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Identity movie

An out-of-the-way motel. An introverted manager with a skeleton in the closet. Guests who lose their heads at the first signs of trouble. Sound familiar? Although the echoes of Hitchcock are certainly intentional, Identity is not Pscyho, nor does it strive to be. A movie that successfully navigates the line between psychological thriller and slasher horror movie, Identity ultimately metamorphoses into something unexpected and startling. What starts out as a seemingly-routine excursion into genre clich�s emerges into a more complex and satisfying arena than most viewers will anticipate.

Identity contains a major surprise, but it’s not unpremeditated. It’s not an add-on designed to blind-side an audience. Instead, it is carefully woven into the movie’s fabric. It is foreshadowed, and, for the detective in the audience, possible to piece together before its revelation. Rather than spoiling the disclosure, this enhances it. Part of the fun of Identity is looking beyond the obvious and figuring out what is really going on. And, like Dead Again, the movie doesn’t wait until the final moments to shock the audience. There’s still plenty of story to be told once the truth is in the open, and at least one more twist to be navigated.

Because a flood has submerged all of the “exit routes,” a diverse group of strangers finds themselves stranded at an isolated motel. They include: Ed (John Cusack), a former cop who is now working as a limo driver; Caroline Suzanne (Rebecca De Mornay), the fading movie star Ed was driving; Rhodes (Ray Liotta), a corrections officer making a prisoner transfer; Maine (Jake Busey), a convicted killer in shackles; Paris (Amanda Peet), a Las Vegas hooker on her way to Florida to buy an orange grove; newlyweds Ginny (Clea DuVall) and Lou (William Lee Scott); motel manager Larry (John Hawkes); and George (John C. McGinley), an ineffectual man with a mute stepson and a seriously injured wife. As the rainy night wears on, the murders start. One-by-one, the motel guests are systematically picked off. Ed and Rhodes work feverishly to uncover the killer’s identity before no one is left alive. Meanwhile, elsewhere, a psychiatrist (Alfred Molina) is trying to stay the execution of his patient (Pruitt Taylor Vince), a convicted mass murderer who is due to die in less than 24 hours. While there is no doubt that the man committed the crimes for which he was sentenced, the doctor believes that the man is insane, and has devised a plan to demonstrate this to both the judge and the prosecutor.

One of the most clever aspects of Identity is the way in which director James Mangold and screenwriter Michael Cooney enable the two parallel stories to exist separately until they dovetail at the perfect moment. The relationship between these two plot aspects lies at the core of what Identity is trying to do. Early in the movie, Mangold announces that this isn’t going to be a traditional horror/thriller endeavor when he uses a series of short, loosely-connected flashbacks to introduce the characters and establish the situation. It’s an effective and economical way to get right into the action.

The two leads, John Cusack and Ray Liotta, were cast as much for their reputations as for their acting ability. Mangold uses their on-screen images � Cusack as the self-effacing everyman and Liotta as the heavy � to give viewers a shorthand regarding how we should feel about the characters. Of course, there’s no guarantee that this isn’t misdirection. The rest of the cast is filled out by character actors, with the exception of Rebecca De Mornay, who is given an opportunity to poke fun at her own image. (”Didn’t you used to be a movie star?”)

As he has shown in his previous movies, which include Heavy, Copland, and Girl, Interrupted, Mangold prefers character-centered pieces over action-oriented ones. Initially, Identity seems to be a departure � but early impressions can be deceiving. At a short 90 minutes, the film is exactly the right length. It moves briskly, is consistently involving, and offers some unexpected developments. I’m not sure how mainstream audiences will react to Identity � it does not remain true to the formula in which it has its roots, and it may be difficult to decipher for those who do not pay attention. Nevertheless, for anyone who enjoys smart, clever films and does not demand a traditional ending that neatly wraps up everything, Identity is an early-year treat. It’s a popcorn movie with flair, style, and intelligence that will have nearly everyone thinking (or talking) about it on the drive home.

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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 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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Howling movie

Of all the werewolf movies made in the 80s, few are worth watching. However, a few classic do exist, and most horror fans agree that “The Howling” is one of them. While not quite as accomplished as An American Werewolf in London, “The Howling” was received well enough to spawn a long running series and start a short-lived werewolf fad-which is probably how a movie as abnormal as An American Werewolf in London found funding.

Like many aspects of the film, the plot feels a bit dated. After an encounter with a serial killer, newswoman Karen White is sent to “the Colony” by her psychiatrist. The Colony is a sort of hippie commune where patients are sent for seminars and natural solutions for their problems. Of course, the Colony is really a front for a clan of werewolves, who quickly turn Karen’s husband into one of their own.

Yes, the plot is silly, and the special effects haven’t held up much better. But despite its age, “The Howling” is still one of the better werewolf films out there. While the werewolves look a bit “muppetesque” today, at the time they were top notch. The design of the creatures is unique, mixing elements of wolf and man more equally than most other werewolf films. But what works the best about “The Howling” is the mood. With a somber, hopeless feel straight out of “Taxi Driver” and a great ending, the film’s atmosphere far overshadows the thin plot and dated effects. Everyone involved with the making of the film treats it very seriously, from director Joe Dante and writer John Sayles to the cast and effects artists. This serious, straight-faced attitude is what made the movie work; a lot of hard work was put into creating a moody, frightening film. Although the film may have lost some of its bite over the years, it will always remain one of the most respected werewolf films ever.

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Hot Fuzz movie

It’s a tricky thing, a cult hit. How do you follow it up? Do you ride the hype, go Hollywood and risk being called a sell-out? Or stay small and potentially confine yourself to ‘Also Out’ columns for the rest of your days? The Shaun Of The Dead team has aimed for a point precisely between the two, and if they haven’t quite hit the bullseye, they’ve come extremely close.

Hot Fuzz has a much harder job to do than Shaun. Zombies overrunning the suburbs and being fought off by a pair of layabouts armed only with arrested development and on-demand flatulence is an obviously ripe idea. Big-city policeman gets sent to the leafy land of cream teas and women’s institutes? It all sounds a bit too Heartbeat to get the heart racing. Fuzz never quite achieves the boundless creativity of Shaun, but Wright and Pegg throw every joke they have at the concept until they tickle the audience into giddy submission.

The vast share of the appeal is down to the laidback chemistry between Pegg and Frost. After almost a decade together they’re clearly so comfortable in each other’s presence that they feel no need to fight for the punchline, making them terrific company for two hours. It’s initially strange to see eternal pratfaller Pegg playing the straight man, and the first 20 minutes pass slightly sluggishly as we’re introduced to his Nicholas Angel, the kind of humourless jobsworth you’d studiously avoid at the office party. Alone he’s a bit of an irritating do-gooder, but once he meets bumpkin officer PC Danny Butterman (Frost), his dull stoicism becomes the perfect comic foil for Frost, who effortlessly trundles off with the show.

Danny is an endearing, pie-eyed, sugared-up puppy of a man, packed tightly with one-liners that you’ll be quoting long after your friends have stopped speaking to you because you won’t shut the hell up.

Wright and Pegg’s talent with incidental character quirks extends to the rest of the villagers; they may be archetypes, but they’re very funny archetypes. Paddy Considine and Rafe Spall get a lot of mileage out of relatively little screen time as a pair of bellicose inspectors; Anne Reid turns a single vocal tic into one of the film’s best scenes and Timothy Dalton is so sneeringly, uproariously suspicious that he might as well be twirling his moustache, stroking a white cat and ending all his lines with “Mwa-ha-ha”. We could go on, but word counts forbid.

Wright is not just in this for the comedy, however; he wants to be an action director too. He’s certainly far from a slouch in this department, but by boldly referencing the films of Michael Bay, Tony Scott and Kathryn Bigelow he’s setting himself a high benchmark — okay, maybe marginally less so with Bigelow. He strikes a confident balance between the laughs and stunts, and his action hits have plenty of bang and flashy editing, but he does lack the ultra-cool ‘I wish I was that guy’ moments that mark out a great action set-piece. Yet if Hot Fuzz can only boast of being a good action movie, it is confidently a great comedy.

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The House Of The Dead movie

How do films like these get made for video, let alone the wide theatrical run this load of shite got (no wonder Artisan went under). If nothing else, ‘Dead’ serves up what you’d expect from a video game adaptation - absolutely no script, a cast of various young unknowns with one or two classic veterans struggling for a paycheck thrown in, tons of self-referential and utterly flat gags (from a ‘Romero’ reference to Prochnow playing ‘Capt. Kirk’), and a ton of cheap gore.

Admittedly there’s something else too - tits, and quite a few of them. Breasts are on display every few minutes and more often than not they prove less artificial than the rest of the movie (all hail to a film that at least promotes natural jumbly-wumblys). Bad zombie horror films like “Resident Evil” at least tried to have a cohesive story, good looking leads, some cool sets and Michelle Rodriguez in a fun bad girl rountine.

‘House’ is a long step down from ‘Resident’ - both Clint Howard and Jurgen Prochnow reach new lows in their careers and they’re the best characters, the rest are totally forgettable actors who combine bad dialogue, bad delivery and just woeful roles (check out how badly written some of the ‘dumb guy’ stuff is) with the bad makeup and cheesy techno music. The zombie makeup in particular is quite astonishingly shocking - even “Ghosts of Mars” had more convincing work than this. Also, what in the hell is with the constant quick cuts to images from the computer game - ugh.

So with no laughs, no script, cheap gore, and no characters - the scares should save it right? Well sure, if there were any. There’s no emphasis on atmosphere or suspense, and the cinematography doesn’t help. There’s a nice little action sequence set around the water about halfway in, and a half-smile inducing ‘arm these busty chicks’ sequence, but that’s followed by a cheap setup about the legend of the ‘zombie Dr. Frankenstein’ responsible for all the reanimated corpses and dud action shootout scenes with heavy revolving camera tricks which become so quick cut even Michael Bay after a heavy night would find nauseating.

As films go this is a real struggle even for devotees of the genre. Hard core zombie movie fans will feel cheated and maybe insulted by the lack of quality here, pity as they’re the ONLY ones this is geared for. As for talk of a sequel, give me a break.

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House of 9 movie

Nine strangers (well, eight; there’s a married couple thrown into the mix) awake inside a strange house from which there is no escape, and are told to battle one another until there is only one person left standing (he/she will then receive $5 million, supposedly). With a seemingly foolproof premise like that, one can’t help but feel utter shock as House of 9 ultimately reveals itself to be a thoroughly irritating and hopelessly inept piece of work. Screenwriter Philippe Vidal populates the story with an assortment of frustratingly stereotypical characters - from the tough-as-nails cop to the fragile young woman to the angry black guy - and immediately pits them against one another (there’s absolutely no period of shock or disbelief). The performances are, likewise, teeming with exceedingly histrionic overtones, something that’s particularly true of the ridiculously hostile black character (an aspiring rapper, no less!) And although director Steven R. Monroe initially infuses the movie with an intriguing sense of style, the filmmaker quickly kills any momentum the story has going for it with one interminable montage after another (all of which are set to astoundingly awful songs). In the end, it’s the lack of believable, compelling characters that triggers House of 9’s downfall; this is despite a twist ending that is admittedly pretty clever, though in no way indicative of what preceded it.

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