CHARLIE'S ANGELS: FULL THROTTLE
(2003, McG)

The opening scene looks like “Raiders of the Lost Ark” meets “Powerpuff Girls”, with crime fighting trio Natalie (Cameron Diaz), Dylan (Drew Barrymore) and Alex (Lucy Liu) on a rescue mission in Upper Mongolia. But already the tongue-in-cheek cotton candy flavor of the original “Charlie’s Angels” - an engagingly ditzy display of ass-kicking female empowerment - feels conspicuously absent. Instead, it’s replaced with the generic grind of a summer action-comedy attempting to outdo the competitors with more explosions, more stunts and more bikinis. They tampered with the formula, and it didn’t work.

“Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle” offers cheerful nods to everything from “Cape Fear” to “Terminator 2” and (most inspired of all) TV’s “CSI”. The Top 30 soundtrack never stops pounding and nothing is meant to be taken even remotely serious - you know just the type of movie I’m describing. But unlike its predecessor, “Full Throttle” is merely tiresome in its singular desire to entertain with gratuitously glorified stupidity. I stopped enjoying myself at around the half-hour mark.

In a plot that involves the Witness Protection Program and decoder rings (or something), an extremely ripped Justin Theroux is fun as a raging Irish mobster, while Demi Moore looks smashing in a much-hyped performance as a rogue angel - but the role is little more than a boring collection of villain clichés. The normally amusing Bernie Mac writhes in desperation as the new Bosley, and Crispin Glover (as a creepy thin man with a hair fetish and too much foundation), the comic highlight of the first film, is reduced to an inexplicable cameo appearance just for shits and giggles. What more can you say about a movie that drains the charm from Luke Wilson (as Natalie’s good-natured goof of a boyfriend), and bleeds the funny out of John Cleese (as Alex’s father)? Those are amazing feats.

“Full Throttle” is mindless, harmless, and there are worse ways to spend 90 minutes. But please don’t interpret that as a recommendation.

DIE HARD 2
(1990, Renny Harlin)

Few modern action blockbusters have the dogged professionalism and whizz-bang excitement of movies like “Die Hard 2”, a terrorist takeover thriller that works hard to ensure suspension of disbelief and then delivers a mass quantity of action, thrills and really big explosions.

New York cop John McClane (Bruce Willis) must once again postpone his Christmas fruitcake and eggnog when a rogue General (William Sadler) and his team seize control of the air traffic control tower at Dulles airport in Washington, D.C. With his wife Holly (Bonnie Bedelia) stranded in a plane circling above, McClane must kick more terrorist ass while locking horns with a donut-chomping airport police captain (Dennis Franz), whose sole purpose is to yell and swear a lot – mostly at McClane.

“Die Hard” is possibly the best action movie ever made, and a tough act to follow, but “Die Hard 2” meets the challenge hard-boiled resolve, as it sets up a pressure cooker scenario that is tense and frightening (if not totally plausible) and doesn’t even humor the notion of letting up for two solid hours. Director Renny Harlin stages slow-motion shootouts with the operatic grace of a Swan Lake revival, and even gives us a wicked skidoo chase. And Willis, with his everyman charm and quick wit, translates so well as an action hero that we are actually given someone who is fun to root for at every corner. While it may be a notch down from “Die Hard” because it is little more than a redo, “Die Hard 2” is nonetheless a tremendously skillful redo that is fun, exciting and will go well with popcorn.

DIE HARD WITH A VENGEANCE
(1995, John McTiernan)

Someone named Simon is blowing up buildings in downtown New York. For some reason, this Simon has a personal vendetta against officer John McClane (Bruce Willis), and demands that McClane follow a series of random commands or he will cause another scene of mass destruction.

It’s a clever concept for “Die Hard With a Vengeance” (the third in the series), and without the restriction of an isolated setting (IE, high rise building or airport), returning director McTiernan and screenwriter Jonathan Hensleigh turn New York city into a giant playground of action and mayhem. Aided by a civilian (Samuel L. Jackson) who doesn’t like white people very much, McClane races through city streets, solving elaborate riddles and disarming booby traps. The film’s major set piece – a huge subway explosion – is spectacular, while several other sequences manage to exceed the first two films for sheer pyrotechnic thrills.

Unfortunately, the roller coaster momentum of the first half slows to a tedious grind during the closing act, with frantically paced action and general redundancy replacing tension and humor. However, the film is never boring. At its best, it’s breathless and exciting, and it wastes little time getting started (it takes about 30 seconds for something to go BOOM). All supporting cast members who populated the first two entries (like Bonnie Bedelia and William Atherton) have been jettisoned, replaced with newcomers Jackson (who is always an asset, even if the presence of his character is hardly justified) and Jeremy Irons as the nefarious Simon, who doesn’t appear in person until halfway into the picture and strives for the leering sociopathic menace of Alan Rickman’s Hans Gruber, the classic villain from the original. Although Irons won’t be joining Rickman in the Bad Guy Hall of Fame, he provides an enjoyable, cunning nemesis; Simon’s ultimate plot reveals itself to be far more clever than originally anticipated.

Despite being the spottiest of the three, it all boils down to being another fun ride. Yipee ki-yay.

HOUSE OF 1000 CORPSES
(2003, Rob Zombie)

A car full of young people traveling a lonely dirt road see a hitchhiker and decide to pick him up.

Nameless Kid #1: So where are you headed?
Hitchhiker: Just follow this road. (pause) Say, you guys aren’t looking for bizarre roadside attractions, are you?
Nameless Kid #2: Sort of. We were looking for a Burger King.
Hitchhiker: Oh. The reason I bring that up is because I just saw this movie called “House of 1000 Corpses”, where a car full of kids looking for offbeat roadside attractions pick up a hitchhiker and then meet this crazy yokel family of freaks and murderers... not unlike our current scenario. Except for the messed-up family and stuff.
Nameless Kid #1: Isn’t that movie directed by Rob Zombie?
Hitchhiker: Yeah, it’s his debut.
Nameless Kid #3: Rob Zombie… wasn’t he in Matchbox 20?
Hitchhiker: Uh, no. Do you guys like scary movies?
Nameless Kid #2: The horror movies they make nowadays are pathetic crap. They will never be able to make another one as effective as “The Exorcist” or “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre”.
Nameless Kid #3: I thought “Urban Legend 2” was the shizznit!
Hitchhiker: It’s funny you mention “Texas Chainsaw”, because it is obviously an inspiration for “House of 1000 Corpses”. It combines elements from many old horror films.
Nameless Kid #1: Is the movie any good?
Hitchhiker: Well, the biggest problem is that it seems to have been butchered on the cutting room floor. I would recommend that fans wait until the DVD release, so that they might have an opportunity to see Zombie’s unrated cut.
Nameless Kid #3: You might be right. The unrated version of “American Pie” was way funnier. It had more shots of that guy fucking the pie.
Hitchhiker: Well, this movie wouldn’t have been distributed without an R rating. After it sat on the shelf for a while, Lions’ Gate purchased the rights, but I’m not sure the finished product properly represents Zombie’s original vision. With Zombie’s twisted imagination, the movie is pretty messed-up. But it’s also a mess.
Nameless Kid #1: You think a thrashy metal singer would be capable of making a coherent horror movie? That seems like a stretch.
Hitchhiker: I’m not sure. There is evidence here that Zombie can direct, especially one brilliant sequence where the camera cranes above a field, and there is a long silence before a gun is fired. I also found the movie perversely amusing at times. As a curio horror item, I would almost recommend it.
Nameless Kid #2: Yes, that’s all well and good… but are there any fine ladies in it?
Hitchhiker: Yes, actually. Zombie’s wife, Sherri Moon, is pretty easy on the eyes.
Nameless Kid #3: Awesome!
Hitchhiker: Yes, all in all, a passable diversion for those with high tolerance for flashy visual overkill and warped violence.
Nameless Kid #1: Wait a minute… the way you are talking… you sound like a movie critic!
Nameless Kid #3: No way! Get the hell out!

The Hitchhiker is tossed from the speeding car and left for dead on the dirt road.

HULK
(2003, Ang Lee)

Too much brooding, not enough smashing. That’s the problem with Ang Lee’s “Hulk”, an ambitious comic book blockbuster veiled in an intense psychodrama about Dr. Bruce Banner (Eric Bana), a scientist exposed to radiation that activates a genetic alteration that has laid dormant within him for years. Now, whenever he gets angry… well, you know.

“Hulk” has long, laborious scenes of dialogue, deliberate pacing and an extremely dark and solemn tone for a movie that many young viewers will doubtlessly see. While Lee’s desire to forge a layered character study and place emphasis on the tragic elements of the story are laudable, he forgets that a comic book movie should be fun. “Hulk” is simply not much fun. It’s murky, humorless, and worst of all, it’s a total downer. Visually, the film is often interesting, with Lee using a picture-in-picture technique (to suggest comic book panels) that lends a unique aesthetic but can become a bit much during extended sequences. The CGI during a lengthy desert pursuit involving jets and tanks are highly convincing, laying to rest previous doubts about Hulk’s appearance. The sequence itself, revealing the awesome power of the big green monster, is exhilarating movie magic. With polished detail in muscles and movement, as well as rich expression, Hulk becomes more than a special effect.

Bana is adequate as Banner, but doesn’t quite follow through with the promise he showed in “Black Hawk Down”, while Jennifer Connelly is typically strong as Betty Ross. Grizzled Nick Nolte (looking like a cross between the Uni-bomber and his own infamous DWI mug shot) plays the mad scientist with a God complex and has a part in nonsensical second climax. Fans of Stan Lee’s comic book creation may be at an advantage to understand what is happening there. Otherwise, they may not be too happy with the somber, sedated treatment Ang Lee has given the Hulk.

THE LEAGUE OF
EXTRAORDINARY GENTLEMEN
(2003, Stephen Norrington)

Apparently star and executive producer Sean Connery, whose reportedly venomous working relationship with director Norrington (“Blade”) shared headlines with torrential floods that consumed sets in Prague during the shooting schedule, hijacked this movie in the editing room. Would “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen” be a more satisfying product if Norrington had maintained creative control? Or would it be even worse for wear? Speculate all you want, but in its current form, the movie is an under-imagined, overproduced mess that shortchanges a cool premise in favor of mundane and incoherent action.

Based on a comic book by Alan Moore and Kevin O’Neill, “LXG” wants to be a globetrotting adventure yarn but emerges as little more than a disjointed summer clunker. Leading a team of literary characters who join forces to combat a supervillain in Victorian era England, Connery plays famed adventurer Allen Quatermain (from “King Solomon’s Mines”) and seems to be completely bored. At least some of the supporting players have their moments - such as Tony Curran as invisible man Rodney Skinner and Jason Flemyng as Dr. Jekyll (and Mr. Hyde, naturally). Special agent Tom Sawyer (Shane West) and immortal aristocrat Dorian Gray (Stuart Townsend) are new additions.

Striking production design is offset by chaotic editing, sub-par effects work and one of the silliest bad guys in recent memory. “LXG” seems to have been mangled on the cutting room floor, with grating inconsistencies in continuity and logic (Dorian Gray’s suits are indestructible, too?). While we speculate on what could have been, I realize there is one real certainty: this movie should definitely be more fun than it is.

A MIGHTY WIND
(2003, Christopher Guest)

Much like he did with “Waiting for Guffman” and “Best in Show”, treasured mockumentarian Christopher Guest finds a careful balance between genuine affection and scathing parody for his subjects in “A Mighty Wind”.

This time, the topic for Guest’s bogus documentary is folk music. Legendary producer Irving Steinbloom has passed away, and a tribute concert has been scheduled in his honor, featuring such yesteryear folk favorites as Mitch and Mickey (Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara), The Folksmen (played by Guest, Michael McKean and Harry Shearer - the original British rockers of the classic “This is Spinal Tap”) and The New Main Street Singers (including such Guest regulars as Parker Posey and Jane Lynch). Some of the funniest performers are not positioned in the forefront – Bob Balaban is memorable as the meticulous concert organizer, who suggests to the auditorium manager (the hysterical Michael Hitchcock) that the foliage in the lobby may be a safety hazard, while Ed Begley, Jr. speaks in a lexicon of Yiddish terms and Jennifer Coolidge (aka Stifler’s mom) steals her few brief scenes as a stunningly vapid PR executive. And just watch the expression on the face of squeaky-clean John Michael Higgins as wife Lynch doles out the history of her adult film career.

While “Wind” may fall slightly short of the laugh quota generated in the troupe’s previous ventures, it has the unexpected edge of being the most touching of all Guest’s films. Despite Levy’s somewhat cartoonish portrayal of the drug-addled, spaced-out Mitch, the Mitch and Mickey subplot is full of tender poignancy (the former lovebirds have had a falling out), and the understated O’Hara is quite possibly the standout of a great ensemble. The improvisational skill of the cast lends an authentic warmth and spontaneity to the film, and the concert finale features some pretty terrific folk music. Chalk another one up for Guest and the gang, and here’s hoping “A Mighty Wind” will make your day, as it did mine.

PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN:
THE CURSE OF THE BLACK PEARL
(2003, Gore Verbinski)

It’s not difficult to see why this has become a word-of-mouth sensation in the summer of 2003. Its playful and mischievous sense of adventure is in the tradition of the best Hollywood entertainments, and director Verbinski (“The Ring”) fuses the lighthearted swashbuckling charm of the Disney Land ride that inspired it with spooky atmospherics and top-drawer production values. But the real reason “Pirates of the Caribbean” works is due to its great cast, namely the multi-talented maverick Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow, the performance everyone is talking about.

This is certainly not the first time Depp has put such a gleefully inspired spin on a character (witness his hilariously cowardly take on Ichabod Crane in Tim Burton’s “Sleepy Hollow”), and he makes Captain Jack an endless source of amusement with his effeminate gestures and loopy presence. Elsewhere, lovely lass Kiera Knightley (“Bend it Like Beckham”) proves to be more than another pretty face as the requisite damsel in distress, Orlando Bloom (“The Lord of the Rings”) shows indication of a bright future in the ranks of Hollywood leading men as the blacksmith out to rescue her, and Geoffrey Rush takes the evil pirate caricature and runs amok as Captain Barbossa, leader of a band of scalawags who turn out to be walking skeletons.

At 140 minutes, “Pirates” runs far too long, but it is often rather funny, frequently entertaining and refreshingly free of the cynical excesses that drive most perfunctory summer blockbusters (a nice change for producer Jerry Bruckheimer). Yo ho ho, and a barrel of fun.

PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE
(1959, Edward D. Wood, Jr.)

It took me a while to hunt down Ed Wood’s “Plan 9 From Outer Space”, considered by many to be the worst movie ever made. I must say it was worth the wait; this film sucks really, really bad.

Which is great, you know; few films have a “so-bad-it’s-good” quality that so vehemently demands a drinking game be christened in its honor. Bad acting, bad writing, bad sets and stupendously bad special effects make “Plan 9” possibly the most hilariously inept motion picture I have ever seen.

Aliens – who are played by actors in Star Trek uniforms and are led by a ruler who sits at a desk behind a large curtain – have come to the San Fernando valley to reanimate corpses in a cemetery (which, being a cemetery and all, is probably loaded with corpses - and yet the aliens manage to resurrect only three). One of the risen corpses is played by former Dracula Bela Lugosi, but only partially. When Lugosi died shortly after filming began, Wood opted to replace him with the producer’s wife’s chiropractor, who holds a cape over his face at all times (and, presumably, corrected the crooked spines of the cast and crew).

The film has some of the most unintentionally side-splitting dialogue and preposterous errors in logic and continuity in the history of bad movies. A brief sample:

“They attacked a town. A small town, I’ll admit, but never the less a town. A town with people. People who died.” – Colonel Edwards (Tom Keene).

“Isn’t it funny: the humans, who can think, fear the dead, who cannot.” – Alien commander Eros (Dudley Manlove – not his real name, I’m guessing).

“Greetings, my friends. We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives. And remember, my friends, future events such as these will affect you in the future.” – Psychic Criswell during the opening narration

Despite Eros claiming that the aliens are “eons” ahead of the human race technologically, it is later commented that flying saucers were spotted so close to the ground that “the exhaust knocked people over!” Exhaust? Wow, how advanced these aliens are! It blows my primitive mind.

The aforementioned flying saucers are on strings. Just try and not laugh.

Police Lieutenant Harper (Duke Moore) has his gun out most of the time and uses it to adjust his hat and points it at his own face.

A decoder is used to decipher the “alien language” midway through the movie, even though the aliens are speaking English in all other scenes. At the big climax when the humans enter the mothership (which, for some reason, has a giant ladder on the outside) to confront the aliens, they have no trouble communicating.

Funniest of all, Wood is actually trying to send a message with this movie: that we humans, with our violent nature, will inevitably destroy each other. Profound, yes? For this all its other wonderful idiocies, “Plan 9 From Outer Space” may be hard to beat for sheer entertainment value.

SEABISCUIT
(2003, Gary Ross)

Soppy, sappy Americana that it is, Gary Ross’ adaptation of Laura Hillenbrand’s novel about an underdog racing horse in Depression-era U.S.A. is nonetheless an accomplished crowd-pleaser, bolstered by fine performances and the dogged determination to put a big fat lump in your throat from the outset.

As Red Pollard, a jockey too big for a horse deemed too small, Tobey Maguire reminds us of his chops beyond the CGI environments of “Spider-Man” with a stellar lead performance. The bond developed between Pollard and ‘Biscuit, who help to mend each others trodden spirits, is one of the more effectively calculated aspects in a film of unwavering sentiment. The ever-reliable Jeff Bridges plays down-on-his-luck owner Charles Howard with the same warmth and humility that he always brings to the screen, while recent Oscar winner Chris Cooper resonates strongly in a quiet performance as meditative trainer Tom Smith. William H. Macy (who appeared with Maguire in Ross’ idyllic 50’s satire “Pleasantville”) is terrific as Tick Tock McGlaughlin, a manic radio announcer who provides some sideline comic relief.

“Seabiscuit” features irritating and gratuitous narration that threatens to turn the film into a PBS history special of poverty-ridden 1930s America. Couldn’t this information be relayed through the plot, instead of using this tired device? Fortunately, cinematographer John Schwartzman captures beautiful vistas and stages horse races (including the big rivalry against Triple Crown champ War Admiral) that are about as exciting as horse races can be. In the end, “Seabiscuit” runs about 15 minutes too long, and doesn’t quite muster the inspirational punch that the story allows. However, the film remains a story well told, with humanity to spare.

It’s a corndog, complete with all the trimmings. Perfect for the track.

SE7EN
(1995, David Fincher)

“What I have done will be puzzled over and studied and followed forever.”
-John Doe

“You’re no messiah. You’re a movie of the week. A f**king T-shirt, at best.”
-Detective David Mills

Unlike many directors, David Fincher is not about empty style. “Se7en”, for instance, is all shadow and grime and rain-soaked atmospherics, but all of the visual trappings serve to plunge us into the ugly world of New York detectives Mills (Brad Pitt) and Somerset (Morgan Freeman). Everything Fincher does here is an organic extension of story and setting.

“Se7en” is listed among the best serial killer movies, and for good reason. Its villain, John Doe (Kevin Spacey, brilliant), regards humanity as a disease festering on every street corner and wants to expose it as such. He begins a murder spree, slaying those guilty of committing one of the seven deadly sins (gluttony, greed, sloth, lust, pride, envy and wrath) in morbidly twisted ways. When John Doe’s ultimate plan reveals itself during the film’s gut wrenching, teeth-gnashing finale, “Se7en” has worn you down to a psychological wreck of twitching nerves.

Fincher’s forensic scenes (all of the murders are seen after-the-fact) are some of the grisliest I have seen. Almost – but thankfully, not quite - a humorless affair, “Se7en” is leaps and bounds beyond other shallow genre rivals because it has three central performances that are grounded in a refreshing reality. Freeman is typically phenomenal as a disillusioned man who has been weathered down by the cruelty he confronts every day (which, in a strange way, leads him to understand John Doe’s motives), while Pitt does solid work as the wet-behind-the-ears, cocky young go-getter Mills. Gwyneth Paltrow takes what limited screen time she has and creates a thinking, feeling, flesh-and-blood character from vague details in Andrew Kevin Walker’s script.

Ultimately, I think Mills is right when he says few will remember John Doe as a prophet and a martyr. “Se7en” is about as close to profound as a serial killer thriller can be, but as a deconstruction of mankind’s sins and excesses, it isn’t entirely successful. As a cop-and-killer movie, however, it represents one of the most gripping, disturbing and accomplished examples of its kind.

TERMINATOR 3: RISE OF THE MACHINES
(2003, Jonathan Mostow)

For months I had been skeptical about “Terminator 3”. The trailers did little to entice me. There was no James Cameron and no Linda Hamilton. Star Arnold Schwarzenegger was aging faster than a block of Gouda left unrefrigerated overnight. But “T3: Rise of the Machines” is one of the nicest surprises of the summer – a furious action film that compliments Cameron’s groundbreaking predecessors nicely, instead of betraying their themes and ideas to cash in on the durable Terminator brand name.

Arnold is back as the “obsolete” Terminator model, and it’s an absolute treat to see him reprise his most-celebrated role so effortlessly, as he crunches metal, spits out monotone zingers and plods along with a single-minded determination to kick ass. After a winkingly funny time travel entrance, Arnold faces off against the T-X (Kristanna Loken), a highly advanced cyborg that is not as conceptually interesting as the Robert Patrick’s T-1000, but nonetheless a fun and formidable foe. Future human resistance leader John Connor (now played by the terrific Nick Stahl, an improvement over Edward Furlong), living “off the grid” so that he cannot be tracked, once again finds himself (along with a civilian veterinarian played by Claire Danes) under the protection of Ahnold as they race to prevent a computer virus from crippling SkyNet military defenses, which would signal the arrival of Judgment Day.

While lacking the ambition and enormous scale of its precursors, “T3” is surprisingly well written for a summer blockbuster reliant on carnage. Speaking of the carnage – it rocks. In the giddily destructive centerpiece action sequence, Arnold clings to the end of a giant crane and is heaved around like a human wrecking ball, crashing through buildings and smashing parked cars. As directed by Jonathan Mostow (“U-571”), the action scenes favor practical effects over CGI (you want an entire street destroyed? Okay, let’s do it). Later, the two Terminators go mano-a-mano in an astonishing battle of brawn – and how can you not enjoy a film where Arnold smashes a urinal over a chick’s head? Unfortunately, “T3” suffers from a plot that, although true to the time paradoxes of the previous films, feels simplistic when compared to the awesome “T2”. It doesn’t feel like as much is at stake, even though it is the end of the world.

But “T3” also boasts some surprises, including the courageously downbeat ending, which re-energizes the emotional themes of the series. Another surprise: although unavoidably the weakest of the franchise, it’s a solid product overall. And Arnold, you still rock.