The saga concludes

Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith (2005)
Lucasfilm, Ltd. presents a George Lucas film, starring Hayden Christensen and Ewan McGregor. Written by Lucas. 140m. Rated PG-13 for sci-fi violence and some intense images.

2.5 stars

All week, I couldn’t shake the sensation that a great countdown clock was nearing its omega. Each promotional spot or fast-food tie for “Revenge of the Sith” dredged up my ungoverned feeling of nostalgia and led me to a theater Wednesday night. And by time the third episode of “Star Wars” produced its final wipe and rolled credits, I was certain that a very significant chapter of my moviegoing experience had permanently ended.

I didn’t need “Revenge of the Sith” to reawaken fond memories; I needed it for the closure it promised to bring. This film had the unenviable task of marrying the first two box office monoliths with their less digitally-laden brethren.

I’ve never hidden my fond disregard for the new trilogy, bemoaning that creator George Lucas has become far more enamored with computer-generated effects sequences than with scriptwriting. But in harping on the minutiae of preceding efforts like “The Phantom Menace” and “Attack of the Clones,” I lost sight of why I was drawn to the original trilogy in the first places: characters who became larger than life - icons of the fictional realm.

I was terrified by the hideously disfigured Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) in “Return of the Jedi,” whose cloak couldn’t hide a mug better suited for a “Twilight Zone” episode. “Sith” opens with Jedi heroes Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen) and Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) initiating a mission to recapture Palpatine, then a supreme chancellor of the Republic, from droid leader General Grievous.

As the two pilot small starfighters through an array of droid ships, Lucas sets the tone for the film: only a complete suspension of disbelief will do. There’s no room for nitpicking about probabilities and physics in the “Star Wars” universe, especially when that time should be dedicated to rooting on the film’s central protagonists.

Undaunted by the limitations of his human actors or conventional sets, Lucas can continually provide geeks their glee. I was cheering myself during an early scene involving a crash landing, an ejector seat, a barrel roll and the drawing of a lightsaber in one fluid motion.
At the outset, there seems to be little doubt about the story-line. Even casual attendees know this is the film where Anakin must rebuff his Jedi instruction and embrace the Dark Side. We’re even provided a helpful foreshadowing early, when Anakin slaughters an unarmed assailant at the behest of Palpatine.

“I shouldn't have done that, chancellor,” he muses. “It's not the Jedi way.”

But Palpatine - the film’s true star - has already learned how to massage the young, ambitious Jedi.

The chancellor was bestowed authority in “Attack of the Clones,” promising to relinquish his powerful position when both the Sith and separatist movements were quashed. Grievous’ escape from Jedi capture means the war continues indefinitely.
Anakin returns from the outer realms, reuniting with his secret bride, Padme (Natalie Portman). For two people in love, the pair’s interaction seems, at all times, stilted. It’s one of the fatal flaws of Lucas’ vision, something that even the most ardent of fanboys can’t help but acknowledge.

Consider this mawkish exchange after Padme’s revelation that she is pregnant.
Anakin: You are so beautiful.
Padme: It’s only because I’m so in love -
Anakin (cutting her off): No, it’s because I’m so in love with you.
Padme: So love has blinded you?
Anakin: Well, that’s not exactly what I meant -
Padme (cutting him off): But it’s probably true.
At this point, the two laugh over their repartee.
Anakin: I haven’t laughed in so long.
Padme: Neither have I.

In a two hour, twenty minute affair, this can really test the mettle of even a “Star Wars” audience attuned to such maudlin screenwriting.

The one strength of “Sith” is that the audience is unsure of Anakin’s truest motivations. He claims allegiance first and foremost to Padme, but a snub during a Jedi council meeting suggests he seeks unfettered power even before true love.
Anakin provides a wonderful doppelganger to his son, Luke, from the original trilogy. Both were warned about letting fear and anger guide their actions; Luke showed strength when Anakin ceded to emotion. As many have suggested, the six movies speak to redemption - of a son’s ability to resist temptations that befell his father.

Not that audiences can entirely blame Anakin, however. “Sith” shows his internal wrangling, lured by the “unnatural” abilities of the Dark Side but, at the same time, feeling extreme patriotism to the Republic.

Anakin, who has been warned by several Jedi that he seeks knowledge too quickly, tells Padme, “I am one of the most powerful Jedi, but I'm not satisfied. I want more, and I know I shouldn't.”

Eventually, a schism separates Palpatine - revealed to be a Sith lord named Darth Sidious - and the Jedi. After an attack on Jedi that would make Michael Corleone blush, the chancellor proclaims himself emperor and declares war on enemies of the Republic with words that sound like a George Bush speech.

Anakin’s thirst for “more,” his ambition, turns him into Palpatine’s chief soldier in the new outbreak between his former Jedi friends and the corrupt Sith. We’re treated to two duels, intercut with one another, for the climatic scene. Obi-Wan tracks down Anakin at the lava-laden Mustafar, while Jedi master Yoda challenges Sidious in his private chambers.

It’s exciting, but it’s not overwhelming. Lightsaber duels in the new trilogy have become too choreographed, in a way that significantly dampens the thrill. It’s not a fluid, mesmerizing dance like it should be; I’d love to see a fight on par with those orchestrated by Woo-ping Yuen (”Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”) or Siu-Tung Ching (“Hero,” “House of Flying Daggers”).

In fact, all digital effects have sort of distracted the storyline by this point. Placing characters in computer-generated scenery means audiences don’t invest in their well-being; there’s no threat of injury when the lava is drawn underneath one’s feet.
This is the preferred mode of presentation for Lucas. As viewers, we can understand that, even if we don’t fully accept it. Simply put, there’s no use being disdainful about “what could have beens” or “what should have beens” when it comes to the “Star Wars” films. They signify a singular vision, which can be modified at Lucas’ whim.

Despite the creator’s protest, I’m not certain that this is the final installment of the “Star Wars” saga. Wherever George Lucas lead us in the 21st century, I like to consider myself satisfied with the current completion of the saga’s story arc. If there is indeed a chapter seven, a little piece of the magic might die along with such an announcement. The rise and fall of Lord Vader has been sufficiently chronicled. If we desire more, don’t we risk turning to the Dark Side of greed?

The saga concludes

The first paragraph of next week's review. The film was given 2.5 stars out of 5.

Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith (2005)
All week, I couldn’t shake the sensation that a great countdown clock was nearing its omega. Each promotional spot or fast-food tie for “Revenge of the Sith” allied with my ungoverned feeling of nostalgia and led me to a theater Wednesday night. And by time the third episode of “Star Wars” produced its final wipe and rolled credits, I was certain that a very significant chapter of my moviegoing experience had permanently ended.

Please, a moratorium on Ferrell films

Kicking & Screaming (2005)
Universal Pictures presents a Jesse Dylan film, starring Will Ferrell and Robert Duvall. Written by Leo Benvenuti and Steve Rudnick. 95m. PG for thematic elements, language and some crude humor.

1 star

We’re approximately 38 percent through this year, but unfortunately only 25 percent through a spate of eight potential Will Ferrell films.

After spending seven seasons in the comedy purgatory, “Saturday Night Live,” Ferrell’s penchant for physical bits and making random exhortations laughable has resonated with audiences everywhere. He has also joined an quintet of actor/friends - including Ben Stiller, Owen Wilson, Luke Wilson and Vince Vaughn – who regularly appear in each other’s movies, ensuring will see his lanky, 6-foot-3-inch frame for decades to come.

Ferrell’s continued popularity means trite, hackneyed works like “Kicking & Screaming” will exist in perpetuity as well. I couldn’t otherwise explain how a movie with former football coach Mike Ditka as its main supporting lead could ever get greenlighted.

For the record, I am a Ferrell fan. But like that significant other that you’ve just spent too much time with recently, Will, I think it’s time we spent some time apart.

In this family-friendly effort, Ferrell plays milquetoast vitamin guru Phil Weston who decides to coach his unathletic son’s soccer team. The Tigers are stacked with a veritable collection of “Bad News Bears” rejects, from the diminutive Byong Sun (Elliott Cho) to the prankster/faux-gangsta Mark (Steven Anthony Lawrence).

Phil’s son, Sam (Dylan McLaughlin), has just been traded to the team by his former coach/grandfather Buck (Robert Duvall), whose “win at all costs” attitude has poisoned the world of soccer tikes. Phil is no stranger to his father’s competitive nature, having been subjected to it all his life.

In order to turn the meek Tigers into soccer-savvy hooligans, Phil enlists the help of his father’s arch-enemy and next door neighbor, Mike Ditka. Ditka is, well, the same gum-chewing, barking, hotheaded coach he is in real life. It seems the former Bears coach is the primary catalyst for an extended B-plot involving Phil’s growing addiction to coffee, which often supplants the main story and provides the film’s few true laughs.

Like any Ferrell films, there’s plenty of sight gags and physical humor to keep the youngest theatergoers laughing. But it’s not sustained during the movie’s attempt to build its already predictable storyline. I saw little ones pacing up and down the theater’s aisles when there wasn’t a tetherball game in progress or an airbag to explode.

Perhaps the film’s biggest sin is that it doesn’t allow Ferrell to do what he does best: use outlandish facial expressions to sell bits. There’s a brief glimpse once, when he tells parents that his team present – a set of salmonella-diseased finches – “may have accidentally poisoned your children.”

While most movies would have allowed Ferrell’s character to retain a shred of dignity, “Kicking & Screaming” actually accomplishes the rare feat of having us loathe the now java-frenzied Phil. His belligerent, cutthroat attitude is an exact mirror of his father, despite his over three decades of being the world’s most callow individual.

We wouldn’t be anywhere with our the requisite, sanitary moral by the film’s conclusion; I suppose I can be happy that the movie at least had a point, no made how many times this ground has been tread.

And I’m still laughing at the trailers for Ferrell’s next film, “Bewitched,” which I must concede, worries me. After all, didn’t I attend “Kicking & Screaming” for the same reason?

Will, it’s not you. It’s me.

Comedy between in-laws, it seems, never grows old

Monster-in-Law (2005)
New Line Cinema presents a Robert Luketic film starring Jennifer Lopez and Jane Fonda. Written by Anya Kochoff. 102m. Rated PG-13 for sex references and language.

2.5 stars

Oftentimes when screenwriters fail in their obligation to provide adequate backstory for their characters, I become consumed in the unexplained details.

“Monster-in-Law” doesn’t want to trifle with why characters act the way they do; they just want to set up a serious of situations where comedy can blossom and call it a movie. It’s a mentality fostered in box-office draws like “Meet the Fockers.” A vicious cycle is created in which critics are subjected to less intelligent, cohesive writing and mainstream audiences continue to ignore their opinions. If we laugh a lot, then aren’t the critics wrong? (Of course we are.)

It should offend audience’s sense of decency that a twit-like dog walker (Jennifer Lopez) would attract the attention of a gorgeous doctor (Michael Vartan). But audiences roared at every little flirtatious action, suspending their disbelief that a caste system doesn’t, at least unofficially, exist in modern dating.

We know as much about Dr. Kevin Fields as we do about Richard Gere’s character in “Shall We Dance,” Lopez’s previous vehicle. I see Kevin as plastic surgeon, although my hypothesis is only pure speculation because we never see him actually tend to a patient.

Meanwhile, we’ve heard more than enough about Charlie, who claims her temp-chic lifestyle emanates out of a motivation never to have the same day twice. Unless you’re Phil Connors stuck in Punxsatawney, Pa., I think everyone is generally safe in that respect.

Charlie and Kevin’s first encounter is on the beach, where the Latina temp is resting in between stints as a dog walker. Apparently, Kevin has correctly deduced that Charlie is not a crazy lady with a dozen homely dogs and is, instead, a feisty Latina with a killer body who only moonlights as a dog walker.

There’s two more serendipitous run-ins before the movie jumps into warp speed, setting us down at Charlie’s move-in to Kevin’s abode without so much as a “three months later” intertile.

Of course, we’re jumping ahead at a speed approaching mach levels because we have to introduce the film’s true star, Jane Fonda. In her first appearance on the silver screen in 15 years, Fonda is the titular inspiration. For she, if not the film’s audience, grasps that Kevin would be doing himself a great disservice if he married this far below his station.

While I believe love can exist between two diverse individuals, Lopez’s prattling, cooing and hair twirling certainly can’t be attractive to a fellow who spent countless nights pouring over med school textbooks. Nevertheless, he pops the question and plot begins to truly turn: a battle begins between Viola and her soon-to-be daughter-in-law.

While the pre-marital fragging is quite innocent and certainly humorous at first, it takes a decidedly darker turn in the beginning of the movie’s third act. First-time screenwriter Anya Kochoff deftly balances this malicious back-stabbing with a comic relief in the form of Wanda Sykes, who often acts as referee between her employer and the temp.

In the end, “Monster-in-Law” is littered with moments that, if Kevin had truly been handed a brain with his doctorate, would have horrified the groom-to-be. Instead, the inevitable olive branch is extended from one female lead to another, thanks to some scene stealing by comic mistress Elaine Stritch.

“Monster-in-Law” keep the laughs consistent, and is strongly recommended for anyone who loves to be entertained by a little in-law chicanery. I was surprised myself at how often and hard I laughed at both one liners and extended gags.
With a certain perspective, there’s a lot to be satisfied with here – even if I’m still back at the beginning, creating an intricate reason how Kevin can maintain a permanent three-day beard.