Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls. Alllrighty then! We all
know a little bit of Jim Carrey goes a long way, so let's cut
to the chase. If you think you'll hate Ace Ventura, you
will. No need to test the theory. The unfathomable lot of you
who don't know what to expect from this movie can count on reporting
for jury duty real soon. For the rest of you, this is vintage
Ace: Speaker of the Arse, Master of Mugs, the relentlessly goofy
gumshoe that cracks so many jokes it's statistically impossible
not to laugh at least once. Thankfully, this incarnation goes
straight for the younger audience: They've nixed the "mature"
subject matter and succumbed to unadulterated juvenile humor,
one truly harrowing racoon rescue possibly excepted. Carrey is
in his element in this unholy hybrid of Wild Kingdom, The
Nutty Professor and Wayne's World. Let's not get too
critical--it's not as if Carrey's the only Hollywood celebrity
known for speaking out of his butt. But at least when he does
it, it's intentional.
The American President. Here's a film that aims to prove
the adage that behind every successful man is a woman, with an
emphasis on the behind. This jauntily sexist vision of America
serves up images of men with political power and women with sexual
power as the President of the United States (Michael Douglas)
braves the perils of dating. Annette Benning plays the smart,
high-paid lobbyist who's reduced to blushes and stammers when
the guy walks in the room. Benning is ebullient in the role, which
makes it even more inexcusable that her character should have
no life and no past. She's a beautiful, mature woman without
friends, lovers or children--she's simply available. You can see
the filmmakers struggling to paint an optimistic, politically
liberal picture of what America can be, but they get all tripped
up on gender and paint instead a politically conservative world
where men make decisions and women wait in the wings, clutching
bouquets of flowers. If you can crowd the sexism out of your consciousness,
The American President has some funny moments, though much
of the humor is of the I'm-the-Commander-in-Chief-and-you're-not
variety. Not for the impressionable.
Home For The Holidays. Jodie Foster proves herself once
again with this delightful glimpse into the "every-home"
holiday experience. All dysfunctions being equal, Home for
the Holidays paints a single-family portrait with an eye for
the universal: sibling rivalry, clownish overcompensation, overbearing
mothers and unwelcome confessions wrought by advancing age. These
are heavy labels for the light-hearted chapters of Home for
the Holidays, cracked open story-fashion in a series of vignettes
with warm and (literally) hysterical performances by Holly Hunter,
Robert Downey Jr., Charles Durning, Anne Bancroft and Cynthia
Stevenson (a sort of alter-ego of her character Hope on the TV
series Hope and Glory). Dermot Mulroney also stars, but
is clearly "not part of the family": While the rest
of the cast manages a truly familial chemistry, Mulroney as the
friend-who-came-to-dinner remains a wooden outsider. All in all,
Home For The Holidays offers a great way to nurse that
post-prandial Thanksgiving hangover.
Mighty Aphrodite. Woody Allen continues the dramatization of his mid-life crisis in his latest
film; and this time around, it works. Mira Sorvino is the hooker
with a heart of gold who drags Woody out of his bourgeois complacency
as he drags her, kicking and screaming, into a respectable life.
A Greek chorus lurks around the edges of the action, dispensing
wry commentary and unwanted advice like the quintessential Jewish
mother. All the standard Woody Allen gags, with their comforting
familiarity, return with delightful freshness in this sweetly
comic movie.
Powder. Writer/director Victor Salva may be a social pariah,
but his latest filmic effort certainly proves that talent isn't
selective. Mind you, Powder is no groundbreaking cinematic
effort; but it is entertaining sci-fi, with the optimistic twist
that the highly evolved and intelligent "alien" life
form is actually from our own planet. Meanwhile, we less-evolved
beings find it impossible not to
wonder about the connection between the writer and his creation,
considering Salva had plenty of time to formulate his next screenplay
while serving a sentence for child molestation. Promotional copy
reads: "Alienated from society, he tries to fit in but only
finds intolerance. Despite the cruelty inflicted upon him, Powder's
extraordinary compassion helps him to persist, and people begin
to understand that their harsh judgment is more a reflection of
their own ignorance and fear." You may not want to spend
any length of time in Salva's head, but spending a couple of hours
with Powder may be slightly more uplifting. While none
of the characters seem particularly challenging, Sean Patrick
Flanery, Mary Steenburgen and Jeff Goldblum deliver engaging performances.
In fact, Powder is so successful at fitting a compelling
subject into a tepid screenplay it will undoubtedly earn the dubious
achievement of an academy award nomination.
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