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New Releases

I Love You, Man
Directed by John Hamburg
C
Reviewed by Matt Prigge
Opens Fri., March 20

When it finally graduated from sputtering and criminally ignored to ubiquitous and almost annoyingly all-powerful, the Judd Apatow Machine seemed to be out to do one thing: vanquish the kind of witless comedies that were not only not funny, but also not aware that actors, through the power of ad-libbing, were probably more hilarious than screenwriters. Movies, in other words, exactly like John Hamburg’s I Love You, Man.

Hamburg, who wrote and directed here, once helmed a couple episodes of Apatow’s Undeclared. He also made Along Came Polly. Even though his film borrows Paul Rudd, Jason Segel and a funny but sweet-natured look at male camaraderie from his former employer, this version of Hamburg turns out to be the one who once smashed Ben Stiller’s face against a dude’s hairy, sweat-drenched chest.

In a welcome change of pace, Rudd plays an obliviously cheerful real estate agent newly and merrily engaged to girlfriend Rashida Jones. When asked to name his groomsmen, Rudd is appalled to realize he’s a freak who’s never cemented any long-term male friendships. And so begins his “bro-mance” with Segel, a slovenly guy’s guy with whom he forms an instant bond over fish tacos, intimate sex talk and Rush.

There’s a clever, insightful film inside I Love You, Man, examining the way heterosexual men often feel a deeper bond with other men than they do with the women they ostensibly love. Unfortunately, it’s buried under yuks involving vomit, dogshit and Lou Ferrigno (as himself), as well as a heaping helping of gay panic jokes. Don’t worry, guys—Hamburg goes out of his way to make damn well sure we know Rudd and Segel’s relationship is strictly platonic, just in case two men going on dinner dates seems a little, well, you know.

Though I Love You, Man stays locked to its unfunny script, with precious little improv wiggle room, it still gets a huge lift from its two gifted stars, who remain appealing even when their material gives them nothing to work with. Rudd’s awkward attempts at bro-ing down, complete with inscrutable nicknames, are strong signs of the singular talent I Love You, Man almost entirely ignores. And didn’t Role Models just come out on DVD? 

Sunshine Cleaning
Directed by Christine Jeffs
C
Reviewed by Matt Prigge
Opens Fri., March 20

When it comes to the setup for Sunshine Cleaning—in which two economically strapped women start a crime cleanup business—there are many angles from which to approach. A quirky comedy. A Weeds-esque TV show. A stark drama about the realities of living life just above the poverty line. The least interesting approach is to try to get all of them into one movie. An ungainly, awkward film, Christine Jeffs’ Sunshine Cleaning smashes a variety of tones and false starts into a misshapen blob that consistently wastes its potential.

That potential includes two talented stars, Amy Adams and Emily Blunt, who retain their trademarks—deranged bubbliness and sour vulnerability, respectively—as sisters, one an uptight pain, the other a reckless free spirit. Wallowing in arid Albuquerque, the two happen upon a freelance gig sprucing up a murder scene. Shocked by the pay, though unaware that one shouldn’t dump bloody rags in the nearest dumpster, they try to hack it as a cheaper, less efficient and chipper alternative to the pros, all with the help of a sweet, one-armed biohazard salesman (Capote’s Clifton Collins Jr., in a remarkably quiet turn).

You’ve got the princess from Enchanted and the other bitch from The Devil Wears Prada mopping up blood. Where next? Good question. Having flirted with dark comedy in its first half—inappropriately silly sight gags, Blunt giddily phoning Adams about work upon hearing of a shooting on the news—the film goes full-on drama in its second half. What should, by all rights, be an insightful comedy about the gory lengths it takes to get by in America instead just gets goopier and goopier.

Both Adams and Blunt keep their dignity—Blunt miraculously makes an underdeveloped character seem interesting—but wind up stuck with stillborn storylines. As Adams tries to hobnob with her rich former high schoolers (a topic The Simpsons already covered in full), Blunt begins stalking then hanging with the estranged lesbian daughter (Mary Lynn Rasjkub) of a crime scene corpse. Both end unsatisfactorily, but at least fare better than Alan Arkin, reheating his Little Miss Sunshine routine as their get-rich-quick scheming dad.

Sunshine Cleaning has the fortune of good timing; watching familiar faces believably wrestle with payments and the like can be affecting thanks to you know what. But good timing ain’t the same as good.

Not Reviewed

The Edge of Love

Kiera Knightley and Sienna Miller battle it out to determine who can be more attractive in a period piece. (Opens Fri., March 20.)

The Great Buck Howard

Tom Hanks and son Colin star in this film about an illusionist (John Malkovich). (Opens Fri., March 20.)

Knowing

Nicolas Cage rehashes the character he played in the National Treasure flicks, only this time, there’s even more danger. (Opens Fri., March 20.)

Moscow, Belgium

Husband leaves wife. Wife finds young man willing to court her. Husband returns. European drama ensues. (Opens Fri., March 20.)

Ongoing

The Class

We spend an academic year in the classroom of François Bégaudeau’s Mr. Marin, an effete, exhausted teacher working in a run-down Parisian neighborhood. He attempts to engage and enlighten a rough-and-tumble class of students of mixed races, most of whom return the favor with bad attitudes and bored disinterest. A (S.B.)

Confessions of a Shopaholic

Remember The Devil Wears Prada? Homely gal with journalistic ambition gets a job at fashion mag and changes her life accordingly. Shopaholic is like that, but in reverse. (Not reviewed.)

Coraline

In the Alice in Wonderland-esque children’s tale, a neglected, blue-maned little girl (voiced, fairly obnoxiously, by Dakota Fanning) discovers an alternate version of her new hopelessly rural apartment building. Everything would be hunky dory but for the black buttons everyone sports in lieu of eyes, which, alas, is mandatory for longtime stays. Cue increasingly sinister tone and vigorous workouts for those sleek Real-D specs. B- (M.P.)

Crossing Over

Cloddishly attempting to apply Traffic’s multi-storyline structure to our post-9/11 immigration dilemmas, Wayne Kramer’s Crossing Over is the most annoying kind of message movie—a lifeless slog in which characters stand around spouting statistics, never discussing anything besides the hot-button issue at hand, often with all the wit and vivacity of a PowerPoint presentation. It feels not so much written as mapped out—the disparate character threads eventually coinciding in such a clumsy manner that similar groaners like Crash and Babel seem subtle in comparison. D- (S.B.)

Doubt

Doubt is a “parable” of a monstrous nun (Meryl Streep) at a Bronx Catholic school in 1964 who’s trying to destroy a progressive-minded priest (Philip Seymour Hoffman) with baseless accusations of “unhealthy” dealings with the school’s lone black student. There are only four characters, but the action consists primarily of debates between the nun and priest, as well as dialogue with a younger nun who’s caught in the middle. B (M.P.)

Explicit Ills

Bad shit happens in North Philly in this film by actor-turned-writer/ director Mark Weber. (Not reviewed.)

Fired Up!

Two bros trade football gear for pompoms in an effort to bang cheerleaders. (Not reviewed.)

Friday the 13th

There’s no lazier slasher-flick series to adapt than the tiresome legend of Jason Voorhees and Friday the 13th. A cheap knockoff cribbed from John Carpenter’s technically adroit, dead-from-the-neck-up Halloween, Sean S. Cunningham’s unstoppable series of rank ineptitude stumbled into a winning formula: Beautiful young people fuck each others’ brains out, only to pay for it once that guy with the hockey mask and machete pops out of nowhere and mutilates them. D- (S.B.)

Frost/Nixon

Based on Peter Morgan’s smash 2006 stage play, the film attempts to chronicle the travails of shlock TV host David Frost (expertly played by Michael Sheen) as he overpays and underprepares for an epic stretch of interviews with “Tricky Dick” Nixon (played by the always magnificent Frank Langella, who’s a bit too grave and Shakespearean to truly convey the disgraced leader’s wormy, shifty mannerisms, no matter how impressive his jowls). C (S.B.)

Gommorah

Coming off either like a promising pilot or an entire season gruesomely condensed for movie theaters, Matteo Garrone’s Gomorrah—its title a heavy-handed play on Camorra, the Italian Mafia organization it profiles—adapts Roberto Saviano’s dangerously well-researched nonfiction best-seller, which delved so deep into its subject its author has been granted permanent police escort. Garrone’s film takes no such chances: It’s a thinly fictionalized version that, in lieu of a single guide-character, gives equal focus to five different plot threads, plus dozens of characters. B- (M.P.)

Gran Torino

Clint Eastwood plays Walt Kowalski, a grizzled old Korean War vet who, after the death of his wife, tends to while away the days sitting on his front porch guzzling cans of PBR, offering salty observations on the decline of his white-flight Detroit neighborhood. Barking ridiculous, dated slurs for every minority in his sight, he’s like Dirty Harry in the sunset years. A variety of contrivances find Walt begrudgingly befriending a family of Hmong immigrants next door. Young Thao (Bee Vang) is an awkward, bookish kid—prime recruitment material for the local gangs. These thugs make the huge mistake of scuffling on Walt’s pristine front yard and kicking over the wrong geezer’s garden gnome. B+ (S.B.)

He’s Just Not That Into You

Ginnifer Goodwin stands more or less at the center of an all-star cast as Gigi, a persnickety, borderline deranged single gal who, when introduced, is wondering why some douchey real estate agent (Kevin Connolly) hasn’t called her back. In strolls cynical bar manager Alex (Justin Long), who proceeds to offer her the cold, hard truth about how men think. Perturbed by Gigi’s findings, co-worker Beth (Jennifer Aniston) breaks up with longtime marriage-phobic boyfriend Neil (Ben Affleck). Meanwhile, Janine (Jennifer Connelly) wonders if she can really trust husband Ben (Bradley Cooper). Funny thing, that, since Ben’s gallivanting with a chesty trollop (Scarlett Johansson, natch). Periodically producer Drew Barrymore swings by to lord over the rom-com festivities like the grand dame of the genre. C+ (M.P.)

The Last House on the Left

The family of a kidnapped girl is really pissed off when they find out she’s been hurt. Fortunately, they know where her attackers are hiding. Here’s a hint: It’s the name of the movie. (Not reviewed.)

Milk

As San Francisco’s cherished local legend—the first openly gay man ever elected to a public office in America—Sean Penn’s Harvey Milk is a buoyant, expansive figure. As droll as he is shrewd, the character is delightful to watch. The real Harvey Milk’s lanky stance, queeny mannerisms and honking Noo Yawk accent aren’t just fodder for a typical Oscar-friendly dead celebrity impression—they’re pushing this actor out of his gloomy old comfort zones. There’s such a feeling of playfulness and joy in this performance, I dare say Sean Penn hasn’t been this much fun to watch since Fast Times at Ridgemont High or at the very least Carlito’s Way. A- (S.B.)

Miss March

An average guy wakes up from a four-year coma to discover that his high school sweetheart has become a centerfold. He and a pal scheme to have the pair reunite in this fantasy film. (Not reviewed.)

Paul Blart: Mall Cop

The guy from The King of Queens stopped making a television show so he could portray a Rent-a-Cop on the big screen. Huh. (Not reviewed.)

Phoebe in Wonderland

Daniel Barnz’s freakishly assured debut feature isn’t an issue film. Instead, it takes a cue from Heavenly Creatures and keeps blurring the line between Phoebe’s anxious reality and her loopy fantasies. Wonderland doesn’t even use the phrase “Tourette syndrome” until the last scene. Until then, Phoebe is simply an odd egg—a so-far-undiagnosed social outcast with a quirky attention span and disdain for conformity. As her writer parents (Felicity Huffman and Bill Pullman) fret over how to handle their daughter, Phoebe’s illness flourishes when she’s whimsically cast in a school production of Alice in Wonderland put on by eerily placid drama teacher Patricia Clarkson. B+ (M.P.)

Pink Panther 2

Steve Martin returns as Detective Clouseau, though Beyoncé decided to skip this time around. (Not reviewed.)

Push

There are no fewer than 10 different telekinetic, telephatic and clairvoyant abilities in Push, ranging from “watchers” who can see the ever-changing future to “movers” who can physically move people and objects with their mind. The latter ability belongs to hero Chris Evans, an expat hiding out in pretty Hong Kong. He gets roped into intrigue involving a group of shadowy U.S. government baddies led by Djimon Hounsou (a “pusher” who can “push” lies into another’s mind); a runaway super-psychic who’s also his ex-girlfriend (Camilla Belle); a rival Chinese gang; and an old-fashioned MacGuffin stored, amusingly, in a briefcase. C+ (M.P.)

Race to Witch Mountain

The Rock continues his quest to be a serious actor in this family-friendly flick about aliens. (Not reviewed.)

The Reader

Kate Winslet essays Hannah Schmidt, a mysteriously private and weary mid-30s tram conductor in post-WWII Germany who seduces 15-year-old Michael Berg (David Kross). They have a special relationship: He reads her the greatest hits of classic literature and then she works his bones. After a couple sweaty months Schmidt abruptly disappears. It’s eight years before Berg sees her again, this time as a law student sitting in on her war crimes trial. C+ (M.P.)

Slumdog Millionaire

Teenage nobody Jamal Malik (Dev Patel) is a mere few questions away from beating the Indian version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. But Malik’s been accused of cheating, and as the shadowy, belligerent authorities go through his taped performance, answer by answer, we’re treated to his ramshackle, Dickensian childhood as an orphaned slum kid from Mumbai, riding the rails and eking out various desperate existences alongside his more crafty and ethics-handicapped brother. C+ (M.P.)

Taken

It’s reactionary father-knows-best-because-he-used-to-murder-people-for-a-living nonsense, implicitly reinforcing all sorts of xenophobic paranoias and insidious patriarchal hierarchies. But it’s also absurdly entertaining to watch Liam Neeson cut a bloody swath through Paris leaving countless dead bodies in his wake. This is a lurid, sleazy button-pusher movie, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t work like gangbusters on a base, Cro-Magnon level. B- (S.B.)

Two Lovers

Leonard Kraditor, a heartsick, bumbling mess who’s recently reclaimed his childhood bedroom, living with his parents in the insular Jewish community of Brighton Beach. We hear mention of a bad breakup, and subsequent suicidal overtures. Off-kilter Leonard even hurls himself into Sheepshead Bay before the opening credits have unspooled, only to think better of it and head home for dinner. He’s an odd, tormented duck, but also quite funny and vulnerable at unexpected moments. A- (S.B.)

Tyler Perry’s Madea Goes to Jail

As one colleague explained, “Madea’s following the Ernest route to cinematic success.” (Not reviewed.)

The Uninvited

In this horror flick, two young girls freak out when their dad marries their dead mother’s nurse. Naturally, the ghost of the dead mother is a main character. (Not reviewed.)

Watchmen

Set in an alternate 1985, one in which Nixon is serving his fifth term and the Cold War ain’t all that cold anymore, Watchmen posits a world in which costumed avengers are so common they’ve actually been outlawed by congressional decree. The title team is a long-dormant band of caped crusaders spurred back into action by the murder of one of their own. C+ (S.B.)

The Wrestler

Faced with a health crisis, wrestler Randy the Ram’s (Mickey Rourke) forced to consider retirement, and that’s when the movie begins questioning how we define ourselves. If a man is what he does for a living, who does he become when he can’t do that anymore? The Ram tentatively tries to muster an existence beyond the mat, attempting to reconnect with his estranged daughter (Evan Rachel Wood.) Only Cassidy seems to understand. Brilliantly played by Marisa Tomei, Randy’s favorite stripper is secretly a single mom, and the two foster a friendship outside the sleazy club’s VIP room. Just like the Ram, Cassidy’s getting too old to make a living off her body anymore, and Aronofsky quietly underlines their similarities with matching camera movements whenever these two are “at work.” A- (S.B.)