Limitless. Dir. Neil Burger. Perf. Bradley Cooper, Robert de Niro, Abbie Cornish, Andrew Howard, Anna Friel, Richard Bekins. 2011.
Well, there you have it: Having seen the trailer above, you have just seen the entire plot of Limitless, with the only omission being a small (but, I confess, intriguing) plot twist at the end. Writer Eddie Morra (Bradley Cooper) is given a drug that allows him to tap into his hidden potential, enjoys the benefits, and eventually learns (though a little too late) that actions have consequences. In Limitless, these consequences include lost days, drug addiction, and the disintegration of relationships. The benefits include getting to work with Robert de Niro, whose performance is (as ever) impeccable but (on this occasion) severely hampered by a stultifying script.
Limitless as a concept is a good one, and although my expectations, based upon the preview, weren't outrageously high, I was heavily disappointed. Morra's character makes an entire series of idiotic decisions, and the consequences should have been even more dramatic than they were; the main message of this film seems to be that most actions have consequences, but money changes everything. Nowhere in the film does Morra ever seriously weigh his options and their potential outcomes, and by the time the numerous flashbacks return us to the moment in Morra's life at which the film begins, every moment is tedium. From this relative boredom we are quickly led into the world of bad gimmicks of the sort a teenager would use to disgust his friends. Throughout the slow monotony of these ill-written scenes, Bradley Cooper does a competent job acting as the imbecilic slug you'll love to despise (and hope to see crushed into a thousand pieces by a truck (the second scene in the film, where he jaywalks across the street, would have been an ideal moment for this potentially delightful moment).
Add to the script's failings some truly nauseating special effects, in which the crew seem determined to impose seasickness upon viewers by means of an almost unending motion blur, and this film is one you'll love to miss. Its only redeeming attributes are the acting performances of Robert de Niro (a methodical, demanding madman), Richard Bekins (whose physical performance provided the most elegant foreshadowing in the entire film), and Anna Friel (perhaps the most memorable female character, although she's only a cameo). Having caught this inspid drama at a local off-run theatre, I'm left wishing I'd spent my one dollar on a Snickers bar instead, which would at least have saved me one hundred and five of the dullest minutes of my life.
Showing posts with label film. Show all posts
Showing posts with label film. Show all posts
Monday, June 06, 2011
Thursday, April 17, 2008
All that Glitters: The Golden Compass
The Golden Compass. 2007. Dir. Chris Weitz. Perf. Nicole Kidman, Daniel Craig, Dakota Blue Richards, Ben Walker, Freddie Highmore, Ian McKellan, Eva Green, Sam Elliot. Based on the novel by Philip Pullman.
The Golden Compass is a magnificently directed film about a young girl named Lyra (Richards), raised at Oxford University in an alternate universe, who finds herself trying to unravel several dark plots, one of which is the mysterious disappearance and suspected abuse of certain small children in her hometown, and the other or which is the ominous mystery of the censorship impressed upon her fellow men by the Magisterium, the ruling body of Lyra's world. In this world, humans are accompanied by daemons, or external souls, who take on the shapes of animals to reflect their humans' natures and figure more as best friends than as souls; Lyra's daemon is Pantalaimon, who has not yet chosen a shape as Lyra's character is still developing.
When Lyra leaves her Oxford to see the North, she is taken by Mrs. Coulter (Kidman), who swiftly turns out to have been in cahoots with the evil Magisterium; Lyra flees her would-be benefactor and is rescued by a band of Gyptians, among whom is the mother of Lyra's friend Billy, who has gone missing. As she travels North to save Billy and her best friend Roger, Lyra meets a witch who gives her directions, a space cowboy who watches her with distinct care, and an armored bear who swears to help her on her quest. The end of the film is chilling, and leads pleasantly into the future sequel.
Dakota Blue Richards is as strong a Lyra as Nicole Kidman is a weak Mrs. Coulter. Richards' wide-eyed innocence--a strong theme in the books--is masked by a precocious rudeness; Lyra, unlike so many other pampered child heroines, is a full-rounded character, ultimately engaging but not afraid to be occasionally unlikeable. Mrs. Coulter, on the other hand, emerges as a stock villain, who lacks any of the depth of character found in the novels and seems chilling from her first entrance, at which point we are presumably supposed to like, or at least trust, her. Kidman in the past has proved herself capable of any role, but this is either poorly acted or poorly directed.
One of the defining characters in the film is Lyra's sworn bear, Iorek Byrnison, voiced by the indomitable Ian McKellan. From his first entry as a slovenly drunk, to moments when Lyra curls up on his shoulder to go to sleep, to the climactic battle with his arch-enemy, Byrnison is a carefully defined and ultimately loveable bear. Lee Scoresby, Lyra's cowboy, is played by Sam Elliot; his character receives a little less screen time and makes the sad mistake, in the face of so many other well-rounded characters, of having a wholly pleasant and endearing character with no room for vices.
As a film, The Golden Compass is first-rate; the strong characters are complemented by exquisite scenery, some of the best-developed animated characters in film to date, an astonishing use of color, and a haunting score. As an adaptation of a book, it has left the political and religious domains on which its source has founded and, consequently, has a slightly weaker philosophy. As with an adaptation, of course, the film also excises certain scenes from the book; ultimately, although an aid reader will regret them, the cuts turn a complex story into the simple tale of a determined girl. Fortunately Pullman's cast is strong enough to make up for most of this deficit; Scoresby and Byrnison are memorable without their subplots, and focusing the attention on Lyra only highlights the tremendous performance Richards gives.
One of the best-directed films I have ever seen.
The Golden Compass is a magnificently directed film about a young girl named Lyra (Richards), raised at Oxford University in an alternate universe, who finds herself trying to unravel several dark plots, one of which is the mysterious disappearance and suspected abuse of certain small children in her hometown, and the other or which is the ominous mystery of the censorship impressed upon her fellow men by the Magisterium, the ruling body of Lyra's world. In this world, humans are accompanied by daemons, or external souls, who take on the shapes of animals to reflect their humans' natures and figure more as best friends than as souls; Lyra's daemon is Pantalaimon, who has not yet chosen a shape as Lyra's character is still developing.
When Lyra leaves her Oxford to see the North, she is taken by Mrs. Coulter (Kidman), who swiftly turns out to have been in cahoots with the evil Magisterium; Lyra flees her would-be benefactor and is rescued by a band of Gyptians, among whom is the mother of Lyra's friend Billy, who has gone missing. As she travels North to save Billy and her best friend Roger, Lyra meets a witch who gives her directions, a space cowboy who watches her with distinct care, and an armored bear who swears to help her on her quest. The end of the film is chilling, and leads pleasantly into the future sequel.
Dakota Blue Richards is as strong a Lyra as Nicole Kidman is a weak Mrs. Coulter. Richards' wide-eyed innocence--a strong theme in the books--is masked by a precocious rudeness; Lyra, unlike so many other pampered child heroines, is a full-rounded character, ultimately engaging but not afraid to be occasionally unlikeable. Mrs. Coulter, on the other hand, emerges as a stock villain, who lacks any of the depth of character found in the novels and seems chilling from her first entrance, at which point we are presumably supposed to like, or at least trust, her. Kidman in the past has proved herself capable of any role, but this is either poorly acted or poorly directed.
One of the defining characters in the film is Lyra's sworn bear, Iorek Byrnison, voiced by the indomitable Ian McKellan. From his first entry as a slovenly drunk, to moments when Lyra curls up on his shoulder to go to sleep, to the climactic battle with his arch-enemy, Byrnison is a carefully defined and ultimately loveable bear. Lee Scoresby, Lyra's cowboy, is played by Sam Elliot; his character receives a little less screen time and makes the sad mistake, in the face of so many other well-rounded characters, of having a wholly pleasant and endearing character with no room for vices.
As a film, The Golden Compass is first-rate; the strong characters are complemented by exquisite scenery, some of the best-developed animated characters in film to date, an astonishing use of color, and a haunting score. As an adaptation of a book, it has left the political and religious domains on which its source has founded and, consequently, has a slightly weaker philosophy. As with an adaptation, of course, the film also excises certain scenes from the book; ultimately, although an aid reader will regret them, the cuts turn a complex story into the simple tale of a determined girl. Fortunately Pullman's cast is strong enough to make up for most of this deficit; Scoresby and Byrnison are memorable without their subplots, and focusing the attention on Lyra only highlights the tremendous performance Richards gives.
One of the best-directed films I have ever seen.
Monday, April 16, 2007
"Coach Carter" a well-coached film
Coach Carter. 2005. Dir. Thomas Carter. Perf. Samuel L. Jackson, Rob Brown, Robert Ri'chard, Rick Gonzalez, Nana Gbewonyo, Antwon Tanner, Channing Tatum, Ashanti, and Texas Battle.
Richmond High School, in which one out of every three students graduate, and where it might almost be said that dreams go to die, is alma mater to independent businessman Ken Carter, a former athlete with a ninth-grade son. Early in the film, the retiring coach of the Richmond basketball team urges Mr. Carter to coach this sadly losing team, which has just been defeated by the team of the ritzy private school St. Francis, on which Carter's son plays. Within a week of Carter's decision to coach Richmond, his son "quits" St. Francis, promising his father that he will maintain a high standard of academic and personal conduct in exchange for the chance to play under his dad.
The Richmond team presents Carter with a challenge: his athletes are undisciplined, irreverent, and mature beyond their years. One is struggling with the allure of drug dealing on street cormers. Another has a girlfriend who is several months pregnant. All are praying for professional basketball contracts, and none expect to go to college--or even graduate. One of Carter's first steps is to institute a series of academic and professional rules for his athletes. At first, parents and students are infuriated, but Carter's rules persist. Later, however, when several students on the team fail to maintain the required GPA, Carter takes steps that have him facing families, communities, new reportes, and even the school board. The ending of this film is fantastic, and the message is strongly enhanced by the fact that it is based on a true story. It may be a tough view for young eyes, but the film itself is excellent and a great movies for teachers aand athletes alike.
Carter, played by Samuel L, Jackson, is memorable only because that actor finally has found a role in which he conducts himself with the dignity and bearing of a postpubescent individual. Instead, the real stars of the show are the ten or twelve student athletes, each of whom has a story to tell and a role to play. Together, the team of actors forms a close-knit team with a bond that must have strengthened as filming continued. The directing is superb, as is the dramatic blending of several unique personalities into a collective whole.
Among the many virtues of this film are its excellent themes. Produced for a society that often seems to think athletes have less need for intelligence than the average businessman, Coach Carter is a cry back to the concept of "student athletes," and should be an urge to any young student and sportsman to reach for higher academic and athletic goals. Persistence is lauded, and themes of forgiveness and restitutuion are common, as Carter's athletes constantly suffer and fail in timeliness, work ethic, and even grades. The concept if teamwork is woven throughout, reminding viewers of the biblical urging to "bear one another's burdens," which, in fact, many of the athletes do better than most Christians today. Themes of sportsmanship and stewardship of both the body and the mind are also heavily present throughout the film.
In summation, this film is a must-see for teachers, athletes, and students alike--although parents would do well to preview it and anticipate some very mature themes (drugs, abortion, and premarital sex among these). But kudos to the directors: as a whole, this film carries through with a standard of excellence rarely seen in films today.
Richmond High School, in which one out of every three students graduate, and where it might almost be said that dreams go to die, is alma mater to independent businessman Ken Carter, a former athlete with a ninth-grade son. Early in the film, the retiring coach of the Richmond basketball team urges Mr. Carter to coach this sadly losing team, which has just been defeated by the team of the ritzy private school St. Francis, on which Carter's son plays. Within a week of Carter's decision to coach Richmond, his son "quits" St. Francis, promising his father that he will maintain a high standard of academic and personal conduct in exchange for the chance to play under his dad.
The Richmond team presents Carter with a challenge: his athletes are undisciplined, irreverent, and mature beyond their years. One is struggling with the allure of drug dealing on street cormers. Another has a girlfriend who is several months pregnant. All are praying for professional basketball contracts, and none expect to go to college--or even graduate. One of Carter's first steps is to institute a series of academic and professional rules for his athletes. At first, parents and students are infuriated, but Carter's rules persist. Later, however, when several students on the team fail to maintain the required GPA, Carter takes steps that have him facing families, communities, new reportes, and even the school board. The ending of this film is fantastic, and the message is strongly enhanced by the fact that it is based on a true story. It may be a tough view for young eyes, but the film itself is excellent and a great movies for teachers aand athletes alike.
Carter, played by Samuel L, Jackson, is memorable only because that actor finally has found a role in which he conducts himself with the dignity and bearing of a postpubescent individual. Instead, the real stars of the show are the ten or twelve student athletes, each of whom has a story to tell and a role to play. Together, the team of actors forms a close-knit team with a bond that must have strengthened as filming continued. The directing is superb, as is the dramatic blending of several unique personalities into a collective whole.
Among the many virtues of this film are its excellent themes. Produced for a society that often seems to think athletes have less need for intelligence than the average businessman, Coach Carter is a cry back to the concept of "student athletes," and should be an urge to any young student and sportsman to reach for higher academic and athletic goals. Persistence is lauded, and themes of forgiveness and restitutuion are common, as Carter's athletes constantly suffer and fail in timeliness, work ethic, and even grades. The concept if teamwork is woven throughout, reminding viewers of the biblical urging to "bear one another's burdens," which, in fact, many of the athletes do better than most Christians today. Themes of sportsmanship and stewardship of both the body and the mind are also heavily present throughout the film.
In summation, this film is a must-see for teachers, athletes, and students alike--although parents would do well to preview it and anticipate some very mature themes (drugs, abortion, and premarital sex among these). But kudos to the directors: as a whole, this film carries through with a standard of excellence rarely seen in films today.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
"Cool Hand Luke" Can't Sweat It
Cool Hand Luke. 1967. Dir. Stuart Rosenberg. Perf. Paul Newman, George Kennedy, J.D Cannon, Lou Antonio, Strother Martin, Jo Van Fleet.
Cool Hand Luke tells the story of a foolish young man who is sent to prison for two years after slicing the tops off parking meters late one night. Once he has landed himself in the prison camp, he quickly makes a name for himself by refusing to admit defeat in any venue, from a boxing match to a poker game to a bet that he can consume fifty eggs in an hour. Similarly, he proves particularly stubborn in his escape attempts, of which there are three. Throughout the film, Luke builds a sense of camraderie with his cohorts and portrays a continual sense of rugged stubbornness which carries through most of the film until a few darker scenes at the end depict his internal struggles and eventual brokenness.
The film struggles under two fatal flaws: first, it has no plot, and second, the character development happens briefly and abruptly in the space of about five minutes towards the end. Either of these two, taken independently, would be problematic but tolerable, but the juxtaposition of the two proves fatal: the film, left to its own devices, becomes little more than a showpiece for Paul Newman's chest and smile. (The latter is emphasized by a flashback sequence at the end, in case viewers have forgotten, in their brief respite from shots of the oft-barechested actor, the precise details of Paul Newman's smile).
It would be a grievous fault to say that Paul Newman "plays" Luke; indeed, Paul Newman plays himself and gets called Luke by his fellow actors, most likely because they are in character and are trying to remember that this is a movie and not simply a vehicle for Paul Newman to promote his smile. In terms of character, the title character is pitifully showcased by any other actor who has more than a dozen lines; most notably George Kennedy, who plays a lascivious inmate who quickly becomes Newman's (Luke's) biggest buddy, the somber "man with no eyes" who is eventually responsible for momentarily ssquashing Newman's happy-go-lucky confidence, and Luke's mother Arletta, played very well by Jo Van Fleet.
Arletta is not a woman anyone could admire, but she has a distinctive rough-and-ready personality. Even as she is dying, probably of lung cancer, she has herself conveyed to the prison camp in an impromptu bower fashioned onto the back of an old pickup truck. Between puffs of her cigarette, she conveys her love and slight disappointment in Luke, explains a few ddetails about her will and impending death, and vanishes all to soon, leaving the audience hungering for more. I suspect the viewers are more distraught than Newman at the news that Arleta, finally dead, will not be returning to the screen.
The remainder of the film passes in banalities. The audience is treated to vvarious disgusting displays of gluttony and brutality until, eventually Luke attempts three times to escape from the camp and evade the guards and dogs in heavy pursuit. Near the end of the film, Luke is driven away, mercifully, to annoy the audience no more with his shallow flippancy and exhausting dullness.
If you enjoy movies of sweaty barehested men, or have trouble sleeping at night and long for films that could lose races against turtles, this is the film for you. Otherwise, fans of film, beware: this is not the cinematic epic Hollywood would have us believe.
Cool Hand Luke tells the story of a foolish young man who is sent to prison for two years after slicing the tops off parking meters late one night. Once he has landed himself in the prison camp, he quickly makes a name for himself by refusing to admit defeat in any venue, from a boxing match to a poker game to a bet that he can consume fifty eggs in an hour. Similarly, he proves particularly stubborn in his escape attempts, of which there are three. Throughout the film, Luke builds a sense of camraderie with his cohorts and portrays a continual sense of rugged stubbornness which carries through most of the film until a few darker scenes at the end depict his internal struggles and eventual brokenness.
The film struggles under two fatal flaws: first, it has no plot, and second, the character development happens briefly and abruptly in the space of about five minutes towards the end. Either of these two, taken independently, would be problematic but tolerable, but the juxtaposition of the two proves fatal: the film, left to its own devices, becomes little more than a showpiece for Paul Newman's chest and smile. (The latter is emphasized by a flashback sequence at the end, in case viewers have forgotten, in their brief respite from shots of the oft-barechested actor, the precise details of Paul Newman's smile).
It would be a grievous fault to say that Paul Newman "plays" Luke; indeed, Paul Newman plays himself and gets called Luke by his fellow actors, most likely because they are in character and are trying to remember that this is a movie and not simply a vehicle for Paul Newman to promote his smile. In terms of character, the title character is pitifully showcased by any other actor who has more than a dozen lines; most notably George Kennedy, who plays a lascivious inmate who quickly becomes Newman's (Luke's) biggest buddy, the somber "man with no eyes" who is eventually responsible for momentarily ssquashing Newman's happy-go-lucky confidence, and Luke's mother Arletta, played very well by Jo Van Fleet.
Arletta is not a woman anyone could admire, but she has a distinctive rough-and-ready personality. Even as she is dying, probably of lung cancer, she has herself conveyed to the prison camp in an impromptu bower fashioned onto the back of an old pickup truck. Between puffs of her cigarette, she conveys her love and slight disappointment in Luke, explains a few ddetails about her will and impending death, and vanishes all to soon, leaving the audience hungering for more. I suspect the viewers are more distraught than Newman at the news that Arleta, finally dead, will not be returning to the screen.
The remainder of the film passes in banalities. The audience is treated to vvarious disgusting displays of gluttony and brutality until, eventually Luke attempts three times to escape from the camp and evade the guards and dogs in heavy pursuit. Near the end of the film, Luke is driven away, mercifully, to annoy the audience no more with his shallow flippancy and exhausting dullness.
If you enjoy movies of sweaty barehested men, or have trouble sleeping at night and long for films that could lose races against turtles, this is the film for you. Otherwise, fans of film, beware: this is not the cinematic epic Hollywood would have us believe.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
"Wild Strawberries" Worth Picking
Smultronstallet (Wild Strawberries). 1957. Dir. Ingmar Bergman. Perf. Victor Sjostrom, Bibi Andersson, Ingrid Thulin, Gunnar Bjornstrand, Jullan Kindahl, Folke Sundquist, Bjorn Bjelfvenstam, Naima Wifstrand.
Wild Strawberries is a film about memories. Early in the film, Professor Isak Borg (Sjostrom) stares at the ruins of his childhood summer home and comments that his memory of it is stronger than its real presence before him. Suddenly we watch the onscreen ruins blossom into a stately Swedish home, and Borg is caught between age and memory, as his real life collides with dreams of death and recollections of the past.
Traveling cross-country with his daughter-in-law Marianne (Thulin), three young adventurers, and (briefly) a quarreling couple, Borg is not only venerated but often asked for advice. One of the adventurers, Sara (Andersson), bears a striking resemblance to Borg's childhood sweetheart, also a Sara, who is played by the same actress. As the young Sara and the old man draw close, Borg is also able to enjoy the memories of his childhood love and even, perhaps, to accept its unhappy ending. At the same time, he also faces up to the misery behind his relationship with his wife, now deceased. Although it quickly becomes apparent that Borg has never found any truly fulfilling relationships over the course of his life, the friendships he builds with the new Sara and with his daughter-in-law serve as a catharsis for the older states of affairs.
The worst thing about this film were the subtitles, both because it was difficult to imagine them with the inflections of the actors' words and because the momentary attention a viewre is forced to pay to the subtitle breaks the continutity of the film. After fiteen or twenty minutes, however, the subtitles become a little less conspicuous, and the story begins to carry itself. The soundtrack is amazingly subtle yet perfect; at times, it blends in so carefully that it is inconspicuous, while in other scenes it draws the action forward.
Sjostrom's performance as the old professor is remarkable. The transformation from crustiness to gentleness and friendship is unaffected and believable, and Sjostrom is able to carry the weight of an enormous theme frokm conception to conclusion. Bibi Andersson, as well, plays both her roles excellently, even managing to blend certain aspects of her characters to draw out the similarities betewen them while maintaining them as two separate roles. However, my favorite character to watch was easily Marianne. Not only would I enjoy the character were she to appear in real life, but Ingrid Thulin manages to play her sympathetically but unaffectedly. Marianne is blunt and direct but also very endearing, and Thulin's ability to balance both without capitalizing on Marianne's endearing qualities is easily appreciated.
Watching this film requires more mental exertion and focus than do many of our modern films. It is old enough that Bergman does not cater to short attention spans or rely on cheap tricks. It is blunt, honest, and thought-provoking. Watch it if you dare.
Wild Strawberries is a film about memories. Early in the film, Professor Isak Borg (Sjostrom) stares at the ruins of his childhood summer home and comments that his memory of it is stronger than its real presence before him. Suddenly we watch the onscreen ruins blossom into a stately Swedish home, and Borg is caught between age and memory, as his real life collides with dreams of death and recollections of the past.
Traveling cross-country with his daughter-in-law Marianne (Thulin), three young adventurers, and (briefly) a quarreling couple, Borg is not only venerated but often asked for advice. One of the adventurers, Sara (Andersson), bears a striking resemblance to Borg's childhood sweetheart, also a Sara, who is played by the same actress. As the young Sara and the old man draw close, Borg is also able to enjoy the memories of his childhood love and even, perhaps, to accept its unhappy ending. At the same time, he also faces up to the misery behind his relationship with his wife, now deceased. Although it quickly becomes apparent that Borg has never found any truly fulfilling relationships over the course of his life, the friendships he builds with the new Sara and with his daughter-in-law serve as a catharsis for the older states of affairs.
The worst thing about this film were the subtitles, both because it was difficult to imagine them with the inflections of the actors' words and because the momentary attention a viewre is forced to pay to the subtitle breaks the continutity of the film. After fiteen or twenty minutes, however, the subtitles become a little less conspicuous, and the story begins to carry itself. The soundtrack is amazingly subtle yet perfect; at times, it blends in so carefully that it is inconspicuous, while in other scenes it draws the action forward.
Sjostrom's performance as the old professor is remarkable. The transformation from crustiness to gentleness and friendship is unaffected and believable, and Sjostrom is able to carry the weight of an enormous theme frokm conception to conclusion. Bibi Andersson, as well, plays both her roles excellently, even managing to blend certain aspects of her characters to draw out the similarities betewen them while maintaining them as two separate roles. However, my favorite character to watch was easily Marianne. Not only would I enjoy the character were she to appear in real life, but Ingrid Thulin manages to play her sympathetically but unaffectedly. Marianne is blunt and direct but also very endearing, and Thulin's ability to balance both without capitalizing on Marianne's endearing qualities is easily appreciated.
Watching this film requires more mental exertion and focus than do many of our modern films. It is old enough that Bergman does not cater to short attention spans or rely on cheap tricks. It is blunt, honest, and thought-provoking. Watch it if you dare.
Monday, June 06, 2005
"Ocean's Twelve" Acts Eight
Ocean's Twelve. 2004. Dir. Steven Soderbergh. Perf. George Clooney, Julia Roberts, Brad Pitt, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Vincent Cassel, Andy Garcia, Casey Affleck, Scott Caan, Bernie Mac, Don Cheadle, Matt Damon, Carl Riner, Eddie Jemison, Elliott Gould.
Sequels generally fall short of their cinematographic predecessors, yet although Ocean's Twelve is no exception to this rule, it maintains a decent plot, cast of characters, and several good themes throughout. The story picks up a few years after the end of Ocean's Eleven, with the jealous Terry Benedict (Garcia) determined to make life pain for the eleven men who once robbed his casinos. Ocean's gang has, in the meantime, moved on; most are pursuing new and legitimate lives, careers, and even domestics; the news that they must suddenly repay their enormous debt is shocking and painful. Eventually they end up in Amsterdam, where their larcenies are balanced out by jealous ex-girlfriends, the European network of thieves, Linus' parents, and one particularly forceful rival thief who is determined to shame their attempts.
The cast of Ocean's Twelve, like that of its predecessor, boasts some astonishingly talented actors and also some who are painfully overbilled. Although all of the Twelve are strong actors and very fun to watch, the film, like its predecessor, focuses more on Daniel Ocean (Clooney) and Rusty Ryan (Pitt). Pitt's inability to act as any character other than himself, no matter the demands of the role, is overshadowed, for once, by Julia Roberts, who actually has the opportunity to play herself during the film and, unsurprisingly, offers no distinctions between herself playing Tess Ocean and herself playing herself. However, the problem here lies less with the abundance of superstars and more with Soderbergh's failure to use the numerous other skilled actors and characters available for development and sub-plots. When Linus Caldwell (Damon) begs Rusty for the chance to play a more "central role" the second time around, one has the impression that he refers not merely to the task at hand, but also to his position within the script, and it is a line that could be easily (and perhaps more accurately) argued by several other characters as well.
The film editing was strong but not spectatcular; the music was vibrant and carefully blended to make a very sleek film technically, and overall, the movie had a level of polish and completeness that is a joy to find in a sequel. The addition of a new villain (Cassel), and one so carefully added and motivated, could only benefit the plot; the addition of an interesting complication (Zeta-Jones) on the side of the law gave the script a beautiful sense of life. Truth is stranger than fiction, yet this film pushed and probed at that adage brilliantly. Cassel, in particular, playing the intrigiuing Francois Tolour, took a complex character and made him startlingly believable and frighteningly likeable.
Fans of the first film should assuredly see this sequel; the rest of the world should rent both the same night and watch them together. Although it is possible to see Twelve without Eleven, the connections between the films are strong, and the first film really provides the main foundation for the next. Although the films are not the height of film achievements, they are unified, fun, and strong enough in every way that they will probably and hopefully become classics.
Sequels generally fall short of their cinematographic predecessors, yet although Ocean's Twelve is no exception to this rule, it maintains a decent plot, cast of characters, and several good themes throughout. The story picks up a few years after the end of Ocean's Eleven, with the jealous Terry Benedict (Garcia) determined to make life pain for the eleven men who once robbed his casinos. Ocean's gang has, in the meantime, moved on; most are pursuing new and legitimate lives, careers, and even domestics; the news that they must suddenly repay their enormous debt is shocking and painful. Eventually they end up in Amsterdam, where their larcenies are balanced out by jealous ex-girlfriends, the European network of thieves, Linus' parents, and one particularly forceful rival thief who is determined to shame their attempts.
The cast of Ocean's Twelve, like that of its predecessor, boasts some astonishingly talented actors and also some who are painfully overbilled. Although all of the Twelve are strong actors and very fun to watch, the film, like its predecessor, focuses more on Daniel Ocean (Clooney) and Rusty Ryan (Pitt). Pitt's inability to act as any character other than himself, no matter the demands of the role, is overshadowed, for once, by Julia Roberts, who actually has the opportunity to play herself during the film and, unsurprisingly, offers no distinctions between herself playing Tess Ocean and herself playing herself. However, the problem here lies less with the abundance of superstars and more with Soderbergh's failure to use the numerous other skilled actors and characters available for development and sub-plots. When Linus Caldwell (Damon) begs Rusty for the chance to play a more "central role" the second time around, one has the impression that he refers not merely to the task at hand, but also to his position within the script, and it is a line that could be easily (and perhaps more accurately) argued by several other characters as well.
The film editing was strong but not spectatcular; the music was vibrant and carefully blended to make a very sleek film technically, and overall, the movie had a level of polish and completeness that is a joy to find in a sequel. The addition of a new villain (Cassel), and one so carefully added and motivated, could only benefit the plot; the addition of an interesting complication (Zeta-Jones) on the side of the law gave the script a beautiful sense of life. Truth is stranger than fiction, yet this film pushed and probed at that adage brilliantly. Cassel, in particular, playing the intrigiuing Francois Tolour, took a complex character and made him startlingly believable and frighteningly likeable.
Fans of the first film should assuredly see this sequel; the rest of the world should rent both the same night and watch them together. Although it is possible to see Twelve without Eleven, the connections between the films are strong, and the first film really provides the main foundation for the next. Although the films are not the height of film achievements, they are unified, fun, and strong enough in every way that they will probably and hopefully become classics.
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