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The Ice Harvest movie

There are those, including the distributor, who would like audiences to believe that The Ice Harvest is a comedy. At first glance, that’s not so hard to accept. After all, director Harold Ramis was one of the Ghostbusters co-writers and scored a big hit with Groundhog Day. But Ramis’ funniest work is at least a decade behind him and, while The Ice Harvest has moments of dark, macabre humor, it’s pretty much a straightforward film noir tale. You may laugh, but it won’t be often or with much gusto. This is strictly B-movie fare. It tries to do some of the same things as Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and suffers as a result of the comparison.

Our hero is a loser lawyer by the name of Charlie Arglist (John Cusack). Charlie isn’t a very nice person, but since he’s played by an actor everyone likes, we tend to overlook Charlie’s least appealing characteristics (such as the disdain with which he treats his children). Partnered with Vic (Billy Bob Thorton), who has the guts Charlie lacks, the sad-sack attorney figures out how to steal $2 million from his boss, Bill Guerrard (Randy Quaid), on Christmas Eve. After the deed is done, all he and Vic have to do is go their separate ways for a few hours, meet up at 1:00 am, split the money, and ride off into the sunset. Charlie would like to take along his idea of the perfect woman, strip joint owner Renata (Connie Nielsen), but that would mean telling her more than is wise. Meanwhile, one of Bill’s enforcers (Mike Starr) has arrived in town and is asking questions about Charlie and Vic. And Charlie’s footsteps are dogged by his drunk best friend, Pete (Oliver Platt), who wants nothing more than to spend Christmas with his buddy (rather than his wife, who happens to be Charlie’s ex).

This being film noir, there are plenty of murders, script contortions, red herrings, and double-crosses. It’s hard to say whether the ending is “happy” or not - it depends on how you define the word, and I won’t go into detail here. There are some laughs to be had, but this is a mismatch for Ramis, whose forte has never been dark material. It’s hard to say whether Joel and Ethan Coen could have had more success with the script, but the result would have been more interesting. The Ice Harvest lacks the comic momentum necessary to make it more memorable than a run-of-the-mill thriller.

I have seen the movie compared to Bad Santa, but it’s an inappropriate comparison. There are three superficial similarities - the Christmas setting, a rogues’ gallery of characters, and the presence of Billy Bob Thornton - but the films are radically different in tone, intent, and storyline. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is a closer match, although that film is better and more energetic. For anyone on the lookout for a holiday-themed motion picture, this probably isn’t going to scratch the itch.

Can it still be said that John Cusack possesses “boyish charm,” even though he’s in his 40th year on earth? He makes Charlie identifiable. On the surface, he’s an unappealing guy, but Cusack gives him enough likeability that we find ourselves rooting for him. Billy Bob Thornton does his usual schtick - the amoral thug with flashes of charm and a heart of lead. Connie Nielsen is miscast as the femme fatale (originally, the role was ticketed for Monica Bellucci). She’s not all that interesting or sexy. Randy Quaid, playing against type (he’s not a buffoon), adds a jolt of energy, but he doesn’t show up until late in the movie. Oliver Platt does a good job portraying a drunk, but a little bit of this kind of character goes a long way, and I found myself wishing he would fall face-down in a gutter somewhere and stay there.

The Ice Harvest has a short running time of 88 minutes. Despite its brevity, it seems padded, with all sorts of irrelevant scenes and dead-end subplots taking up time. It’s hard to figure out who the target audience is, since serviceable-yet-unremarkable B-movies rarely do much business. Next time, Ramis should work to his strengths, and film noir isn’t one of them. The Ice Harvest will have melted away long before the turkey leftovers are polished off.

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Ice Age movie

Hats off to 20th Century Fox. Through a marketing campaign which can be considered nothing less than astonishing, the studio has managed to convert Ice Age from an adequate (but hardly superlative) example of family entertainment into one of 2002’s handful of must-see movies. Put this one alongside Star Wars, Episode II, the 20th James Bond film, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and The Two Towers on the list of movies that seemingly everyone is aware of. The reason is simple: a computer-generated squirrel who has a hard time hiding his acorn.

Wisely, the previews for Ice Age only give glimpses of the pedestrian main plot. Instead, they center on the devilishly clever, exceedingly enjoyable interludes featuring the aforementioned rodent in situations and circumstances that recall the great animated work of the recently departed Chuck Jones. In fact, it got to the point where I was becoming irritated by the movie’s main plot - I wanted to see the squirrel again. All told, he makes about five appearances (totaling maybe 10 minutes of screen time). The rest of the movie is concerned with the escapades of a woolly mammoth, a sloth, a sabertooth tiger, and a human baby who tries unsuccessfully to be as cute as Monsters Inc.’s Boo.

Discounting Final Fantasy, which was aimed at a much different audience, Ice Age is the eighth Hollywood-financed computer animated film. It follows in the wake of, and borrows liberally from both of 2001’s blockbusters, Shrek and Monsters Inc. In fact, if Ice Age hadn’t been in development before those movies arrived in multiplexes, one might be tempted to argue that the screenplay for this film took elements from its two immediate predecessors, jumbled them together, then dumped them out in the middle of a frozen tundra. Kids, of course, will love Ice Age. Adults will be entertained, but no more. The film doesn’t quite succeed as well on both levels as last year’s Dreamworks and Disney/Pixar productions do.

The time period is the Dawn of Man. The dinosaurs have long since vanished from the Earth, and an ice age is fast approaching. The animals, at least most of them, are headed south for the long, hard winter. Among the exceptions are the industrious, frustrated squirrel, and three larger mammals: Manfred the Mammoth (voice of Ray Romano), Sid the Sloth (voice of John Leguizamo), and Diego the Sabertooth (voice of Denis Leary). These three have banded together on an unlikely quest: return a lost human baby to his tribe. However, while Manfred and Sid have the best intentions, Diego is pursuing his own agenda, which includes turning Manfred into dinner.

The contentious relationship turned to warm friendship between Manfred and Sid is virtually identical to that of Shrek and Donkey. The bonding that goes on between the animals and the baby recalls the way Boo worms her way into the big, bad monsters’ affections. But, despite the many plot similarities, the humor and sophistication of Ice Age never quite reaches the level of the other computer animated endeavors - except on those occasions when the squirrel is on screen. Also, the quality of the animation is a notch lower. It’s not bad, by any means, but it’s a definite step backwards, often more resembling the look of a computer game than that of a big budget motion picture.

Vocal casting is a critical element of any animated movie, and Ice Age gets it two-thirds right. The mistake is Ray Romano, whose trademark low-key delivery turns Manfred into a walking invitation to doze off. He’s boring; the word “animated” hardly seems to apply. Fortunately, Manfred’s dullness is more than adequately counterbalanced by John Leguizamo’s off-the-wall portrayal of Sid. One could make a case that Leguizamo is more effective here, where we don’t see his face, than he has been in any of the outings where we have seen it. Denis Leary offers an interesting portrayal of Diego - there’s not a hint of sarcasm or irony in the performance. Leary, in an unusual move, plays it straight.

Ice Age’s director is Chris Wedge, whose only previous experience behind the camera was making an animated short called “Bunny”. His first foray into feature filmmaking is successful, although Ice Age is not a standout in the still-small subgenre of computer animated films. It’s perfectly acceptable family entertainment - the kind of movie that parents can take their children to without worrying about inappropriate content (for either the youngsters or the adults). And, sometimes, that’s about all you can ask for from a movie.
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I Robot movie

When all of the dust from 2004’s crumbling blockbusters has settled, I, Robot will likely emerge as the strongest mainstream motion picture of the summer. The best big-budget science fiction film since Minority Report, I, Robot gets high marks not only for storytelling but for its compelling vision of 2035 Chicago. Directed by Alex Proyas, who previously imagined the strikingly noir cityscapes of The Crow and Dark City, I, Robot takes ideas (and a character) presented in Isaac Asimov’s classic anthology of nine short stories and uses them as a jumping-off point for a thrilling action-adventure movie. Proper recognition goes to credited screenwriters Jeff Vintar and Akiva Goldsman (and uncredited Hillary Seitz) for remaining faithful to the essential themes of Asimov’s writing while taking the story in a different, more cinematic direction. Asimov fans take note, however: this isn’t close to a faithful adaptation. In fact, it’s not really an adaptation at all.

I, Robot transpires some 30 years in the future, when robots are becoming as familiar an everyday household appliance as refrigerators or vacuum cleaners. But, on the eve of the rollout of the landmark NS5 series, trouble is brewing at U.S. Robotics. Dr. Alfred Lanning (James Cromwell), the head of robot and cybernetic research, has apparently committed suicide. Technophobe cop Del Spooner (Will Smith) has been called in to investigate, and his first suspicion is that Dr. Lanning didn’t kill himself - a robot did it. His prime suspect is Sonny (Alan Tudyk), a robot with personality and who seems to have found a way around the Three Laws of Robotics. Dr. Susan Calvin (Bridget Moynahan), a robopsychologist who works for U.S. Robotics, and CEO Lawrence Robertson (Bruce Greenwood), are suspicious of Spooner’s motives for blaming a robot, and skeptical of his conclusions. But that doesn’t stop Dr. Calvin from aiding the detective’s investigation and Robertson, who has a lot of money on the line, from pulling out all the stops to end it.

The film’s action sequences, which include chases and fights, are anything but generic. They are directed with flair, and that results in them being both tense and involving. The way the robots swarm after Spooner during one of I, Robot’s centerpiece scenes is reminiscent of the aliens’ attack patterns in James Cameron’s Aliens. The film carries a sense of the unpredictable; we’re never sure exactly what’s going to happen next, and there’s no assurance that Spooner will be alive when the end credits roll. These elements, not flashes and bangs, are what make action films suspenseful.

I, Robot starts with the story, which is more intelligent and engrossing than what we have come to expect from movies in this genre. The script uses the Three Laws of Robotics (developed by Asimov and John Campbell) as its foundation. They state: (1) A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm, (2) A robot must obey orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law, and (3) A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law. Instead of just making these precepts a throw-away aspect of the plot, they are integral to its development and success. Take away Asimov’s Three Laws, and there is no movie.

I, Robot tinkers with ideas that have always fascinated science fiction fans. At what point does a personality simulation become a personality? Where is the line that divides a machine from a living being? When does consciousness occur? And at what point does an entity achieve the ability to interpret the Three Laws as it sees fit, not as they were intended? There’s plenty of thought-provoking material in I, Robot - certainly enough to keep a thinking viewer attuned to the plot while never slowing down the proceedings or dulling the action. I, Robot deserves to be called “smart.” It earns that distinction during nearly every frame of its 115-minute running time.

The setting - 2035 Chicago - is meticulously realized. Like in Minority Report, a great deal of thought went into imagining what the near future might look like. (Admittedly, however, I think much of what I, Robot postulates is too sophisticated for 2035. A better match to the technology evident in the film might be 2070.) Nothing in the film is outrageous. In fact, many aspects of life in 2035 aren’t that different from what they are today. And there are some neat touches (watch how Spooner’s car is “parked” after he arrives at U.S. Robotics). There are no phasers or lasers for weapons - the cops still use good old fashioned guns. Aside from that, the film looks stunning - but what else would one expect from the director of an eye-popping spectacle as Dark City?

I, Robot features some of the best uses of CGI special effects ever. Put this alongside the Star Wars prequels and The Lord of the Rings as a primer for the seamless incorporation of special effects. There’s a lot of computer work in I, Robot, but it’s never obvious or evident. It rarely calls attention to itself, and it is not clumsily inserted . When Will Smith interacts with a special effect, we forget that it’s an actor posturing with something drawn in by computer. After seeing a lot of cheap effects work that looks like it was exported from a computer game, it’s refreshing to see something of such high quality.

Another thing that I, Robot does is to prove that Will Smith can carry an action/adventure film on his own. Without support from Martin Lawrence, Tommy Lee Jones, Gene Hackman, Jeff Goldblum, or Kevin Kline, he shows that he’s got enough charisma and energy to hold a viewer’s attention. Plus, he can deliver the mandatory one-liners with as much brio as Schwarzenegger or Willis. Despite the physicality of the role, Smith manages to connect with the audience in everyman fashion, and, although the part requires a certain amount of wit, he doesn’t play it like a clown. Effective, but not outstanding, secondary work is provided by Bridget Moynahan (The Recruit), who plays the lead human character from Asimov’s stories. Bruce Greenwood is instantly recognizable as a bad guy, because he has become one of Hollywood’s favorite villains ever since he graduated from the obscurity of Atom Egoyan films (which still represent his best work to-date).

Although I, Robot isn’t quite as pulse-pounding or intellectually challenging as Minority Report, it stimulates many of the same areas of the brain, and causes the body to pump nearly as much adrenaline. In almost every way imaginable, it satisfies, and that (unfortunately) has been a rare quality at the multiplexes this summer. This is a movie to restore the faith of those who had given up on science fiction after The Matrix Reloaded/Revolutions. By adeptly combining action and ideas, it proves that Hollywood can still produce astonishing entertainment.

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I am Not There movie

Plot
Biopic of legendary singer Bob Dylan through seven different stages in the artist’s life played by six different actors. The events that follow are drawn as much from Dylan’s songs as from his actual biography.

Review
A biopic where the famous white, male subject is subdivided into six personalities and played by everyone from an 11 year-old black boy to a statuesque Aussie actress, via both Batman and his forthcoming Joker, with not one of them going by the hero’s name? That’s just crazy. But wily American director Todd Haynes is on to something here. When the focus of your movie is that shapeshifting and hugely reluctant American icon Bob Dylan, how better to capture his slippery spirit than to tell six intertwined stories, each capturing one of the many personas of the great singer? And, for all the pinballing through history and psyche, Haynes, who played with the gauche moves of glam-rock with mixed results in Velvet Goldmine, manages a laid-back groove to his searching.

We start with titchy Marcus Carl Franklin, embodying the early years, when Dylan harkened to the call of his hero folk-singer Woody Guthrie and apparently rode across lush American fields in open-fronted boxcars. To add a further tickle of symbolism (and confusion), this version of Dylan is christened Woody Guthrie. Christian Bale, as Jack Rollins, encompasses the heroic early years when Dylan struck fame and radicalism, and later the ‘saved period’ where he took to the Bible as Pastor John. And Richard Gere, as craggy as a tramp with peppery beard and wire-rimmed specs, plays the modern incarnation searching for the roots of American folklore. Still with us? Okay, we’ll continue…

In the most striking and so-far lauded bit of Bob, Cate Blanchett gives an uncanny depiction of the controversial ‘electric years’ - that point when Dylan shrank away from his folk adulation and appalled the faithful with licks of what sounded like rock. It is Blanchett who most closely captures the familiar herky-jerky frame and wired truculence - the inner conflict of a man confronting a legend he can’t handle. Indeed, there is a look that Blanchett gives the camera, a long, loaded stare down the barrel of a gun, which is worth the asking price alone. You can’t see her missing out on a Supporting Actress (or should that be Actor?) nomination or two come backslapping time.
The story is fractionally chronological, but each tale wraps in and out of the others, defying narrative flow. There is little point in trying to treat each variation as the next ‘Dylan’ in a row. Two of them are, in fact, representations of an emotional event and inspirations. Heath Ledger, playing an imprint who seems to be more actor than singer, is the failed husband, and Charlotte Gainsbourg, as his forlorn wife, an amalgam of all the wounded women of his life. Then there’s Ben Whishaw, who preaches slivers of cute philosophy direct to camera, an echo of Dylan’s obsession with the poet Rimbaud.

As the leads rotate, so the style of filmmaking shifts and warps around the various ideas. For Blanchett’s taut electric years, it floats in a creamy black-and-white of mid-’60s glamour. For Gere’s autumnal years, it drifts into an elegiac landscape, directly referencing Dylan’s own presence in Sam Peckinpah’s Pat Garret And Billy The Kid. There is surrealism, madcap humour, heartbreak, poetry and pure nonsense; most of which, of course, you could equally say of the man himself.

It’s that kind of film: restless and brilliant, annoying and self-satisfied in its intimacy with the subject (who wholeheartedly approved). It will infuriate with its longeurs and frankly baffling little gimmicks, and it drifts on too long. But there’s no doubting Haynes has succeeded in capturing a real sense of the strange figure who can claim to have changed America. We learn nothing greatly significant about Dylan. He remains the fanciful enigma, but we do learn plenty about the futile effort of the press, fan and filmmaker alike to define their heroes. Which is partly the point.

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I will Always Know What You Did Last Summer movie

The hook-wielding fisherman who stalked Jennifer Love Hewitt and company in two previous films is back in the straight-to-DVD sequel I’ll Always Know What You Did Last Summer. But instead of hunting down the Ghost Whisperer star, the killer in a slicker is after a new crop of teens living in a small Colorado town.

It’s the Fourth of July, and Amber (Brooke Nevin), Colby (David Paetkau), Roger (Seth Packard), and Zoe (Torrey DeVitto) have decided to use the now infamous urban myth of the homicidal fisherman to play a harmless prank. But it doesn’t turn out to be as innocuous as they expected, for their little jest results in the accidental death of another friend.

Almost a year passes, and the memory of the terrible tragedy  they all decided to keep a secret continues to haunt them. However, there’s someone who knows what they did, as Amber starts receiving ominous messages saying “I know what you did last summer.” Paranoia among the friends grows as the days count down to the Fourth of July, the one-year anniversary of their friend’s death — not to mention the day the killer fisherman has chosen to run wild and wreak bloody havoc on whoever stands in his way.

If I’ll Always Know What You Did Last Summer came across as an average, B-grade slasher flick, I would consider it simply a basic bad movie, dumb but easily forgettable. However, this little horror outing calls attention to itself by actually trying to inject some stylish filmmaking into the bloody proceedings — and falling flat on its face with every single attempt. Director Sylvain White couldn’t leave well enough alone and lead the same group of stock horror genre victims to the slaughter. Instead, Mr. White tries adding some visual flair to the movie, incorporating slow-motion, bleak cinematography, out-of-focus shots, and almost every other trick he can think of to make the movie seem edgier and grittier than it is.

White ends up blanketing the entire project in pretention, setting out to be the new Dario Argento but ending up with a movie that comes packed with goofy-looking murders (even the most inventive kill scene, involving a guy getting pulled through a window via a hook, looks ridiculous) and laughable, tension-free scenes of the characters fleeing for their lives. On top of that, the dialogue and character conflicts feel even more tired than usual, the performances seem even more second-rate, and the big twist in the climax is more likely to anger viewers than amaze them.

So, was there anything to salvage out of I’ll Always Know What You Did Last Summer? Aside from DeVitto looking as cute as a button, there isn’t a thing worth watching in any of this movie’s 91 hackneyed, played-out, painful-to-endure minutes.

Here’s my definition of true irony: watching a tired addition to a slasher series like this — and learning that one of the movie production companies involved is called “Original” Film. No wonder I have to laugh and then hang my head in shame at what the cinema has come down to.

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I Want Candy movie

  • Author: admin
  • Filed under: Comedy
  • Date: Aug 25,2008

Nobody does the comedy of embarrassment as well as the Brits, and the plot of this Ealing Studios effort ensures painful laughs at every turn. The heroes are a pair of ambitious students (Toms Riley and Burke) who set out to make their mark in movies by creating the world’s greatest porno. It doesn’t help that they live in the genteel Surrey suburbs, or that they have to cast and film their skinflick opus under the noses of their teacher and parents. Many of the funniest moments come from the clash between erotic epic and dull reality, like the decrepit old gent in a wheelchair who keeps rolling into shot and waving.

It’s almost stubbornly predictable, especially for anyone who saw last year’s The Moguls, a lame US comedy with a similar plot. But the familiar story beats can be excused, since it’s loaded with inventive scenarios that crank the cringe factor off the chart. One excruciating scene sees one of our heroes trapped in his parents’ en suite bathroom while his progenitors embark on a marathon kinky-sex session next door — as if that wasn’t enough, director Stephen Surjik (Wayne’s World 2) throws in a nearly naked Pole who needs a number two.

The effective supporting cast is filled with familiar TV faces: Jimmy Carr, Felicity ‘Lynn from Alan Partridge’ Montagu and Mackenzie Crook, who’s terrific as a pretentious, nastily goateed film professor. Crook’s character pretty much embodies the movie — a flimsy cliché that still somehow manages to be fresh and funny. While a few moments fall flat (ping-pong ball-shooting Oriental ladies stopped being side-splitting in 1804), there are also lots of smart gags, like a hostile phone conversation that ends in both parties adopting kissy sweet-talk to fool people on their end of the line.

The filmmakers seem to have set out to make I Want Candy a British American Pie, and unlike most homegrown comedies it deserves some broad attention. Marketing will no doubt heavily feature the film’s American ‘star’, Carmen Electra, who plays the eponymous Candy Fiveways, a blue-movie starlet with a heart of gold. It should be noted that Electra is as dreadful here as she was in Scary Movie 4 and the rest of her big-bosomed body of work — somehow, even her porn acting is unconvincing — but don’t let that put you off.

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I Think I Love My Wife movie

Upon occasion, cinema can make for strange bedfellows. Consider, for example, I Think I Love My Wife. This relationship comedy marries the sensibilities of French New Wave auteur Eric Rohmer with the youth-friendly, sometimes raunchy humor of Chris Rock. Yet, as strange as it might seem, the unlikely juxtaposition works. Putting aside The Departed, I Think I Love My Wife represents one of the best re-makes in recent years, and it’s because rather than merely regurgitating Chloe in the Afternoon, Rock adopts the framework of the story and some of the key ideas and reworks them for a new audience in a different culture. The focus has changed but the essence remains the same.

Richard Cooper (Chris Rock) is a happily married man. His wife, Brenda (Gina Torres), is a great companion, cook, and mother. There’s only one problem - they’re not having sex anymore. This causes Richard’s eyes to roam and his imagination to wander - not that he would ever do anything to endanger his seven years of wedded bliss, or so he thinks until Nikki Tru (Kerry Washington) enters his life. Eight years ago, she was the squeeze of a buddy and he hasn’t seen her since then. Now, she wanders back into his circle of friends with the force of a hurricane. He begins meeting her daily for seemingly innocent dalliances - quick lunches, errands, and visits to an auto show. Soon, however, it becomes clear that Nikki’s intentions are not so innocent and Richard, despite his resolve to remain faithful, is weakening under her seductive influence.

One of the best things about I Think I Love My Wife is that the film takes the time to develop the three principals beyond the stereotypes that underlie the characters. Brenda is more than just the tired wife who has lost her sexual appetite - she’s a woman balancing motherhood and career and she feels that her husband doesn’t appreciate her difficulties. Nikki isn’t a scheming vixen - she’s trying to figure out life and love and what it means to be the oldest women on a club scene dominated by twenty-somethings. And Richard is torn between desire and temptation as represented by Nikki and stability and comfort as represented by his family.

Rock develops Richard as a three-dimensional individual by underplaying the character. It’s a smart move by the writer/director/actor, and it humanizes the protagonist. There’s chemistry between Rock and both of his co-stars. His on-screen relationship with Torres is companionable and occasionally thorny. He and Washington sizzle, their interaction crackling with unresolved sexual tension. Steve Buscemi and Edward Herrmann have supporting roles as Richard’s best friend and boss, respectively.

I Think I Love My Wife is more serious than what one might initially expect from Rock, although elements of h