Love, actually?

King Kong (2005)
Universal Pictures presents a Peter Jackson film, starring Naomi Watts and Jack Black. Written by Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens and Jackson. Based on a story by Merian C. Cooper and Edgar Wallace. 187m. Rated PG-13 for frightening adventure violence and some disturbing images.

3 stars

The three hour runtime of Peter Jackson’s “King Kong” isn’t the film’s sole source of comparison to “Titanic.” But would you believe in similarities between the epics’ love stories?

Fay Wray amassed over 90 screen credits, but it’s her embodiment of the original Ann Darrow that most people recall. Each time the mighty Kong – alternating between 18 and 50 feet in the 1933 version – gripped the petite blonde, Wray would unleashed an piercingly loud scream. Later, she would come to understand the beast meant her no harm. Yet, many would argue, the film always suggested unrequited love, no matter how many times we watched it.

Jackson, given carte blanche on this project after the financial success of “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy, tinkers with the established storyline enough to create a new perspective. We just have to wait until the 14th reel to see it clearly.

There are practical origins for this collision course between beauty and beast. Ann (Naomi Watts) is a Vaudeville performer, struggling to find work during the tail end of the Great Depression and the advent of the sound film era. She encounters maverick director Carl Denham (Jack Black) is a scene laced with all sorts of fatalistic implications.

Their union is sensible: In her, he sees a low-cost replacement for his leading starlet, who has dropped out of the picture amidst rumors of its imminent collapse. In him, she spots an opportunity: not just for steady employment, but also to meet her unsung hero, playwright Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody).

While both Driscoll and Denham vied for Darrow’s affections in the original film, the fantasy filmmaker mutates into a non-entity for this update. (I think Jackson rightly assumed Black was too goofy to be a potential suitor.) While the mood is light before the crew descends on Skull Island, the tone changes considerably after Darrow is kidnapped by the natives for a sacrificial offering to the great beast.

The most powerful hour of the film is its cross-cut between two equally remarkable storylines. In the first, Kong brings Darrow to his stone hideaway. In the second, a search party encounters the most wretched beasts of a long-past civilization: dinosaurs, giant centipedes, scorpions and flesh eating swamp worms.

Buttressed by an omnipresent score by James Newton Howard, the interplay between Darrow and her 25-foot tall captor is surprisingly tender and convincingly lighthearted. Kong, the alpha male of this Conradian jungle, vociferously asserts his dominance over his human prey. But a funny thing happens. Darrow, no stranger to screaming, doesn’t cower in the darkness of Kong’s imposing shadow. She jumps straight into her Vaudeville routine to disarm him.

Aha. This is our payoff for patiently witnessing the film’s sometimes arid first hour. These detailed back-stories were not solely for Jackson’s amusement; they are a prelude to this defining moment.

And whether or not you believe that a comic performer could entertain a wild animal is moot. “King Kong” has long required a suspension of disbelief, to suppose that the most untamable beast could fall in love with a heady blonde. Since we’ve accepted that for 72 years now, it’s not hard to subsequently accept that Darrow actually reciprocates those feelings.

Jackson’s remake is a “three-hankie tragic love story,” as Slate’s David Edelstein puts it. But despite its tender heart and occasional cheese, there’s also a fair amount of adventure for those testosterone-addled audiences who didn’t come to see “interspecies love.” (again, thank you Mr. Edelstein)

The stop-motion animation battles of the original film were the modern technology of its time. Jackson, who has already demonstrated his prowess in the CGI realm, employs it in this update to produce genuine moments of fear, exhilaration and surprisingly, laughter.

Consider the film’s most fascinating scene: Kong protects Darrow from a triad of Tyrannosaurus Rex specimens. The battle is relentlessly tense, but concludes with a famously lighthearted sequence. Standing over his dead enemy, Kong uses the dinosaur’s mandible like it were a squeezebox. This shot could have been quite intense, given the circumstances that preceded it. Instead, we’ve already been provided the sense the beast means our heroine no harm. So we laugh, mere minutes after we were prone to unconscious utterances like, “Whoa!” “Yikes!” and “Watch out!”

It’s problematic to assign human attributes to a wild gorilla. Kong is made more human because of Andy Serkis, an actor who was outfitted with hundreds of sensors to make Kong’s features come alive. There were reportedly 132 captures taken for each facial movement alone, so it’s not hard to see how we’re essentially duped into believing Kong is more human than your ordinary 25-foot tall savage.

But does it work, especially given its three hour plus runtime? Undoubtedly, that assessment will be determined on an individual basis. I felt taxed by the film’s conclusion, as if I were made to endure something alternately pleasurable and painful for far too long.

Jackson was provided significant leeway when adapting “The Lord of the Rings” novels; their immense attention to detail undoubtedly required over nine hours of film. But now he must be reigned in again. He needs an editor who can order him, without hesitation, to trim his features. The problem, of course, is that Jackson was paid a reported $20 million to direct this film, something that suggests complete autonomy. Let’s hope for the sake of our sanity – and our throbbing derrières – that he exhibits a bit more self-control next time.

Fun, no matter what your faith

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005)
Walt Disney Pictures and Walden Media present an Andrew Adamson film, starring Georgie Henley and William Moseley. Written by Ann Peacock, Christopher Markus, Stephen McFeely and Adamson. From a novel by C.S. Lewis. 140m. PG for battle sequences and frightening moments.

3.5 stars

“[Aslan] is an invention giving an imaginary answer to the question: ‘What might Christ become like if there really were a world like Narnia and He chose to be incarnate and die and rise again in that world as He actually has done in ours?’” – C.S. Lewis

“The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe” will do more to propagate Christian values than Mel Gibson could accomplish with 100 films.

The film finds a perfect resonance between “Lord of the Rings”-esque mysticism and full-fledged Christian allegory. It’s going to be a hit with both believers and secularists, and perhaps not for different reasons.

In the midst of the German blitz on Great Britain, the four Pevensie children – Lucy (Georgie Henley), 8; Edmund (Skandar Keynes), 10; Susan (Anna Poppelwell), 12; and Peter (William Moseley), 14 – are sent to live with an eccentric professor in the countryside. As they await word on their return to London, the children entertain themselves in and around the professor’s vast estate.

It’s the precocious Lucy who discovers the imposing wardrobe, which acts as both a fur coat repository and a portal to a fantasy land called Narnia. There’s a certain reverence maintained in the establishing shot of the wardrobe, as if Lucy were approaching a temple and not a wood storage closet.

Perhaps because she’s a child, Lucy is not afraid of magical worlds suddenly appearing in the rear of vast wardrobes. The land, covered in frost and the pure white snow of wintertime, is a land of possibilities for an eight-year-old child.
But it’s Mr. Tumnus (James McAvoy), a faun, who tells young Lucy that the frost is a reflection of Narnia’s enslavement to the White Witch (Tilda Swinton), who has brought winter to the land for 100 years. There is, however, an oral prophecy that foretells of the two daughters of Eve and the two sons of Adam claiming their rightful throne and ending the witch’s draconian rule.

The divination is held in the hearts of Mr. and Mrs. Beaver (voices of Ray Winstone and Dawn French), who have also heard of a great lion king, Aslan, who would help the humans regain dominion.

In a December 1959 letter to BBC producer Lance Sieveking, C.S. Lewis expressed horror at the idea of his book being turned into a television serial.

“Anthropomorphic animals, when taken out of narrative into actual visibility, always turn into buffoonery of nightmare,” he wrote.

But I think Mr. Lewis might have enjoyed the animal renderings produced by 21st century computers. The Beavers are the film’s biggest delight. The computer models are lifelike and are incorporated seamlessly amongst the humans without offering distraction.

Their world is less meticulously developed than “Lord of the Rings.” Narnia may begin dark and dreary, but as Aslan’s power grows stronger, its color palette really opens up. The countryside is more akin to the battlegrounds of “Braveheart” than anything from Middle Earth.

The children are overwhelmed by Mr. Beaver’s message, swaddling themselves in ignorance of their destiny.

“I think you’ve made a mistake,” Peter says. “We’re not heroes.”

“We’re from Finchley,” Susan chips in.

Their helpless pleas fall on deaf ears, however, because there seems to be no free will in Narnia. Individuals are governed by a deeper magic which guides destinies. Even Father Christmas (James Cosmo), who has returned for the first time in a century, provides the children with battle accoutrements instead of toys, as if he too understands what fate awaits them.

No great film is without a healthy source of conflict. Edmund, constantly maligned by his older siblings, betrays them to the White Witch. He’s been lured in by a tasty package of Turkish delight, exhibiting a naïve greed consistent with being 10 years old.

And while Edmund is perhaps the child who needs his transgressions forgiven the most, the other children are not without sin themselves. Peter is consumed with pride; his redemption is acknowledgment of that vanity. Susan is bossy and oftentimes close minded; her redemption comes when she welcomes Lucy’s input for the first time.

But it is Aslan who exhibits the virtues of Christ, offering himself to the White Witch as a trade for the traitorous Edmund. He is beaten, humiliated and scourged – sound familiar? – until he is killed in sacrifice by the Witch.
When Aslan is resurrected soon afterwards, he provides an explanation that runs parallel to Jesus’ own tale.

“Though the Witch knew the deep magic, the is a magic deeper still which she did not know. … When a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the table would crack and death itself would start working backward.”

For Christians, it’s a pitch-perfect representation of Christ’s resurrection. For non-believers, it’s the catalyst for a jaw-dropping battle between good and evil that serves as the film’s climax.

Children have been sadly desensitized to the perilous amounts of sex, language and graphic violence that permeate visual media forms. “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” is a long-overdue response, a film that celebrates families while disseminating honest values. The message is clear, but only if the audience wants to hear it. If you come for big fights and big fantasy, “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” isn’t going to beat its message into you. It’s not a condemnation of other faiths; it’s a celebration of one. That, I think, can be appreciated by everyone.

“Æon” goes mainstream

Æon Flux (2005)
Paramount Pictures presents a Karyn Kusama film, starring Charlize Theron. Written by Phil Hay and Matt Manfredi. Characters by Peter Chung. 95m. PG-13 for sequences of violence and sexual content.

2 stars

When “Æon Flux” permeated late-night television ten years ago, it barely caught my attention. The animation, which was unlike any I had seen, wasn’t comforting enough to catch my fancy. Every time I watched for any sustained length of time, the characters would often engage in these maddening philosophical diatribes, and I’d begin to wonder how many minutes it was until “Beavis & Butthead” would air again.

The movie version of “Æon Flux” – which attempts a cohesive narrative and provides motivations to its main characters – was a betrayal of the original series’ spirit, but was more appropriate for mainstream audiences.

It depicts a bleak future in which the majority of the world has succumbed to a virus. The survivors live in a seemingly impregnable city-state, Bregna, which is ruled by the scientist credited with overriding the plague. He is Trevor Goodchild (Marton Csokas), a constant target for those who seek to undermine his quasi-Fascist rule. Trevor is hunted by Æon Flux (Charlize Theron), an assassin with a circus performer’s grace who takes orders from a mysterious oracle known only as Handler (Frances McDormand).

Monicans, like Æon, despise the government’s Big Brother ideology and its penchant for surreptitiously abducting alleged rebels. As the resistance’s most skilled assassin, Æon is tasked to find Trevor and eliminate him. She’s provided plenty of ammunition when Trevor is implicated in the senseless murder of Æon’s sister, Una (Amelia Warner). There are complications, however, and Æon and Trevor instead find themselves as unlikely allies in a fight against a greater corruption.

Theron begins to expend the equity awarded her after she received an Academy Award for “Monster.” It’s not surprising to see her choose an action film, which has paid stars, like Angelina Jolie, handsomely for their indelible displays of brawn and beauty. In certain ways, Æon Flux is fashioned from the same mold as Laura Croft: a male creator fetishizing an independent-minded savior who is, incidentally, both buxom and scantily-clad.

There’s a hitch, however. The autonomous anarchist that Korean animator Peter Chung created for MTV is decidedly more helpless in her current incarnation. Her conscious decision to be submissive to Trevor is not only a betrayal to her underground faction but also the show’s primary ideology. In the original series, the two banded together as equally intimidating forces.

That’s not to say there’s nothing to enjoy here. Bregna’s environment is teeming with unique characters, like Sithandra (Sophie Okonedo), an assassin who opted to replace her feet with an additional set of hands. That modification is especially handy when she teams with Æon to clear a particularly relentless gauntlet and infiltrate Trevor’s headquarters. The stunt choreography is akin to “Mission Impossible” on a graphically-enhanced bender, culminating with Theron leaning precipitously over grass blades with razor sharp edges. It’s enough to get the heart racing.

The original “Æon Flux,” I’m told, drew its influences from short stories like “Arzach,” a wordless creation by the French comic book artist, Moebius. The film’s style is a decidedly less avant-garde, employing a look and feel that is similar to “Minority Report,” or “I, Robot.” It’s all part of a conscious effort to make Æon’s world less confrontational, more homogenized.

The film, which was not screened in advance for critics, was subjected to merciless skewerings after its release Friday. But I wonder what critics would have to say about “Æon Flux” film that acted as an extended episode and retained the spirit of the original. Would they merit points for its daring spirit, or complain incessantly about an intentionally non-linear narrative and dialogue that often waxed poetic with philosophical inanities?

Two turkeys and a sweet dessert

The Ice Harvest (2005)
2 stars
Focus Features presents a Harold Ramis film, starring John Cusack and Billy Bob Thornton. Written by Richard Russo and Robert Benton. Novel by Scott Phillips. 88m. R for violence, language and sexuality/nudity.

Just Friends (2005)
1.5 stars
New Line Cinema presents a Roger Kumble film, starring Ryan Reynolds and Amy Smart. Written by Adam Davis. 96m. PG-13 for sexual content, including some dialogue.

RENT (2005)
3 stars
Columbia Pictures presents a Chris Columbus film, starring Anthony Rapp and Rosario Dawson. Written by Steve Chbosky, from a Broadway musical written by Jonathan Larson. 135m. PG-13 for mature thematic material involving drugs and sexuality and for some strong language.

Thirty thousand, two hundred and forty seconds. Eight thousand, one hundred seconds of those so dear. Thirty thousand, two hundred and forty seconds. How do you measure a Thanksgiving at the movie theater?

While this year’s holiday offered no less than five new features at the local cineplex, many studios used the weekend as a dumping ground for films that are – literally - for the birds. I didn’t venture to the Usher-via-“Sopranos” romantic comedy, “In the Mix,” or the first of this month’s two movies about the need for more stringent birth control, “Yours, Mine and Ours.”

Here’s, however, what I did catch:

RENT
In the case of this popular Broadway rock-opera making it to the big screen, “No day but today” was a proverb ten years in the making.

Fair or not, it’s strike one against this musical, which lauds a modern Bohemia that celebrates creativity and freedom of expression but also doesn’t side-step scourges like drug addiction, AIDS and suicide. While the “carpe diem” attitude of the main characters is certainly timeless, some of its other elements are getting older by the minute. Although the musical was first staged about 10 years ago, the film offers a 1989 datestamp, which makes characters waxing lyrically about “living in America at the end of the millennium” feel, at times, awkward.

Those who have seen it grace and deface the Nederlander Theatre for 10 years know all these hang-ups are quickly washed away amidst the power of Jonathan Larson’s original compositions. Using a singular set – which looked like refuse piled to the ceiling – the characters performed an energetic retelling of the Puccini opera, “La Boheme.” Could this possibly translate on the far more expansive big screen?

The answer is, for the most part, no. For every song that utilizes the larger sets to its advantage (like the film’s true opening number, “Rent”), there’s a half dozen others that don’t pack the same punch.

Part of the problem is a grave miscalculation by director Chris Columbus and screenwriter Steve Chbosky to supplant the musical’s narrative with more traditional film conventions. A song like “Another Day” – where soon-to-be lovers Roger (Adam Pascal) and Mimi (Rosario Dawson) quarrel about Mimi’s heroin addiction – ends with a rousing chorus. Then the film foolishly fades to black, allows the audience pause, and continues with “Will I?” a round-style ensemble where HIV positive New Yorkers question whether or not they’ll keep their dignity during the dying process. The theatrical version offers no such breaks, keeping the action – and by association, the energy – continuous. By the time the first act culminates with the entire cast barking “La Vie Boheme” on stage, the audience often feels like it head might explode. That’s not the case here.

I was first introduced to “RENT” eight years ago. I’ve seen it performed four times –twice on Broadway, and once when the original cast was mostly intact. I’ve played the recording countless times, so I’m exhilarated that the musical’s first cast reunited for the film.

There are, of course, two exceptions. Dawson, primarily an actress by trade, inhabits a role that was originally performed by Daphne Rubin-Vega (who now may be too old “look like you’re 16.”) Tracie Thoms, the sassy sidekick from Fox’s short-lived series, “Wonderfalls,” takes over as Joanne, a straight-laced lesbian who finds herself in over her head with the wilder Maureen (Idina Menzel). Dawson’s voice isn’t as powerful, or as sure, as her Broadway counterparts. Instead of matching Pascal in their back-and-forth love affair, she often seems outmatched.

While the Roger-Mimi relationship is central to the story, it’s by no means the only facet to “RENT.” Roger’s friend, Mark (Anthony Rapp) is struggling mercilessly to be a filmmaker. Tom Collins (Jesse L. Martin) has found the love of his life, a cross-dresser named Angel (Wilson Jermaine Heredia) in the back alleys of New York’s East Village. Tom, Mark and Roger have become recently estranged from Benny (Taye Diggs), who has dropped his Bohemian ideals to pursue some very capitalistic impulses.

Above all, the message of “RENT” is the reason the movie isn’t to be missed. “Forget regret,” the cast sings, “because life is yours to miss.” Roger and Mimi find each other only after Roger can forgive himself for the junkie lifestyle that led to his HIV positive existence. Mark turns down a lucrative offer from a show whose ideals don’t match his own, even though the paycheck would have kept him off the streets. Angel’s insistence to live each day as it were her last inspires her friends and makes certain her life wasn’t in vain.

There are several issues with the film; I wouldn’t recommend it to a single person that had the opportunity to go to Broadway instead. My unabashed bias shines through, however. Its message resonates within me, and the film is just as uplifting as its companion. I’d recommend it to all who profess an open mind and a heart capable of love.

The Ice Harvest
Although subject to some debate, film historians concede that the heyday of film noir ended 47 years ago. The great error films have made subsequently is to construct plots out of noir elements, but change the tone. I can think of few people less capable of handling a crime plot with noir elements than the writer of “Animal House,” Harold Ramis.

The producers of “The Ice Harvest” tried to capitalize on this Jekyll-and-Hyde construction, even cutting a trailer to make this crime caper look like a farce. It’s not, although I’m not certain the filmmakers have a better perception of its actual genre.

It starts out with a crime. Brainy attorney Charlie Arglist (John Cusack) is the film’s stated protagonist, although he’s just stolen over $2 million from his employer when we’re first introduced. He’s conspired with Vic Cavanaugh (Billy Bob Thornton), a strip-club owner who has enough fortitude to turn Arglist’s hypothetical heist into a reality. Their post-crime plan is exceedingly simple: Both men will lay low in dreary Wichita, Kansas, before splitting the cash and heading in opposite directions.

Naturally, there are complications. Arglist has a puppy-love crush on Renata (Connie Nielsen), whose apathy towards him only catalyzes his desire. The money has come from the mob, which will certainly spare no limb if they find out what their accountant has done this Christmas Eve.

Large sums of money often set in motion tragic outcomes, spurred by unquenchable greed. There are a slew of double-crosses, both anticipated and realized, and well, more than a few someones end up at the bottom of a lake. It’s all very unsatisfying, especially because our hero is not entirely likeable – excepting the fact that he’s played by Cusack, who seems to be the underdog of all of his film, whether a romantic comedy or a grifter flick.

The plot shifts desperately from drama to comedy while Arglist and Cavanaugh bide their time in Wichita. The film provides some needed comic relief from Oliver Platt, a dedicated character actor who plays Cusack’s semi-estranged, and decidedly intoxicated, friend. Platt’s performance is so satisfying that when the plot begins to return to its crime origins, I began wondering how long it would take for Ramis to reverse course and return to the loveable lush.

Despite a last-minute appearance from Randy Quaid as a mob higher-up, the film can’t save itself from its indecision. Drama, comedy, noir: They are all capable platforms in which to make worthwhile films. The trick is, of course, being faithful to one.

Just Friends
The unending deluge of tabloid news shows has allowed Ashton Kutcher to ascend to Hollywood’s A-list without one notable screen credit. Several charismatic actors, all of which have played traditionally vapid types onscreen, look to fill the void left behind.

Ryan Reynolds dutifully assumes the lead in “Just Friends,” a movie which is far too stupid to realize its own demeaning and shallow pretenses.

It’s Reynolds who dons a fat suit to play Chris Brander, an effeminate teen-ager who lives a terribly cruel existence in the suburbia of New Jersey. Despite all of his shortcomings, Chris is madly in love with cheerleader – and surprising best friend – Jamie Palamino (Amy Smart). When she confronts him with a “just friends” refrain, Chris vows to reform his life – and perhaps become the desired jerk that Jamie always seems to favor.

Now looking svelte after ten years in a forgiving Los Angeles climate, Chris finds himself stranded in a blustery Garden State while wooing a bubble-gum pop princess (Anna Faris) for his record company. His new chiseled frame offers plenty of opportunity to ignite passion, finally, with Jamie.

While he may look like he was sculpted by Michelangelo, Chris has completely infantile understandings of a woman’s needs. It’s never debated whether or not Chris actually deserves Jamie. Instead, the movie unflinchingly implies that since he’s now physically on par with the cheerleader-turned-bartender, he’s deserving of her. It’s a hideous message to send to our burgeoning obese population, who are already struggling with their insecurity after years of being teased, pummeled and generally ignored by their female counterparts.

Absent of a working plot, the movie is pared down to an avalanche of groan-inducing one-liners. Reynolds and his on-screen antagonist, Chris Klein (who plays another geek to chic), manage to engage in some low-brow, but humorous, repartee before the film mercifully ends.