CABIN FEVER
(2003, Eli Roth)

“Cabin Fever” is a disgusting movie, and I mean that as a compliment. Summoning a cheeky, relentless fervor that recalls Sam Raimi’s original “Evil Dead”, director Eli Roth combines bizarrely pitched black comedy with some of the grossest shit in recent horror movie history. Despite not doing anything truly original or innovative with its central plot (which you might say is not fully “fleshed out”…hahaha… hmmm), “Cabin Fever” is so unabashedly, mindlessly entertaining that it’s actually rather refreshing for a horror fan like yours truly, despite a closing act that forgets to scare us in the midst of dumping buckets of sloppy red stuff over our heads.

Five friends (including Rider Strong from “Boy Meets World”) head out to a cabin. There’s a nasty flesh-eating disease around that threatens to turn their vacation into some sort of George A. Romero movie. What more do you need to know? Roth shows ample style behind the camera, and the score by Nathan Barr (with a strong assist from Lynch regular Angelo Badalamenti) is creepy perfection.

One could argue that “Cabin Fever” suffers from a lack of imagination and an excess of splatter, especially during its last leg, but there’s something to be said about a horror movie that is so unapologetic in its depravity, so merciless, deranged and mean-spirited, and spiked with such weird jolts of gallows humor that it emerges more as a cheerfully uninhibited throwback to the gory glory days of the genre than anything else. “Cabin Fever” is one sick puppy, and it’s going to turn a lot of people off, whether it be due to the ghastly makeup effects from Robert Kurtzman, Greg Nicotero and Howard Berger (good ol’ KNB) or the extremely dumb, out-of-left-field ending, which plays like an episode of “Twilight Zone” set to the Dueling Banjos theme of “Deliverance”. Can you say “whack”? And that’s after Roth blatantly rips off Romero’s “Night of the Living Dead” and its plague-run-amok themes. And I haven’t mentioned the kid with the awful mullet who sits on the porch of the general store and bites people. “PANCAKES! PANCAKES!”

When I found out that writer-director Roth had affiliations with both Howard Stern and David Lynch, I wasn’t surprised at all. It’s just that kind of movie.

DOWN WITH LOVE
(2003, Peyton Reed)

And the winner for the most sexual innuendos in one movie is...

But I suppose that’s to be expected in a valentine to Doris Day/Rock Hudson 60s sex comedies as exaggerated as “Down With Love”. With one of the wittiest screenplays in recent memory (by Eve Ahlert and Dennis Drake), director Peyton Reed (“Bring it On”) has created a time capsule that is wonderful, bubbly fun.

It’s 1962, and Barbara Novak (Renee Zellweger) has written a book selling the belief that love is a distraction and women should enjoy sex as men do - a la carte. Novak’s bible of female empowerment becomes a huge success, and the ultra-suave Catcher Block (Ewan McGregor), under the guise of mild-mannered American astronaut Zip Martin, plots to make Barbara fall in love with him so that he can reveal her as a publicity-seeking hypocrite in an exposé for the men’s magazine “Know”. While Zellweger is great, as usual, at playing cheerful kittenish naiveté (she has an incredible last-act monologue that has to be one of the longest in cinematic history), the standout is McGregor, who is absolutely ideal as the roguishly charming man whore Catcher Block. David Hyde Pierce is very, very funny as Catcher’s editor.

The costume and production design in “Down With Love” is deliriously retro, with something to watch in every frame. Vibrant reds, blues and purples permeate the screen. The tone of the film is similarly over-the-top, with a heavily emphasized score by Marc Shaiman that can get overbearing (although it’s meant to be that way), and may not appeal to some audiences. My guess is that either “Down With Love” will get very annoying, very fast, or it will you grow on you. I found it clever, affectionate and fun... so I guess it grew on me.

HOLLYWOOD HOMICIDE
(2003, Ron Shelton)

A buddy cop movie that trots out every cliché known to the buddy cop genre, and doing it with such a tongue-in-cheek approach doesn’t seem to help because Shelton’s script lacks the edge to do it justice.

Harrison Ford, even sleepwalking through a role as he does here, provides his usual grizzled charm as Hollywood detective (and real estate broker by night) Joe Gavilan, who is investigating a quadruple homicide tied to the rap industry with his young partner (and aspiring actor) K.C. Calden, played by Josh Hartnett. Droves of talented actors barely have a chance to register their presence working with such minor material and humdrum story, like Lena Olin, Isaiah Washington, Martin Landau, Keith David, Lolita Davidovich and Canadian Bruce Greenwood, who lately has been making a career out of appearing in full-blown mediocrities (“The Core”, “Rules of Engagement”).

The action in “Hollywood Homicide” is totally confined to the final half-hour, in which the film comes around with an entertaining car chase and at least two standout moments for Ford (one involving a girl’s bicycle that he reluctantly commandeers), and Hartnett is typically charming. While sporadically amusing, the film simply does not have the goods to back up the star wattage; it’s lame, limp and hopelessly featherweight. Known to most filmgoers for his memorable sports comedies (among them “Bull Durham” and “White Men Can’t Jump”), it seems that Shelton has turned his lens toward L.A. cops (he also directed the drama “Dark Blue”, with Kurt Russell, earlier in the year). Maybe that wasn’t such a great move.

THE ITALIAN JOB
(2003, F. Gary Gray)

Sure, there could be more… oh, I don’t know… “character development”. But I admire a caper movie like “The Italian Job” where everything is about the heist. Planning the heist, plotting the details, stealing the gold… there is your movie. It’s all business, and director Gray keeps the film humming along with old-school finesse (it happens to be a loose remake of a 1969 Michael Caine flick).

The film opens in Venice, where a successful gold heist of $35 million is sabotaged by Steve (Edward Norton), who leaves aging thief John Bridger (Donald Sutherland) and his team for dead. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work too well. One year later, Charlie (Mark Wahlberg) reassembles the group – getaway driver/ladies’ man Handsome Rob (Jason Statham), half-deaf explosives expert Left Ear (Mos Def) and tech geek Lyle (Seth Green) – to get the gold back, with the help of John’s safecracking daughter Stella (Charlize Theron, gah-geous). With the exception of Norton, who seems vaguely disinterested as the bad guy (probably due to the fact that this was a contract obligation that he was reportedly not keen on fulfilling), all of the actors are in fine form (some delivering nice comic relief), and Gray (“The Negotiator”) does skillful work behind the camera.

Comfortably predictable, totally straightforward and completely entertaining, “The Italian Job” ends in a half-hour action sequence with European Mini Coopers outrunning helicopters and motorcycles, complimented by a great action score from John Powell. Like those Minis, the film is compact and efficient, and a lot of fun to take for a test drive.

SCHOOL OF ROCK
(2003, Richard Linklater)

For those about to see “School of Rock”, I salute you. It’s a great way to spend nine bucks.

In 2001, director Linklater braved new depths of the experimental, with the brilliant philosophical expressionism of “Waking Life” and the controlled, riveting, ultra low budget “Tape”. 2003 finds Linklater (now officially one of my favorite filmmakers) submitting his most mainstream effort to date. It’s true, “School of Rock” is pure formula. But most Hollywood formula pictures don’t have the indie sensibility of someone like Linklater to guide the story, or a screenwriter as subversively clever as Mike White (“The Good Girl”, “Orange County”), or a star with the outrageous high spirits and endearing puppy dog enthusiasm of Jack Black. You put these things together, and you have yourself a winner.

Black is Dewey Finn, a lazy freeloader who lives for the charge that only rock and roll can provide. Ousted from his current rock group because his bandmates don’t like him hogging the stage with his indulgent guitar solos, Dewey (in a desperate attempt to uncover rent money) assumes the identity of his whipped roommate Ned Schneebly (screenwriter White) and becomes a substitute teacher for a Grade 5 class at a hoity-toity prep school headed by a rigidly humorless principal (the sublime and talented Joan Cusack). A man of limited knowledge, Dewey begins preaching the gospel of rock ‘n roll to the musically inclined students - not pop pap like Christina Aguilera, but bands like Zeppelin, Sabbath and Hendrix who defined the era of “stickin’ it to the man”.

“School of Rock” works wonderfully because Black’s Dewey Finn is not just a goofy parody, but a man with a genuine affection for rock that can’t be too far removed from Black himself (who is one-half of the cult duo Tenacious D). Dewey is perhaps the great unlikely hero of the movie year; irresponsible, lazy, and an outright slob, perhaps, but a real inspiration for a group of grade-schoolers as he teaches something from the heart. Yes, that may be rock and roll... but everybody’s got to have a passion.

Completely good-natured without being contrived (and incorrectly rated PG-13 by the MPAA; the most offensive word spoken is “ass”), “School of Rock” coasts on big, warm laughs and the awesome abilities of its child actors, who back Mr. Black on some wonderful musical numbers. Now excuse me as I raise my goblet of rock, because this truly is one face-melting movie.

CAPSULE REVIEWS FOR THE WEEK OF OCTOBER 24, 2003

MATCHSTICK MEN
(2003, Ridley Scott)

What a joy to have Nicolas Cage back. After his triumphantly funny dual performance in “Adaptation” and now his delightful, impulsive and painstakingly involved turn here, his prolonged stint as bland Bruckheimer call boy is all but forgiven.

As obsessive compulsive con artist Roy Waller, Cage avoids surrendering to a showcase of self-indulgent quirks, but instead forms a fascinating, utterly convincing character. I’m of the opinion another Oscar nod is in order, but it likely won’t happen. Sam Rockwell continues to impress as Roy’s protégé, but it’s a secondary role to Cage and Alison Lohman, playing Roy’s 14-year old daughter Angela, who plays a part in the film’s big climactic con. Lohman (“White Oleander”) is such a bright, honest performer, and she and Cage strike a rare chemistry that is exciting to watch, and without the slightest whiff of artifice.

This is much lighter fare from director Ridley Scott (“Gladiator”, “Black Hawk Down”), although there is a 180 degree twist (or two) during the home stretch that ups the stakes considerably. Screenwriter Ted Griffin (who gave the gift of gab to “Ocean’s Eleven”) creates engaging characters and fun, slippery dialogue without straining to be too quirky or offbeat, but one could argue that he’s more successful when he lets these characters roam free without the dictations of the con plot. I think I liked “Matchstick Men” more before the big twist, which takes some of the wind out of its sails.

But I still like it a lot. It’s funny, surprising and sharply conceived, and I’m officially a Nicolas Cage fan again.

POOLHALL JUNKIES
(2003, Mars Callahan)

How many rapid montages of eight balls banking into corner pockets on a pool table does a movie need to be cool? “Poolhall Junkies” proves there is never enough.

Writer-director-star Mars Callahan (or Gregory Martin, but that doesn’t sound as cool), who based this film on his real-life experience as a hustler, plays a skilled pool shark who wants to go pro, but is held back by his mentor (a wasted Chazz Palminteri), who prefers to see the winnings up front. Full of utterly strained, faux hip dialogue and even a message that you shouldn’t gamble with life (or something like that), the movie gets a little zip from the wiles of Christopher Walken, who is his usual nutty self in a small role as wealthy backer Uncle Mike. Walken gets a few priceless exchanges, and for brief moments, the movie comes to life.

Otherwise, “Poolhall Junkies” is a desperate kind of bad movie; it’s certainly not terrible, but there is no purpose or point. This all may be based upon real experiences from Callahan’s life as a pool hustler, but that doesn’t mean it will make a compelling feature film. It’s curious to note that the most interesting character is played by Rick Schroder, as a machine-like pool pro who Palminteri takes under his wing for a final match against Callahan. Schroder barely has any dialogue, but manages to generate a real presence, while most of the remaining cast (including Michael Rosenbaum and the late Rod Steiger) fail to build something out of Callahan’s shallow, street-smart yakkity yak. It would help, of course, if Callahan himself wasn’t as bland as meringue as leading man.

THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE
(1974, Tobe Hooper)

While admittedly a horror film well ahead of its time, “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” launched some of the more unfortunate slasher film trends through the 70s and (predominantly) the 80s.

The five characters – who stop on a lonely Texas road and inadvertently crash the house of a crazed cannibalistic family - are all blank slates, and aside from heroine Sally (Marilyn Burns), are all dead within a window of 20 minutes after the mayhem begins. Crudely shot on a miniscule budget (which probably works to its advantage), director Hooper drives his film forward on the strength of pure visceral terror. This is one of the most off-putting films, of any genre, in cinematic history - not due to the relatively tame level of gore (most of the violence is implied, although still horrific in its brutality), but the uncompromising look at a twisted family of freaks, who dominate the film’s final third.

Here is a movie that revels in sadism; these final 30 minutes are a true test of endurance, as Hooper sees how uncomfortable he can make us through the torment and torture of Sally. Burns does a lot of screaming and running, and is exceptional at both, but the performance to watch is Gunnar Hansen as the infamous Leatherface. Stupid, clumsy, and driven by nothing more than raw animal instinct, the guy is scary; when he comes bounding out of that steel door after a victim, wailing like some sort of beast, it’s something cemented forever in horror history.

“TCM” is hailed upon high as one of the best horror movies ever made; with a plot so bare and characters as shallow and this, I would disagree. What matters is that the slim budget makes the film gritty and authentic, its capacity to disturb has gone virtually unmatched over the past three decades, and its influence is undeniable.

THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE (2003)
(2003, Marcus Nispel)

The first problem with remaking “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” is replicating the ugly tone of Tobe Hooper’s original film. In that case, the grainy look was something only the shoestring budget could provide. This new version has a budget of $13 million, and it works hard to look dark and dank and unpleasant, and be the relentless horror movie that the classic original is touted as. But it’s only superficially scary. I guess this may have been unavoidable, but the new “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” is just an impostor.

Set once again in 1973, as a van full of young people travel through Travis County, Texas, the film is more of a revision than a remake, really, because almost everything about it is different; there are several new characters, a multitude of new directions and a few new twists. The filmmakers even attempt to make Leatherface (Andrew Bryniarski) into a sympathetic figure, which is a grave miscalculation. The film is handsomely shot by music video director Marcus Nispel, although some attempts at stylized visuals are waaaay overdone (what the hell is with the rays of light in the forest?).

One area of real kudos is the performances, which are downright impressive for a horror movie. As Erin, Jessica Biel (“The Rules of Attraction”) is one of the most convincing horror heroines in a good, long while. Her helpless, terrified wails ring true, and turn her into a successful sympathetic character - one that we want to see survive. Eric Balfour plays Erin’s boyfriend, Kemper, alongside Erica Leerhsen, Mike Vogel and Jonathan Tucker (who is especially good as the jittery pothead Morgan), while R. Lee Ermy is memorable as the unapologetically crude local sheriff.

Fans of the original film are likely to oppose the manner in which producer Michael Bay and screenwriter Scott Kosar have butchered their beloved classic. There is far more gore in this version, but as “TCM” strives admirably to be a merciless thrill ride, all I could see was another indistinguishable slasher movie, grindingly perfunctory and, despite being brutal and unforgiving, unable to recapture the dread of Hooper’s film. It’s well-made, and easily more watchable than most in this genre. But in the end, I could only think of how worthless this new “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” is.

WRONG TURN
(2003, Rob Schmidt)

“Deliverance” is probably one of the scariest movies I have ever seen. When Jon Voight and Ned Beatty first encounter the two infamous mountain men, the uncomfortable, terrifying sense that, My God, this could actually happen pervades the entire scenario. Played by Bill McKinney and Herbert “Cowboy” Coward, these backwoods hicks are no conventional monsters, just chillingly inhuman creatures who can’t be reasoned with.

In “Wrong Turn”, a group of twenty-somethings (including Desmond Harrington, who displays a range of about two emotions, and Eliza Dushku, who looks sexy and has perfect hair even in a situation as desperate as this), take the titular “wrong turn” and end up disturbing a family of inbred hillbillies who like to chop people up for no particular reason other than they are inbred hillbillies. In “Deliverance”, the crazy hicks are filthy and toothless; here, the hillbillies look like the orcs from “Lord of the Rings” (Stan Winston is responsible for the creature makeup effects). Somehow, in making them ten times uglier, “Wrong Turn” is much less effective. The movie isn’t even remotely scary.

There are occasional moments of real flair from director Rob Schmidt, including some wonderfully gnarly death scenes and a few clever shocks that horror movie geeks will love (and will want to play back). The movie also moves an energetic clip, and considering the awful marketing campaign and the fact that it wasn’t screened for critics, it’s nowhere near as bad as it could be. It’s just too bad that there isn’t an original thought in its head.

I really like Jeremy Sisto, though. I think he’s going places.