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November 29th, 2003 Posted in Other Reviews

Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle
Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore

It probably makes me an idiot to want to believe in my action movies. Any sane person would tell you that rag-tag Navy SEALs simply don’t face off against alien predators in the dense jungles of Brazil. Naked Austrians aren’t teleported through time and space so they can take a bullet meant for Edward Furlong in a mall arcade (though Edward Furlong fans might argue they should). Renegade New York City cops aren’t partnered with Soviet KGB agents to track down diamond-smuggling terrorists, and if they were, their methods probably wouldn’t be as quip-based as they tend to be in films.

So fine. I’m an idiot. I get caught up in dumb action movies. This is probably why I’m unable to sit back and enjoy the Charlie’s Angels films, because no one involved in the making of them seems to take any of it remotely seriously. Every car chase, every fight scene—it’s all played as this big wink-nudge gag, as if the idea that anyone could take exploding helicopters or motorcycle knife-fights seriously is frankly preposterous.

When Sigourney Weaver showed up in that gigantic mech outfit in Aliens, as ridiculous as it was, Sigourney didn’t crack a smile. She looked like walking around in a mech outfit saying things like “Get your hands off her, you BITCH!” was the least ridiculous thing in the world. Because of that, you didn’t think “That’s preposterous.” You thought “Ooo! She’s gonna kick some ass.”

If that same scene had played out in Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle, Cameron Diaz would have moonwalked out in the mech outfit, busted out a hammer dance with the other Angels, then jumped a hundred feet in the air in defiance of gravity and common sense. It would have been ridiculous and stupid, in other words—like everything in Full Throttle is ridiculous and stupid.

The plot is explained as something to do with two rings holding the names of undercover agents, though I suspect I’m being charitable in pretending Full Throttle has enough of a plot that you could fill up a sentence explaining it. The film is really just a thread loosely connecting one bombastic set piece to another. There’s a lot of eye candy here, both in the CG effects and the TA effects. You get the feeling they could have put together about 50 great movie trailers from all the footage.

What Full Throttle isn’t is a good action movie, or even really an action movie at all; it seems like what you might get if you took a group of people who didn’t understand anything about action movies, then gave them a camera and a ten billion dollar budget and told them to make an action movie. It might also be similar to what you’d get if you gave me the camera and the ten billion dollar budget and told me to make a touching period drama set during the backdrop of the French Revolution. You’d get an absolute mess, because there’d be tankfights all through it, and at some point the hero would invent, then don a jetpack for an aerial battle with Hitler. You’d cringe and you’d think it was stupid and clumsy and just wrong. That’s what I felt like watching Full Throttle.

Even the big suspense pieces don’t seem to get it. The Charlie’s Angels are shot! Do they die? (No, they’re wearing bulletproof vests). Drew Barrymore leaves the Charlie’s Angels! For keeps? (No, she thinks it over and comes back). It’s like suspense for people who hate surprises. No, I take that back. It’s really like suspense for morons.

Full Throttle is also notable as Demi Moore’s much-hyped return to film (though a quick search on the IMDb shows she never really left so much as starred in some really ghastly obscure shit the last few years). While I don’t wish to be cruel to the woman, I’m left wondering how we were all convinced this was something to celebrate. This is the same Demi Moore who’s made like, a decade worth of silly crap, right? Shouldn’t we have celebrated when she stopped appearing in films? Much like her ex-husband, Bruce “pained squint delivery system” Willis, Demi Moore strikes me as a perfectly serviceable if unexceptional actor. I’m not suggesting we berate the poor woman for appearing in still more awful films, even when common sense would have seemingly dictated she stop long ago; I’m just saying someone should have stepped in and gently scolded her. “You won’t be starring in anything, young lady, until you’re ready to pick your roles like a big girl.”

Pinkerton’s Verdict: Assuming you’re in a Blockbuster Video looking for something, Full Throttle simply isn’t as fun a rent as the also-available Omega Man, which stars Charlton Heston chewing large amounts of post-apocalyptic scenery while shooting nuclear freaks with an uzi. But that isn’t fair, really, because what is? So let me alter that. Assuming you’re in a Blockbuster Video looking for something, Full Throttle simply isn’t as fun as getting out a caulk gun and spending two hours weather-stripping the windows of the store. Full Throttle as a film experience is like watching pornography while jumping on a trampoline. It’s sporadically enjoyable, but at the end you can’t help but feel your time might have been spent elsewhere doing something vastly more constructive.

X2: X-Men United
Patrick Stewart, Halle Berry, Hugh Jackman

X2 follows the story of mutton-chopped everyman Wolverine (Hugh Jackman), a renegade mutant hunting the two-armed man who injected molten-hot indestructable liquid into him, which bonded with our hero’s skeleton so that claws now house themselves in his forearms. Before you can say “Ugh, not that old saw again,” I should tell you that Jackman puts a fresh spin on it. Some might argue it even surpasses Jimmy Stewart’s classic interpretation in The Adamantium Skeleton Encasement of Hojo Reilly (1946).

There are something like 20 other subplots involving 40 other super-powered freaks going on here, and a sturdy round of applause should be given to the people who juggled them throughout and gave them sufficient closure. While I doubt any of the stories are explored with sufficient depth to move you (and while I imagine each actor complained at length about their truncated screen time), the result is one of the most briskly-paced, entertaining movies of the year—a minor miracle considering the franchise now has more co-stars than extras. Screenwriters should pay attention.

X2 is directed by Bryan Singer—who, following the vastly overrated Usual Suspects and the surprisingly underrated Apt Pupil, now seems content to just be plain ol’ rated. It’s nice to see him finally shed that “hot young director to watch out for” status he had a while back, roll up his sleeves and crank out a few workman-like but completely enjoyable films. Hopefully now I’ll finally be able to tell him apart in my head from the similarly lauded David Fincher—who’s helped me somewhat in that regard by making Panic Room, then dropping off the face of the planet. David… if that was for my benefit, it was a bit much, but thanks.

Pinkerton’s Verdict: You know you’ve got a huge problem when some of the nicest praise you can give X2 is that it didn’t suck half as badly as every other movie this summer. As depressing a sentiment as that might be, it’s at least genuine: I think X2 was just about the only summer movie of 2003 that wasn’t immensely, punishingly awful. (Yes, I know I’m within earshot of Tomb Raider 2. I don’t care.) Not being a huge fan of the original, I’ll also give it the slightly damning praise that it’s twice as good as its predecessor.

But was it good? Well, yeah. Actually, it was a lot of fun and is definitely worth a rent. Whether it’s worth a purchase is debatable—having sat through the majority of the extras, I think I can safely say that everything worth watching is already up there on the screen.

Bruce Almighty
Jim Carrey, Jennifer Aniston, Morgan Freeman

I saw Bruce Almighty back at the tail end of its theatrical run some months ago, so it’s a good thing it was such an entertaining, memorable film, or I’d be pretty screwed right now trying to remember the details.

In Bruce Almighty, Jim Carrey plays a weatherman, or maybe a reporter… and he wants to marry Jennifer Anniston. Or they’re already married, actually, but they aren’t happy. Or they are happy… are they happy? I think so. I remember a fight, though. But… because of his job, maybe? Or something. She’s in daycare? And that’s… bad? Or good? It’s a plot point somehow, I think.

Anyway, Carrey becomes God, and the movie’s suddenly very amusing and entertaining for about twenty minutes. But then Jim Carrey’s character has to learn a Very Important Lesson about how being God isn’t fun, it’s hard. And so then a lot of other not interesting things happen, like… but… a lot of moralizing… and God is good?… but then sad… and… and…

Nope. A complete blank.

Pinkerton’s Verdict: Option #1 is you rent it and skip ahead to the hilarious twenty minute part in the middle. It’s like eating the cream filling out of an Oreo—except for the metaphor to work the chocolate parts would have to be poop, and that’s just disgusting, so forget I mentioned the metaphor. Option #2 is you just watch the trailer, which has all the funny bits in it anyway. Option #3 is you just rent something else. That’s probably wisest.

Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life
Angelina Jolie, Gerard Butler, Chris Barrie

Tomb Raider 2 would actually be a better film if it was a bit worse, because then it would be laughably bad instead of just plodding. This is one of those rare films where there isn’t actually anything wrong with the film per se. The action is there; the actors try quite hard; the fights are convincing; the story is as interesting as the original; it’s all there. It’s just… who cares? We didn’t need a second Tomb Raider movie. In fact, I’d argue we didn’t need a first one, but it’s clear Hollywood doesn’t listen to me. At any rate, you almost feel bad for a movie like Tomb Raider 2, since its a victim of the fact that it shouldn’t exist, but somehow came into existence anyway. The producers who greenlit Cradle of Life are the broken condom of Hollywood.

Pinkerton’s Verdict: If you thought the first movie ruled, and have been waiting anxiously for a follow-up that promised you more of the same but with twice the budget, then sadly, you don’t exist. I hate to be the one to break it to you. For everyone else: the box office for TR2 tells me I don’t have to tell you not to rent this. In fact, I’ll bet $5 that you’ve already forgotten what movie I was talking about.