Scoop (2006)

“Scoop” is a Woody Allen thing so forgettable and oh-so-Woody Allenish bland, I watched it the other day and only at the very, very end did I realize, “Oh, I have seen this before.” Folks, that never happens. And it stars Scarlett Johansson and Hugh Jackman. That’s some feat. SJ is a college newspaper reporter who finds herself on the trail of a possible serial killer who also happens to be a royal Brit (Jackman) and she falls for him, to the chagrin of her unlikely pal (Woody Allen), an old magician who entertains tourists who’d rather be in Vegas. Not London. The story idea seems solid, even if our reporter first has sex with her interviewees before interviews. I could guess this another Allen fetish, but college girls seem too old for him. It’s the execution. From the absolute lack of any suspense, odd for a thriller, to Allen’s shit nightclub jokes older than his leads. Snooze. What are the chances he wrote this in 1966 and updated not a word? C-

The Da Vinci Code (2006)

Here’s my deal with “The Da Vinci Code,” the box-office smash based on the Dan Brown best-seller. Legions of Christians gnawed their fists off because book and film dared shove an Easter Egg history shocker that Jesus Christ was married to Mary Magdalene inside a ridiculous 10-cent thriller about a professor of (snooze) symbology. But why? Both open thusly: At the Louvre, an albino monk  assassin (!) point-blank shoots an old man in the stomach, but grandpa rises and walks about, no blood, moving artwork and leaving arcane blue-light clues for the professor hero, and THEN strips naked, and sprawls out Da Vinci Vitruvian Man style, and dies without moving a twitch. If you can get past any of that to get pissy over Jesus’ sex life, than you need prayer. And brains. And I just touched on the plot holes. Some say “Code” attacks faith. Bull. It attacks thought. The Bible, with all its wonder, is more logical. Ron Howard directs on autopilot, Tom Hanks is adequate as the hero, and Audrey Tautou (“Amelie”) tries out English as the heroine. The sole highlight: Hans Zimmer’s fantastic score. It works miracles. D+

The Proposition (2006)

Nick Cave – a god of soul-wracking rock n’ roll from Down Under – writes a nightmarish 1880s Australian Outback take on “Heart of Darkness” with “The Proposition.” This is a savagely violent film about a redemptive killer named Charlie Burns (Guy Pearce) sent on a long journey to kill his older, gang/cult-forming brother (Danny Houston) in order to save his younger sibling (Richard Wilson) from execution. The man who sends Charlie on the journey is a local police captain (Ray Winstone) who is determined to tame the desert land he barely contemplates. The captain’s young wife (Emily Watson) is slowly losing her senses. John Hillcoat’s hit is a brilliant film, a tale of an evil man who has hit bottom and must kill his own blood to find a sliver of redemption. It’s no small note that the Europeans here declare the Aboriginal inhabitants as savages and pulverize the population with ungodly precision. This is a grisly world indeed. A jailhouse whipping of the naïve Burns boy rivals any scene in “The Passion of the Christ.” Pearce's (“L.A. Confidential”) career has never matched his talents, but this film does. A

Madea’s Family Reunion (2006)

Having finally watched Tyler Perry’s “Madea’s Family Reunion,” I’m left uncomfortably squirmy, as if I’ve read a popular novel, and just can’t grasp it. Correction: I grasp it alright, and I just want to forget it.

“Madea” follows a large African-American family from Atlanta, each person undergoing a challenge of some sort. I was fully game. But Perry – writer, director, producer and multi-star – has left me stone cold. He jumps from a scene where a rich banker (Blair Underwood) beats the shit out of his fiancée (Rochelle Ayets) to a hap-hap-happy scene with Perry himself in cheap granny drag, hamming it up as the matriarch Madea. It’s an ugly, mocking performance of women, and I could barely stomach this toxic mix of drama and comedy – I take the beating of women a bit more serious, I suppose. Perry? Hell if I know.

Perry then proceeds to fumble his way to a condescending grade-school church sermon, and then lands at a gaudy wedding that makes “The Phantom of the Opera” seem mundane. The acting is good, I adore Lynn Whitfield when she’s wicked, and Cicely Tyson and Maya Angelou are glorious angels on Earth. But, thanks, I’ll skip the next cook out with Madea. C-

The Wicker Man (1973 and 2006)

A police officer arrives at a remote island, searching for a missing tween girl and finds himself a bit lost and well out-numbered amongst pagan followers of an isolated, almost deranged cult. Nothing goes well, at least for the noble policeman.

The 1973 original is a true cult film – insanely weird and scratchy, especially during a musical scene where actress Britt Ekland sings a seductive tune while throwing herself against walls of a bedroom, whilst naked, as the chaste, self-proclaimed Christian police officer Neil Howie (Edward Woodward) practically flagellates himself in the next room. Seriously demented stuff. Howie huffs and puffs, and tears the small Scottish isle apart, looking for the lost girl, and screaming phlegm at the sexually provocative, Earth-worshipping cultists, saving his deepest ire for the group’s kilt-wearing leader, played by Christopher Lee. As Howie digs into his investigation, he digs his own grave: The man never seems to recognize that he essentially is alone on the island. With no help. The ending is horrific, ironic and strangely – against the grain of the rest of the movie – heroic. It’s a shame this “Wicker Man” seems to have been slashed in the editing room, as we know nothing about Howie’s mainland life. Director Robin Hardy has made a doozey of a film, for sure, where even the cherub-faced grade school girls and smiling old ladies can’t be trusted. A wonderfully offensive trip of a film. A-

What can we say about the remake? It stars Nicolas Cage as the policeman, this time on a hunt for the missing daughter of his ex-fiancée (Kate Beahan) who returned to the cultish island where she was born. This is filmmaking made on a dare: How dumb can we go? The answer is deep. Let’s skip over how inept Cage’s cop is -- the man seems not to know where babies come from -- and how ineptly Cage plays him. No, the real brain killer here is how director Neil Labute (“In the Company of Men”) miraculously makes a cinematic island of all-powerful women and enslaved, tongue-less men a place of utter sexless boredom. How hard does one work to pull off such a feat of … limp drama? As well, religion isn't even mentioned here. So no sex, no teeth. Zero reason to exist. If you’ve never seen Cage running around in a bear suit sucker-punching women in the face, then … count yourself lucky. Ellen Burstn's smirk is nice to watch. D-

The Fountain (2006)

Darren Aronfsky does “Love Story”? The guy who made “Requiem for a Dream” and later “Black Swan”? Yes, please. “Fountain” was met with indifference upon release, after years of production woes. A pity. This is a cracked genius ode about obsessive, passionate love, in all its glory and pain. Hugh Jackman is a researcher seeking to cure brain tumors in apes. His artist wife (Rachel Weisz) is dying of just that, a brain tumor. Tom’s reasoning: If I can save them, I can save her. He only needs time. Time: It’s smashed and splintered, jumping from 1500s Spain to modern day America to a distant future in outer space. Jackman is Tom in all three, and Weisz is there as well. The question lingers: Are we seeing three Toms, and three women? No. It’s one man who defies time, space and God for his one love. Also defiant: Aronofsky. The film has faults, but it is an amazing testament to love. Passion. It jumps off the screen like a golden light blasting all logic, and goes straight for the heart. A

Children of Men (2006)

“Children of Men’ is the movie 1984’s “Nineteen Eighty Four” wanted to be. It takes the DNA of P.D. James’ stellar dystopian sci-fi novel of the same name, and runs in a vastly different, but fascinating, direction.

On its bleak surface, it’s a nightmare about the collapse of civilization. Dig deep and pay attention, and it is apparent that director Alfonso Cuaron has made the redemptive film of our time, outpacing Mel Gibson’s torture-porn film, “The Passion of the Christ” by miles. "Children" also is one of the most pro-life films ever made despite the shocking violence. It is one of the best films of this young century.

Its 2027, London. The world has de-evolved into madness. No children have been born for 18+ years. The world’s youngest person has been stabbed to death. New York City has been obliterated. Entire nations have fallen. And the coffee shop that cubicle office worker Theo Faron (Clive Owen, robbed of an Oscar) has just walked out of explodes in a fireball. Theo drops his coffee cup. This is in the first amazing 5 minutes of “Children.” The film gets better, and remains mysterious. We never learn the cause of the infertility, and that unknown is vital. The unknown is ... vital. A must.

Faron is a dead walking soul who doesn’t give a fuck, living in a world that’s dying. Not even the sudden appearance of his radical ex-wife (Julianne Moore) spurs him to life. When she asks him for a favor – to help ferry a young African woman to safety – his only interest is money. In a quick scene of shocking violence along a rural highway, Theo’s world is turned upside down. I can’t give away the plot details here, but slowly and viciously, every one and thing in his life is ripped away. Even his shoes. As the film marches to its climax, though, Theo gains purpose. He finds his life and hope in a land of darkness.

Cuaron and his screenwriters use every ripped-from-the-headlines source they can, turning England into a Euro-Iraq, torn apart by terrorism. Mixed in are anti-immigrant mantras, Homeland Security and hate as a government-led religion and mafia, religious strife, privileged art collectors, and satisfaction guaranteed suicide pills.

That’s why this film is not just great, but masterful. It’s twisted mirror of our own existence, where some Fox News bonehead can tout his Christian faith in one breathe and call for the death of all Muslims in the next. I’m talking about O’Reilly, here. I’m not one to wax on about religion or church, but this truly seems to be the opposite approach: Love so strong, it's a sacrifice. In a world of madness, it’s the most lost soul who can save us.

The film's final chapter is among the greatest I've ever experienced. Heart-breaking, hopeful, shockingly violent, and unforgettable. Listen to that laughter. A+

‘The Illusionist’ and ‘The Prestige’ (Both 2006)

I saw the magic-themed “The Illusionist” and “The Prestige” back-to-back in 2006, on purpose. Just recently, I re-watched them within a week of each other by mere coincidence. My reactions remain just about the same.

“Illusionist” is a star-crossed love story about a wildly imaginative magician and the love of his life. Magic man Eisenheim (Edward Norton) and princess-to-be Sophie (Jessica Biel) loved each other as children, but life shit happened. They split. Decades later Eisenheim arrives in Vienna, ready to woo Sophie from the cruel prick Crown Price Leopold (eternal bad guy Rufus Sewell). To grind Eisenheim down, the prince has a lapdog policeman (Paul Giamatti) who is corrupt, but yet a fan of showmanship and art. This is Giamatti’s film. He outclasses everyone, without raising his voice or getting all puppy-eyed. Norton and Biel provide kennels full of puppy eyes. The film tosses out a “gotchya” plot that’s not nearly as clever as it wishes to be. Norton’s stage presence as Eisenheim is winning, even if the magic is too CGI-heavy. The much-praised cinematography is a pitch too arty even for me. B

“Prestige” is based on a favorite book, so it has a lot to live up to. The plot concerns two rival magicians in London who start as friends, but soon enter a game of one-upmanship and then deadly, bloody games on and off stage. The instigation: An on-stage death of one’s beloved. Angier (Hugh Jackman) is a stage natural, but needs help pushing the core of his trade. Borden (Christian Bale) is the opposite: He is genius at magic design, but a boorish stage presence. Merged in one body and soul, the men would make one hell of a talent. Director Christopher Nolan has a long obsession with what forms a person’s identity, or breaks it. The reveals of “Prestige” allow Nolan to play large. But this isn’t “Memento” or “Inception.” It’s too cold and calculated, and in need of magic dust. So to speak. Nolan avoids supernatural themes that ruled the book, and some acts don’t come off justified: When a major character commits suicide, it seems only blasé inevitable. B+

Inland Empire (2006)

“It’s kind of laid a mind fuck on me.” Laura Dern drops this non sequitur after the second hour in “Inland Empire,” a film that sees Mad Hatter filmmaker David Lynch dive gloriously off the cliff and deep into his own endless subconscious. And a deep dive it is.

This is Lynch’s most avant guard film since “Eraserhead,” but infinitely more complex and with a sprawling multi-language cast that touches on infidelity, Hollywood, Poland, a killer hypnotist, screwdriver murders, and giant talking rabbits that live in an old urban apartment. That’s not a typo. It is a fascinating, maddening, over-long, never-boring trip that is brilliant, both horrific and hilarious, and just plain WTF strange.

Diving into the plot may be pointless, but here goes: The film opens on a Polish man and woman, faces blurred, as they enter a hotel room for sex. We then switch to a crying woman watching TV. Cue the bunnies. Then we focus on a L.A. film star (Dern) as she is visited by a neighbor (Grace Zabriskie), just before the former starts work on a film with a cad actor (Justin Theroux). From there … it’s down, or rather up, Lynch’s twisted brain stem, and onto his cinematic themes of identity, multiple bodies in one persona and the way Hollywood splatters, not realizes, dreams.

This all makes the story of “Mulholland Dr.” seem as daring as “Horton Hears a Who.” And that fact actually lends the films its surrealist Dali-on-film kinetic kick. This is art. Hands down. A Lynch regular, Dern’s multi-arc performance here is an amazing to behold, on par with Daniel Day-Lewis in “There Will Be Blood.” She’s in virtually every scene, and plays characters playing other people who, in fact, may be an entirely different third person.

Not all of “Inland” scores: At three hours, the film takes far too many side trips into nowhere, and the cheap film stock used by Lynch can be frustratingly blurry in darkness and blown out in bright light, rendering many scenes indecipherable. But when the credits roll, one can’t deny that they just took a singular trip. B+

2006: Best and Worst

Best
1. Pan's Labyrinth
2. Children of Men
3. United 93
4. Casino Royale
5. The Proposition
6. The Fountain
7. Hard Candy
8. Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan
9. Apocalypto
10. Letters From Iwo Jima

Worst
5. The da Vinci Code
4. The Break-Up
3. The Wicker Man
2. All the King's Men
1. Tideland

Conversations with Other Women (2006)

"Conversations with Other Women" is the "Rashomon" of romantic dramas. A split screen shows constantly evolving, changing and conflicting views, asides, thoughts and memories as a man (Aaron Eckhart) and a woman (Helena Bonham-Carter) hook up and screw at a wedding. To give away a second of the film, or even a hint of the characters is to ruin a story that changes course every time one thinks they have it cornered. Know this: Eckhart and HBC are a fantastic, sexy couple and the emotions on display dig deeper and truer than almost any film about sex and love I've seen in ages. Adults only, please. Best tip: It could be watched a dozen times, and a dozen different takes could be carried away. A-

Pan's Labyrinth (2006)

I can't say enough about "Pan's Labyrinth" ("El Laberinto del fauno") ... it's one of my all-time favorites, and not just because I caught a late-night show in NYC upon its initial release. (Is there a better city in the world to see a film then walk out into the night? Hell, no.)

Written and directed by the brilliant Guillermo del Toro, it follows Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) the child of a dead tailor and a hugely pregnant, horribly ill mother (Ariadna Gil) now married to a sadistic fascist colonel (Sergi Lopez) in the Spanish army circa 1940s. The country still is under mass civil war and disorder; violent death is every where.

Ofelia comes to live with the colonel ("He's not my father") at a house in the middle of the rural woods. Behind this house is an ancient labyrinth. To all adults, it's a simple maze with pretty stone workmanship. To Ofelia, it is the portal to her real birth world, where she is the princess of a God-like king and queen, her parents.

Her only contact, the only way into this heaven, is a mysterious tree-like faun. The faun tells Ofelia she must prove herself worthy to him to regain her throne, under her parents. She must take a key from a fat, disgusting frog, then take that key and enter the dining hall of a demon and open a cabinet to take a knife. Then she must let her new brother (the prince) bleed by the knife.

Del Toro's film is so complex and layered, so rich with strong religious and "Alice in Wonderland" overtones, one can watch the film a dozen time and pick up on new themes, messages and feelings. Indeed, as Spain and likewise Ofelia's new family's house/army base sinks further into savage violence, so does the girl's secret world.

Is the faun becoming a sadist, like the colonel, or is he testing Ofelia's good will, her Christ-like love? The most important question at the end of the film: Did Ofelia imagine her world of fauns, demons, a king and queen? I change my mind every time as the blood-soaked FUBAR ending is wonderfully, eternally debatable. Right now, this instant, I think all is lost, this is a film of doom.

I never waver, though, on how much I love this film -- its look, the intricate plot, the magic, the demon in that dining hall with eyes in his palms and skin melting off his twig body, and the rivers of blood. I love the film's refusal to be sentimental, to paint violence with an uncensored brush that is shocking to watch even after a dozen views. This is an adults-only film in the clothes of a child.

From the very opening scene, del Toro promises a grim but fantastic journey, and he delivers. Baquero gives one of the best child performances I can remember. Lopez is pure fhk'n evil as the depraved colonel hell bent on dying violently, and as the faun and the saggy-skinned monster, Doug Jones should have gotten some type of Oscar. What kind, I can't say. A+