Let's start with:
IRON MAN 2: Like a cinematic piece of swiss cheese; it's not bad, and it's got some bite, but you can't ignore all the holes. The film is impressively designed and surprisingly well-acted-Robert Downey Jr. and Mickey Rourke are on fire here as our hero and villain, especially when they share the screen, Sam Rockwell and ScarJo are welcome additions to the fold, and returning actors acquit themselves honorably. However, it's also quite dumb, something part uno of the Tony Stark saga never was. Some of the plot machinations here make the James Bond films look like exercises in logical soundness. It's passable, silly summer fun, but from such an illustrious cast and crew I expected smarts as well as snazz. B-.
Ah, yet another disappointing sequel. But what are the most disappointing of all time? In recent years, Quantum of Solace and, of course, Star Wars: Attack of the Clones let me down, but the biggest kick in the teeth so to speak is, without a doubt....
Spider Man 3, which played like a cut-rate Scary Movie parody of itself. Spidey gettin' down to "Stayin' Alive?". Pass the Pepto-Bismol, por favor! What's YOUR pick? (Hint: I'm subtly suggesting you comment upon this blog.)
But enough of the shit. Let's talk of the sugar, the cream of the cinematic crop, the HEAVENLY HUNDRED! This week;
EVE'S BAYOU:
The 25: Think Voodoo's just hammer-horror hokum? This engrossing backwoods barnburner makes you think twice.
Toni Morrison, eat your heart out. This picture is everything that Morrison's books are, and that the adaptations of her books are not; excitingly intelligent, intriguingly mystical, and deeply, deeply disturbing. We start with a simple, shocking revelation; Eve Batiste (Jurnee Smollet), accidentally killed her father at 14. From there, we spiral backwards into a twisty plot that involves several generations of a French-American black family, and effortlessly incorporates a range of supernatural elements, from prophesy to, yes, voodoo dolls. I won't say much more about characters or specific moments in the picture. It's a blast going into this one without knowing what's going to happen or who's who-thanks to a richly detailed, dialect-heavy (but always accessibly) script by director Kasi Lemmons, and note-perfect work from the ensemble (especially Smollet, who carries the proceedings on her small but more-than-capable shoulders), these characters and surroundings are so fully realized that you feel as if you're reading a novel about them, for rarely does a movie manage to provide such depth of insight into the people who populate its world. Even the smallest character is fascinating in their own way; even locations that only function as backgrounds shimmer with a you-are-there shantytown allure.
What pulls you in and floors you, although the sweeping visuals don't hurt, is its novelistic quality, the fact that its filled with the kind of shades-of-grey complexity the cinema tends to shy away from in order to provide cheap laughs or luxuriant tears. In this film, you won't cry at all, and you won't laugh much. What the film provides instead is a sense of wonder; it bequeaths unto us the thrill of discovering a staggeringly original universe the likes of which we can only stumble upon in the movies. You've never seen a world like the one Eve calls home, and I guarantee you never will again. How often can one say that?!
(PS-I couldn't fit this anywhere else into the review, but as a philandering doctor, Samuel L. Jackson forever proves he's not just a cariacature; here, he provides an unflinchingly portrait of self-rationalizing evil that deserves to be remembered. Fans of black music history will be interested to know that the great Diahann Carroll makes a scene-stealing appearance here as well.)
The Singular Scene: As Eve's Aunt Mozelle (Debbi Morgan), reveals how one of her many husbands was killed, she walks directly into a mirror, re-living the memory as Eve watches in the reflection, mortified and spellbound...just like us.
Fun Fact: The L in Jackson name stands for Leroy.
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