# 143 - THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA (2006)

THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA (2006 - COMEDY/DRAMA) ***1/2 out of *****

(A woman who knows exactly what she wants - and isn’t afraid to demand it. I’m sorry, but what is the problem here?)




CAST: Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Stanley Tucci, Adrien Grenier, Simon Baker, Emily Blunt, James Naughton.

DIRECTOR: David Frankel

WARNING: Some SPOILERS and alleged “Boss From Hell” antics straight ahead…




I’m fortunate enough to have been blessed with good bosses throughout my so-called career. While I’ve heard of stories from other folks of working for or having worked for bosses that were just one step away from being the Anti-Christ, I thank my stars that my superiors have all been decent. Sure, none of them were perfect - far from it. We are all human, after all. Overall, though, they were pretty cool. Which is definitely not the case of the fictional (or is she? ) boss in the novel “The Devil Wears Prada” by Lauren Weisberger.

The novel is about a hellish year in the nightmarish life of a personal assistant to a high-powered and demanding fashion magazine editor. The assistant is Andie Sachs, and the domineering editor is Miranda Priestley. As portrayed in the book, Miranda is not one step shy of being the Anti-Christ. She is the Anti-Christ. Well, actually, I guess she is the Devil since the title of this book is… well, you get the idea.

Now, here’s the interesting part: Weisberger was a personal assistant for a year to Anna Wintour, the Editor-in-Chief of Vogue. Wintour has a reputation for being somewhat… well, difficult. Shall we say. Whether or not the novel is based on Weisberger’s experiences working for Wintour at Vogue, I will leave up to you. Suffice it to say, the character of Miranda Priestley in the book is more than just difficult. She’s kind of a screeching banshee, actually. So much so that you wonder how any actress could play her in the film version without coming across as a cartoon.

Fortunately, the actress chosen for the role was Meryl Streep, who doesn’t traffic in stereotypes or caricatures. Whether or not the writers altered the character of Miranda expressly for Streep, or they actually were planning to do this from the get-go, is hard to ascertain. The bottom line is that Miranda in the movie, while still definitely formidable, is also a lot more nuanced and restrained. Instead of being a raging Dragon Lady, she’s an ultra-efficient Ice Queen.

But before we get to Miranda, there’s Andie Sachs to deal with. In the book, Andie was such an aggressive, ungrateful, and unlikable whiner that you almost found yourself siding with her boss. As with Miranda, the film version changes Andie a bit, as well. In the movie she is more diligent, responsible, and, after some initial griping, is quite stoic. Anne Hathaway’s casting also helps mellow the character, since Hathaway isn’t exactly known for playing bitches.

The film version follows the same path as the novel, as Andie tries to survive a year under Miranda’s reign. Not only does she have to deal with her chilly and demanding boss, but she must also contend with a Miranda-wannabe in the form of Emily (Emily Blunt). Immaculately dressed in the latest in haute couteur and rail-thin, Emily regards Andie as something that crawled out of the local Old Navy store with it’s entire sales inventory stapled to her body. Add to this fact that Andie has a general disregard for fashion and fashion mags, and it’s not hard to conclude that she’s basically like a lone seal in the Great White-infested waters of the Farallon Islands.

Will Andie survive her trial by fire in Miranda’s office? Or will her boss eat her alive? Will Emily ever lay off and start to respect Andie? Will Andie start to develop an affinity for fashion and start dressing to kill? And what happens when Andie starts beginning to see beyond Miranda’s icy exterior and respecting the hard work ethic she sees underneath? Will her job start to affect her relationship with her boyfriend Nate (Adrian Grenier) and their friends? Or will Andie realize they’re all assholes and drop them like a bunch of hot rocks for a more fashion-forward crowd? What happens when Andie meets a glamorous journalist named Christian (Simon Baker)? And will Andie become Miranda, Jr.? Will Emily kill her for it?

That all remains to be seen. Personally, I don’t see what’s so bad about Miranda. It’s not like she drinks her employees’ blood or anything like that. Actually, even that wouldn’t be so bad, because then they’d become vampires, and look forever young.


BUT, SERIOUSLY: As I wrote in the intro, the best thing that the writers adapting the novel could’ve done was revamp the characters of Miranda Priestley and Andie Sachs. It’s not just that both were highly unlikable in the book, but also that Miranda was actually less unlikable than Andie. Andie whined so much and took her coveted position so much for granted that you couldn’t help but wonder if it was her crappy attitude that was always setting Miranda off. Sure, the lady was kind of a monster. Then again, so was her assistant.

In the film version, Miranda is a more complex character with a streak of humanity running through to her. Never once does she sink to the screaming sessions that her novelistic counterpart devolved to. Instead, the brilliant Meryl Streep turns her into a determined and hard-charging woman who often has to make hard choices that affect those around her in order for the magazine to stay at the top. She doesn’t do anything that a male CEO or executive doesn't do several times a day. Yet no one is calling them names like “bitches” or a “monsters.” In my mind, there really isn’t much wrong with Miranda as portrayed in the film. She’s not the Queen of Warm Fuzzies - and that is just fine. Kudos to Meryl Streep for turning what could’ve been a shrill cartoon into a compelling and human figure.

As Andie, Anne Hathaway is just the right amount of feisty, humble, and smart. After her initial dive into the proverbial deep end and the accompanying complaining, Andie meets up with the droll and wise Nigel (Stanley Tucci) who basically tells her like it is - she’s whining uselessly and, as such, deserves to be treated like shit. If only someone was around to tell Andie in the book what a putz she was acting like, perhaps Miranda wouldn’t have treated her as badly. At any rate, Hathaway makes the character’s journey from starry-eyed newbie to seasoned fashionista an interesting one to watch. Here's the difference between the Andie in the book and the Andie in the movie: the Andie in the book didn't bother to make an effort - and didn't deserve the job she had.

Also, the movie trumps the book by actually having Andie begin to develop respect and appreciation for Miranda’s work ethic and sacrifices to make the magazine the success that it is. When men barely spend time with their families to create an empire, no one bats an eyelash. Have a woman do it, and suddenly she is the devil. It’s a regrettable double-standard that the book was guilty of. The movie provides a more balanced outlook than the non-stop whining session that the book was. Suffice it to say, I actually loathed the Andie charcter in the book. I kept waiting for Miranda to just slap her in the face and be done with it.

The supporting cast is memorable, with Stanley Tucci and Emily Blunt the standouts as, respectively: (1) Nigel, Miranda’s loyal second-in-command who remains true to her through thick and thin; and (2) Emily, the brittle and insecure assistant who gradually develops respect for Andie as they work together more and more. Their performances nicely complement those of the two stars.

In the end, THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA is a solid and entertaining film that is given added weight by the nuanced performance of Meryl Streep. I shudder to think how this character would’ve turned out if the screenwriters had remained faithful to the book, or if they would have cast a less talented actress in the role. Thankfully, we will never know.

# 142 - BLACK RAIN (1989)

BLACK RAIN (1989 - ACTION/THRILLER) **** out of *****

(Not exactly the best film to dispel the stereotype of rampaging Americans overseas, eh?)



CAST: Michael Douglas, Andy Garcia, Ken Takakura, Kate Capshaw, Yusaku Matsuda, Shigeru Koyama, John Spencer, Miyuki Ono.

DIRECTOR: Ridley Scott

WARNING: Some SPOILERS and uneasy American-Japanese alliances straight ahead.




BLACK RAIN was the first VHS video I bought for myself. It was also the first DVD that I owned. And it will also likely be the first Blu-Ray DVD I collect if and when I decide to upgrade.

Why do I love BLACK RAIN so much? Well for starters: (1) it’s a kinetic mystery/thriller set in Japan, an enigmatic country that has always fascinated me; (2) it’s directed by Ridley Scott, the master of seductive, dreamy atmosphere; and (3) it reminds me of a less futuristic BLADE RUNNER. In short, BLACK RAIN is the textbook of example of style over substance. But in this case, the style actually enhances the substance.

Our hero is Nick Conklin (Michael Douglas), and he has issues. He’s butting heads with his Internal Affairs office in New York. And as if that’s not bad enough, he and his freewheeling partner Charlie Vincent (Andy Garcia) witness a brutal murder committed by a mysterious Japanese man (Yusaku Matsuda) in a local Italian restaurant. The victim? Another Japanese man.

Of course, being cops, Nick and Charlie give chase to the fleeing killer. Nick corners him in a meat-packing plant, where a fight ensues. Eventually, Charlie shows up and helps Nick subdue their quarry enough to cuff the bastard and haul him in.

Turns out the Japanese dude is Sato, a feared Yakuza gangster. The guy that he killed in the Italian restaurant was a Yakuza oyabun - or leader. Why he did it is still unknown, though. In the meantime, Sato needs to be transported back to Japan, where he pretty much is as sought after by the police as Hannibal Lecter is by the FBI. Only Sato eats Italian food - and not Italians.

And guess who gets the shitty task of having to escort the Yakuza putz back to the Land of Sushi? Yup, Nicky and Chuck.

Unfortunately, pretty much as soon as they land in Japan, Nick and Charlie relinquish custody of Sato to a gaggle of Japanese men looking very official and wielding a bunch of paperwork full of Japanese writing - which is about as decipherable as Egyptian Hieroglyphics. Or my handwriting.

Anyway, long story short, the guys picking up Sato turn out to be his Yakuza buds - not the Osaka police. And the paperwork they waved under his nose turns out to be insurance policy paperwork - not police transfer forms. In other words, Nick Conklin and Charlie Vincent are so very, very fucked.

Will Nick be able to track Sato down before he kills again? Or will he and Charlie just turn tail and head back to the U.S. of A in defeat? Who can they trust in a land where nothing is what it seems? Will they be able to work with their Japanese liaison, Masa (Ken Takakura)? Or will Nick piss him off with all the references to “Japs” and “Nips”? What role does Joyce Kingsley (Kate Capshaw), a gorgeous American bartender, have in the unfolding mystery? Does she know where Sato is? Is she friend? Or foe? And why does Steven Spielberg get to keep Kate Capshaw all to himself? Not fair! See what I mean below:



See for yourselves. Me? I’m hitting an all-you-can-eat Sushi buffet!


BUT, SERIOUSLY: Often underrated because of its glossy look and kinetic feel, BLACK RAIN is just as strong as any other film in the Ridley Scott oeuvre. Peel back all that glitz, though, and you’ve got a solid thriller that blends character, atmosphere, action, and suspense.

Michael Douglas is top-notch as Nick Conklin, a good man who has forgotten his own goodness. Rough around the edges and politically-incorrect, Nick is a perfect anti-hero, and Douglas plays him with just the right mix of toughness, humor and vulnerability. As the more carefree and pacific Charlie Vincent, Andy Garcia is BLACK RAIN’s comic relief. He not only loosens up his more uptight partner, but also relaxes the audience as well with his boyish eagerness and warmth.

Ken Takakura makes Masa into an admirable figure of old-world graciousness and honor, and this rubs off on the volatile Nick. However, Masa also learns some valuable lessons from his new American friend, such as learning to trust your instinct and acting on it when necessary. Douglas and Takakura’s rapport and the slowly-solidifying relationship between their characters is BLACK RAIN’s emotional center.

As the sinister Sato, the late actor Yusaku Matsuda nails his role. With a minimum of dialogue, Sato comes across as a more-than-credible threat with an array of gestures, expressions, and movements that flesh him out into a strong villain. Also, Matsuda was apparently very sick during the filming of BLACK RAIN, but reportedly chose to take part in it anyway, knowing that the film would immortalize him. And it did. God rest his soul.

Finally, Kate Capshaw takes a film-noir trope (the cool, mysterious beauty with suspect loyalties) and makes it fresh and human. In her hands, Joyce Kingsley is never less than intriguing - jaded, cynical, but still honorable. With a minimal of backstory, we sense that Joyce has come to Japan to start over - and her encounters with Nick probably bring back memories of whatever she’s trying to recover from. BLACK RAIN's rough cut was reportedly nearly three hours long and had to be cut down to just over two hours by Ridley Scott for theatrical release. I suspect that most of the scenes cut were from the Nick-Joyce relationship. It would be great to see a Director’s Cut of BLACK RAIN that restores this plot thread. Seeing these two bruised souls enact a tentative dance of attraction/retreat is another of BLACK RAIN’s pleasures. A more fleshed out version of this platonic friendship/romance would be awesome.

Finally, praise must be given to Ridley Scott’s typically stylish and assured direction. As he did with BLADE RUNNER, HANNIBAL, ALIEN, GLADIATOR and pretty much all the films he’s directed, Scott turns BLACK RAIN into an atmospheric and vividly sensual ride. This is also the first film that he collaborated on with composer Hans Zimmer, and the musical score is dynamite, which also helps in creating and sustaining the movie’s kinetic, sinister, and ultimately hopeful feel.

BLACK RAIN is a forgotten gem. Discover it now. Before they remake it.

BONUS REVIEW # 2 - DUE DATE (2010)

DUE DATE (2010 - COMEDY/BUDDY MOVIE/ROAD TRUP FLICK) ***½ out of *****

(Going on a road trip is like sexual role-playing. You have to have the right partner.)



CAST: Robert Downey Jr., Zach Galifanakis, Michelle Monaghan, Jamie Foxx, Juliette Lewis, Danny McBride.

DIRECTOR: Todd Phillips

NOTE: Minimal SPOILERS and pretty strong arguments for not speaking to anyone on a flight - straight ahead.




Let’s just get it out of the way right now: DUE DATE is not as funny as director Todd Phillips and co-star Zach Galifanakis’s other comedy hit THE HANGOVER. And it probably won’t be as timeless a cinematic icon as that Vegas-set laughfest. THE HANGOVER was such a brilliantly executed comedy with such a potent and hilarious premise that you wonder why no one had ever done it before. DUE DATE, on the other hand, has been preceded by dozens of road trip comedies - some better than it. Still, it does have pleasures of its own.

One of DUE DATE’s strongest points is the chemistry between Robert Downey Jr. and Zach Galifanakis. Downey plays Peter Highman, an architect so high-strung he’d probably pick a fight with a ten year old over something as trivial as his tie. Oh, wait - he actually does that later on. Never mind. Anyhow, Peter is in Atlanta on business and is desperately trying to make it back to L.A. in time to see his wife Sarah (Michelle Monaghan) give birth to their first child.

Zach Galifanakis plays Ethan Tremblay, an aspiring actor so weird he makes the bizarro he played in THE HANGOVER look like a model of normalcy. To wit, he goes around: (1) wearing tight girl-jeans; (2) walking with a prissy swish; (3) sporting a perm that DeBarge would envy, and (4) toting a little dog like he’s fatter, less attractive version of Paris Hilton. Ethan is also enroute from Atlanta to L.A. so that he can break into films playing… weirdos like Ethan.

Peter and Ethan’s first meeting is, naturally, a disaster. They get involved in a nasty curbside accident at the airport that sees them unwittingly exchanging packages. Not that kind, pervs. That would be both obscene and painful. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that Ethan’s package contains something both juvenile (a copy of MAD magazine) and something illegal (marijuana paraphernalia). Which leads to the, um, package being confiscated. Which leads to Peter getting pissed off at the world for being mistaken for someone who reads MAD magazine and smokes marijuana. Which, for a high-strung square, is pretty much the kiss of death.

To make matters infinitely worse - and proof that the Almighty has a sense of humor - Peter winds up sitting right in front of Ethan on the L.A.-bound plane. Peter tries to ignore the colossal doofus sitting behind him and emails Sarah for what is probably the 3,458,234th time that morning. Ethan, clearly both an idiot and terminally honest, tells him that he really should’t use his BlackBerry after he’s been told by the flight attendants to turn it off. He uses words like “terrorists” and phrases like “they use the cell phone signal to blow up planes” and “they might do that RIGHT NOW!”

Let’s just say that this little altercation gets the attention of the flight attendants and the Federal Air Marshal on board, who basically orders Peter to the front of the cabin at gunpoint. When Peter refuses by saying, “And if I don’t? What are you going to do? Shoot me?” - guess what the Federal Marshal does.

No. He definitely doesn’t take Peter into the galley where they sit on the floor and play “Patty-Cake.”

When Peter recovers from the shot (with a rubber bullet, by the way), he discovers the following things: (1) he is on the “No-Fly List” which means he can’t catch a later flight to L.A.; (2) his wallet was left on the plane, meaning he has no cash or access to cash now; and (3) unless he sprouts wings and flies to L.A. on his own steam, he ain’t gonna make it in time for his kid’s birth.

Fortunately, it turns out that Ethan has also been booted from the flight, but has managed to hang on to his wallet. As a result, he’s been able to rent a vehicle. It’s at the car rental lot where Ethan espies Peter having a fucking mini-meltdown. Being basically a decent person under all that weirdness, Ethan offers his frenemy a ride to Los Angeles.

Peter, realizing he has no chance in hell of getting to L.A. unassisted, swallows his thermo-nuclear rage and actually accepts Ethan’s offer. Mainly because if he doesn’t, there wouldn’t be a movie.

Will Peter make it to L.A. without murdering Ethan? Or will Ethan get the beat-down of his lifetime somewhere between Louisiana and Texas? What happens when Ethan makes a stop at a medical marijuana dealer’s (Juliette Lewis) place to score some, uh, medicine? How will Peter react to the dealer’s bratty kids? Will Peter make it in time to witness his kid’s birth? Will he make it to L.A., period? Does Zach Galifanakis really have curly hair? Or is that shit really a perm?

Saunter forth and find out, young Jedis.


BUT, SERIOUSLY: I’m going to purposefully refrain from revealing much about DUE DATE. As I’ve said before, sometimes a good comedy’s twists needs to be safeguarded just as much as a good thriller’s twists. Allow me to the following things: (1) the cast is great, with Downey Jr. bringing a mean edge to his humor, and Galifanakis bringing a truly bizarre flavor to his comedy; and (2) watch out for that masturbating dog. Really.

That is all. Find out for yourselves.

REVIEW UPDATE: Jelly Bean Grab Bag Week

Hello, folks. Hope everyone is doing well. Just a quick note to let y'all know that the Serial Killer reviews are all in the can. And we're on to our Jelly Bean Grab Bag week of random movies and cinematic flavors.

As a reminder please find the list below. Please note there have been some changes in the order of the movies. Also, I have swapped out PARANORMAL ACTIVITY 2 with GLADIATOR. PA2 will be reviewed in an upcoming New Releases week.

# 142 - BLACK RAIN

# 143 - THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA

# 144 - DEEP BLUE SEA

# 145 - KISS KISS BANG BANG

# 146 - HALF NELSON

# 147 - WAKING LIFE

# 148 - GLADIATOR

These reviews will start to post when I get back home on Sunday. Arrivederci!

P.S. You got a taste of DEEP BLUE SEA and the wonderful WAKING LIFE in the last Review Update. Now, another taste of things to come:





It's going to be a hot weekend...

# 141 - TAKING LIVES (2004)

TAKING LIVES (2004 - SERIAL KILLER THRILLER) ***1/2 out of *****

(Well, I guess that's one way to keep from being bored with your life: change it every few years. Shame about the person you have to kill.)



CAST: Angelina Jolie, Ethan Hawke, Kiefer Sutherland, Olivier Martinez, Jean-Paul Anglade, Tcheky Karyo, Gena Rowlands.

DIRECTOR: D.J. Caruso

WARNING: Some SPOILERS and rather extreme identity theft straight ahead...




As I mentioned in earlier reviews, THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS established the Serial Killer genre. But it was SEVEN that redefined it for generations to come, for better or worse. SEVEN's dark atmosphere and gloomy ambience seems to have been also influenced by JENNIFER EIGHT (1992). But while JENNIFER EIGHT's darkness was leavened by the romance at its core, SEVEN has no such buffer. And let's face it: SEVEN was a far darker and brutal film.

SEVEN made such an impact that it suddenly became the template for future Serial Killer films to live by, marked by such characteristics as: (1) striking and surreal opening credits involving discordant images and sounds; (2) dark and ominous cinematography; (3) uniquely gruesome murders; and (4) a singularly vicious and sadistic killer who challenges the authorities in a game of wiles that usually ends badly for everyone concerned.

Some films that have been blatantly influenced by SEVEN are the SAW series; the HOSTEL films; and the horrific French films INSIDE, FRONTIERS, and MARTYRS. Basically, SEVEN threw down a gauntlet that unfortunately many an aspiring horror filmmaker has taken upon themselves: see who can topple it for sheer darkness and foreboding. However, because these upstarts all lack SEVEN's strong moral center - how we have all become numbed and inured to sin and ugliness - they end up being nothing more than often pretentious and highly unpleasant exercises in nihilism and sensationalism.

TAKING LIVES fits all the criteria of a SEVEN-knockoff: (1) striking and surreal opening credits involving discordant and disturbing images and sounds; (2) dark and ominous cinematography; (3) uniquely gruesome murders; and (4) and a singularly vicious and sadistic killer. Fortunately, it doesn't make the mistake of trying to out-do SEVEN. Rather, it goes its own way and weaves an almost surreal and European atmosphere that it can almost call its own.

Our heroine is FBI Special Agent Illeana Scott (Angelina Jolie). Evidently, Illeana is basically the Meryl Streep of profilers. That is, she's fucking brilliant at it. The latest murder that Illeana's services are requested for involves a body found at a construction site in Quebec. It appears that the killer smashed the victim's face in and cut off his hands - obviously to prevent the cops from identifying him. Why?

Illeana is requested by the Quebec Police Commissioner LeClaire (Tcheky Karyo) to find the answers to this question and others. She and the Commish are old acquaintances from when he attended special training at the Academy. Unfortunately, she has to contend with resistance from Inspector Pacquette (Oliveir Martinez), who is you basic macho chauvinist asshole, and is pissed off that LeClaire didn't give him and his colleagues the chance to figure out the mystery themselves before soliciting the help of a certain big-lipped FBI agent. Fortunately, Pacquette's partner Duval (Jean-Hugues Anglade) is a more reasonable human being and extends a warm welcome to Illeana.

Illeana doesn't have time to ponder why Pacquette is such a cretin because soon another murder occurs. This time, however, there is a witness: an art dealer named James Costa (Ethan Hawke) sees the killer bludgeoning another man. James manages to scare off the killer and tries to help the victim - but it's too late. Half the dude's face is gone.

Another breakthrough in the case is when Illeana questions local old bat Mrs. Asher (Gena Rowlands), a woman who claims to have seen her son Martin on a ferry. What's so scary about that? Well, seems Martin was supposed to have been killed in a car accident 19 years ago. So, what was he doing on the ferry, then? Add to this Mrs. Asher's assertion that Martin is very dangerous, and it doesn't come as a surprise that Illeana is soon running around with a court order to exhume the body in Martin's grave.

Well, anyone surprised by the revelation that the body turns out to be someone other than Martin Asher needs to watch more thrillers. From there, it's a short leap for a gifted eideteker like Illeana to figure out that Martin Asher has been "taking lives" for nearly 20 years. Basically, Marty has been: (1) stalking men of his current (or then-current) age; (2) studying their habits; (3) murdering them by smashing their faces in and cutting off their hands to prevent identification; then (4) assuming their identity for a few years, before (5) deciding he needs a new "life" and identity - then starting the whole process again.

Will Illeana catch up to Martin Asher? Will she figure out who his next target will be? Is it James Costa? Or will Martin target him just because he's a witness? And what happens when Illeana finds herself falling for James's kindness and sweet nature? Will she remove herself from the case? Or will she hide her feelings in order to get the job done and catch the bad guy? Why is Pacquette being such a prick to Illeana? Is he really Martin Asher? Or is it Duval? Or LeClair? Or is he really.... Zac Efron?

I knew Zac had a dark side.


BUT, SERIOUSLY: Wisely trying not to topple SEVEN from its lofty perch, TAKING LIVES manages to compel by creating a more dream-like atmosphere - instead of a relentlessly bleak one. From its opening scene of Mrs. Asher rushing off a ferry to report her unseen sighting of Martin, to our first glimpse of Illeana lying in a murder victim's grave, to the revelation of who Martin Asher really is, and finally to the gripping climax set in Illeana's run-down family estate in Pennyslvania, this film weaves an offbeat and unpredictable path that feels very European. I suppose it helps that it's set in Quebec, and half the cast are non-Americans.

The concept of a "life-jacker" is a fresh one, and was recently recycled in A PERFECT GETAWAY. Make no mistake, though: TAKING LIVES did it first. It's also refreshing to see a film in which the victims are not all women. Instead, the men are the ones who have the targets around their necks.

Angelina Jolie leads the cast with assurance. Her portrayal of Illeana Scott as an assured, gifted, but also human FBI agent is the main reason that TAKING LIVES works as well as it does. We have to believe one hundred percent that this woman can take one look at a room or a grave - and deduce just what happened. We then have to buy that a woman this intelligent would also inadvertently let her guard down and allow herself to care about a man who is a key eyewitness in her case. Jolie succeeds at both counts, and shapes Illeana into a very gifted woman who has seen a lot of darkness - but still has the capacity to be touched by kindness and decency such as that exhibited by James Costa. In this regard, TAKING LIVES echoes the central relationship in JENNIFER EIGHT between John Berlin (Andy Garcia) and Helena Robertson (Uma Thurman) - but with the genders interestingly reversed.

Speaking of James Costa, Ethan Hawke brings a quirky and appealingly offbeat quality to the character. During Illeana's initial questioning of him, it's clear there is a strong attraction between them. Watching Illeana respond to his gallantry and boyish earnestness more and more as the film goes on is great to watch. This all culminates in a very steamy love scene between them in the third act - made strong by the palpable chemisty between Jolie and Hawke.

The rest of the mostly-male cast is good. Tchecky Karyo, Jean-Hugues Anglade, and Olivier Martinez are all vivid in their various roles - with Martinez the standout as the piggish Pacquette. In the only other major female role (the Medical Examiner is memorable, but she's only in two scenes) of Mrs. Asher, Gena Rowlands is an effective mix of haughty and terrified. It's not clear why Martin turned out to want any life other than his own, but Rowland's intimidating performance provides some clues.

In the end, TAKING LIVES is a good effort at tweaking and combining the formulas for SEVEN and THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS. It brings a look and feel of its own to the Serial Killer genre - and that pays off very well.

# 140 - KISS THE GIRLS (1997)

KISS THE GIRLS (1997 - SERIAL KILLER THRILLER) ***1/2 out of *****

(And people give me a hard time for collecting film scores and Dario Argento flicks. Sheeeesh...)



CAST: Morgan Freeman, Ashley Judd, Cary Elwes, Brian Cox, Jay O.Sanders, Gina Simmons, Roma Maffia, Tony Goldwyn, Gina Ravera.

DIRECTOR: Gary Fleder

WARNING: Some SPOILERS and highly-questionable hobbies straight ahead...







When it comes to Serial Killer flicks, sometimes a little atmosphere can go a very long way. A potent aura of doom, gloom, and building dread can possibly paper over any holes or weaknesses in the script. As Mickey (Timothy Olyphant) opined at the climax of SCREAM 2, "Execution is everything!" Presumably, he didn't mean that in a murder sort of way. Well, given the movie he was in, maybe he did.

Anyhow, the difference between a Serial Killer flick that is merely okay or average (RED DRAGON) and one that is actually good or very good (TAKING LIVES, JENNIFER EIGHT, HANNIBAL, COPYCAT) or one that is simply terrific (SEVEN, THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS), can often be measured in how much it gets under your skin. Sadly, while I found RED DRAGON to be a technically competent film, it was about as creepy as a training video on how to dice carrots.

KISS THE GIRLS is a prime example of a film that might have collapsed under its potentially ridiculous premise: a serial killer who calls himself Casanova is abducting beautiful young women in the Research Triangle Park area of North Carolina. What's so potentially ridiculous about that? Well, for one thing, Casanova doesn't actually kill his victims unless they prove to be too much of a handful.

Nope, he prefers to keep them imprisoned as his, ahem, concubines. See, he actually thinks he's in love with them. Since he's only killed two of the eight women he's kidnapped - for not following his rules - I guess you could say he's more of a serial abductor. Who likes his women to be seen rather than heard.

Right, C. Whatever you say. Good for you the movie you're in has atmosphere to burn; otherwise, the Raleigh-Durham Police Department would be laughing their asses off over you.

Anyhow, our hero is D.C. forensic psychologist Alex Cross (Morgan Freeman), who gets pulled into the fray when his niece, Naomi (Gina Ravera), becomes the latest of Casanova's unwilling brides and disappears from her campus. Suffice it to say, Casanova makes mistake # 1 in abducting the niece of someone who is basically Hannibal Lecter, but not evil. Just as quick a study, though. Sure enough, Alex hightails it down to Research Triangle Park to whoop some ass and take care of his own.

Finding resistance from the Raleigh-Durham P.D., Alex has his work cut out for him. Fortunately, he's got more intelligence in a single hair follicle on his head than his RDPD counterparts do in their entire family trees. After just a few minutes of studying the profiles of the eight missing women, as well as taking into consideration that only two bodies have been found, Cross does the Lecter thing and quickly realizes that: (1) killing is not Casanova's primary motive; (2) he's more of a collector who only kills when he meets any kind of resistance from his captives; and (3) all of the women are extraordinary in some way - meaning it's not enough that they be beautiful. They need to have the "X-Factor."

I guess Big Daddy C. is into quality, and not just big tits. Can't say I blame him. Because if you let beauty be your sole criterion in choosing the kind to have a semi-relationship with, you run the risk of potentially finding more than you would ever want to know about Cover Girl Simply Ageless Make-Up. It's either that, or simply fuck her and never have a single meaningful conversation. Me? I'd actually like to have a couple of heated debates, thank you very much.

But I digress. Shocker. Anyhow, Alex and his useless colleagues get a huge break when one of Casanova's lovely ladies decides being held prisoner in a dungeon with seven other chicks is not her bag - and gets the jump on our villain by demonstrating her knowledge of Tae-Kwon-Do. Yeah, fucker! Take that! This woman is the lovely Kate McTiernan (Ashley Judd), a doctor who is also Casanova's latest addition to his reluctant harem.

After shoving Casanova's spleen into his nasal cavity, Kate books it out of that dungeon and out into the surrounding woods. She races through the forest with our villain behind her yelling: "Kaaaaaaate!!!!, Kaaaaaate!!!!, Kaaaaaaaate!!!, Kaaaaaaate!!!" Question: does this idiot actually think that she's going to stop in her tracks, turn around, wait for him, and be all like, "'Sup, dude?"

Whatever. Anyway, Kate gets cornered on a cliff next to a waterfall. Casanova advances on her, his face hidden behind a mask - which is our first clue that our killer is actually one of our main characters. Ahem. Otherwise, why bother to hide his face? Double Ahem.

Long story short, Kate decides she'd rather risk a fatal face-plant in the possibly shallow water far below than go back to being one of Casanova's bitches. And just like that, she does a swan dive - literally and figuratively - off that cliff. Meanwhile, Casanova is left to just gawk in disbelief at the spectacle while going, "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"

Yeah, man. Don't underestimate a strong-willed chick who know martial arts. Ever. That was Mistake # 2 on your part.

Fortunately for Kate, the water below turns out to be pretty deep. Eventually, she's fished out of the river and taken to the nearest hospital. News that one of Casanova's prisoners actually escaped spreads fast, and before you know it Alex and the gang of Keystone cops he's stuck with hightail it down to the Med Center to see what they can find out. Now Kate can literally be considered as "the one who got away."

Will Kate be able to help Alex track down Casanova? Or will Casanova come after her again? Will they be able to save Naomi and the other women before Casanova decides to tie up loose ends? And what happens when Alex discovers a link between Casanova and a West Coast killer nicknamed "The Gentleman Caller?" Are two serial killers working together? Or is Casanova also The Gentleman Caller? What kind of fucked-up co-dependent relationship is going on here? Do we even want to know?

See for yourself. Just don't start imagining what it would be like to have your own gaggle of concubines. That's how it starts, apparently. From there it's a slippery slope, and next thing you know, you're slapping on some night-vision goggles.

Whatever you do, don't kidnap me and add me to your harem. Because I'm telling you right now, I know how to scream like a girl and use my fingernails as a deadly weapon - and I will fuck your shit up.


BUT, SERIOUSLY: Like I said before, KISS THE GIRLS had some potential liabiities against it: (1) a villain that could've been ridiculously over-the-top and difficult to take seriously; and (2) a plotline that could've been too busy - especially with the inclusion of a second serial killer. Fortunately, Gary Fleder's assured and clever direction builds a dark, swirling atmosphere of danger around its characters that sells the concept.

Speaking of the characters, it also helps greatly that they are essayed by a top-flight cast. Morgan Freeman was the best thing in SEVEN, and once again he brings his trademark blend of gravity, wry humor, and hidden sensitivity to his role of Alex Cross. Compared to William Somerset in SEVEN, Cross is a slightly less jaded character, and Freeman makes him a pool of warmth and positivity amidst the sinister things unfolding around him.

Cross's relationship with Kate is an interesting one, and it's one of the main reasons (besides the atmosphere and the cast) that KISS THE GIRLS rates as high as it does. In the novel, Cross and Kate developed an intimate romantic relationship. Here, however, the link between them is more multi-faceted, changing like a prism from scene-to-scene, going from formal, to paternal, to friendly, to avuncular, to confrontational, then to something almost approaching a platonic romance. There's definitely some sort of undefined tension between the characters, just as there's definitely a potent chemistry between Freeman and Ashley Judd. It's not hard to see why they were matched again in another thriller, HIGH CRIMES (2002).

Speaking of Ashley Judd, she delivers a very memorable performance as Kate McTiernan. Then again, Kate is fairly compelling to begin with. The character is a web of interesting contradictions: tough, but sensitive; confident, but not arrogant; brave, but also quite scared; kind, but definitely not tolerant of smug idiots. We only spend a few minutes with Kate before she is abducted by Casanova, but those scenes are expertly written in such a way as to paint a full picture of her life before it is turned upside down.

The best one is a scene with Kate and her best friend in a sauna, talking about their love lives - or lack thereof. Kate says, "Know what I'm looking for? The way my Daddy used to look at my Mama. How could I settle for anything less?" With a few simple strokes such as this, the script humanizes Kate and makes her more than just another thriller heroine. It makes her a relatable human being we can't help but root for.

As for the rest of the cast, they are all quite strong. Cary Elwes, Brian Cox, and Alex McArthur are all perfect in their roles as members of the Raleigh-Durham Police Department who may or may not be on the up-and-up with Alex. The other major female characters are Naomi, Alex's niece, and Dr. Ruocco, the doctor who treats Kate after her escape and helps Alex figure out what kind of drugs Casanova uses to keep his prisoners docile. In these roles, Gina Ravera and Roma Maffia follow Ashley Judd's lead in delivering capable female characters.

If there was one thing I didn't like about KISS THE GIRLS, it's that you can easily figure out who Casanova is way early on. The script tries to deflect attention away from the culprit, but it does it in such a way that you immediately know what is up. It's a small flaw in an otherwise engaging, offbeat, and suspenseful thriller.

Here's to a third Morgan Freeman-Ashley Judd pairing in the near future.

# 139 - SEVEN (1995)

SEVEN (1995 - SERIAL KILLER FLICK) ****1/2 out of *****

(It's a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful world - except wherever the hell this movie is set. Or rather, wherever in hell...)



CAST: Morgan Freeman, Brad Pitt, Gwyneth Paltrow, R. Lee Ermey.

DIRECTOR: David Fincher

WARNING: Some SPOILERS and gut-punching gross shit straight ahead.




The plot of SEVEN, at first glance, isn't exactly byzantine. It's actually formulaic to the point of being ho-hum. But dig deeper, though, and you find yourself faced with a labyrinth of darkness, despair, and moral ambiguity. Kind of like stepping into a puddle - only to find out it's actually an abyssal trench leading straight to hell. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Our plot revolves around two detectives: (1) William Somerset (Morgan Freeman), a taciturn loner who is just six days away from retirement - and looks forward to it the same way a sex addict looks forward to a mind-blowing orgasm; and (2) David Mills (Brad Pitt), a cocky new kid on the block whose eager to prove his mettle in the big city despite having no experience besides being a Keystone Cop from "upstate" - which we can assume means: "the sticks."

Somerset is in that special phase that all soon-to-be-retireest hit which, in the military, is known as "F.I.G.MO." Or "Fuck It. Got My Orders." I can't imagine an inner-city police department is any different. Somerset, though, is a class act and goes about clearing his desk without gloating or rubbing his still-gotta-work-for-a-fucking-living colleagues' noses in his good fortune.

Want further proof that Somerset is an okay guy? Well, he also agrees to mentor the aforementioned new upstart David Mills and show him the ropes. Given that Mills is a bit of swaggering dickhead, I think Somerset has moved beyond being "okay" and a "class act" into the realm of "prime candidate for Sainthood." Somerset probably also thinks that nothing exciting will happen during his last week of service - and that the most distressing thing they'll face is a donut shop that closes early.

Well, not quite, Bill...

Right on cue, a brutal series of murders grips the unnamed rainy city that Somerset and Mills are policing. First, they are called to a crime scene in a grimy apartment where a fat fuck has apparently gorged himself to death on Spaghetti-O's. Now, I know how wonderful Italian food is and while I can't think of anything else I would sooner gorge on (besides certain unmentionable body parts of Russell Crowe, Chris Evans, and Uma Thurman), let me just assure you that Spaghetti-O's are not Italian food. To put it very mildly. And just to make things even more intriguing, our good detectives discover the word "GLUTTONY" carved into a wall nearby. Gee, you think?

Next, they receive word of another murder. This time some slimy pederast is basically starved to death or something in a room full of hanging car deodorizers. To help get rid of the stench of his slowly decomposing body, I guess. And you thought that death-by-Spaghetti O's was the worse thing you could expect from this movie. You have no idea what's waiting ahead of you. Oh, and the word "SLOTH" has been carved into a nearby wall, as well. Hmmmmm..... Methinks that "ROTTING LIVE CORPSE" would be more accurate.

As if those two fun-filled adventures weren't exciting enough, our heroes are then called to the luxurious apartment of some beautiful, vain chick. We know she's beautiful because a picture of her hangs right above her bed. We know she's vain because... a picture of her hangs right above her bed. And right below said picture is our beautiful, vain victim - dead as a doornail and missing her nose. But that's not what killed her. Nope... no, sir. In one hand, she has a bottle of sleeping pills super-glued to her palm. In the other is a cordless phone - superglued, as well. On the wall above her, the word "PRIDE" has been etched in blood. Somerset quickly deduces that the following happened: (1) our sadistic killer sliced her nose off; (2) glued the bottle of sleeping pills to one hand; (3) glued the cordless phone to the other; (4) then gave her a choice of killing herself - or calling for help. Guess which one she chose?

And just like that, Somerset realizes that a serial killer is at work here. Thank you, Detective Obvious.

Not long after this not-exactly-shocking revelation, Somerset also deduces that the killer is basing his murders on the Seven Deadly Sins - and has an agenda. With the murder for Gluttony, Sloth, and Pride out of the way, Somerset warns his superiors that four more based on Lust, Greed, Envy, and Wrath will soon be visited upon them - and they have to track this sicko down before he completes whatever fucked-up plan he's got up his sleeve. Not exactly how Somerset planned to spend his last week on the police force.

Will Somerset and Mills catch their killer before he kills again? Or has the killer been ahead of them all this time? How do the detectives fit into his overall plan? Will they lose their lives in the process? What about Mills' wife, Tracy (Gwyneth Paltrow)? Will she decide she's had enough of this rainy, grimy, unnamed city and move to Maui to hook up with hot Scuba instructor?

I would. In a fucking heartbeat.


BUT, SERIOUSLY: I vividly remember the first time I saw SEVEN. It had just come out in 1995, and I didn't hold up much hope for it because it seemed like yet another SILENCE OF THE LAMBS-wannabe. I went into the theater with low expectations - and came out feeling like someone had slammed a log into my mid-section.

I truly don't want to spoil the film too much for anyone who hasn't seen it. This is one of those films that works best the less you know about it going in. Yes, you too will be sucker-punched like I was. Suffice it to say, SEVEN takes the darkness and brooding atmosphere of JENNIFER EIGHT - and magnifies it by tenfold. It is not afraid to subvert our excpectations - even to devastating effect.

But I should stop now while I'm ahead of myself - and before I spoil anything for the uninitiated. Those of you have seen SEVEN know what I'm talking about, and I'm sure you appreciate my keeping the plot cards close to my chest. Suffice it to say, SEVEN's unrelenting doom and gloom paved the way, for better or worse, for future nightmares like the SAW and HOSTEL films. Even its jittery and surreal opening credits style is still being copied to this day (see GIALLO - or better yet, don't).

What I will say is this: the movie is near-perfect. It's like a cold, lethal steel trap that gradually tightens around you before slamming shut with a vengeance - trapping its terrific cast. Morgan Freeman is the picture of gracious gravity as Somerset, while Brad Pitt vividly captures David Mills' insecure swagger and also his vulnerability where his wife, Tracy, is concerned. Speaking of Tracy, Gwyneth Paltrow turns her into a radiant pool of light amidst the disturbing darkness around her - much like Uma Thurman's Helena Robertson in JENNIFER EIGHT, a film that has an obvious influence on SEVEN.

That's all I'm going to say. I'd be preaching to the choir for those who have already seen it and know how great it is, and I'd be revealing too much for those who have yet to see it - and that would be a shame.

Bottom line? If you haven't seen SEVEN, see it now. But be prepared to be haunted for the rest of your life.