(Long Island, NY) Pure blood, death, and mayhem. We’ve been apart far too long, my friend. My fellow moviegoers, let me tell you of a time known as the 1980’s. Former
actor Ronald Regan was president, and in Regan’s America, an odd duality existed in the movies produced during that era- sex was bad (and usually punishable by death), but violence was welcomed, especially when it was directed at dirty, godless non-Americans.

Known to many as the Golden Age of Action, the 80’s box-office was firmly ruled by macho, massively muscled one-man armies such as Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone, Jean-Claude Van Damme, and Stephen Seagal. Combined, these gentlemen killed enough people on-screen to fill the Grand Canyon hundreds of times over. Plots? Character development? Who needed them? As long as we had unlimited ammunition, sharp bladed weapons, and plenty of bad guys to insert them into, audiences were elated.

Of course, the 80’s ended like all good things tend to do, and while action movies continued to be made, the following decades ushered in a different kind of hero. Unlike the cold, remorseless killing machines of yesteryear, this new breed typically only kills in self defense and actually SPARES helpless opponents! That’s a long shot from ruthlessly dismembering trained soldiers with old gardening equipment simply because they’re in your way. Whatever happened to good, old fashioned ruthlessness?

Alas, age and misfortune have claimed most of our truly sadistic and revered action heroes- while Arnold went onward and upward to rule the mythical land of California with an iron fist, Seagal and Van Damme now live in Direct-To-Video Land, with the former now too fat to even do his own fight scenes without the aid of a stunt double. Stallone had been in this lowly state for a period of time as well, but recently he’s been cashing in on the strong nostalgia his most famous characters generate for one last attempt at cinematic glory. First, there was 2006’s Rocky Balboa, the (supposed) final entry in the saga of the lovable boxer without a brain. A success both critically and commercially, the film opened the bank vault doors to fund Stallone’s next project- the resurrection of homicidally insane Vietnam veteran, John Rambo.

Rambo, played by Stallone as a quiet yet fiercely intense man, first appeared to moviegoers back in 1982’s First Blood. We are introduced to John Rambo as he drifts through various backwoods towns in the United States after returning from the conflict in Vietnam. Scarred by his experiences in the war, Rambo has difficulty re-adjusting to civilian life and soon runs afoul of an intolerant Sheriff who initially harasses him over his slovenly looks, and later arresting him on a trumped-up charge. The situation escalates rapidly as Rambo reverts back to his intensive combat training and escapes, eventually engaging in impromptu guerrilla warfare in the woods against the Sheriff’s department and National Guard. In the end, Rambo’s trusted commanding officer from Vietnam finally convinces him to give up to the authorities.

In 1985’s Rambo: First Blood Part 2, John is offered a Presidential pardon in exchange for returning to Vietnam on a mission to discover if American POWs are still being held captive. It was a mission Rambo was supposed to fail, as the government simply wanted to forget their lost soldiers and the remnants of America’s defeat in Vietnam so many years before. But trust Rambo to not only to discover POWs, but ignore orders and conduct his own personal rescue mission. This is the film that really put the character of Rambo on the map, to the point that President Regan personally lauded the film for it’s portrayal of patriotism and the U.S. Army.

1988’s Rambo 3 finds John living and working with monks in a monastery in Thailand, having finally found some peace and purpose in his life. This amity is disrupted by the return of Rambo’s old CO, asking him to go on one last mission with him to Afghanistan to supply weapons and supplies to Afghan freedom fighters in conflict against the Russian army. Rambo initially refuses, but relents and mounts a lone rescue operation when his CO goes anyway and is captured by the evil vodka-swilling Cossacks.

Now, before proceeding with this review, it needs to be said that during the course of the film series, Rambo seemingly dispatches hundreds of enemies through various sundry methods, including gunfire, explosives, arrows, tank collisions, and his signature weapon- a ridiculously large, serrated, hollow-handled survival knife about the size of Jason Voorhees’ machete. Needless to say, Mr. Rambo is very, very accomplished at making people very, very dead.

Fast-forward 20 years (wow, has it really been that long?) and the fourth installment in the series, simply entitled “Rambo,” finds the eponymous character still in Thailand, living a simple life of snake catching(?) and cruising up and down the river in a floating pile of crap that he’s trying to pass off as a boat. While the neighboring country of Burma is being torn apart by a brutal civil war, Rambo finds himself approached by a group of missionaries who wish to hire his sort-of boat to transport them and their medical supplies to an especially downtrodden and savaged village just over the border. Reluctant at first, Rambo is won over by Sarah (Julie Benz), the lone female in the group and probably the first woman he’s seen in years who still possesses of all her own teeth. En route to the village, Rambo is forced to deal with some rude river pirates in a lethal manner most objectionable to Lewis (Graham McTavish), the resident pacifist and annoying killjoy of the missionaries. But by the end of the movie, you just know that Louis will learn to love senseless death like any good red-blooded American should.

After depositing the do-gooders at their destination, Rambo later receives word that the village they were trying to aid has been obliterated by a Burmese army platoon lead by the vicious En-Joo (Tim Kang). Rambo is simply asked to lead a group of hired mercenaries on a rescue mission to the area that he dropped the ill-fated missionaries off at, but decides to take matters into his own hands and tags along with them. That’s when the blood starts flowing, folks.

Rambo is one of the most brutal and hard-hitting movies I’ve seen in years. It’s set amongst the true-life events surrounding the ongoing civil war in the Asian country of Burma, and many of the atrocities committed against the civilian populace in the film are actually happening for real on a daily basis there. Don’t mistake Rambo for trying to be socially relevant, but the fact that Stallone chose this setting for his newest film in an attempt to bring attention to this travesty deserves some credit. And additional credit must be given for how well Sly’s been keeping himself in fighting shape all these years. The guy’s 61, and while he may have lost a step here and there and all the Human Growth Hormone injections appear to have misshapen his head and face into an odd caricature of himself, Stallone’s still probably in better condition than 90% of the people reading this review (myself included).

A lot of hoo-ha has been raised about the level of violence on display in Rambo, and man, they weren’t kidding. Men, women, children, dogs, lizards, trees…everyone and everything gets it. And once John Rambo gets in on the fun, the ensuing carnage pushes the film’s R-rating to its very limits. The last 15 minutes of the film are a symphony of blood, sinew, and flying brain matter that is truly a glorious sight to behold. It seriously borders on art- there’s a scene where an entire truck full of Burmese soldiers is instantly vaporized into a thick red mist by Rambo and his jeep-mounted 50-caliber machine gun that should be freeze-framed and hung in the Louvre. It’s beautiful.

The fact that I’m giving Rambo 3 stars is based solely on the fact that I love hardcore, well-done action movies and this film definitely falls into that category. Unless you’re foolishly expecting a deep plot and wonderfully nuanced acting, are exceedingly bloodthirsty (guilty!), or still living in the 80’s, I’d tell you to look at it more from a 2-2 1/2 star viewpoint. What that means is that it’s not an actual good movie per se, but it certainly made the audience I watched it with applaud at the end credits. I’d rather not delve into what exactly that says about the current state of America and its fine, upstanding population, but let’s just say that we certainly walked out of that theater entertained, if nothing else. And while the very act of Stallone dredging the Rambo well yet again reeks of desperation, it matters little since it helps to fill the huge void of pure action left in filmdom since the early 1990’s.

Now if only Arnold would take a break from running California and make Commando 2, my life would be complete.

(Long Island, N.Y.) There’s been more mystery surrounding Cloverfield than any film in recent memory. A cryptic, untitled teaser trailer for this “giant monster eats Manhattan” movie was released this past summer, and instantly everyone was abuzz…partially because of the parallels the trailer displayed to the NYC 9/11 attacks, but also because no one saw this film coming. In this age of the internet, plot leaks, spoilers, and clandestine behind-the-scenes photos/video footage of movies in development are commonplace.

It’s almost impossible to keep anything under wraps anymore, but through lightning-fast production, actors reading for roles using scripts not at all related to the movie they were auditioning for, and various other techniques, Cloverfield managed to keep moviegoers in suspense until its opening day.

Anyway, after seeing the movie, I’m still in suspense- mainly because Cloverfield poses more questions than it answers. Still, in this era of movies that waste time explaining everything in agonizing detail and draw out the running time to an unbearable length, this element of the unknown was a welcome change. You’re not given any more information as to what’s happening than the main characters of the film have, and it helps so much when it comes to putting you in their shoes and engulfing you in their world gone awry.

The plot itself is as thin as the paper the script was typed on- some friends in Manhattan throw a going away party for their buddy Rob (Michael Stahl-David), and in the midst of the revelries, said giant monster gatecrashes and starts munching on skyscrapers and the people within.

The surviving friends must (just like the classic John carpenter film says) escape from New York. And…well, that’s it. Of course, the catch is that the entire film is shot from the point of view of “Hud” (T. J. Miller) and his handycam, who was tasked with documenting the party before everything went to hell. Once buildings start collapsing the decapitated head of the Statue of Liberty careens down the street, Hud just keeps on filming because, in his words, “people need to know how it went down.” I guess we’re just lucky that Hud is using a consumer-grade camcorder that can apparently shoot for 8 hours straight without so much as a battery or tape change, but I digress.

So, the un-named monster itself (Cloverfield is its “military designation,” although where this title comes from is never explained- perhaps the monster is Irish?), once we get to actually see it, is a fearsome sight- 500 feet tall and looking like a bizarre cross between a rubbery dinosaur and an orangutan (mostly in the sense that it’s a fist-walker). Once it pops up early in the feature, the creature starts knocking down buildings and dropping freakish spider-like parasites from its body that start feeding on whoever is nearby. The monster…wait, I’m tired of calling it that, and since the producers couldn’t bother naming it, I will…so, “Fred” absorbs a tremendous amount of firepower directed at it by the military, seemingly to no effect whatsoever. Where did Fred come from, where is he going, and what, if anything, can stop him? These answers don’t come, but that suprisingly doesn’t take away from Cloverfield in the least.

Upon hearing that the film was actually shot with a little digital hand-held camcorder, epilepsy-inducing visions of non-stop camera shaking invaded my mind, but within the context of this movie, this filming meathod totally worked (and the shake actually wasn’t as bad as some films that use real, $20,000 film cameras). In fact, the home movie-quality of the footage actually helped draw me into the situation, helped make it actually feel “real”…something no conventionally filmed and edited flick would be so capable of. The intensity level peaks early and remains high for the entire running length, all the way to the rather abrupt ending. Films have been presented this way before, most notably the overrated Blair Witch Project, but never with this degree of raw finesse.

The movie stumbles here and there, but it’s nothing that ruins the experience as a whole. Since the camera is manned by only one character for almost the entire feature, the film only presents one rather limited point of view of Fred’s attack.

More footage of the creature, I mean Fred, would have been welcome. Still, the fleeting glimpses of Fred only serve to bump up the fear-factor, in my opinion.

Also, the characters in Hud the cameraman’s little group start doing some rather unrealistic things, considering the circumstances. Aside from an ill-timed attempt at humor in one scene that takes place right after Rob’s brother was eaten, a plot element involving Rob’s ex-girlfriend surfaces where the gang decides to venture directly into the carnage zone to attempt to rescue her. Believe me, if you saw the obstacles involved in doing so, you’d leave your own grandmother behind to get stomped flat by Fred the monster. But movies love to paint the picture that the human spirit is indomitable and will rise to all adversity, so of course our heroes must persevere and plunge forth bravely and foolishly into danger. But I guarantee the audience wasn’t buying it.

In the end, Cloverfield is refreshing, fast-paced (it clocks in at a short 1 hour and 24 minutes, lean and mean by today’s standards), engaging, and actually quite scary. As stated, there’s next to no plot and multiple questions remain unanswered at its conclusion, but Cloverfield never advertised itself to be anything more than a monster movie in the vein of Godzilla or Rodan. In that sense, it not only succeeds wildly, but it stands as the near pinnacle of the genre by presenting the material in a serious, realistic, and horrific way. Hopefully a sequel will emerge that will answer some questions about Fred the monster, and if the box-office records Cloverfield broke this weekend are any indication- it’s already made back its rather cheap $30 million budget and then some- one will be forthcoming shortly.

Oh, by the way-if someone tells you to wait until after the credits for a surprise, please don’t do it- it’s not worth your time. At the end of the credits, a garbled radio message plays (in reverse, no less) for all of 3 seconds. You can easily Google it (and even hear it played forward) and spend the time you would have wasted sitting through the credits going to the bathroom or something. Enjoy.

(Long Island, N.Y.) So, what’s a Requiem, you might ask? Merriam-Webster defines a Requiem as “A mass or solemn chant for the dead.” That alone tells us that no good will befall any of the characters involved in today’s review- 20th Century Fox’s Aliens Vs. Predator: Requiem, a sequel to 2004’s fairly brain-dead Alien vs. Predator. The original film pitted the title creatures, both “stars” of their respective franchises, against one another for some hot monster-on-monster action.

Okay, I answered the question of what a Requiem is, but I’m sure someone is asking, “Okay, but what’s a Predator? What’s an Alien? And why are they annoyed at each other to such a degree?” Well, I suppose someone out there might be asking that, and I owe it to my many, many fans, even the shut-ins devoid of any pop-culture knowledge, to give them the whole scoop.

Back in the fabled year of 1979, director Ridley Scott helmed what many consider a definitive classic in horror/sci-fi movies- Alien. The story dealt with the small crew of a starship and a rather

unruly intergalactic hitchhiker who starts knocking off the crew, one-by-one. The eponymous creature referenced by the film’s title (also known as a Xenomorph), designed by crazy Swiss painter H. R. Giger, was universally hailed as one of the most horrific abominations ever captured on film. A huge hit, Alien spawned several sequels, the first of which (1986’s Aliens) was written and directed by none other than Mr. Titanic himself, James Cameron. Unfortunately, subsequent films never matched the quality displayed in the first two entries, and the franchise itself eventually fell into dormancy.

Meanwhile, in 1987, another iconic modern movie monster reared its ugly head for the first time. Predator featured a 7-foot tall alien trophy hunter as it stalked and killed an elite squad of commandos in the South American jungle, utilizing stealth, guerrilla tactics and high-tech weaponry. Unfortunately for this particular creature, however, it had picked a unit led by none other than Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime, and soon met its end by his hands. Arnold was originally set to team up with Danny Glover to take on yet another Predator in the sequel, but instead opted out to make some movie called Terminator 2 (yeah, I never heard of it either). Designed by make-up/effects wizard Stan Winston, the Predator’s unique and frightening design made it an enduring fan-favorite throughout the years, despite no further sequels being made after Predator 2.

An amusing nod regarding a possible connection of the two series was originally featured in Predator 2, when a brief glimpse of the extraterrestrial hunter’s trophy case included the familiar Xenomorph skull. Fans of both series latched onto this, resulting in crossover tales covering all forms of media- comic books, video games, action figures, etc. An eventual movie featuring this carnage seemed a lock, and in 2004 maligned Hollywood director Paul W. S. Anderson produced a very, very average motion picture entitled (can you guess?) Alien vs. Predator. Featuring a pretty senseless story, annoying characters, and a total disregard for the established continuity and canon of both series, it whetted the appetite of fans but left them wishing that someone a trifle more gifted had handled the film’s creation. Still, AvP was successful at the box office, paving the way for a sequel. When it was announced that a totally different team would be handing the writing and directing duties (The Brothers Strause, former music video directors), hope blossomed that the film would improve on the original. It wouldn’t be that hard a feat to accomplish.

The sequel was released on Christmas Day 2007, and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate the birth of our savior than monsters dismembering each other and any human stupid enough to get in their way. Aliens Vs. Predator: Requiem begins literally

30 seconds after the end of the first movie. Aboard a spaceship departing Earth, a Predator corpse, impregnated with an Alien embryo in the first film, bursts open from within. Revealed is a hideous Alien/Predator hybrid that rapidly grows to full-size and begins attacking the other passengers of the spaceship, who promptly open fire with their energy weapons. Of course, the dim-witted Predators miss and hit their own vessel, causing it to crash land in the backwoods of a small American mountain town. The hybrid survives, as do captive creatures known as “facehuggers,” which are basically the first stage of the Xenomorph lifeform. The facehuggers locate some humans out hunting and, well, hug their faces,

implanting Alien eggs into their chests for good measure. Before you know it, the town is overrun with full-grown Xenos, and things are looking grim.

Enter the newest Predator, nicknamed “Wolf” (played by the 7’2” Ian Whyte). He is an elder hunter, summoned to Earth by a distress call issued by the crashed ship, and unlike previous depicted Predators, this one is a “cleaner.” That is, he’s here to wipe out any and all evidence of his race or the Xenomorphs on Earth, and to that end, Wolf starts hunting and killing every Alien he can get his

hands on. However, the Alien infestation soon grows even beyond the experienced and battle-hardened hunter’s control, and soon it becomes clear that far sterner measures may be called for.

Oh, and there are a bunch of human characters tangled up in this mess as well, but they’re all generic monster movie-type victims that you’ve all seen countless times before and not worth delving into in any way. Just suffice it to say that all the major stereotypes are covered- the loner with a troubled past, the kid who gets bullied, the girl he loves, her creepy boyfriend, etc. All one-dimensional, and all there just to get killed.

Aliens Vs. Predator: Requiem is much better than the generic first installment and a solid action/horror film in its own right. I know some people have seen AvP:R and hated it, but I think these people were expecting Shakespeare instead of a modern version of Frankenstein Meets The Mummy, which is all this series has ever aspired to be. It’s unfortunate that expectations should be placed so low in reality, given both series’ esteemed pedigrees, but when you see these cinematic match-ups (another example is Freddy Vs. Jason), it’s usually because both series have run out of steam and are being milked for whatever they have left. It’s shame.

Unlike the PG-13 rated original, Requiem is a full-on R and does everything in its power to earn it. There’s plenty of non-stop violence and gore on display, and it’s directed at everyone- not even women or children are safe. It’s not a good flick to take your little kid to see if they’re tired of Spongebob reruns, that’s for sure. Unless you’re a really horrible parent. Or a really cool one.

One major issue I had with the film was the camerawork and lighting. Basically, it was too dark and the camera moved around too much. Stupid, stupid decision on the part of the directors, as it really hurt the movie. A lot. I just kept thinking the whole time how older Alien/Predator films managed to be dark and moody but you could still see everything clearly enough. But in AvP:R it was fairly difficult to see the various Aliens or the Predator, which is a shame, since they obviously have some very intricate design work put into them (I especially enjoyed the throwback to their designs used in their earlier movies). I’m really getting tired of this low-light/rapid-fire editing/shaky camera garbage.

So, Aliens Vs. Predator: Requiem succeeds in improving on the original AvP, but further signals the demise of its once-revered individual franchises by cheapening

them with an only slightly above-average effort. This series does indeed have potential for greatness, however, and if they make another sequel, I personally hope it’s set in the future this time instead of the modern-day. If so, they should consider using the superior comic book series as a storyline base, which somehow managed to be more intelligent and creative than either of the AvP films thus far. This film leaves itself open for that possibility, so we’ll have to wait and see.

(Long Island, N.Y.) I Am Legend, the new film starring the always bankable Will Smith, originally came into existence back in 1954 in the form of a Science Fiction novel written by Richard Matheson about the last man alive on Earth (for my slower readers, that’s where you’re standing right now). In the novel, a bacterial outbreak triggers the apocalypse, transforming the population of the planet into monstrosities resembling vampires. Yes, vampires. I mean, they can only come out at night, garlic and mirrors annoy them to no end, and they can only be killed with a wooden stake through their ticker. What does that sound like to you?

Anyway, there is one lone survivor who is strangely immune to the disease- a scientist named Robert Neville, who has literally inherited the Earth. His days are spent locating and killing vampires in their hiding places, in addition to scavenging the desolate, abandoned cities for food and supplies. Come nighttime, however, the vampires emerge looking for blood and the roles of Hunter/Hunted are reversed. Locking himself in his fortified home each sundown, Neville spends his time working feverishly on a possible cure to vampire plague. In addition, he must combat the intense loneliness permeating every moment of his life for the past three years since the outbreak, since everyone he’s ever known is dead…or worse.

Considered a classic novel, there’s been several film versions of I Am Legend produced throughout the years. The first one that comes to mind is the excellent The Last Man on Earth, made in 1964 and starring the great Vincent Price. A far different version was released in 1971, entitled The Omega Man, and starring Charlton Heston. This movie deviated from Matheson’s novel in numerous ways, whereas the Price film was very a loyal adaptation.

Now, we fast-forward to 2007 and find Hollywood taking yet another stab at bringing I Am Legend to the screen. This particular attempt has been a long time in the making- Warner Brothers, the studio backing the project, sat on the rights to the novel for years. In 1997 the god of all everything that is awesome, Arnold Schwarzenegger, was slated to star in the film with Ridley Scott directing. However, the film’s budget spiraled out of control and the project was eventually shelved. It then sat in a perpetual limbo until 2005 when Francis Lawrence signed on to direct and Will Smith was cast in the lead.

The 2007 version of I Am Legend is notable for it’s production- sections of New York City, where the movie takes place, were closed off for filming, and extensive computer work was done to remove pedestrians and automobiles from shots to give the impression that the city was completely devoid of any human life. As a New York resident myself, I found the result awe-inspiring, especially the shots of a deserted Times Square filled with derelict cars and overgrown with vegetation. I’m hoping the eventual DVD release has an in-depth “making of” feature that goes through the process they used step-by-step.

Well, let’s get to the movie itself, shall we? I already covered the basic plot of the novel in the beginning of this review, and unlike a previous Will Smith film based on a famous book (I, Robot), this one actually has something to do with its literary source. The basics: Smith plays Robert Neville, who, in addition to being a scientist, is also a member of the military. The unexplained viral outbreak in the novel has become a mutated form of the measles that was initially being touted as a cure for cancer by a doctor (Emma Thompson in a cameo). Thanks a lot, Doc.

The disease ends up killing the vast majority of humanity, and most of the remaining population transforms into vampire-like creatures who then eat the remaining survivors who were somehow immune to the virus. Neville, one of the immune, has been alone with his faithful dog Sam for the last three years, and while having the run of New York City during the daytime, must seal himself in his home every night from the nocturnal creatures wandering in search of yummy human flesh. As a result, Neville is slowly showing signs of insanity due to the loneliness and fear he is forced to deal with every day of his life, but he does his best to keep it together.

Unlike the book, he no longer hunts and kills the vampires, but instead captures them to experiment on. No, he’s not testing their opinions on delicious food additives, he’s just desperately trying to find a cure for the plague threatening to destroy humanity forever. He also broadcasts radio messages every day, inviting any survivors to join him in his relative safety, but it seems that no one will ever answer his call.

It also appears that the formally mindless vampires are now in fact watching Neville, learning his routines and plotting…

Overall, I Am Legend was very good. It was nice to see the serious, talented version of Will Smith on-screen and not the “Big Willie Style” Will Smith making an idiot of him self and rapping during the end credits. This movie is very heavy-handed and it needed to be played seriously in order for it to work. Smith rose up to the challenge and turned in a delightfully nuanced performance. He makes an odd joke here and there, but within the context of the film they are totally appropriate. His relationship with his pet dog Sam, his only real companion throughout this nightmare, was especially touching.

Still, every adaptation of I Am Legend to date, including this one, seems to have the same exact issue- the first 2/3rds all tend to be uniformly amazing, but the last 1/3rd all introduce a certain plot development that ends up taking away from the greatness. The movies don’t get bad at this point, but they certainly tend to suffer for it. That’s all I’ll say on that subject- I’ll leave it up to you to watch the film and make up your own mind. Anything more would ruin the experience.

And I really have to say, the camera work was truly great. From a pure horror movie perspective, the scene where Neville is searching for his dog through a pitch-black building was brilliantly shot, with just the light from his machine gun piercing the darkness and the camera following close to his back, giving you exact insight to his limited perspective. It really made for a brilliant, tense scene. However, on the other end of the spectrum, the vampires are rendered using fairly unimpressive computer graphics and really aren’t all that scary once you finally get to see them. They end up looking like the Reaper monsters from Blade 2, only without the cool wacky mouths that split open when they’re about to eat you.

I Am Legend, while not a very loyal adaptation of the novel, still holds true to its spirit, manages to affect you on an emotional level (unless you’re a cold, unfeeling brute!), and provides a unique take on the end of the world. I’d tell you to check it out, but considering the December box office records it shattered this past weekend, chances are you already have. If you’re holding out, don’t- I recommended it highly.

(Long Island, NY) Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to my very first 4-star review. I suppose it’s fair to inform you that I’m a huge fan of horror movies, and that The Mist is, in fact, a horror movie. If you’re not a fan of the genre, then perhaps you should look at this film from more of a 3 to 3 1/2 star perspective. However, my job is to put into words how I reacted to the viewing of a film, not how you did, and I’m giving The Mist 4 stars. That’s the power I wield here, kids – deal with it.

The Mist is the third collaboration between the granddaddy of horror authors, Stephen King, and director/screenwriter Frank Darabont. King has seen a vast number of his novels and short stories adapted to the silver screen over the years, with varying degrees of quality, and there was a time when anything would sell if his name was attached – even if it reflected little of the source material. However, the most successful of his movies tended to be the ones that stuck most loyally to King’s originals. King and Darabont’s previous two parings – The Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile- were both fantastic movies that were quite steadfast to their respective tomes. As a result, the announcement of their newest film project more than caught my interest.

I’ve been a fan of Stephen King’s writings, especially during high school, and own the short story collection (entitled Skeleton Crew) that contains the original novella that this film is based on. Ironically, it’s the one story in the book that I’ve never read, so I actually went into The Mist knowing almost nothing whatsoever about it – I was merely aware that it had something to do with people hiding in a supermarket from monsters or whatnot. However, in this case ignorance was indeed bliss, as I blindly walked into what turned out to be the best film I’ve seen all year long.

In this review, I’m going to skip my trademark in – depth plot synopsis, as I feel going into this film with as few preconceived notions as possible is a must for maximum enjoyment. Instead, I’ll just whet your appetite by giving you a brief outline and stop short once the basics have been covered.

One evening, a violent storm assaults a small rural town. The following day, artist David Drayton (Thomas Jane) and his wife Stephanie (Kelly Collins Lintz) are busy cleaning up the mess left behind when they notice a thick, unnatural mist entwined in the distant mountains and slowly enveloping the lake bordering their property. Dismissing it as a harmless natural occurrence, David sets out to the local supermarket with his five-year-old son Billy (Nathan Gamble) and his ill-mannered neighbor Brent Norton (Andre Braugher), who hitches a ride upon discovering his car wrecked by the aforementioned storm. On the way to the store, they notice various transport vehicles from the local military base tearing down the road in a hurry, but pay them no mind.

Once in town, the David and crew notice that the strange mist has followed them, and become alarmed when it suddenly begins to enshroud the entire area, reducing visibility to zero. The mist is thick, heavy, and seems to move with a life all of its own. The panicked townspeople seek refuge in the supermarket, and upon hearing the screams of a man caught outside, are thrust onto the verge of panic. When presented with the possibility that there may be dangerous, supernatural creatures roaming the mist outside, the townspeople not only wrestle with fear of the unknown, but biting paranoia as well when a religious zealot (Marcia Gay Harden) proclaims these strange happenings as the arrival of Armageddon. Is she right, and if so, can they escape it?

Frank Darabont had been interested in adapting The Mist into a film for years, to the point that he had originally intended to it be his directorial debut. However, circumstances dictated otherwise, and he ended up helming adaptations of King’s novels The Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile first. By 2004, he had finally started writing the script and set the wheels in motion on converting The Mist into celluloid. Thankfully, the end result certainly stacks up there with his previous forays into the world of Stephen King, although his approach has changed in ways.

One difference you might notice with Darabont’s latest work is the change in his visual style. Gone are the sweeping, smooth camera movements. Darabont had recently plied his trade directing several episodes of Fox’s TV cop drama The Shield, and in order to capture the visual rawness needed for The Mist, he recruited the camera team from that show. The result is a slightly toned-down version of The Shield’s trademark hand-held camera work, with fast pans and zooms punctuating the drama when situations get heated. This, combined with the director’s choice of a grainy film stock, helps bring the audience into the film and make the horrors contained within all the more real.

You know how I’m always complaining about movies being too long nowadays? Well, The Mist was 2 hours and 7 minutes, and it wasn’t long enough. And I mean that in a good way, because it left me wanting more. Moviemakers make note, this is how you make a 2+ hour movie that doesn’t even come close to dragging anywhere. Every second counted. Plus, the character development was superb, resulting in edge-of-your-seat tension whenever they were confronted with the horrors of the unknown (which is really is the scariest thing I personally can think of). Actually getting you to care about the characters in a film is an element 99% of all horror movies neglect, and when done as wonderfully as it is here, it provides nail-biting tension.

And that ending…wow. It was like being sucker punched in the gut with a pair of brass knuckles. You may or may not see it coming, but after the fact, you just can’t believe it actually happened.

My review wouldn’t be complete without mentioning the uniformly excellent talents of the cast, especially Thomas Jane, whom I’ve been a fan of for quite some time. This isn’t his first role in a Stephen King adaptation (he was also in 2003’s Dreamcatcher), but I’m hoping his turn in The Mist will finally catapult him to the stardom he deserves. Up until now, he’s reminded me of actors like Wesley Snipes and Sean Connery in the sense that he tends to make a great deal of mediocre movies, but his talent almost always stands out and makes these films somehow watch able. A good example of this is 2004’s The Punisher, a comic book-based flick where he played a gun-toting vigilante. Not the greatest movie, no, but somehow Mr. Jane managed to rise above the ‘eh’ material he was forced to tread through and turn out a great performance. The Punisher 2 is now in the works with a different lead actor cast, and Thomas Jane has said that The Mist is the reason he didn’t reprise that role. You made the right decision, Tom.

In closing, The Mist is nothing short of brilliant. It’s tense, atmospheric, moving, intelligent, horrific- the best movie released in ages, in my opinion. However, the fact that it debuted at #9 at the box office this weekend- #9, can you believe it?- has caused me to almost lose all faith in humanity altogether. But hopefully word of mouth will jack up its business this week, and I’m personally begging my millions of readers to please go out and spend all their hard-earned money putting The Mist at the box office top spot, where it belongs. Bring your children, bring your pets, buy handfuls of extra tickets you don’t need and wallpaper your home with them, I don’t care. Just go see it, because I just can’t stand to live in a world where a masterpiece like The Mist flops.

(Long Island, N.Y.) The easiest way to describe American Gangster is that it’s similar to Al Pacino’s classic film Scarface in the sense that it covers the rise and fall of a crime lord from the ghetto, but without the 80s camp and with actual Black people playing Black people instead of Italian people playing Cubans.

Okay, I guess I have to actually earn my money here, so let’s throw in a few more paragraphs to my lone sentence above and really get into what makes this excellent new movie tick.

Acclaimed director Ridley Scott (Alien, Blade Runner, Gladiator) directs Academy Award winning Actor Denzel Washington in this slick crime drama, a take on real-life 1960s/70s Harlem heroin kingpin Frank Lucas. Yes, Denzel is playing a bad guy once again. He held out on doing so for much of his career, mainly portraying nice, squeaky-clean characters, but 2001’s Training Day opened up Denzel and the viewing public to his darker, harsher side. And hey, it even got the man an Oscar, so I guess change can be a good thing for your career.

Frank Lucas was infamous throughout urban crime circles for the fact that he made the bold decision to cut out the middlemen in the drug trade, personally traveling to Vietnam and buying his heroin directly from where it was grown and cultivated. From there, he would smuggle the smack into the U.S. and sell it on the streets of Harlem at a discount, undercutting the competition and establishing an eventual stranglehold on the market. Ahh, free enterprise- it’s the American way.

Along comes Detective Richie Roberts (Russell Crowe), charged with curbing the flow of drugs into the inner city. Richie is infamous throughout the force for discovering a million dollars in dirty cash during a bust and actually turning it in as opposed to pocketing it. For some unfathomable reason, the man is actually ostracized and becomes the object of mistrust among his fellow officers for doing the RIGHT thing (maybe not the SMART thing, but the right thing). People are weird- if you can’t trust a cop who doesn’t run off with a small fortune in crooked money, who can you trust? My only theory is that perhaps he was came across as a whistle-blower of sorts and made all the less-than-clean cops around him antsy.

Richie’s quest to uncover the newest source of drugs hitting the street initially bears no fruit, as Frank Lucas, despite his power, remains almost invisible. His street smarts and generosity towards the people of Harlem ensures that no one will roll over on him, and Frank quickly amasses a fortune while pulling the strings of his operation from behind the scenes. However, one night Frank has a chance encounter involving a full-length fur coat that finally puts him under the probing eye of Richie and his team. Now Frank must not only contend with the scrutiny of legitimate police detectives, but also crooked cops looking for a payout (headed up by the always great Josh Brolin) and a jealous local mob boss whose share of the drug trade Frank is grinding under his boot. How can a cheesy fur coat straight out of Huggy Bear’s closet cause a powerful crime lord’s downfall, you may ask? Watch the movie and you’ll see.

This film was a bit of a departure for director Ridley Scott, in the sense that it contained none of his trademark flashy visuals. Instead, Scott focuses on the decay and grit of the street and nails it perfectly. Even when shown the opulence of Frank Lucas’ new lifestyle, you never forget the poverty and destitute that exists just outside his window, or the emaciated bodies of the drug addicts poisoned by his grand ambition. Denzel Washington infuses the vile mobster with class and dignity, but never lets you forget who you’re really dealing with by retaining a murderous, unremorseful streak in his portrayal of Lucas. Russell Crowe continues to impress as he appears to have transformed himself physically for a role once again, packing on noticeable weight to play disheveled Detective Richie Roberts, a man torn by the duality of his life- while he is a dedicated police officer, his personal life is a shambles due to his inadequacies as a husband and a father.

As far as being a factual account of the life and times of Frank Lucas, however, American Gangster comes up a bit short. Aside from somewhat glamorizing the life of a filthy heroin dealer, there are several inaccuracies ranging from Lucas’ looks and mannerisms to the actual amount of time he served for his crimes (the movie claims 15 years, but in reality Lucas merely served 5 of his initial 70-year sentence, and later another 7 for a parole violation). But that’s why biopics always have that fun “based on a true story” disclaimer- it gives them the superpower known as “creative license.”

But what I find truly distressing is that, in real life, Frank Lucas’ crimes are not covered by the Son of Sam law. What’s the Son of Sam law, you ask? Well, after wacko serial killer David Berkowitz was arrested in 1977, publishers entered a bidding frenzy for the rights to his biography. The Son of Sam law was created in New York on the heels of this event to prevent Berkowitz (and other criminals) from profiting from their crimes by selling books or screenplays based on their hijinks. However, since Frank Lucas’ crimes were committed before this law was created, he is exempt from it. As a result, Lucas is getting a nice fat check from Universal Studios, in addition to merchandising revenue. Whoever says crime doesn’t pay?

American Gangster, while not the instant classic most people are making it out to be, is still a powerful movie and well worth watching. To supplement the experience, read up on the actual exploits the film is based on, and the Hows and Whys or what really happened are very interesting. As is often the case with movies that take their inspiration from real-life events, you’ll find the truth lies somewhere between life and Hollywood, and it’s always good to get the whole picture instead of being blindly spoon-fed revisionist history. So, while not 100% accurate to the history books, American Gangster is still a triumph for Scott, Washington, and Crowe. Go watch it.

And don’t do drugs. They’re bad for you!

(Long Island, NY)I viewed Saw 4 last night and have no idea what the hell I watched. Honestly. I went on Wikipedia to read the plot recap right when I got home from the theater, hoping it would shed light on the mish-mash of sundry crud the film assaulted me with, and I still couldn’t understand it at all.

Now, I consider myself an intelligent man. Sure, I may not have realized that Bruce Willis was actually dead the whole time in The Sixth Sense, and I may not have picked up that that Tyler Durden and “Jack” were the same guy in Fight Club, but I can at least go back and watch said films a second time and notice where all the little ingenious clues were. But Saw 4…man, I could probably watch it a hundred times and still not have any idea what the happened.

Saws 1-3 weren’t great cinema, mind you, but they were all very solid movies constructed around a unique premise: A maniac, dubbed the Jigsaw Killer (Tobin Bell), kidnaps people he deems are wasting their lives (Jigsaw himself is dying of an inoperable brain tumor) and places them in elaborate mechanical death-traps that they must escape from in a set amount of time, otherwise…well, I said they’re “death-traps,” what do YOU think happens? Anyway, Jigsaw’s twisted idea is that, when coming so close to death, his victims will truly appreciate the life he himself is doomed to lose so shortly. The problem is that the traps are a big pain in the butt to escape from and usually involve a major degree of self-mutilation to do so, so the vast majority of his subjects end up killing themselves in their bid for freedom. In Jigsaw’s mind, he’s a savior who helps people, but everyone else naturally labels him as a killer (despite the fact that he never actually kills people himself- he simply sets up the circumstances where they have to make their own choice to live or die).

In the climax of Saw 3, ol’ Jigsaw is seemingly killed. Yes, he was basically already dead from brain cancer, and yes, he had just had his neck gouged out with a circular power saw, but an endless stream of Friday the 13th movies have conditioned the viewing public into believing that serial killers never truly die- just when you think they’re down, they always to pop up again for shenanigans. But as if to seemingly address this trend head-on, Saw 4 opens with Jiggy’s naked body on a corner’s slab (I really didn’t need to see Tobin Bell’s penis) being literally cut into pieces during the course of an autopsy. I don’t know about you, but after seeing his brain removed and entire ribcage cracked open and spread, I think I can believe that Jigsaw is finally dead and not coming back.

A clue is unearthed when they discover a wax-coated audio cassette in the Jiggster’s stomach (apparently you can swallow anything as long as it’s coated with wax, even if it’s twice as wide as your esophagus). The tape is played for Detective Forensic Hoffman (Costas Mandylor), where the disembodied voice of Jigsaw informs him that “The games have just begun.” This is actually in reference to a series of events already set in motion involving a certain Lieutenant Rigg (Lyriq Bent), an officer obsessed with the fact that several of his colleagues were victims of the Jigsaw killer, colleagues he was unable to save from their grizzly fates. This eats at him day and night, and as a result he has become the first posthumous target of Jigsaw, whose latest scheme is carried out with the help of a mysterious, unknown apprentice. Rigg is forced to deal with a series of traps that place the very lives of strangers in his hands, and…and…I’m sorry, folks, but I have to stop. I’m honestly not sure what more I can write about the plot at this point. I mean, if I didn’t understand it, why should I bother trying to explain it to you? I could try, I suppose, but it’s futile…um…well, here goes- Rigg goes through some “tests,” some FBI agents try to uncover what’s going on, some characters from previous Saw installments (thought long dead) show up, there’s some silly twists, plentiful blood and gore, and a lot of rapid-fire editing and spinning cameras for you epileptics out there…then it draws to a close and you don’t know who did what or why. I vomit, the end.

I’m sorry if my recap of Saw 4 made no sense, but just try actually watching it and you’ll understand. Or maybe you won’t.

Personally, I think the problem lies squarely with the writers. The Saw series was created by producing/writing/directing team of James Wan and Leigh Whannell. Directing duties were turned over to Darren Lynn Bousman for the second film onward, but Wan and Whannell continued to assist with the scripts. However, Saw 4 is the first movie in the series that does not benefit from their talents (it was instead written by the satanic duo of Patrick Melton and Marcus Dunstan), and it shows. Say what you want about the first three Saw flicks, but they were at least understandable. In Saw 4, however, things happen that almost seem impossible at times. Are one point I was wondering if characters were traveling through time. Were they? I don’t know! Plus, Jigsaw’s new follower is eventually unveiled, but his motivations are never even hinted at, let alone explained. He just reveals himself at the end and you have no idea whatsoever why he did what he did. I assume they’re going to delve into this in a sequel, but relying on a future release to tie up your loose ends is just poor filmmaking. Even if a movie is part of a series, it should be able to stand on its own in stead of just catering to fans. Saw 4 depends too much on you being intimately familiar with the previous installments, especially part 3.

However, you certainly can’t fault the acting for how bad Saw 4 is, as the cast was uniformly solid, with a certain actor (who will go unnamed so as not to spoil the surprise of his return) especially turning in a good job. By the way, is it really obvious that I just threw this statement in as an afterthought when I realized that Saw 4’s negatives were far outweighing any positives I was extolling? I hope not- the actors involved deserved better treatment than to be callously glossed over in my otherwise overwhelmingly negative Saw 4 review.

If any film series has officially “Jumped the Shark” and needs to end, it is indeed Saw. The problem, however, is that the Saw movies are A) very popular, and B) made for relatively little money, which makes turning a profit very easy for them. Saw 4’s budget was $10 million, and it cleared in excess of $31 million in its opening weekend alone. And get this- the combined total of the budgets of ALL 4 films is a shocking $15 million, and the series as a whole boasts a current worldwide gross of over…are you ready…$ 415 million! That’s a massive return on a relatively tiny investment, and this guarantees that the Saw series will continue far into the foreseeable future, as evidenced by the fact that Saws 5 & 6 were confirmed before 4 was even released. We can only hope that a real-life Jigsaw killer will kidnap and kill the writers so that someone new can possibly salvage what’s left of this series. There’s plenty of potential, but the latest entry in the Saw franchise almost completely ruins it.

To sum it up, the people being tortured in Saw 4 aren’t the poor souls on the screen, it’s the ones in the audience. Steer clear.

(Long Island, N.Y.) At last- a nice, crappy movie for me to review.Okay, I just had to get that out. My fingers were twitching upon leaving the movie theater last night and it was only after typing that lone sentence out that I was able to finally get some sleep. You see, this Gone Baby Gone movie was indeed horrible, but at the same time it lit a fire of excitement in my soul at the prospect of reviewing it. You see, when walking out of the theater, I knew I had a gold mine on my hands. I’m sure my excitement at having witnessed a BAD movie may be lost on you, my dear readers, but if you’ll give me just a moment, I’ll be more than happy to explain my elation.

Go look at my recent review archive. If you do that, you’ll notice that the vast majority of the movies I’ve covered lately have tended to score around the 2 or 2 ½ star mark. Basically, all average, middle of the road stuff. Sure, last week I gave We Own The Night a full 3 stars, but that was more due to the fact that it had managed to rise to a level just slightly above the base cinematic mediocrity that I’ve been forced to swallow over the course of the last few months than it’s overall

quality when taken on its own merits. And going by those standards, I probably should have given Rob Zombie’s Halloween 3 ½ stars instead of 3, being that it’s been the most enjoyable flick I’ve seen in quite some time. But I’m now running the risk of delving into a babbling rant, so I’ll put on the brakes and get back to business. Suffice it to say,

writing these reviews has been tough lately, as Hollywood has been releasing an endless stream of bland, formulaic crud and I’m just feeling

less than inspired. I want some emotion awakened in me, good or bad- either take a risk

and make something unique and great, or make something so bad that I get angry. Happily, Gone Baby Gone achieves the latter.

Gone Baby Gone is horrific actor Ben Affleck’s directorial debut. And, to my surprise, it started out very solidly, with an especially excellent bit of character acting by star Casey Affleck (yes, he’s Ben’s brother. Some might cry biased casting, but he really is good) as Boston-based private investigator Patrick Kenzie. Along with his girlfriend Angela Gennaro (Michelle Monaghan), the two are hired to assist in the hunt for a 4 year old girl abducted from a (very) white trash mother living in the run-down neighborhood of Dorchester. The whole event has become a media frenzy and main focus of Jack Doyle (Morgan Freeman), a police Chief heading up a division dedicated to solving missing child cases. However, the locals are reluctant to talk to the authorities, and only the street-smart Kenzie seems to be able to get any real dirt on the case. During the course of the investigation, Kenzie is partnered up with police detective Remy Bressant (Ed Harris, who seems to be really taking to tough-guy roles late in his career, with great success), and at this point the film really starts casting doubts on everything and everyone. Like I said, it’s very, very solid so far.

What really impressed me the most about Gone Baby Gone was very gritty, very real atmosphere the film projected. One major issue I have with most Hollywood movies of late is that everyone looks so…perfect. No matter if they’re homeless bums or people living a Road Warrior lifestyle while fighting zombies in an apocalyptic wasteland, they’ll always have expertly applied make-up, flawless skin, and blazingly white, straight teeth. Heck, even the zombies look pretty damn good these days. What was so refreshing about Gone Baby Gone was that it contained none of this blatant, movie star vanity. Instead, we are presented with characters that actually look like REAL PEOPLE (even the stars). And not just real people, but real ugly people. They look unclean. They’re fat. They wear tacky, ill-fitting clothes. They have crummy teeth and bad tattoos. I know people like to use movies as a form of escape from the doldrums of everyday life, but a dose of reality in this case helped establish mood and atmosphere more than any movie I’ve seen in ages. To me, it was a breath of fresh air.

But then, about 2/3rds of the way through, a plot twist happens that basically ruins the entire movie. Plot twists in film can be real tricky- when done well, they can be mind-blowing (see M. Night Shyamalan’s The Sixth Sense), and when done poorly, they can make you want to

dive head-first into a mountain of thumbtacks (see Alexandre Aja’s High Tension). Sadly, Gone Baby Gone’s twist is so awful, so badly conceived, that it undoes everything good that the movie had achieved up until that point, and it never recovers. I was pretty angry about it, frankly.

I’ll do my best to avoid spoiling anything for those of you who plan on ignoring my advice and subjecting themselves to this stupidity, but it’s hard to convey my disgust with this particular plot twist without delving into specifics. But here goes- any normal person would look at the situation the movie presented, see a simple, obvious solution, go for it, and the film would be over. It’s not a matter of suspending disbelief, it’s just common sense. But certain characters in Gone Baby Gone look at the same situation, and instead take a completely different route that involves a huge cloak-and-dagger conspiracy which results in the deaths of several people (among other infractions of the law as well).

What makes it especially retarded is that everything could have been done in a completely legal way, with far, far less effort, danger, and harm, and with much greater expediency to the solution. I know this sounds confusing, but you can liken the twist to a guy wanting cup of coffee on the way to work and instead of just driving to 7-11, decides to fly down to Columbia, pick his own beans, grind them, brew them, and ride Juan Valdez’s donkey back to America while gunning down innocent border patrol guards. Same overall result, sure, but it makes no sense to anyone that is in possession of even the smallest fraction of their mental faculties. It’s just a basic flaw with the script itself- I honestly can’t understand how anyone involved didn’t look at it and say, “What the hell IS this?”

The evil Ben Affleck is more to blame for this than anyone else, as he’s not only the director of this mess, but one of the writers as well (the script was adapted from the novel of the same name by Dennis Lehane). Not content with merely torturing audiences with his acting “talents,” he now seems bent on ruining the entire cinematic experience for movie goers. It’s a shame, as his direction was very adept, but no amount of skill behind the camera or in the editing room can overcome a script with a plot twist this bad. Gone Baby Gone plods ahead, however, and goes on to a rather downbeat ending that unsuccessfully attempts to present the film as a tale of morality and choice. But given the circumstances its main character is thrust into, the choice he’s forced to make is the only sensible one available, and yet he is ridiculously ostracized by those closest to him for it. Again, this is a major flaw at the scriptwriting level. It’s a director’s job to deliver his vision to the screen, but he should have caught these problems during the writing stage and put a stop to them before filming even began. Still, I should thank the guy, as he finally gave me a movie that was fun to review, if not to watch.

Anyway, that’s why the movie is so bad. Don’t see it. Please. Some crazy person might give Ben Affleck more money to make another film. Only you have the power to stop this-use it wisely.

(Long Island, NY) We Own the Night is a crime drama set in Brooklyn, NY during the late 1980’s, an era known for its decadence, style, and big, big hair. The film focuses on the Russian mob’s emergence on the local drug scene and the violence that follows, and how it relates to a dysfunctional family with members caught on both sides of the conflict. The film’s unusual title is actually based on the NYPD’s slogan in the war on drugs at that time, although the drug issue is more of a backdrop to the family drama present throughout the movie.

A gritty film set amongst the Russian night clubs and seedy alleyways of Brighton Beach, We Own the Night chronicles a family of cops trying to make a difference in their community. It’s an uphill battle, however, as the new drug-fueled crime wave created by the Russians finds the police force out-manned and out-gunned. The death toll mounts as Joseph Grusinsky (Mark Wahlberg), son of Police Chief Burt Grusinsky (Robert Duvall), is promoted and given the unenviable task of cleaning up the streets. Needless to say, our Vodka-swilling friends don’t appreciate Joseph’s efforts and come upon him late at night, leaving him with a bullet in his head. Joseph survives, but is laid up in the hospital for months, eventually being released and resuming leadership of his team. However, while the physical scars the attack has blemished him with Robes de bal courte have healed, Joseph has developed mental ones as well, and it is these scars that will prove to be the more debilitating of the two.

Meanwhile, Joseph’s estranged brother, Bobby (Joaquin Phoenix), is enjoying the good life. Bobby’s a manager of a nightclub owned by the very same mobsters responsible for his brother’s attempted assassination, and seems to have an endless supply of money, alcohol, and fun. However, among all this revelry, there’s the possibility of a wee little problem brewing- you see, the Russians are unaware of Bobby’s blood connection to law enforcement, as he runs the club under an alias (“Green” as opposed to “Grusinsky”). I think we can all imagine what would happen to dear old Bobby Green if news of true identity were to leak out, but luckily, this hasn’t happened…yet.

Until now, Bobby has led a hard-partying, carefree lifestyle, and is generally disinterested in the moral decay around him. But the attempted murder of his brother seems to awaken him from his stupor and, with his girlfriend Amada (Eve Mendez) reluctantly in tow, he attempts to help bring the Mob leaders who ordered the hit to justice. Bobby’s transformation from greasy degenerate to fine, upstanding citizen isn’t a smooth one, however, and a whole lot of lead will fly before our film reaches its conclusion.

Again, I’m reviewing a movie starring everyman actor Marky Mark Wahlberg, and again he turns in a solid, serviceable performance as a recently promoted police officer given his own task force and thrust in above his head. It winds up being a more complex role than one would think, one where he’s forced to showcase his character’s myriad vulnerabilities. Personally, I feel it’s his best piece of pure acting since Boogie Nights, and that’s a big compliment.

Joaquin Phoenix continues to be the chameleon of the acting industry, seamlessly flowing into a role once again and actually becoming the character instead of simply reading lines and collecting a paycheck. His Hollywood resume is as varied as they come, playing a plethora of different personas, and We Own The Night is no different. For an example of what I’m talking about, if you watched Ridley Scott’s epic Gladiator, followed by this film, you might be shocked to discover that Phoenix is in both of them. These are just two of the many movies that illustrate the vast difference with which this guy can play his parts.

Filling the role of their father is Robert Duvall, whose character is a Police Chief that, frankly, looks waaay too old to be an actively serving officer. But other than his very crusty, weathered appearance, Mr. Duvall shows us all why he is such an esteemed veteran of Hollywood, as he touchingly portrays a gruff old man struggling to protect his family and community against a brutal threat unlike any he’s seen before.

Overall, We Own the Night is a solid, exciting, and emotional film. The only flaw I could really cite would be the complete 180 degree turnaround that Phoenix’s character takes halfway through the movie. One minute, he’s a crooked nightclub manager that doesn’t care about anything and often starts rabid arguments with his family, and the next he’s taking the police exam and everyone’s all lovey-dovey. It’s a tad hard to swallow, but the events that compel him to change are so extreme that I suppose I can forgive this. And if you can get past that (it’s not that hard), you’ll find We Own the Night is a tightly-paced, excellent drama worthy of your time. Highly recommended.

(Long Island, NY)You normally won’t find the words “fine cinema” and “based on the hit video game” in the same sentence. Such is the stigma that video game-based

film adaptations have had to endure throughout the years, although the burden is not entirely undeserved. Early on, video game movies were rushed, cheap, sloppy, and often catered directly to children (hello, Super Mario Brothers).

It appears, however, that Hollywood is beginning to realize that the children of yesterday are now the adults of today, and that they’re still playing (and have more money to spend). The video-game business is maturing and now spans all age ranges, from kids to grandparents. In terms of entertainment media, video-games are beginning to compete with (and in some ways even eclipse) Hollywood’s

efforts in terms of profitability.

Here’s a good example of how neck and neck gaming and movies are currently running: Remember my brilliant review of last summer’s blockbuster film Spiderman 3? That movie set an initial box office record of $59 million in its first 24 hours of release. That’s a lot, right? Now, along comes Halo 3- a highly-anticipated game for Microsoft’s Xbox360 console- and it sells more than $170 million worth of copies in its first full day of release. Impressive, yes, but even more so when you figure in their respective budgets- Spiderman 3’s was a whopping $258 million, while Halo 3 clocked in at a meager (competitively speaking) $25 mil. Of course, when we also take into account a movie ticket’s price ($10) versus a video-game price ($60- ouch), the gap closes ever so slightly, but the fact still remains- video-games are big business. Thus, it would be expected that the associated tie-ins (in this case, films) would finally increase in quality, and for the most part, it’s happening.

Which brings us to today’s film review- Resident Evil: Extinction, the third of a trilogy spun off of the immensely popular series of “Survival Horror” video-games made by Japanese developer/publisher Capcom. Players of the Resident Evil games find themselves combating undead zombies, exploring spooky old mansions and laboratories, searching for vital items and solving complex puzzles. A film adaptation seemed only natural, since the Resident Evil video-games were themselves inspired by zombie movies, mainly George Romero’s Dawn/Day of the Dead. So, we have films giving birth to games giving birth to yet more films- that’s called coming full circle, folks.

The Resident Evil film series, which deviates slightly from the ongoing plot of the games, follows the evil machinations of the Umbrella corporation, a multi-national conglomerate that specializes in bio-organic and viral weapons for the U.S. military. Their crowning achievement is the development of the deadly T-virus (no relation to Mr. T, although I pity the fool exposed to it), a mutagenic agent that kills those infected and re-animates them as bloodthirsty zombies. Through internal espionage, the T-virus is released into one of Umbrella’s research facilities, and from there spreads to the town of Raccoon City, transforming its innocent inhabitants into savage monsters. In an attempt to contain the virus before it spreads further, the military drops a nuke on the once-peaceful mountain town. Now, we’ve all seen this done before (Return of the Living Dead comes to mind) and, as we all know, it never works. And guess what? It doesn’t work this time, either.

In Resident Evil: Extinction, we learn that, within months of the Raccoon City incident, the entire Earth has been overrun with the T-virus. The remaining uninfected humans, lead by Claire Redfield (Ali Larter), roam the ruined cities and roadways of America in a convoy of armored vehicles, surviving the zombie hordes by keeping on the go and taking

food and fuel where they can find it. With that said, I love how Claire’s convoy has to scavenge for food and gas, but they seem to have no problem finding all the toothpaste and Crest Whitening Strips they’ll ever need. I mean, these people are eating expired, botulism-infested refried beans out of rusty tin cans but they all have gleaming, pearly-white teeth. It’s amazing.

But the story of Resident Evil: Extinction centers around not our roving gang of American Dental Association-approved road warriors, but the character of Alice (Milla Jovovich), the heroine of the previous two films. Alice, as it turns out, is Umbrella’s ultimate bio-weapon, a creature that looks oddly-enough like a twig-thin supermodel, but is in fact a genetically-engineered, T-virus mutated, superhuman fighting machine. Their control over her lost, Alice has escaped Umbrella’s grasp and is now wandering the wastelands of Earth alone. However, the diabolical corporation is one step behind her at all times, with the ruthless scientist Dr. Sam Isaacs (Iain Glen) plotting to use Alice’s unique genetic makeup to further his own twisted ends.

Joining up with Claire’s convoy, Alice and her new allies fight their way through the zombies surrounding one of Umbrella’s fortified underground bunkers in a bid to steal a helicopter to escape to the supposed safety of Alaska. But will Alice go with them, or descend alone into the mysterious depths of the bunker to confront both her past and her future? And more importantly, is there abundant dental floss and mouthwash awaiting our survivors if they reach Alaska?

Resident Evil: Extinction was solid- it’s a flashy, mindless action flick, just like the first two, so if you liked those, you’re bound to like this one as well. It was fast-paced- lean on storyline and fat with gunfire and hand-to-hand combat, with minimal baggage to slow down the plot (as threadbare as it is). Extinction is also fairly predictable- as usual, you’ll find the typical underdeveloped stock characters for the monsters to eat, and it’s pretty easy to guess who’s living to see the end credits. But speaking of monsters, the makeup and CG effects on the various creatures was indeed quite impressive- the best of the series to date, in fact. However, I would have liked to have seen a greater variety of the grotesque enemies representing the video-game series’ extensive bestiary- there are plenty of fan-favorites to choose from.

Now, let’s get to a personal gripe I have with the Resident Evil movies: Watching 75-pound Milla Jovovich spin-kick and manhandle armies of monsters three times her size like they were kindergarten students takes a suspension of disbelief that is almost impossible, even in this day and age. But after watching her do it for three Resident Evil movies running, you

can almost manage to believe if you try hard enough. It’s much easier when it’s Arnold Schwarzenegger on the screen killing everything that moves with his bare hands, but alas, he’s busy running California.

Of course, the ending of this film leaves it wide-open for yet another sequel, so I’m sure there will be yet more zombie hi-jinks coming to a theater near you in 2009 or so. But the fact remains that this is a successful, solid franchise, and if you’re looking for some hard-hitting horror/action fun, you’ve probably come to the right place. There’s no way it could ever be mistaken for the “fine cinema” mentioned in this review’s opening paragraph, but at least it’s a sure sign that video game adaptations are improving from the garbage we used to get just a few years ago.