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.