02 April 2010

Andromeda strain

Clash of the Titans

Crit

Ooh-weee, that wasn't very good, was it? I went in with no illusions, buying in only because the downtown theater just added 3D projection, but even the lowest expectations couldn't save this from being a stinker, barely half the movie the good-bad original was.

Not the slightest interesting use was made of the 3D, and there was little variety in the conceptions of myth: a bunch of wicked creatures with dangerous tails, and a Kraken whose face looked a lot like the Stygian witches'. The closest thing to invention is making Pegasus the black sheep of his white family. The whole thing is oddly static, as if the filmmakers didn't want to be tarred with the nothing-but-special-effects brush. But given that there is nothing but the special effects, and that the special effects are nothing special, you don't have to be Billy Preston to figure out the math.

The single pleasant, though very brief, surprise: the appearance of Polly Walker, who played the delightfully slutty Atia in HBO's Rome, as Cassiopeia.

Hot Tub Time Machine

Crit
Well, that's amusing enough, though I don't quite understand the widespread enthusiasm for it.

The usual issues of time-travel films pertain, especially the notion that a small change back then could change everything in the present you're trying to get back to--particularly a change that might interfere with someone's conception. But one of the blessings of the film is that it doesn't take anything too seriously, and it may be unique in suggesting that a random change back then might actually make life better today.

Mostly, this is a vehicle for actors, and all four principals--John Cusack, Craig Robinson, Rob Corddry, and Clark Duke nail their parts, as does, hilariously, Crispin Glover (who is, of course, a link to another central document in the time-travel genre). Hell, even Chevy Chase is palatable, in what is essentially the Don Knotts role from Pleasantville.

Bass Ackwards

Crit
Linas (Linas Phillips, who also directed and co-wrote) bears a striking resemblance to Martin Prince (I won't insult you by adding identifying information that would suggest that you might not know who Martin Prince is). He's in love with a married woman, living with friends who are ready to have him leave, and making what bucks he makes as a wedding videographer, in lieu of the film career he wants.

He borrows (steals? it's really not clear) a VW Short Bus from the alpaca farmer he works for momentarily, then drives east, toward Boston and his parents and/or New York and a former life. Talky adventures and friendships ensue. Call it Ramblecore. It's as beautifully shot as that much America has been shot lately, and though it's ultimately a whole lot of not much, somehow it works.

Trailers

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