore pulls off the caretaker daughter who has only sort of outgrown her hippie past. Posey, however, comes off as a poser in this one. Neither fully committed nor oblivious to what's going on, Parker just doesn't bring her A-game.

Part of the problem has to do with the fact that Lichtenstein, an actor-turned-filmmaker, has trouble digging into the complex emotions of adult children dealing with a parent's unraveling mental state.

If the subject matter interests you, I highly recommend that you rent "The Savages" instead of investing in "Happy Tears." Laura Linney, who earned an Oscar nomination, and Philip Seymour Hoffman portrayed siblings caring for a mentally deteriorating dad much more effectively in that one.

Posted by Larry Ratliff at 12:05 AM in 1-1/2 jalapeños, family comedy, film, R | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Greeks, geeks and eeks

A son-of-Poseidon adventure aimed at the young and the young-at-heart, "Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief" turns out to be more silly fun than it probably deserves to be.

Greek mythology mixes with modern times when someone steals the lightning bolt belonging to Zeus, king of the Mount Olympus gods.

Before you get the idea that this fantasy adventure is heading for something stuffy, you should know that director Chris Columbus, who called the shots on the first two "Harry Potter" adventures, has discovered a way to make Greek mythology a hoot most of the time.

It's a creature-feature, really. Established stars Catherine Keener, Pierce Brosnan and Uma Thurman mix with up acting newbies in a rousing adventure that yee-haws its way through Nashville and enters the gates of hell below the Hollywood sign in Los Angeles.

Logan Lerman, who's been around a while and who shared the screen with Russell Crowe and Christian Bale in the Western remake "3:10 to Yuma," heads the second-generation cast. He's Percy, a high school student who loves his mom (Keener), but can't stand his stinky lout stepfather Gabe (Joe Pantoliano).

Percy, as he soon finds out, is the son of Poseidon. That makes him a demigod -- half human, half god. Along with protector Grover (Brandon T. Jackson, the actor/rapper of "Tropic Thunder"), a satyr (half human, half goat) and a warrior named Annabeth (TV actress Alexandra Daddario), Percy must find out who stole the lightning bolt and return it before all hell breaks loose.

Columbus, working from Craig Titley's adaptation of Rick Riordan's 2005 best seller, combines frivolity with the adventure. Some of it is quite tongue-in-cheek. I'm not so sure we're supposed to giggle the first time Brosnan trots on screen as Chiron, a half-human, half-horse Centaur. But we do.

And if staging hell directly under Hollywood isn't genius, it's close enough. Throw in Uma Thurman's writhing hair snakes for her turn as Medusa and you're in for some wild, if sometimes overly silly action entertainment.

The story is hokey. The acting is OK, and the special effects are impressive.

If you like creature-features, though, you can do a lot worse than this free-wheeling clash of the junior titans.

Posted by Larry Ratliff at 5:43 PM in 2-1/2 jalapeños, based on a book, books, fantasy, film, PG | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

To beast or not to beast

Release the movie-going hounds, "The Wolfman" is a howling success!

Though director Joe Johnston and a couple of screenwriters tweak the characters and story of the classic horror-thriller some, make no mistake, "The Wolfman" spills blood all over the Victorian moors as loving homage to "The Wolf Man" of 1941.

Old school is definitely the way to go when resurrecting the furry manbeast from hell and, of course, the Universal Pictures vaults.

When the moon is full and a transformation from man to manbeast is in order, this "Wolfman" does it -- for the most part -- the old fashioned way. Rick Baker's hairy, bone-expanding make-up and prosthetics prove effective when the moon glow summons.

Oscar winners Benicio Del Toro ("Traffic") and Anthony Hopkins ("The Silence of the Lambs") go at it as creepy father and prodigal son.

Sir John Talbot (Hopkins) and son Lawrence (Del Toro) have been estranged for many years. But when Lawrence's son Ben goes missing and ends up a bloody mess in a road ditch, Lawrence doesn't just return home, he vows to get to the bottom of things.

That's a noble gesture, of course, but there is a fair maiden involved. Gwen (Emily Blunt, recently on screen in "The Young Victoria"), Ben's former fiancée, looks longingly into Lawrence's eyes and wants some answers.

What man wouldn't venture into the woods at night to take on a beast's fury when persuaded by a beautiful woman? Well, probably quite a few, but there's no time to get into that now.

"The Wolfman" follows monster-thriller etiquette common to vampire flicks, plodding zombie adventures and, of course, werewolf yarns. Once-bitten , Lawrence tries to will his ungodly transformation away. To no avail, I'm afraid. Actually, we wouldn't have much of a horror flick if he was able to pull off the self-cure.

Instead, Lawrence -- fighting his maddening curse all the way -- ravages the 1890 countryside just like the other beast that came before. Not much mystery there. Veteran fans of the grisly genre won't be surprised much when it comes to story.

The real thrill here is the dramatic bite Johnston (who directed "Jumanji," "Hidalgo" and "Jurassic Park III") creates with an eerie tone, good acting and a terrific bone-chilling score by Danny Elfman ("Men in Black," "Good Will Hunting").

Generally, I hate it when modern filmmakers tinker with classics. These filmmakers and actors come to honor what came before, however, not to burn it down and start over.

"The Wolfman" is hair-raising, bloody fun that really knows how to release the beast.

Bring a silver bullet just in case.

Posted by Larry Ratliff at 3:47 PM in 3 jalapeños, film, horror, horror-thriller, R, thriller | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Life, 'Valentine's Day' like a box of chocolates

Like an oversized box of assorted chocolates, "Valentine's Day" soothes the sugary sweet craving at first, includes a mixed nut or two and grows stale before it's all gone.

A sizable all-star ensemble cast headed by Oscar winner Jamie Foxx and Anne Hathaway, but including Jessica Alba, Ashton Kutcher, Jessica Biel, Bradley Cooper and others, goes through every possible emotion from an early Valentine's Day morning until just after midnight, when the bloom falls off the roses.

Directed by Garry Marshall ("Pretty Woman," "The Princess Diaries"), one Hollywood's most grandiose love bug devotees, "Valentine's Day" is "Crash" for the hopelessly romantic.

This exercise in puppy love, young love, adult love and senior love lost and found intermingles characters and story lines until they either tie up in a tidy little bow, blow up completely or just sort of fizzle out.

Marshall and screenwriter Katherine Fugate ("The Prince & Me," 2004), though often bowing to the obvious and contrived offbeat, do occasionally touch the heart with a meaningful surprise.

What I like best about "Valentine's Day" is the casting. Marshall's long history in Hollywood allows the crafty veteran filmmaker to call in favors, which equates to the impressive all-star lineup.

Marshall gave a huge career shove to Julia Roberts in 1990 and Anne Hathaway a decade later. What's impressive here is that they are, to some extent, cast against type.

Hathaway, who played a clumsy 15-year-old thrust into royal formality in "The Princess Diaries," portrays a sweet looking office temp whose real job is as an "adult phone entertainer." Liz (Hathaway) is trying to pay off a hundred thou in student loans as a phone sex mistress.

Roberts, who drew an Oscar nomination as the beautiful, witty hooker of "Pretty Woman," shows up fatigued and in Army fatigues. She's Capt. Kate Hazeltine, on a 14-hour flight to L.A. to reunite with a very special someone on the most romantic day of the year.

Actually, we don't see too much of Roberts. But her niece Emma Roberts is front-and-center as Grace, a high school student determined to take her romance with boyfriend Alex (Carter Jenkins) to the ultimate intimate level, if you know what I mean.

Unfortunately, "Valentine's Day" lingers too long on screen to tie up all the loose ends. Bonds are forged. Hearts are broken and sometimes repaired in time for the closing credits.

Oddly enough, an Academy Award-winning actor's enormous talents are wasted in a less-than-challenging role as a TV sportscaster. Also, a young, Grammy award-winning country singer steals every scene she's in with a goofy persona, a huge stuffed bear and, like, Valley Girl speak.

Weep not for Jamie Foxx, though. The star of "Ray" will be back in a big way. And Swift, if she ever tires of picking up music awards, could make a splash in Hollywood.

That's the way it is in "Valentine's Day" (and a big box of chocolates), you never know what you'll get in the sugary assortment.

Posted by Larry Ratliff at 12:10 AM in 2-1/2 jalapeños, film, PG-13, romantic-comedy | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Get to 'The Last Station' on time

Even though "The Last Station" chronicles the final tumultuous year in the life of great Russian writer Leo Tolstoy, it wouldn't have surprised me to see Woody Allen pop out from behind a tree for a comic philosophical discussion about "Love and Death."

Adapted for the screen and directed by Michael Hoffman, who took on Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" in 1999, "The Last Station" combines history with the slightest hint of cinematic comic frolic. And he has two very good actors in key roles.

Christopher Plummer, recently on screen as the immortal and forever miserable title character in "The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus," takes on Tolstoy in his final year of creativity and life in 1910.

Arguably the biggest celebrity in the world at the time, Tolstoy is caught in a personal battle of war and peace. The Countess Sofya (Helen Mirren), his wife of 48 years, is devastated by the news that her husband is thinking of changing his will.

Tolstoy' s devious disciple Vladimir Chertkov (a leering Paul Giamatti) is urging the great writer to commit to what might be referred to in a few decades as the Jonas Salk. In other words, Chertkov strongly lobbies Tolstoy to sign over the rights to his life of writing to the Russian people.

When the Countess finds out, the first cold war erupts in Tolstoy's inner circle.

Hoffman sets the stage exquisetly when it comes to capturing a family bond so powerful that the mere notion of breaking it can send an aged revered writer fleeing his own home in the middle of the night.

This may be personal preference, but I'm bothered when movies taking place in a foreign land are played out by actors speaking English. This case is extra puzzling because some banners on display during an outdoor celebration bear Russian words, yet the principals speak English.

On the other hand, Plummer and Mirren are joys to behold in this historical drama (shot in the German countryside, not Russia) that erupts with situational comedy. In fact, they are both up for Academy Awards for their efforts.

For a reason I can't quite fathom, Plummer's Tolstoy draws a supporting actor nod.

Mirren, an Academy Award winner for her title role in "The Queen" (2006) and a best actress nominee for this performance, chews the scenery at times like a TV soap opera star in a lingering death-bed scene. Somehow, she still makes it appear cutting-edge marvelous.

Giamatti and James McAvoy have less to do, but are fine as well. McAvoy ("Wanted," "Atonement") plays Tolstoy's secretary in way over his head in matters of family loyalty and love.

Beautifully staged, "The Last Station" diligently seeks peace in a warring household of wills, both on paper and of the mind.

Posted by Larry Ratliff at 12:05 AM in 3 jalapeños, based on true story, biography, books, drama, family drama, film, R | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

'Dear John': Cheesy to the letter

The sappiness almost drips off the romantic-drama "Dear John."

That surprises me a little with established, usually excellent director Lasse Hallström at the helm.

The culprit here for romance dulled by overbearing melodrama is the novelist, Nicholas Sparks. If you thought the sappy movie versions of previous Sparks novels "Message in a Bottle" and "The Notebook" were just the right kind of tear-jerker, you'll find familiar surroundings in "Dear John."

I'm no genius. I had a pretty good idea, however, that once preppy Southern belle Savannah Curtis (Amanda Seyfried) started sending letters overseas to John Tyree (Channing Tatum), her U.S. Army Special Forces beau, that eventually "that letter" would arrive. After all, every letter in this weepie begins with "Dear John."

The soldier and the college girl meet on a South Carolina beach in the early '00s. She's on spring break. He's home to visit his quirky, reclusive father (Oscar nominee Richard Jenkins). They fall in love quickly, but vow to spend the rest of their lives together, after John's Army hitch is up in about a year.

The terrorist attacks of 9/11 change all that. John can't walk away from his duty to country. Savannah, however, is more of a mindset that a deal's a deal. Uh, oh. Who can't feel a certain "poison pen" moment looming?

Can this exercise in pulp friction actually be coming from the same talented Swedish director who orchestrated heart-breaking drama so well in "The Cider House Rules" (1999) and had our hearts on a leash with "My Life As a Dog" in the mid-'80s?

"Dear John," while not quite as silly as novelist Sparks' "Message In a Bottle" or, for that matter, "The Notebook," wastes not only our time, but the time of Jenkins, the excellent actor of "Burn After Reading" and "The Visitor."

Once Texas native Henry Thomas (The "E.T." kid all grown up and doing some good work) shaves the beard and is recognizable, he's pretty good as Tim. He's the needy single father at the beach house next door who's sort of biding his time when it comes to companionship.

No pity is necessary for the two young leads. Seyfried, on screen recently in "Jennifer's Body," and Tatum ("G.I. Joe"), the latest in a long line of stone-faced semi-actors, are simply two young actors looking for work.

With a little luck, their next outings will provide a little more substance for them, and for us as well.

Posted by Larry Ratliff at 11:45 AM in 2 jalapeños, based on a book, drama, film, PG-13, war drama | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Movie Reviews

10 posts from February 2010

02/26/2010

Rounding down the usual suspects

It takes an exiled world figure to know one

02/19/2010

Guy, interrupted

Children of the fright

'Happy' go yucky

02/12/2010

Greeks, geeks and eeks

To beast or not to beast

Life, 'Valentine's Day' like a box of chocolates

Get to 'The Last Station' on time

02/05/2010

'Dear John': Cheesy to the letter

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10 posts from February 2010

02/26/2010

Cop Out

On the Web

The Ghost Writer

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02/19/2010

Shutter Island

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The White Ribbon

On the Web

Happy Tears

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02/12/2010

Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief

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"The Wolfman"

On the Web

Valentine's Day

On the Web

The Last Station

On the Web

02/05/2010

Dear John

On the Web

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