Thérèse
REVIEWED 02/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Bursting with an extraordinary yearning to serve God, bright young Thérèse Martin (Lindsay Younce) pined for the day when she could join the local Carmelite monastery of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and of the Immaculate Conception near her family home in Lisieux, Normandy, long before her beloved eldest sister Pauline (Linda Hayden) became a nun in 1882. Thérèse - still very much a naive yet precocious child by then - had already suffered the loss of her mother with uncanny poise half a decade earlier, and her fairly sheltered, pious life with her widowed father Louis (Leonardo Defilippis) and his three other daughters was a happy one. However, Thérèse's calling clearly seemed a foregone conclusion in her mind, impatient to enter that holy Roman Catholic Sisterhood of whole hearted servitude to Christ enclaved within those ancient stone walls at the earliest opportunity. Somewhat of a teacher's pet and social pariah at the local girl's school, Thérèse would pray to her household's cherished porcelain statue of the Mother Mary every night, ever mindful of her childhood hero, Joan of Arc, and of the prayer card given to her by the monastery's aged Mother Superior, Marie de Gonzague (Judith Kaplan), for the day that her own life affirming dreams and visions would literally come true. At fifteen, after weeks of succumbing to a terrible bedridden fever miraculously broken by a witnessed ray of ethereal light, Thérèse could wait no-longer. Openly defying rigidly preordained norms of admittance and relentlessly campaigning her wishes to whomever would listen, contacting her way through the ranks until she found herself at the Holy See and breaking tradition by pleading at the feet of the Pope himself. Not long afterwards, her prayers were answered. But, once ritually fashioned in her black robe and pure white habit, Thérèse would soon realize that her enthusiasm towards performing good deeds on Earth requires an unfamiliar and disciplined humility that she appears incapable of without a complete transformation.

Based on the relatively short life of Sainte Thérèse de l'Enfant-Jésus, born Marie-Françoise-Thérèse Martin (1873-1897) and canonized as the secondary patroness of France and the patron saint of florists, illness, and - curiously - Russia by Pope Pius XI (1857-1939) in 1925, as well as apparently heavily inspired by her best selling and posthumously published autobiography, L'histoire d'une âme, co-star/director Leonardo Defilippis' big screen debut tends to play out more like a self-coddled amateur home movie run on a fistful of credit cards for the most part. 'Thérèse: The Story of Saint Thérèse of Lisieux' (its complete title) is certainly conjured from a potentially worthy enough life for its artistically licensed cinematic adaptation, but screenwriter Patti Defillipis's script feels empty for the most part, failing to flesh out these characters for a wider paying audience to tap in to. As though a ticket holder's prior indoctrination met with a heavy reliance on first timer Younce's shiny faced, affected screen presence is enough to carry your interest throughout this ninety-six minute, English language 2004 snooze fest. They aren't. Sure, there are a couple of brief moments where appropriately soft humour sneaks in, but pretty well the entire cast of players sleep walk through their roles. The bygone props and dress up costumes wastefully run the show, without really giving a true sense of that time period. Perhaps that's Team Defillipis' main intention, possibly attempting to turn 'Thérèse' into a mildly palatable recruitment film for devout contemporary adolescent Christians pondering saintly aspirations, but there's a lot of groundwork that's completely overlooked in fully explaining what motivated this young woman to those lengths. Example: Why was she; over everyone else, even remotely taken seriously? You're never told. Younce's teary-eyed, hand on brow in woe-is-me repose, lazily captured by cinematographer Lourdes Ambrose in several terribly blocked scenes - with the tops of people's heads regularly chopped off for no reason - simply isn't enough to garner much more than a bored curl of the lip at your wristwatch long before the closing credits. Agonizing. Steer clear of this hugely disappointing turkey, and simply read the autobiography if you're interested in the life of this 19th Century religious figure.

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Tito
REVIEWED 02/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Tenuously carving a path of seemingly unattainable redemption from his brutal life of street urchin crime in Cairo, punishing twenty-year incarceration, and bullet riddled gangland heists as an adult thug drawn under the malevolent wing of crooked police sergeant Refaat 'Daddy' El-Sokary (Khaled Saleh; 'Khalli el demagh sahi' (2002)), hulking Taher Abdel 'Tito' Hai-Salim (Ahmed Salah El-Din El-Sakka; 'Sa'eedi fil gamaa el amrekeia' (1998), 'Short w Fanelah w Cap' (2000)) hungers for a respectable life with his lovely new girlfriend Nour (Hanan Tork; 'Sarek al-farah' (1994), 'Sahar el layaly' (2003)) and his befriended honourable business partner Fahir (Amr Waked; 'Gannat al shayateen' (1999), 'Dail el samakah' (2003)). It's been two years since he was released from prison and immediately returned to the only thing Hai-Salim knew how to do: Kill. Hooking up with former pal Sohby - who just so-happened to be the notorious sergeant's prime henchman - and escaping a subsequent hotel suite massacre when a daring daylight job shaking down a wealthy antiquities trader goes terribly wrong, ending up working directly for Daddy himself. Refeat thinks he's crazy to walk away from a comfortable modern life financed through their string of carefully planned, heavily armed covert robberies stealing from wanted arms dealers and drug lords hours before the cops are scheduled to raid those profitably bulging and fortified lairs. How will Tito make enough to support his adopted high priced lifestyle in Zamalek, afford to keep subsidizing Reha - an unschooled eight year-old kid heading towards the same doomed fate as Taher endured - and the boy's impoverished mother, and still have enough left over to fulfill his and Fahir's dream of running a luxury restaurant? Not to mention give Nour a proper marriage? "Money will make you respectable," El-Sokary sneers, citing the wake of death and destruction that his best underworld thief now wants to turn his back on. However, Tito's cleaned up world soon begins to crumble around him when his old boss' desperation over a formal inquiry gives him no alternative but to lock and load for one last job that threatens to destroy every hard won taste of happiness and success that he's just now begun to enjoy.

Feeling a lot like a contemporary Egyptian remake of several memorably violent Seventies lone wolf Hollywood vigilante crime sprees, this somewhat plodding yet surprisingly captivating subtitled actioner from writer/director Tarek El'eryan is an impressive offering over-all. Shades of Burt Reynolds' 'Sharky's Machine' (1981) and Charles Bronson's 'Death Wish' (1974) are clearly evident throughout famed el-Sakka's reasonably well-balanced, brooding and likely covered in bruises from physically hurling himself across the screen performance here. Sure, there could have been far more dialogue in Mohamed Hefzy's uncomplicated screenplay to flesh out the scenes that basically result in this internally tortured character's expressions silently drifting from the same bridge at different key moments, and it's obvious that more detailed attention could have been afforded his various relationship developments, but what you get is a strong enough mix of drama and action to keep a paying audience entertained from beginning to closing credits. Good stuff. Its cinematic strengths are also found in this supporting cast, with Saleh easily stepping into this maliciously bombastic role with sheer unfettered energy, and ballet dancer turned actor Tork pulling off an extraordinarily fascinating performance portraying a delicately powerful feminine role that wonderfully plays off and broadens her decidedly macho leading counterpart. Nour is Tito's equal, without falling into the clichéd movie trap of forgetting that she's a classy woman cultured within the League of Arab States. Gorgeous, too. What's more, while the bare bones special effects are fairly sparse, you can't help but cling white knuckled to your seat when those cars start to slam around or the unending ammo sprays the dusty air. My only real aggravation with this worthwhile two-hour feature is that cinematographer Sameh Selim obviously needs to go back to camera lens focusing school, because a disproportionate number of otherwise well blocked scenes were amateurishly blurry in that respect. Definitely check it out as an undemanding, entertaining example of Egyptian Cinema worth renting for the brief bouts of adrenaline-pumping action and impressive acting.

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Travellers & Magicians
REVIEWED 03/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Merely a month into his tenure as a Bhutan government official in a remote Himalayan village, Westernized Chinese outsider Dondup (Tsewang Dandup; 'Phörpa' (1999)) is bored, frustrated and aches for a far better life in the land of his dreams: America. So, when a letter from his Stateside friend finally arrives with good news and the promise of an easy visa, nothing can stop him from finding an excuse to take time off work and quickly pack up his Rock music cassettes and meager belongings. Nothing can stop him from kicking the dust of this backwater community of wooden shacks from his designer running shoes for the long bus ride to recognizable civilization in Thimphu, and for the long journey towards a new life of freedom that awaits him half a world away. Nothing can stop him, except missing the bus out of town. Forcing Dondup to sit by the side of the winding hillside dirt road in a miserable huff, chain smoking cigarettes on an empty stomach until something - a car, a truck, a tractor, anything - happens to stop and give him a lift. Hours later, still stuck waiting to be rescued from his travel plans' unexpected limbo, Dondup is joined by a chatty Buddhist monk (Sonam Kinga) who scoffs at his dreams of America and insists on telling the fable of farmer's son and magician's apprentice Tashi (Lhakpa Dorji) to bide their time until the next bus arrives. "Be careful with dream lands," warns the cheery monk, "When you wake up, it may not be too pleasant." See, Tashi was a daydreamer much like Dondup, bored with his schooling and pining for a big village life, when a mystical drunken haze sent him on a wild ride into the storm swept forest and under the care of an aged hermit. Dondup doesn't buy any of it, but the moral of the monk's story slowly becomes evident as their slow departure through these forested mountains takes another surprising turn.

Well, that was almost an enjoyable nap at the movies. Feeling vaguely like a soft, pro-Chinese propagandist cinematic metaphor intended to sway defection-minded homeland dissidents with the all-knowing laid back smile of Buddha, Bhutan-born writer/director Khyentse Norbu's subtitled 2003 offering is a sparsely humourous and aggravatingly plodding effort throughout. Much like Dandup's character, a paying audience can't help but feel forced into patiently sitting for ages, waiting for something to come along and move this hundred and eight-minute story forward. Nothing ever really does, frankly. To the point where you actually find yourself looking forward to the next installment of the fable, which ends up overwhelming this flick's stalled and overtly underplayed reality. Even the introduction of Dondup's imagined musings of his expected life in the US, or additions to the captivating dead batteries scene where such things as bad weather or funny flora and fauna observations, could have easily saved this picture from being the absolute snooze fest it is as presented here. The skull numbing, prolonged single note soundtrack is also annoying. Sure, most of this main cast of first time big screen actors do give fairly reasonable performances, but most of that seems to have little to do with Norbu's screenplay and survives despite Andrew McCormick's, Lisa-Anne Morris' and John Scott's collectively uncertain film editing. Sadly, 'Travellers & Magicians' is the type of Art House flick where you could step out for a coffee during the show, and come back half an hour later without feeling as though you've missed anything particularly important. It truly is that dull. Yawn.

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Turtles Can Fly
REVIEWED 05/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

The Kurdish village is an ad hoc collection of weatherbeaten tents and munitions-battered, gutted war machines cobbled into a muddy encampment near the Iraqi-Turkish border. To the industrious band of Gulf War II orphans and refugee children, this forgotten shell crater of civilization is an eye in the storm of battle raging throughout their beleageured homeland, and the teenaged boy named Satellite (first timer Soran Ebrahim) is their self-appointed young leader. He organizes their meager efforts to eke out a living digging up live land mines left by Allied troops in the fields, keeping them and their infirmed and aged families alive by selling the bombs, while he installs television antennae and satellite dishes for the Elders hungry for reliable, forbidden American news about the impending fall of Saddam Hussein's brutal regime. Hengov (Hiresh Feysal Rahman), an armless teen blessed with the unenviable gift of prophecy, also seems to be rallying a following of scavengers that unintentionally undermines Satellite's authority. However, Satellite is in love with Hengov's brooding little sister Agrin (Avaz Latif), so he eventually turns a skeptical blind eye to this upstart for her sake - despite Agrin showing no signs of interest. All of them are scarred and emotionally numbed by the relentless destruction surrounding them. Satellite keeps busy, shouting out orders from his toy-decorated bicycle with his loyal, crippled pal Pachow (Saddam Hossein Feysal) hobbling on crutches at his side. Hengov, haunted by the visions of what is to come, desperately tries to find some semblance of stability with his sister and precocious infant nephew Riga (Abdol Rahman Karim). And, Agrin, increasingly burdened by the memory of their horribly shattered childhood, quietly slips into slight suicidal depression over their predicament while contemplating swift release at the wind swept edge of a nearby rocky cliff. It appears their hopeless lives will continue this way, until Hengov tells of its ending and Satellite hurries to arm their village against the soldiers believed to be heading in their direction...

This decidedly small 2004 Iraqi-Iranian joint production is an astoundingly bleak telling of these fictional characters' experiences throughout. Feeling slightly reminiscent of 'Lord of the Flies' (1963) and 'Empire of the Sun' (1987) at times, you can't help but sit through writer/director Bahman Ghobadi's ninety-eight minute award-winner with measured dread over what will become of them. All of these child actors - who make their big screen debuts here - pull in wonderfully candid performances, with Ebrahim, Rahman and Latif easily filling out their enormously demanding roles with oftentimes inspired ability beautifully captured by cinematographer Shahram Assadi's lens. One flashback scene, featuring soldiers ganging up on a child, is intensely horrifying and will likely stay with you long after the closing credits. Awesome. However, Ghobadi's subtitled screenplay tends to lag sporadically, with scenes feeling cobbled together in the moment, making 'Lakposhtha hâm parvaz mikonand' (its original title) far less powerful than it could have been over-all. Small breaks of personable introspection on-screen would have given a paying audience appropriately stronger reasons to understand the full brunt of their plight. It's still a good movie, cleverly integrating these young points of view into real world events that happened half a world away for may left glued to apparently heavily filtered CNN reports of that recent war. It's sometimes tough to distinguish between the importance of the script and wanting to know what actually touched these kids in reality, since you see them with missing or mangled limbs that do seem real. 'Turtles Can Fly' isn't a documentary by any stretch of the imagination, but it could have benefited from more closely mimicking elements of good documentary-making so that you don't end up leaving the theatre afterwards wondering how much of this story is true or make believe. That's really it's only major flaw, since everything else about it more or less works in telling a raw and empathetic tale for patient foreign film fans to hook into.

Check it out as an over-all worthwhile rental for the extraordinary acting from this impressive cast of talented youths.

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The Transporter 2
REVIEWED 09/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

There are rules that a man must live by. He must be punctual. Courteous. In control. Frank Martin (Jason Statham) lives by rules, even during this temporary Miami job, as a driver for the Billings family. Or, more accurately, for Mrs. Audrey Billings (Amber Valletta) and her little boy Jack (first timer Hunter Clary). Jackson Billings (Matthew Modine), her insufferable husband and prominent Government official, was rarely there. This sprawling sultry city of cramped concrete and glass is a far cry from Martin's ancient rustic villa in the South of France, but that life is over now. Frank, an ex-Special Forces soldier turned mercenary for hire, has moved on. But, he is still The Transporter. A high priced, no questions asked courier to the underworld. A machine of efficiency, checked by the second hand of his wristwatch and his sharply kept set of rules. That's why this kidnapping makes no sense. The blonde called Lola (debuting Katie Nauta), and those two Russian henchmen, posing as medical staff during Jack's check up. Unsophisticated. Messy. That syringe of strange green liquid meant to be injected into the Billings boy didn't seem necessary, if all that they wanted was a ransom of two million dollars in unmarked bills. And then, there was the bomb planted under his car. There was more to this than what was happening on the surface. Frank could sense that danger still loomed for everyone involved. Paying host to Chief Inspector Tarconi's (François Berléand; 'The Transporter' (2002), 'Les Choristes' (2004)) vacationing visit to Florida would have to wait. But, as luck would have it, Martin being suspected of abetting these unknown bandits had landed his French friend inside police headquarters. He needed information, and Tarconi could get it from the police database. However, just as criminal mastermind Gianni's (Alessandro Gassman) name appeared on the computer monitor, his diabolical plan hatched by faceless Colombian employers neared completion. The deed was done. Rules are made to be broken. People will die. Unacceptable. Throwing Frank into a breakneck race against time to stop this genocide from happening, by any means necessary.

Can anyone tell me why this movie needed to be made? Taking over the helm from 'The Transporter' (2002) director Corey Yuen, that first installment's artistic director Louis Leterrier ('Unleashed' (2005)) steps into his big boy pants and thrusts ex-Special Forces and mercenary courier turned temporary chauffeur Frank Martin (Jason Statham; 'The Italian Job' (2003), 'Cellular' (2004)) into a sexed-up chop socky version of 'Man on Fire' (2004), that's awkwardly cobbled around a fairly plot unimportant neurological virus meant to kill a room full of South American law enforcement honchos conferencing in Miami. Leterrier should have simply stopped at the poster design, and disappeared to South America with the budget instead. Sure to become an instant cult favourite with CGI car stunts junkies - none of the car stunts look realistic - 'The Transporter 2' is almost as silly as the first one. No prolonged oil slick fights here, but you get to see coconuts used as boxing gloves and a lot of other heavily choreographed punch 'em ups that really don't do anything for screenwriting team Luc Besson's ('Nikita' (1990), 'Taxi' (1998)) and Robert Mark Kamen's ('The Karate Kid' (1984), 'Lethal Weapon 3' (1992)) violently ridiculous script. They wrote 'The Fifth Element' (1997) and 'Kiss of the Dragon' (2001) together - one good, one not so good film - but, this turkey's all about its cast striking extreme poses against a trippy back beat for cinematographer Mitchell Amundsen's comic book-inspired lens. There's nothing new here that's notable, and a lot that'll likely make a paying audience pray harder for another James Bond movie. Even the obvious ability of Amber Valletta ('What Lies Beneath' (2000), 'Hitch' (2005)) as repeatedly confused Audrey Billings, Frank's employer, and that of Alessandro Gassman's ('Guardiani delle nuvole' (2004)) Hollywood debut as psychotic kidnapping meany Gianni, quickly fall by the wayside as their characters are shoved back into their one dimensional cages throughout. Sure, it's immature fun seeing first timer Katie Nauta's undeniable charisma as pink pantied ammo chugging Lola - a vaguely clothed version of Brigitte Nielsen's role in 'Beverly Hills Cop II' (1987), basically - until the feeling of somehow being blessed with x-ray vision during those noisy bouts of bullet riddled destruction makes you want to wash out your eyeballs with soap and probably apologize to somebody, before Lola gets her riotously clichéd come uppance. This one's great-looking, but forgettable. I guess someone with enough clout had a beachside condo payment to make. What you see in the ads is pretty well the best of the clips. Steer clear.

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Two for the Money
REVIEWED 10/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

There's a moment during this hundred and twenty-two minute movie from director D.J. Caruso ('The Salton Sea' (2002), 'Taking Lives' (2004)) where it almost seems as though the ads were hyping an entirely different picture than the one that unfolds on the big screen. That's not necessarily a bad thing, though. I went in expecting to basically see a remake of the Michael Douglas/Charlie Sheen flick 'Wall Street' (1987) or the Tom Cruise actioner 'The Firm' (1993), where benched College Pro Quarterback turned Vegas call-in sports score picker Brandon Lang (Matthew McConaughey; 'Edtv' (1999), 'Sahara' (2005)) transformed into Football odds soothsayer John Anthony, The Million Dollar Man uncovers the terrible truth about his predatory Manhattan mentor Walter Abrams (Al Pacino; 'Donnie Brasco' (1997), 'The Recruit' (2003)) and ends up sabotaging corporate power with a twinge of small town humanity. There's a bit of that, but 'Two for the Money' is really a couple of exceptionally captivating stories mashed together into one extraordinarily clever offering.

The first thread follows the theme of how Lang's natural powers of persuasion and his ability to pick game winners for his gambling clientele becomes corrupted by success and his own flaws. McConaughey pulls in an outstanding performance here that wonderfully follows his character's self-destructive path veering towards a kind of crippled affirmation in the face of his boss' hard line demands. That's the aspect you've likely seen played up in the promos. However, a second and far more mesmerising plot line explores the gnarled mind set of Abrams himself, with Pacino somewhat revisiting his relatively similar over-the-top roles in 'The Devil's Advocate' (1997) and 'Donnie Brasco' throughout. Only better. To the point where a paying audience wants to see more of Pacino playing opposite Rene Russo's ('Ransom' (1996), 'Showtime' (2002)) astounding part as Abrams' tenderly brittle world weary wife Toni Morrow, than watch Lang's slightly familiar story unfold. Pacino and Russo are absolutely incredible in this movie, deftly transmitting an overwhelming amount of unspoken dialogue between them while masterfully interpreting their superior lines in truly believable form. The patter and gestures are perfect. How their tormented relationship rattles and collides towards one of the most powerful scenes seen in a long time is electrifying and well worth the price of admission. Actors Jeremy Piven ('Chasing Liberty' (2004)) and Armand Assante ('Judge Dredd' (1995)) also pull in excellent performances, as diametric antagonists who both lend an air of external uncertainty to Lang's uneasily swaggering walk through fire. 'Two for the Money' is unlike any other memorable sports feature. It's not lazily loaded down with peripheral field action concocted to put you in the game. The game is on the sidelines with these three people, consistently keeping you on the edge of your seat with 'Freejack' (1992) screenwriter Dan Gilroy's seriously crafted script of intellectual thrills. Brilliant.

Definitely check out this wonderfully entertaining high stakes ride that chews up the screen from beginning to closing credits.

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Thumbsucker
REVIEWED 11/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Justin Cobb (Lou Taylor Pucci) lay back in the padded chair of his Orthodontist Perry Lyman's (Keanu Reeves) cluttered dental office and stared at the saucer-shaped light fixture that clung to that stark white ceiling. This ritual of having Perry peer and probe into this seventeen year-old's gaping mouth had become a normal part of young Cobb's otherwise dull existence. Sure, his parents had spent a small fortune on ensuring that his teeth weren't permanently ruined by his unconscious habit. These regular check ups were part of their determination, but Lyman had always thought of himself as being more to Justin than merely being his dentist. His office walls proudly displayed Perry's true calling as a sort of modern day Shaman. He could fix your overbite and heal your soul at the same time. "Are you ready to let go of your thumb?" he sternly asked his longtime patient. Like a baby, Justin still sucked his thumb during times when he needed some quiet comfort. He sucked his thumb in his sleep. He'd steal away to the school washroom between classes, lock himself in the stall and sit on the closed toilet's lid, and slip into warm oblivious trance as he sucked his thumb there in secret. He would also thumb suck at other times, such as while watching television in his parent's living room, driving his father Mike (Vincent D'Onofrio) into a blind rage of hurtful antagonism. It was embarrassing. This thumb sucking thing was embarrassing. Justin was almost an adult. And, normal adults don't suck their thumbs. Leading everyone who knew about it - his Dad, his mother Audrey (Tilda Swinton), Justin's little brother Joel (Chase Offerle), and Perry the Shaman tooth doctor - to decide that there must be something seriously wrong with Justin. An unresolved trauma or a psychological glitch that needed to be fixated on, worked out and put behind them. Him. Immediately. Justin started to believe them, feeling completely uncomfortable about talking about it with his coy female friend and attractive fellow debating class student Rebecca (Kelli Garner). He wanted to be closer to Rebecca, but she sensed that he wasn't being completely open with her. He wanted to make out, but she pushed him away. This thumb sucking habit was destroying his life. There was something wrong with him, Justin thought. Things have got to change, and maybe the alternative treatment that Perry's suggesting might be the quick solution...

Based on novelist Walter Kirn's 1999 book, this 2005 Sundance-nominated unpolished treasure from writer/director Mike Mills ('Paperboys' (2001)) is an oftentimes absolutely fascinating dramatic examination of dispossessed suburban teenager and habitual thumb sucker Justin Cobb (Lou Taylor Pucci; 'Personal Velocity: Three Portraits' (2002)) as he navigates through the sometimes subversive machinations of those around him during a rather tumultuous semester. Mills' screenplay masterfully presents the various cause and effect scenarios that young Cobb endures at the hands of his well meaning but completely clueless parents Mike (Vincent D'Onofrio; 'Full Metal Jacket' (1987), 'The Cell' (2000)) and Audrey (Tilda Swinton; 'Adaptation' (2002), 'Constantine' (2005)), Justin's spiritually wayward Orthodontist Perry Lyman (Keanu Reeves; 'Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure' (1989), 'Something's Gotta Give' (2003)), his unorthodox high school debating teacher Mr. Geary (Vince Vaughn; 'Psycho' (1998), 'Wedding Crashers' (2005)), the school's emotionally detached Principal (Kit Koenig), and classmate Rebecca (Kelli Garner; 'The Aviator (2004), 'Man of the House' (2005)), the object of Justin's awkward affections. It's incredible. I loved how it all culminates believably at the end, too. Yes, 'Thumbsucker' does have its flaws, tending to become infatuated with small silent moments that drag and don't really amount to much, but the over-all movie is quite an astounding and insightful story that avoids the usual teen angst clichés that simply bore a paying audience. Young Cobb's meandering path of external forces meddling and attempting to pull him in different directions is what drives this truly inspired ninety-five minute example of worthwhile independent film making. Sure, Vaughn's role takes a more stoic tone than what fans are familiar with, and it's fairly unnerving sitting through Reeves' humourous yet strangely puppet-like performance that stirs up memories of TV's 'Batman' (1966) star Adam West, but Pucci - who resembles a young Johnny Depp - brilliantly captivates your full attention with an uncanny truth to his portrayal here that effortlessly sidelines any of this flick's noticeable flaws. You're given reasons to care about what happens to Justin, partially because of his fragile and malleable personality, as well as the fact that he's just a really likable kid who needs to find himself. That is, with or without the thumb sucking thing. Awesome.

Definitely check out 'Thumbsucker' for its fresh story as a thoroughly enjoyable mature-themed offering well worth renting if it's not playing on a big screen near you.

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Tristan & Isolde
REVIEWED 01/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Okay, now I'm confused. Actor James Franco ('Spider-Man 2' (2004), 'The Great Raid' (2005)) stars in this sweeping romantic Period flick about Dark Ages warrior Tristan first unwittingly and then surreptitiously betraying the trust of his Cornish King-in-waiting Lord Marke (Rufus Sewell; 'A Knight's Tale' (2001), 'The Legend of Zorro' (2005)), by winning the heart of Irish Princess Isolde (Sophia Myles; 'Underworld' (2003), 'Thunderbirds' (2004)), right? Like Shakespeare's Romeo & Julliet or Homer's Paris & Helen of Troy, it's a love that can never be - or something like that. However, when was Ireland ever a Viking-like overlord of Post-Roman Empire England? Is this based on reality? Rome reportedly fell in the 5th Century. Drustanus or "Trystan" and his uncle King Marcus "Mark" Cunomorus of Kernyw were apparently real people who lived during the early 6th Century. Um... huh? Or, is 'Tristan & Isolde' simply an artistic spin on the sorcery-tinged love triangle sub plot of Welsh clergyman Geoffrey of Monmouth's King Arthur chapter from his 1136 book, Historia Regum Britanniae, that was later turned into the 1865 opera by famed German composer Wilhelm Richard Wagner? If so, why not allude to that in some manner that's overwhelmingly obvious?

Apart from a few brief lines of text that open this familiarly muddy picture of sword play and double cross, you're never really given any historical context while being introduced to these new marauding baddies of so-called yore. Just switch off above the neck and go with the flow is screenwriter Dean Georgaris' attitude here, I guess. Which would be fine if it didn't matter. The problem with director Kevin Reynolds' ('Waterworld' (1995), 'The Count of Monte Cristo' (2002)) effort is that this bewildering context saturates the story throughout as an annoying fly in the ointment of an otherwise mildly enjoyable feature film. If the secretive trysts between Tristan and Isolde were more fresh and captivating, I suppose it wouldn't matter if these lovers were fending off killer sponge mops on the Moon at the Dawn of Time, but everything else seems specifically focused on accurate-looking detail that the whole unexplained Ireland as nasty Super Power Nation thing does tediously get in the way of reasonably suspending enough disbelief. I'm not disputing the history as depicted here (Being of Scots-Irish descent, I rather enjoy the irony), it simply doesn't jibe with what general ticket holders likely bring to the theatre without being handed the Cole's Notes version in the lobby beforehand. Sure, freaky-eyed Franco is still the hunky pretty boy of the moment, and Myles is undoubtedly the most gorgeous looking woman on the screen this week. If that's all you're looking for, hey it's your time and money. However, there's really nothing new in 'Tristan & Isolde' to make its hundred and twenty-six minute screening particularly worthwhile. You've likely seen much of it before, realized far better by more capable actors armed with a comparably superior screenplay in the past. 'Rob Roy' and 'Braveheart', or even the nonsensical 'King Arthur' (2004), are more entertaining.

Rent this one if you enjoy flicks with a mediaeval flavour, but it's hardly worth checking out as anything other than disappointingly clichéd eye candy that feels out of whack.

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Transamerica
REVIEWED 02/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Television's 'Desperate Housewives' ensemble co-star Felicity Huffman ('Hackers' (1995), 'Raising Helen' (2004)) gives an insightfully outstanding performance as pre-operative trans-gendered National Home Shopping Club telemarketer Stanley Shupak/Sabrina "Bree" Osborne in this relatively small, 2005 independent film from debuting feature-length writer/director Duncan Tucker, where Bree becomes saddled with Stanley's broodish sixteen year-old aspiring Porn Star son Toby (Woodstock, Ontario's Kevin Zegers; 'Air Bud' (1997), 'Dawn of the Dead' (2004)) on a road trip back from New York. The simple feeling that comes from sitting through this delightfully quirky and heartfelt hundred and three-minute gem is that 'Transamerica' is the type of film that could possibly be harmed by the enormous amount of hype surrounding it these days. You want to somehow protect it, but at the same time convince everyone you know to see it. There's a purity about Huffman's wonderfully fragile depiction of this man eagerly anticipating finally becoming the woman he's always felt he was meant to be that seems like something movie fans would want to discover almost by osmosis. It has that hidden treasure quality about it, that doesn't quite jibe with the somewhat garish way that the Hollywood advertising machine is promoting it. Don't get me wrong, it definitely deserves all of the attention afforded it - and not simply because 'Brokeback Mountain' (2005) is blazing a trail for Gay Cinema in the mainstream landscape. I suspect it's because Huffman's and this supporting cast's roles all predominantly ring true.

This isn't another over the top Drag Queen romp like 'The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert' (1994) or 'To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar' (1995) where you get to laugh at a misunderstood lifestyle, but takes its cues from the likes of 'The Crying Game' (1992) or 'Far From Heaven' (2003), where normally intensely private emotions that aren't easily articulated are laid bare and relentlessly tested by oftentimes harsh prevailing biases. Yes, there are outrageously hilarious moments throughout, but the comedy is torn from life and cleverly balanced by a strong dramatic portrayal of a completely believable, whole person trying to reclaim sovereignty on her own terms. Pretty well anyone with any life experience can empathize with that, regardless of what your sexual identity is. Full marks should also go to Zegers, who's so good at playing this jagged and manipulative kid that you want to kick Toby's butt more than once. The kicker is Fionnula Flanagan's ('Youngblood' (1986), 'Four Brothers' (2005)) outlandish performance as Stanley's brutally loving mother Elizabeth. There are so many great scenes here, but at its core, 'Transamerica' slowly encourages you to see Bree as she sees herself, by showing you how others see her and then how they begin to accept her. That's the brilliance of Tucker's screenplay. They change. You might change. However, Bree doesn't change a single bit throughout the majority of this incredibly fresh and worthwhile feature. For me, the worst part is that it didn't screen here in time for me to consider it as a superior Oscar contender in the Best Actress category - not that it would have made any difference if I could have. I'm just annoyed about not having bragging rights come early May* when that li'l gold fella gets handed out, but I'll get over it. Absolutely do yourself a huge favour and check out this enormously satisfying, somewhat full frontal nudity tinged movie that's clearly intended for a mature audience and will undoubtedly stay with you long afterwards thanks to Huffman and her co-stars. Awesome.

*Yes, the Academy Awards are handed out very early in May... on March 5th.

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Tristram Shandy
REVIEWED 03/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

It's hilarious, seeing a hugely raucous 18th Century birthing scene suddenly stop cold when the director steps into the shot, in this low key yet wildly irreverent, 2005 import from its actual director Michael Winterbottom ('Wonderland' (1999), '24 Hour Party People' (2002)), about Brit funny man Steve Coogan ('Coffee and Cigarettes' (2003), 'Around the World in 80 Days' (2004)) awkwardly trying to star in a fully costumed, Period dramatic comedy that's loosely based on clergyman and Irish-born writer Laurence Sterne's (1713-1768) decidedly bawdy and extremely meandering, nine volume novel, The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, first published between 1759 and 1767. Sure, there are loads of similarly funny, laugh out loud moments throughout this ninety-four minute romp that also features comedian Rob Brydon, Shirley Henderson ('Wilbur Wants to Kill Himself' (2002), 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' (2005)), and a lengthy cameo from Gillian Anderson ('The X Files' (1998)). However, I'm getting ahead of myself...

Let's start at the beginning. It's reasonable to say that I'd probably be going too far back and way off course if I started off this review by citing the ByTowne Cinema - one of Ottawa's two remaining, independently owned single screen movie houses, along with the fifteen years older and far more elaborately decorated Mayfair Theatre, and, according to local writer Alain Miguelez's thoroughly enjoyable 2004 reference book, A Theatre Near You, published here in Fat Cat City's rural suburb of Manotick by Penumbra Press, that's run by a very nice man named John (I think), was built in 1947 as the Nelson Theatre; the theatre where the last movie that I remember seeing when it was still the Nelson Theatre was the Brad Pitt epic 'Seven Years in Tibet', in 1997, when it was released, and a picture that quite reasonably shouldn't be confused with the campy Marilyn Monroe comedy 'The Seven Year Itch' (1955), if for no other reason than Brad Pitt looks and sounds nothing like Marilyn Monroe, but which, not so coincidentally, is a film that immediately comes before 'Seven Years in Tibet' in my edition of Leonard Maltin's 2002 Movie & Video Guide, along with 'Se7en' (1995), another Brad Pitt film, four pages back, pronounced "Seven" not "Se-Seven-en", which sounds like the title of an Eighties Phil Collins song - even though I saw 'Tristram Shandy' (its UK title) at the ByTowne Cinema, also known as a landmark theatre famous amongst cinephiles for screening many smaller, foreign language and overseas films that likely wouldn't normally be seen here in the Nation's Capital if it, and the Mayfair, didn't exist or if the ByTowne didn't carry on that longtime tradition of doing so from its predecessor, the now defunct Towne Cinema - where I can remember, as a teenaged high school Art student, that one being famous for its late night showings of the Brit classic 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' (1975) (that, for some reason, I and my underaged friends and Drama Club associates each needed a fake i.d. to go see, and might partially explain why I ended up going into Graphic Design, where you're paid when it counts, instead of Fine Art, where you're paid years after you're famously dead, afterwards), which is a memorably fun movie that I'd later realize was, among other things, a clever musical spoof of Modern Art icon Andy Warhol's sexually charged and fairly forgettable 'Andy Warhol's Frankenstein' (1974), that, according to Leonard Maltin, was originally shown in 3-D and, from my own experience, also has about as little in common with the renowned, black and white Boris Karloff creature feature that's become synonymous with the Frankenstein monster, despite itself being very loosely adapted from the original Mary Shelley novel, as 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' starring Tim Curry as Dr. Frankenfurter does - although, sadly, I only vaguely recall what the last movie that I saw at the Towne Cinema was, and have long forgotten its title. It was Italian, I think.

The rumour that actor Tom Cruise worked at the parking lot on Bank Street north of Gladstone, when that gravel eyesore used to be the Rialto Theatre, later reopened as the Phoenix before, ironically, being demolished and turned into a parking lot, doesn't appear to extend to him working at the ByTowne. Or, the Towne. Or, the Mayfair. I don't even know if that rumour is true - I'd heard it from a bus driver, decades ago, said over the bus intercom, back when more Ottawa bus drivers used to turn their routes into guided tours full of quirky running monologues for the amusement of their captive audience passengers in the summer - and Tom Cruise certainly couldn't be mistaken for Brad Pitt, or Marilyn Monroe, for that matter. Gillian Anderson sort of looks like Marilyn Monroe, more than Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise or Phil Collins or Tim Curry or the Frankenstein monster does, when Marilyn Monroe was still alive and probably secretly dating JFK, but not in this film, and not really, really. Anderson and Warhol might be a close tie, amongst that group, but that's neither here nor there. Never mind. Noting all of that would undoubtedly be going too far back, and straying way off course anyway, in reviewing 'Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story' (its international title). Sorry. You can actually find the entire plain text version of Sterne's original manuscript through the Gutenburg Project site, at www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext97/shndy10.txt if you're interested in familiarizing yourself with the source material that inspired this movie. The ByTowne Cinema is also famous for its real buttered popcorn. However, that too is fairly irrelevant to my writing this review of that movie, mainly because I take notes while screening a movie and don't have enough hands to actually have popcorn or a drink, or any sort of refreshment or snack that's available at most movie theatre food kiosks, while screening this or that flick and blindly scribbling into a small notebook in ballpoint pen in the dark, trying to avoid writing on my leg or my thumbnail or someone else's leg, and mostly because that tidbit of tasty trivia, or the fact that they do apparently use real melted butter and not a predominantly popular and saltier substitute product, has absolutely nothing to do with that movie; unless you can't enjoy the whole movie going experience without shovelling freshly made hot popcorn into your face while watching a big screen show, of course. Some people can't. It's weird. An addictive, worldwide Pavlovian ritual of corn, passed on from generation to generation, down through the ages, I suppose. But, there you have it. For many, moviegoing equals popcorn eating. To that, the fact that the ByTowne apparently has great popcorn lathered with real butter, along with offering comfy seats that have sturdy arm rests, and a balcony section that's normally opened up for the ticket holding viewing public who like that sort of throw back to the old movie houses, as opposed to the arena style seating of the relatively newer, multi-screen theatres that actually do sometimes show the types of movies that one might expect to only be screened here for a limited time at the ByTowne or the Mayfair, would be an important thing to keep in mind.

But, I've gotten sidetracked again. This review is about the movie. Sorry. Their parking area is sort of tricky, at the ByTowne, though. If you go to the later show. On a weekend. And, take your car. But, that too, is irrelevant. And, for the most part, while possibly being interesting and useful information in its own right, additionally makes this review of the movie 'Tristram Shandy' turn out to be little more than a meandering, continually interrupted stream of consciousness that never quite gets back to what it's supposed to be about. Pretty much like that movie. Which is absolutely inspired and hilarious, obviously intended for a mature audience due to content, and definitely well worth checking out if you get the chance to. Good stuff.

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These Girls
REVIEWED 03/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Discovering that hunky and married, thirty-two year-old pot dealer Keith Carter (television's 'Angel' star David Boreanaz) is secretly, sexually involved with their seventeen year-old best friend Glory Lorraine (former MuchMusic VJ Amanda Walsh), local canteen cook Keira St-George (Caroline Dhavernas; 'Lost and Delirious' (2001), 'Nez rouge' (2003)) and tenuously pious sixteen year-old Lisa MacDougall (debuting Holly Lewis) scheme to seduce and then blackmail Carter into taking turns bedding all three girls during their last summer together, in this ludicrously forgettable mess of celluloid from writer/director John Hazlett ('Bad Money' (1999)) that's adapted from Wakefield, Quebec playwright Vivienne Laxdal's 1999 stage play. Why? That's the primary question that ran through my mind while enduring this horrendously boring and juvenile ninety-two minute, English Canadian sex romp of amateurish acting, empty perverted dialogue and mild brief nudity. Not so much because 'These Girls' glorifies rape and immature salacious delinquency as a bewildering source of comedy - it's not a porn movie by any realistic stretch of the imagination - but, because none of what passes as comedy is particularly funny.

Here, a paying audience is presented with a kind of reverse version of 'Lolita' (1997) multiplied by three, set in a contemporary small town and featuring these adolescent women who are obviously of their time, and yet Hazlett's screenplay fails miserably to give the actors playing them much of anything worthwhile to work with. They're merely noisy, intellectually stunted finger puppets. Even when the girls' friendship is initially threatened by Glory's tearful feelings of betrayal, all is forgiven without a tangible thought or any believable aftermath. As though her favourite shoes had been worn without permission, quickly forgiven with a group hug and some nervous giggles. Yawn. Maybe that's supposed to be humourous, but it's not played out as being so. It definitely has the potential of being a riotously campy farce that's rife with outrageous shenanigans and wild physical humour, but feels more like a poorly veiled, inept retelling of the tired old middle aged male fantasy about a bored Dad still having what it takes to attract nubiles half his age. In other words, as in life, the efforts behind this stinker are inspired by grand aspirations summarily sabotaged by a sheer lack of ability. You get to pay for the disappointment, at the box office, though. 'These Girls' is primarily told from the girls' point of view, with (I guess) the intention of it being a naughty, 'In Her Shoes' (2005) similar, coming of age picture that patronizes young female moviegoers who might want to vicariously relive any secret May/December high school crushes never realized or, like, what ever. However, much of what ends up captivating vague interest has more to do with how all of this affects the toy boy in the middle. Some from this main cast clearly do have enough natural screen presence to merit being offered more roles to hone their acting skills with, but Boreanaz is pretty well the only talent who maintains a lasting sense of continuity and noticeable truth to his character throughout - regardless of how questionable Carter's choices are.

Don't get me wrong, his performance is the best of a bad lot. Everything else is just girly foot stomping and selective memory, capped off by giddy self-indulgence and a collective shrug. I'm still asking why. And, unsurprisingly, I don't really care anymore. Shrug.

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The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada
REVIEWED 03/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

A long and arduous trek on horseback, across the rugged desert that separates Cibolo County, Texas from the small Mexican home of murdered ranch hand Melquiades "Mel" Estrada (Julio Cesar Cedillo; 'Hexed' (1993), 'The Life of David Gale' (2003)) soon becomes a journey into relentless terror for newly transferred and otherwise volatile Border Patrol Officer Mike Norton (British Columbia's Barry Pepper; 'Saving Private Ryan' (1998), 'The Snow Walker' (2003)) at the hand of Estrada's old friend Pete Perkins (Tommy Lee Jones; 'JFK' (1991), 'Men in Black II' (2002)), in this somewhat drawn out and yet fascinating film from its star and director Tommy Lee Jones. This is such an outstanding cast - that also includes January Jones ('American Wedding' (2003), 'Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights' (2004)) as Norton's wife Lou Ann, Melissa Leo ('Always' (1985), 'Hide and Seek' (2005)) playing local diner waitress and Pete's casual lover, and Dwight Yoakam ('Sling Blade' (1996), 'Panic Room' (2002)) as the town's fairly shady Sheriff Bill Belmont - and writer Guillermo Arriaga's screenplay gives each of these fine actors plenty of elbow room to wonderfully experiment with their individual characters throughout.

'The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada' truly is an actor's movie in the same sense as Cassavetes' classics or the recent films from Robert Redford are, where you can almost tune in to their internal monologues to the point of understanding that there's an entire story attached to much of the brief dialogue. With less capable talent helmed by an unsure hand, this would just feel like a paying audience is watching Mime on the big screen. Or, something that requires gulping down a handful of psychic pills before the opening credits. It's happened before. Not here. What's also intriguing about this hundred and twenty-one minute gem is in how Jones tells this fairly grim tale in a slightly non-linear fashion throughout the first half, carefully reinforcing much of the otherwise unspoken emotions that you've already picked up on from their body language and expressions. Awesome. Sure, 'The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada' does tend to drag a bit in its attempts to punctuate the obvious anguish and grief that torment both Pete and Mike in different ways 'til the final act, but I found that to be as much of a tangibly relevant presence in this fictional world as the people who exist in it are. The mood is supposed to be sombre. It's like a kind of Homeric funeral march of sorts - without too many stopover visits, though - with these guys backtracking along what quite possibly was Estrada's earlier path into the States in the first place. Affecting the living, in honouring the dead.

'The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada' definitely won't be everyone's type of picture, but this strong cast and its delightfully muted story telling makes this Cannes winner something that's well worth checking out for indie buffs and longtime fans of Jones and Pepper.

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Tsotsi
REVIEWED 04/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Debuting star Presley Chweneyagae absolutely shines here as a street hardened gang leader nicknamed "Tsotsi" - apparently the local slang word for "thug" - living in a ramshackle slum on the outskirts of Johannesburg, where he and his three cohorts brazenly rob subway passengers at the point of an ice pick, until a lone car heist gone terribly wrong saddles Tsosti with a months-old baby and he's forced to rely on unassuming seamstress and widowed young mother (first timer Terry Pheto) Miriam for help.

Based on prolific playwright and novelist Athol Fugard's 1989 book, this Oscar-winning, subtitled 2005 South African film from writer/director Gavin Hood ('A Reasonable Man' (1999), 'W pustyni i w puszczy' (2001)) truly has all the makings of quickly becoming a cinematic classic. Hood's screenplay is raw and crisp, wasting nothing while meticulously examining this destructive soul that's overwhelmingly affected by this small child unexpectedly coming into his life by a desperate act of violence. It's a story of redemption interfering with hopelessness, and the primary reason why this ninety-four minute treasure is such a memorably phenomenal and compelling foreign drama is due to how effortlessly Chweneyagae manages to express every nuance of emotional depth with unwavering truth, while his superbly crafted character is nudged towards transformation by circumstances and the people who cross his path when he's most receptive. Awesome. Top marks also go to most of this picture's supporting cast - that's dominated by Pheto's wonderfully subdued performance - but that most notably features Mothusi Magano ('Hotel Rwanda' (2004)), and big screen newcomers Zenzo Ngqobe and Kenneth Nkosi as gang members Boston, Butcher and Aap respectively, as well as Rapulana Seiphemo ('Tarzan and the Lost City' (1998), 'God Is African' (2003)) playing the kidnapped baby's distraught father John Dube and Owen Sejake ('Hijack Stories' (2000), 'In My Country' (2004)) as a wheelchair bound pan handler who first scorns and then inspires Tsotsi towards unexpected results. 'Tsotsi' does have the decidedly artful air of Independent Cinema resonating throughout, but that in no way diminishes its outstanding high production value that's particularly evident in how cinematographer Lance Gewer's lens creatively sets up many of scenes with a keen eye for rich textures and strong graphic imagery that's wonderfully bereft of superficiality. This truly is a breath taking and delightfully fresh picture, both visually and story-wise. Even the soundtrack is sheer perfection.

Absolutely do yourself an immense favour and see this astounding movie on the big screen if you get the chance to do so.

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Take the Lead
REVIEWED 04/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Acknowledging taking its inspiration from the real life work of "Dance in Schools" mentor Pierre Dulaine, the basement detention room of New York's inner city's John Drake High School (shot in Toronto) becomes an ad hoc practice studio for initially unwilling Ballroom Dance students, when professional Foxtrot and Tango teacher Dulaine volunteers against Principal Augustine James' (Alfre Woodard) skepticism to prepare a group of chronically delinquent street teens as eventual contestants in the up-coming 25th Annual Grand Ballroom Competition, in this ridiculously contrived updated remake of 'To Sir, With Love' (1967), 'Dangerous Minds' (1995) and 'Sister Act' (1992) from music video director turned debuting feature film director Liz Friedlander. Okay, so I guess screenwriter Dianne Houston rented those movies and saw 'Mad Hot Ballroom' (2005) and 'Shall We Dance' (2005) all at around the same time, because that's exactly what this overwhelmingly vapid big screen regurgitation feels like throughout. Inner city kids apparently jaded by the blunt realities of their lives are suddenly hypnotized by the cheesy pixie dust-like ramblings of this two-steppin' outsider. Duh.

Sure, Banderas exudes pure charisma on the screen, but that's really not too difficult if you're Antonio Banderas playing opposite a troupe of 'Fame' (1980) wannabes who are clearly itching to flail themselves around to what ever ear splitting music is disintegrating the speakers. Patrick 'Dirty Dancing' Swayze eat your heart out, kiddo. 'Take the Lead' fails to offer up any tangibly significant character development or a compelling enough story to follow along with here. There's nothing new to tap in to, script-wise. For instance, actor Rob Brown ('Finding Forrester' (2000), 'Coach Carter' (2005)) plays Jason "Rock" Rockwell, a troubled youth with an alcoholic father who ends up being arrested. Ooh, that's never been done before. First timer Yaya DaCosta portrays Lahrette, surrogate mother to her younger siblings and eldest daughter of a prostitute. Uh, and then? Where's the dramatic arc full of depth and realism? Well, as with every other tired stereotype tossed into the mix here, there ain't one. It's not important, apparently. Just sit back, switch off above the neck, and enjoy the dancing that you can easily see done much better on TV at home. Fact is, you truly are basically forced to sit through watching this cast sleepwalk through their relentlessly silly, conspicuously dull scenes clearly cobbled together for no other reason than to bridge each overlong dance sequence. Filler galore. Yawn. However, unfortunately, not too many from this supporting cast can actually Tango and Foxtrot and Waltz (oh my). It's a jumble of desperately stitched bits of film, made even more obvious during the final act when the conductor of a live orchestra is seen waving around in the background to a messy fusion of Hip Hop and Standard music that's been overdubbed. I guess Friedlander loved this disjointed noise, because you get to listen to variations of it throughout as well.

Unless you're a massive fan of Banderas or simply can't get enough of watching teenagers attempting bygone dance steps, you're probably better off steering clear of this turkey.

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Thank You for Smoking
REVIEWED 04/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Aaron Eckhart ('Erin Brockovich' (2000), 'Suspect Zero' (2004)) stars as smooth-talking, "morally flexible" American tobacco industry lobbyist Nick Naylor in this hilariously sardonic feature debut from writer/director Jason Reitman that's adapted from Forbes FYI Magazine editor Christopher Buckley's 1994 novel, in which slyly charismatic Naylor publicly faces off against anti-smoking Congressional Sub-Committee Senator Ortolan Finistirre (William H. Macy; 'Pleasantville' (1998), 'Sahara' (2005)), opportunistic Washington Probe journalist Heather Holloway (Katie Holmes; 'Pieces of April' (2003), 'Batman Begins' (2005)) and the murderous machinations of a nameless terrorist group, while Nick attempts to encourage Hollywood to help glamourize cigarettes on the big screen. This is such a great flick that's reminiscent of 'The Player' (1992), with such a wonderfully adept cast of talent that obviously has a blast with Reitman's beautifully wry screenplay throughout. Eckhart is incredible here, effortlessly carrying the lion's share of this ninety-two minute picture that is also highlighted by marvellous performances from Cameron Bright ('Godsend' (2004), 'Running Scared' (2006)) as Nick's precocious young son Joey, J.K. Simmons ('The Cider House Rules' (1999), 'Spider-Man 2' (2004)) playing Nick's curmudgeonly boss "B.R.", and Robert Duvall ('Apocalypse Now' (1979), 'Secondhand Lions' (2003)) as Big Tobacco legend Doak "The Captain" Boykin.

What makes 'Thank You for Smoking' such a contagiously funny satire is the incredible, intelligently presented dialogue that consistently crackles with fresh irreverence and sharp insight about basic human behaviour. It's played straight for the most part, and it's a sheer joy watching Naylor cleverly debate his way out of sometimes impossible situations, such as when he's cornered by Finistirre's scornful assistant in front of an antagonistic television audience on the Joan Lunden Show or when his shining career as a formidable spin doctor seems destroyed by Holloway's unexpected newspaper exposé. This cinematic gem is chock full of delightful moments like those, masterfully captivating and entertaining a paying audience from beginning to closing credits. Awesome. My favourite part is seeing Bright's story arc progress from him being like every other kid embarrassed about his Dad's work, into Joey becoming a kind of child prodigy in the somewhat Machiavellian art of manipulating opinions. Even the notably darker shades of humour are well worthwhile, such as when Nick rattles off statistics as bragging rights with his "Merchants of Death" luncheon pals, alcohol spokesperson Polly Bailey (Maria Bello) and firearms front man Bobby Jay Bliss (David Koechner). Good stuff. Why the release of this 2005 film seems to have been held over until now is anyone's guess, because it likely could have been a major awards contender if it had come out a few months ago. As it stands, 'Thank You for Smoking' definitely deserves to be considered the first must-see sleeper hit of this year. It truly is that good.

Absolutely do yourself a huge favour and check out this outstanding effort that's intended for a mature audience, for its cleverly wry screenplay and its cast of memorably funny characters.

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Three Times
REVIEWED 06/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

A trio of vaguely related moments of young love plucked from decidedly different eras in Twentieth Century China's history are artfully explored in this predominantly enigmatic subtitled 2005 Cannes nominee from co-writer/director Hsiao-hsien Hou ('Hsimeng jensheng' (1993), 'Qianxi manbo' (2001)), where 1966 sets the stage for a lonely Army recruit (Chen Chang; 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' (2000), '2046' (2004)) who ends up searching for pool hall hostess May (Qi Shu; 'The Transporter' (2002), 'Gin gwai 2' (2004)) after briefly knowing her on his day leave home in A Time For Love, 1911 is the somewhat claustrophobic backdrop of social mores for a rich and idealistic poetry lover (also played by Chang) whose clandestine relationship with an aspiring concubine (also played by Shu) becomes complicated in A Time For Freedom, and a lust stricken shutterbug (Chang again) jilts his girlfriend and tilts towards obsession over a self-destructive singer (Shu again) in A Time For Youth that unfolds in the dystopia of 2005.

Admittedly, I had an excruciatingly tough time following along with this hundred and twenty-minute film that feels like it runs for a whole lot longer. That's partially thanks to the surprisingly poor subtitling throughout, but my aggravation was more a result of Hou and co-writer T'ien-wen Chu's persistent disinterest in widening this picture's focus enough to include interesting story lines. 'Zui hao de shi guang' (its original homegrown title) is clearly an examination of these characters' reactions to each other, where pretty well everything that exists beyond their immediate scope is relentlessly made inconsequential to the over-all structure. The fact that an obviously huge amount of attention to detail is afforded each of these three scenarios in both costuming and set design seems wasteful in the final cut, because nothing that these props seem to represent actually affect the characters who are shown existing with and within them. It's window dressing, in many cases suggesting peripheral stories that are never told and yet still seem to promise far more interesting dynamics than what a paying audience is forced to pay attention to. Yes, Chang and Shu do succeed at portraying a few brief glimpses of exquisitely controlled expression here, but many of those small moments of delight heavily rely on gestures that are barely ever embellished upon through the script or story. They become little more that glossy magazine photos realized in live action on film that are gorgeous to look at but continuously kept locked at arm's length. You're never invited into their thoughts, ignored as merely being an observer. To enjoy the costumes they're wearing, without getting to know much of anything about the people wearing them. Admire how the camera captures them, without being given any tangible clues to bring those scenes out of the realm of superficiality. This is most apparent throughout the second vignette, where the soundtrack of 1911 is handed over to the music of the times and Silent Cinema title slides are edited in for the dialogue. Like a novelty, thrown in to keep you from walking out. That said, I keep wanting to revisit those few notable moments that I'd mentioned earlier. When May giggles uncontrollably at the sight of her man. When disillusioned tears softly betray bygone poise. When fragile longing slightly cracks the protective wall of youthful arrogance. These are beautifully depicted at face value. It's just too bad there's not much else, but they do stay with you long after the closing credits. Perhaps that's what Hou intended to happen, but that miniscule pay off would have happened with far more impact and consistent enjoyment if the rest of what plays out had been lifted to the same plateau.

There's a lot that feels sorely lost throughout the majority of this experimental import, to the point where I honestly can't recommend checking it out as a completely satisfying screening.

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Talladega Nights
REVIEWED 08/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Nascar pit crew worker Ricky Bobby's (Will Ferrell; 'Elf' (2003), 'Stranger Than Fiction' (2006)) dumb luck and need to go fast makes him a big hairy, All-American winning machine on the professional speedway circuit with boyhood best friend and equally dim-witted number two racer Cal Naughton, Jr. (John C. Reilly; 'Chicago' (2002), 'Dark Water' (2005)), in this flat out hilariously ridiculous comedy from co-writer/director Adam McKay ('Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy' (2004)) that sees Ricky's illustrious dozen-year streak as top dog jeopardized when smug Gay French Formula One champion Jean Girard (Sacha "Ali G" Baron Cohen; 'Madagascar' (2005), 'Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan' (2006)) is hired to nudge him out of the Victory Lane by the team's malicious new boss.

This is such an incredibly fun and outrageously funny movie that's obviously intended for a mature audience, even though there isn't much of a story to hold it all together. 'Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby' (its complete title) is pretty well a series of somewhat related comedic skits that all feel loosely scripted in order to encourage this impressive cast to collaboratively improvise a lot of the dialogue. You can immediately tell that they have a blast here, and that irreverent enthusiasm easily becomes contagious for a paying audience while this hundred and five-minute picture clicks along at a fairly steady pace. Sure, much of what transpires is stupid humour that consciously rambles and exploits shock value punch lines, but it absolutely works and is a marvelous cinematic testament to this talented brood that also includes Gary Cole ('The Brady Bunch Movie' (1995), 'The Ring Two' (2005)) and Jane Lynch ('A Mighty Wind' (2003), 'The 40 Year Old Virgin' (2005)) as Ricky's diametrically opposite parents Reese and Lucy, Leslie Bibb ('Touch Me' (1997), 'The Skulls' (2000)) and Amy Adams ('Catch Me If You Can' (2002), 'The Wedding Date' (2005)) playing his wife Carley and his assistant Susan, respectively, and big screen newcomers Houston Tumlin and Grayson Russell as Ricky's sons Walker (aged 11) and Texas Ranger (9). If you laughed at the ads for this one, prepare yourself for a whole lot more of the same wild goofiness. Unfortunately, most of my favourite moments relate to key points that would probably be ruined if I started citing them in this review, so I'm going to avoid stealing this picture's thunder. It's well worth your while enjoying fresh. What's most satisfying is that the humour is layered in such a way that you're served up funny sight gags and quick fire verbal hilarity to offset the several hugely overwhelming jokes taken to extremes that gleefully slam over you. It's clear that McKay - who has a cameo as the driver Ricky replaces early on - has a strong sense of capably delivering this genre's goods, and makes wonderful use of his screenplay co-written with Ferrell. Yes, most of these characters are familiar stereotypes, not particularly stretching anyone's acting abilities on the dramatic front. It doesn't matter. 'Talladega Nights' is still easily one of the funniest Hollywood films seen so far this year, and is definitely well worth the price of admission if you're a fan of unabashedly boorish comedy.

Do yourself a big favour and check out this absolutely hilarious big screen adult crowd pleaser for its wildly careening wealth of comedic genius.

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Trust the Man
REVIEWED 09/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Tobey's fetish is that he has a desperate erotic need to be wrapped in Deli meats - preferably ham - or, so Greenwich Village, Manhattan house husband Tom (David Duchovny; 'Kalifornia' (1993), 'Connie and Carla' (2004)) tells a local sex addicts support group that he's wandered in to; introducing himself as Tobey, after Tom cheats on his stage and movie actress wife Rebecca (Julianne Moore; 'The Fugitive' (1993), 'Laws of Attraction' (2004)), while her freelance magazine writer brother and his best friend of fifteen year, the real Tobey (Billy Crudup; 'Sleepers' (1996), 'Big Fish' (2003)), thirty-six years old and in therapy, kind of, has a tough time adjusting to the sudden break up of his seven-year relationship with girlfriend and burgeoning children's book writer Elaine (Maggie Gyllenhaal; 'Secretary' (2002), 'World Trade Center' (2006)), in this oftentimes agonizingly self-indulgent and uneventful Art House film from writer/director Bart Freundlich ('The Myth of Fingerprints' (1997), 'Catch That Kid' (2004)), where Elaine's disgust with Tobey not realizing that she wants to have a baby with him sends her into the arms of ex-patriot German intellectual Goren (Glenn Fitzgerald; 'The Sixth Sense (1999)', 'Buffalo Soldiers' (2001)), while old college friend and soon-to-be wed Faith (Eva Mendes; '2 Fast 2 Furious' (2003), 'Hitch' (2005)) starts to put the moves on Tobey, and Rachel discovers Tom's philandering which in turn ends their marriage as parents to two little children and nudges Rachel into the adoring arms of her much younger theatre co-star Jasper Bernard (Justin Bartha; 'Gigli' (2003), 'Failure to Launch' (2006)), who thinks Rachel is, like, awesome.

I'm honestly not quite sure what I went in expecting this exceptionally annoying big screen soap opera to be, but it sure isn't worth canceling an evening of chewing glass for. These are really good actors - all of them - so, why any of them other than Moore would seriously want to tarnish that hard won image by being in Moore's husband Freundlich's dopey little hundred and three-minute experimental 2005 audition-on-film is anyone's guess. Sure, Freundlich's haphazardly cobbled screenplay affords them a lot of elbow room to play in front of cinematographer Tim Orr's predominantly disinterested, static camera throughout. Duchovny gets to smirk a few sardonic lines and talk about sex. Crudup gets to hang out in a beat up old car that his character uses as an office, as well as emulate Marlon Brando's famous yell from 'A Streetcar Named Desire' (1951) later on - in slightly nicer clothes - and talk about sex. Gyllenhaal gets to girl around with Moore at various stores and spas and things, chatting up relentless streams of consciousness about babies and relationships and, well, sex. However, 'Trust the Man' quite possibly comes as close as possible to being a feature length movie that really isn't about anything specific. It's a slice of life picture, taken with the lens cap still on. It likely doesn't help that the overwhelmingly superior 'The Last Kiss' (2006) was released in theatres around the same time, offering a paying audience a good story and likable characters, unlike this hugely disappointing waste of celluloid. Both are character driven takes on the consequences of stalled relationships and spontaneous infidelity, and yet 'Trust the Man' plods along in the hopes that something interesting might happen amongst any of these hopelessly neurotic, certifiably bland New Yorkers, who perpetually lumber around through their dull lives hoping that something interesting happens to them. It doesn't. Nothing interesting happens on-screen or in their lives, even when two of them sabotage what they've got. Zombies would be more enjoyable to watch for an hour and a half, frankly. Their dialogue of ughs and arrghs would likely be slightly more articulate than what passes for insightful and pithy lines grunted by this otherwise proven cast of talent stuck in these lame carcasses. They look as though they think they're being humourous, but they fail. Miserably, and often. They look like they truly believe they're depicting believable enough characters stuck in captivating enough circumstances, but they're merely wasting their energy throughout most of what evades actually happening in the final cut. And, that's a real shame, because there clearly were opportunities here to make a tangibly enjoyable flick that could have been worth seeing. It simply didn't seem important to reach that potential, let alone tilt anyone sideways in the general direction of that potential, preferring instead to suck the life out of you while you endure sitting through these actors wallowing around in familiar territory until (hopefully) they can hire agents that still have a pulse. It actually is like chewing glass, except that actually chewing glass almost seemed preferable, until the closing credits finally granted sweet sweet release from this stinker. Even the title doesn't make any sense, and is never explained. Like everything else here, it's probably an inside joke that isn't particularly funny either...

Unfortunately, unless you're out of sleeping pills and truly need to catch some sleep at the movie theatre, there's absolutely no reason to sit through this outrageous waste of talent.

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Trailer Park Boys
REVIEWED 10/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

After serving eighteen months less twenty-six days in prison for breaking into a banking machine and failing to talk their way out of being arrested, incorrigible small time criminals Julian (John Paul Tremblay; 'A Hole in One' (2004)) and Ricky (Robb Wells; 'Virginia's Run' (2002)) return home to Sunnyvale Trailer Park with slightly different plans towards quickly changing their lives for the better, in this vaguely outrageous and faithfully cheap looking big screen adaptation from feature debuting co-writer/director Mike Clattenburg of the acclaimed Nova Scotia based mature television series, 'Trailer Park Boys', whose 1999 ninety-minute pilot was apparently spun from Clattenburg's short comedy films, 'The Cart Boy' (1995) and 'One Last Shot' (1998), while drunken park supervisor Jim Lahey's (John Dunsworth; 'New Waterford Girl' (1999)) devious schemes to finally evict them and their cat lovin' petty thief buddy Bubbles (feature first timer Mike Smith) threaten to sabotage Ricky's hopes of making up with longtime girlfriend turned stripper Lucy (Lucy Decoutere; 'Beefcake' (1998)), straightening up by growing weed again, and pulling one last heist - called "The Big Dirty" - that eventually lines up with Julian's mildly calculated aim of these three friends and dopey hangers on Cory (Cory Bowles; '3 Needles' (2005)) and Trevor (debuting Ottawa's Michael Jackson) stealing enough loonies and twoonies to retire on. Diehard fans of the award winning small screen series will undoubtedly find aspects, scenes and dialogue from this low brow, expletive saturated ninety-five minute semi-mockumentary style picture to be fairly familiar, but it's still a consistently enjoyable romp throughout.

Clattenburg's and co-writer Tremblay's screenplay clicks along at a reasonably impressive pace, effortlessly packing in various humourous cameos from the TV show while carrying through with a tight and clever story filled with goofy, oftentimes sardonic laughs. It does retread a lot of old ground, though, from Bubbles' sideline of "fixing up" and reselling shopping carts for cat food money, to Ricky living in a beat up car while being the silver tongued con man of the bunch, but it's actually good that this movie doesn't take for granted that every ticket holder knows their somewhat warped individual stories going in. The primer is built in. Sure, pretty well all of these characters are undemanding dysfunctional stereotypes that precariously skirt the bounds of good taste and amateurish contrivances. However, unless you're talking about turkey loaf sandwiches with mustard or sparking up some Moroccan Blonde hash to a classic April Wine tune, 'Trailer Park Boys' doesn't really care about upholding good taste. The contrivances are par for the course, you're not supposed to believe that any of this could actually happen as presented. Ricky being upset about his release interfering with him playing goalie in the prison's ball hockey tournament, and then later suggesting that he and his barbecue stealing pre-teen daughter go on the patch together to quit smoking cigarettes, are just two examples of that. At the same time, the use of brief candid interviews as a way of introducing each primary and most of the supporting characters to the uninitiated viewer adds an interesting layer to the over-all effort - one that seems carried over from the series' premise that a documentary team is unobtrusively filming these guys in their "natural habitat". Cinematographer Miroslaw Baszak's lens deftly lives up to the challenge of keeping the camcorder look fairly loose and unsophisticated, but the editing does tend to work against that verité style by cutting in scenes that happen elsewhere in the one or two peripheral stories, making it more like a drama at times. The framework feels a little like an experimental juggling act of movie making techniques that somehow manages to hold the entire piece together, without straying from its episodic roots. Poking fun at what could easily be considered Canadian White Trash Culture that's (hopefully) wildly embellished for the frivolous amusement of this on-screen ensemble and a paying audience is all that matters here, with the cast that also includes Nichole Hiltz ('Dude, Where's My Car?' (2000), 'Renegade' (2004)), Kingston's Hugh Dillon ('Hard Core Logo' (1996), 'Assault on Precinct 13' (2005)) and Shelley Thompson ('Labyrinth' (1986), 'Just Like a Woman' (1992)) clearly having a blast with what will likely surpass 'Strange Brew' (1983) as English Canadian Cinema's newest defining contemporary crowd pleaser. Homegrown references are also evident throughout, with the soundtrack of Rush, Platinum Blonde, Tragically Hip and other recognizable past hits being the most notable.

The bad language is fairly relentless and raw, but 'Trailer Park Boys' is definitely a humourously satisfying mature distraction that's well worth renting.

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The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning
REVIEWED 10/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Born in 1939 on the bloodstained floor of the old Lee Bros' slaughter house and meat packing plant, it doesn't take long for mildly disfigured and self mutilating young Thomas "Leatherface" Hewitt (Andrew Bryniarski; 'Hudson Hawk' (1991), 'Black Mask 2: City of Masks' (2002)) to grow into a lumbering brutal murderer under the wing of his demented Uncle Charlie (R. Lee Ermey; 'Full Metal Jacket' (1987), 'Man of the House' (2005)), in this horribly uninspired prequel from director Jonathan Liebesman ('Darkness Falls' (2003)) of the renowned Slasher classic 'The Texas Chain Saw Massacre' (1974) that spawned three sequels, a remake of the original and hordes of pretenders to the crown, where Uncle Charlie soon assumes the identity of local Sheriff Hoyt after saving Thomas from arrest, and ends up bringing Vietnam bound Texan brothers Eric (Matthew Bomer; 'Flightplan' (2005)) and Dean (Taylor Handley; 'Jack Frost' (1998), 'The Standard' (2006)) along with their girlfriends Chrissie (Jordana Brewster; 'The Fast and the Furious' (2001), 'Annapolis' (2006)) and Bailey (Diora Baird; 'Wedding Crashers' (2005), 'Accepted' (2006)) back to isolated old Mama's House for dinner - to see "who eats and who gets ate". Unfortunately, anything of value beyond this ninety-one minute gore fest's meager body count pretty well happens in the opening credits and the first half hour. It's like a Bazooka Joe Bubble Gum comic strip that you've seen a million times before, and that turns you off actually wanting to chew the bubble gum that comes with it, because its flavour is just as dull as the lame strip of images it's wrapped in. You see glimpses of this famed killer maturing from his boyhood fascination with mutilating animals and covering his face with their bloody pelts, into a tormented slaughter house butcher pushed to vengeful murder when his workplace is condemned and he loses his beloved job of hacking up meat. However, Leatherface quickly becomes a supporting player here, with his Uncle Charlie's story taking center stage as the depressed and abandoned area's impostor policeman who turns his small family into cannibals as a means of survival. Problem is, there's not enough background explanation brought to the forefront to make things captivating. Sure, it's an interesting (albeit familiar) twist, but Sheldon Turner's screenplay merely uses that as peripheral context for the otherwise mindless spree of sprayed blood that ensues throughout the rest of this feature. The family simply obeys. Thomas, who angers easily whenever he's called retarded or stupid here, just goes along with Charlie's rather ghoulish need to torture and consume his victims.

The opportunity to create something fresh with this tale - and to flesh out the characters known to fans - is completely overlooked in favour of showing how many times Leatherface can impale people with his pet chainsaw. yawn. Even the way in which people are killed is lazily handled. Yes, a paying audience is given the chance to spend a little time with Eric, Dean and the rest before they're taken in, but that effort seems wasteful. It simply telegraphs who will probably be murdered first. You know what's eventually going to happen to all of them and you see that none of them have enough tenacity to either fight back or escape while struggling and yelling a lot, so why bother? It's definitely not scary, and only barely scratches the surface in its attempts to seem intense or gruesome. Another aggravating flaw in the script is that you see a crew of armed bikers early on, and yet only two of them actually do anything here. They really should have been used more, possibly in a climactic minor war against the Hewitts for Charlie killing their own, where Thomas is pushed over the edge to become the blood thirsty killer of later/earlier films. As it plays out, 'The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning' is a bland and predominantly uneventful flick that doesn't give you any consistently tangible reason to care what happens to these characters. And, that's a shame. The ending is also fairly silly, attempting to suggest that the story is based on true events. A whole lot more really could have easily been cobbled together for this one.

Quite frankly, unless you're a diehard Horror completist, 'The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning' is hardly worth the price of admission, and probably would have worked better as a much shorter featurette added to the DVD of the 2003 remake of the original.

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Tenacious D
REVIEWED 11/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Arriving in Hollywood, California after years of wandering the country in search of the unknown ally who will help fulfill his cosmic destiny of creating the greatest Rock & Roll band in the world cited by former Black Sabbath front man Ronnie James Dio's flame engulfed poster in his childhood bedroom, naive Missouri runaway JB (Jack Black; 'The School of Rock' (2003), 'Nacho Libre' (2006)) eagerly latches onto silver tongued and golden fingered beachside busker Kyle "KG" Gass (Kyle Gass; 'Bio-Dome' (1996), 'Elf' (2003)) to be taught the mighty ways of the greatest rock musicians of all time and win an open mic contest, in this ridiculously hilarious mature musical comedy from co-writer/director Liam Lynch ('Sarah Silverman: Jesus is Magic' (2005)) adapted from this duo's short lived 1997 HBO series based on their comedic stage routine and loosely inspired by their signature song, Tribute, released on their self titled 2001 debut album, where JB and KG realize that all of their famous heavy metal idols reached the pinnacle of molten fret riffing glory after coming into the possession of an ancient lute pick - The Pick of Destiny - forged from the fang of Satan by a dark wizard in medieval Europe, and this alliance of two now chosen by birth right as Tenacious D that's surely anointed by the guitar gods to make the world moisten and tremble in its awesome mind blowing presence clumsily embark on their epic and perilous quest with a disorganized scheme to steal that legendary carved green pick from its secured resting place within the hallowed halls of the Rock & Roll History Museum in Sacramento.

Once again, Black reclaims his over-the-top antic riddled manic persona first seen in 'High Fidelity' (2000), and yet still manages to crank up the bizarre hilarity another few notches here. Sure the humour is a lot more sophomoric and sexually charged than in previous incarnations, but those aspects are relentlessly fresh and wonderfully suited to the stereotypical subject matter of these campy Rock 'n' Roll wannabes. It's also fun seeing Meatloaf portray JB's strictly pious father, particularly since much of this ninety-three minute movie's balladeer-like interludes strike a close resemblance to those found in Meatloaf's famous rock operatic 1977 album Bat Out of Hell - as well as seem strongly influenced by the stylings of Ozzy's Black Sabbath, early Alice Cooper, Judas Priest, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd and The Who - despite the fact that neither member of Tenacious D actually plays the genre's prerequisite electric guitar. It's all done with acoustic six strings backing Black's insanely Herculean singing voice, although the over-all unbridled energy level of co-writers Lynch, Black and Gass' screenplay never gives you a chance to notice. It isn't so much a spoof reminiscent of 'This is Spinal Tap' (1984), and only vaguely echoes the light hearted shenanigans of 'Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure' (1989) and the Cheech & Chong trio of pot addled film classics. If you've ever dreamed of having a hard thrashing garage band that makes amplifiers burst into demonic spontaneous combustion with every juicy power chord lick, this wildly irreverent and laugh out loud vulgar big screen crowd pleaser absolutely taps into that. 'Tenacious D in The Pick of Destiny' (its complete title) also features quite a few notably enjoyable cameos, including Gass' Trainwreck band cohort Jason Reed ('The Shot' (1996)) as pizza delivery dude and faithful fan Lee, Ben Stiller ('Starsky & Hutch' (2004), 'Night at the Museum' (2006)) playing an enlightened leathery music store owner, Tim Robbins ('The Shawshank Redemption' (1994), 'Catch a Fire' (2006)) as a burned out European metal head, and Foo Fighters front man David Grohl revisiting his 'Legend' (1985) inspired crimson skinned and cloven hoofed outfit as Satan first seen in this band's actual 2002 music video for Tribute. Grohl is incredible as the Devil, and every detail of Robbins' character is comic genius (down to his black marker nail polish). Good stuff.

Tenacious D might not be the undisputed rock legend in the history of the universe, but this consistently clever laugh-out-loud cinematic roller coaster ride is easily one of the world's greatest rock comedies ever made and well worth seeing on the big screen.

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