Blog Archives

Dawn of the Dead (2004)

For many, any notion of a remake of George Romero’’s 1978 zombie classic Dawn of the Dead would be heresy. There are only two things this remake has in common with its predecessor: 1) The characters are holed up in a mall for survival, and 2) There are zombies. That’s it. The social commentary of Romero’’s Dawn is stripped away, and in its place is a slick, lean action film with lots of very effective and suspenseful set pieces. Instead of thoughtless and lumbering zombies of Romero’’s film, these zombies have taken a cue from Danny Boyle’’s 28 Days Later brood and run, don’t walk, to nibble their meat. First time director Zack Snyder creates a movie rich in gruesome thrills and dark comedy but overloaded with characters, some of which you don’t even remember until they are eventually picked off. Indie stalwarts Sarah Polley and Ving Rhames nicely anchor the cast. Dawn of the Dead is light on characters (except in numbers) and plot, but it starts with a cataclysmic bang and doesn’’t let up until the lights go back on. If you want the film to end optimistically leave immediately upon the end credits, and if not, then stick around for some more goodies.

Nate’’s Grade: B+

The Passion of the Christ (2004)

The Passion of the Christ is a retelling of the last 12 hours of Jesus Christ’s life (perhaps you’ve heard of him?). In these final hours we witness his betrayal at the hands of Judas, his trial by Jewish leaders, his sentencing by Pontius Pilate, his subsequent whippings and torture and finally his crucifixion. Throughout the film Jesus is tempted by Satan, who is pictured as a pasty figure in a black hood (kind of resembling Jeremy Irons from The Time Machine if anyone can remember). The Passion spares no expense to stage the most authentic portrayal of what Jesus of Nazareth endured in his final 12 hours of life.

For all the hullabaloo about being the most controversial film in years (and forgive me for even using the term “hullabaloo”), I can’t help but feel a smidgen of disappointment about the final product. The Passion is aptly passionate and full of striking images, beautiful photography and production values, and stirring performances all set to a rousing score. But what makes The Passion disappointing to me is the characters. You see, Mel Gibson’s epic does not devote any time to fleshing out the central characters. They are merely ciphers and the audience is expected to plug their feelings and opinions into these walking, bleeding symbols to give them life. Now, you could argue this is what religion is all about, but as far as a movie’s story goes it is weak. The Passion turns into a well-meaning and slick spectacle where character is not an issue. And as a spectacle The Passion is first-rate; the production is amazing and the violence is graphic and gasp-inducing. Do I think the majority of people will leave the theater moved and satisfied? Yes I do. But I can’t stop this nagging concern that The Passion was devoid of character and tried covering it up with enough violence to possibly twist its message into a Sunday school snuff film.

photo_11(2)For my money, the best Biblical film is Martin Scorsese’s 1987 The Last Temptation of Christ (also a film mired in controversy). Last Temptation, unlike Gibson’s spectacle, was all about Jesus as a character and not simply as a physical martyr. Scorsese’s film dealt with a Christ consumed by doubt and fear and the frailties of being human. But the best part is the final 20 minutes when Jesus is tempted, by Satan, to step down from the cross and live out a normal life. Jesus walks away from the cross, marries Mary Magdalene, fathers children (this is where the controversy stemmed from but they were married) and dies at an old age. Jesus is then confronted by his aging apostles who chastise him for not living up to what he was supposed to do to save mankind. Jesus wakes up from the illusion and fulfills his mission and dies on the cross. Now, with the story of Last Temptation an audience has a greater appreciation for the sacrifice of Jesus because they witness his fears and they witness the normal life he forgoes to die for man’s sins. There is a sense of gravity about what Jesus is sacrificing.

With The Passion Gibson figures if he can build a sense of grand sacrifice by gruesomely portraying the tortures Jesus endured. Even if it is Jesus, and this may sound blasphemous, torturing a character to create sympathy and likeability is the weakest writing trick you can do. Yes Jesus suffered a lot, yes we should all be horrified and grateful, and yes people will likely be moved at the unrelenting violence he endured, but in regards to telling a story, I cannot feel as much for characters whose only characterization is their suffering. Sure, The Passion flashes back to some happier moments of Jesus’ life, which I like to call the Jesus Greatest Hits collection, but the movie does not show us who Jesus was, what he felt (beyond agonizing pain) or the turmoil he went through in finally deciding to give up his own life for people that despised him. The Passion is not about character but about spectacle.

So let’s talk about the violence now, shall we? Gibson’s camera lovingly lingers on the gut-churning, harrowing, merciless level of violence. But this is his only message. It’s like Gibson is standing behind the camera and saying to the audience, “You see what Jesus suffered? Do you feel bad now? FLAY HIM MORE! How about now?” What was only three sentences of description in the Gospels takes up ten minutes of flogging screen time. Mad Mel has the urge to scourge. After an insane amount of time spent watching Jesus get flayed and beaten the violence starts to not just kill whatever spiritual message Gibson may have had in mind, but the violence becomes the message. The Passion does give an audience a fair understanding of the physical torture Jesus was subjected to, but the movie does not display Christ as fully human, enjoying life and love, or fully divine. The only thing The Passion shows us about Jesus is that the son of God sure knew how to take a whuppin’. For Gibson, the violence is the message and the point is to witness what Jesus endured. Some would call that sadistic.

photo043omThe actors all do a fine job and it’s impressive that everyones’ lines is in two dead languages (Latin and Aramaic, though for the life of me I can’t tell them apart). But the acting is limited because of the nature of the film. Had there been more moments of character the acting would come across better. As it stands, the acting in The Passion is relegated to looks of aguish or looks of horror, interspersed with weeping. Monica Bellucci (The Matrix sequels) really has nothing to do as Mary Magdalene but run around in the background a lot. Jim Caviezel (Frequency, Angel Eyes) gives everything he has in the mighty big shoes he tries to fill. It’s too bad that his Jesus spends most of the screen time being beaten, which kind of hampers his acting range.

Now let’s address the anti-Semitic concerns. Let’s face facts; you are not going to have a film about the crucifixion of Jesus and have some Jews coming off in a good light. Just as you would not have a film about the Holocaust and have some Germans coming off in a good light. It is unavoidable. The Passion does portray a handful of Jewish religious leaders as instigators for Jesus’ eventual crucifixion, but there are also Jewish leaders who denounce their actions and just as many people bemoaning the torture of Jesus as there are calling for it. Who really comes off looking bad are the Romans. Excluding the efforts to make Pilate look apprehensive, the Roman soldiers are always seen kicking, punching, whipping, spitting on Jesus and laughing manically with their yellow teeth. How anyone could watch The Passion and come away anti-Semitic and not anti-Italian is beyond me.

And like I said before, most people will be extremely satisfied with the film because it’s hard to find a person who doesn’t have an opinion on Jesus. Gibson is counting on audiences to walk in and fill in the holes of the character so that The Passion is more affecting. Gibson’s film is worthy spectacle, and despite the vacuum of character I did get choked up four separate times, mostly involving Jesus and his mother. The Passion is a well-made and well-intentioned film that will hit the right notes for many. I just wish there were more to it than spectacle. I really do.

Nate’s Grade: C

Scary Movie 3 (2003)

Spoofs can be done well (Airplane, The Naked Gun films) or they can be embarrassing and wretched to sit through (Not Another Teen Movie). Where does Scary Movie 3 fit in, especially when the creators of the first two installments of the series are absent this time around?

Scary Movie 3 starts off with a preacher (Charlie Sheen) finding mysterious crop circles in his fields of wheat. Elsewhere, Cindy (Anna Farris, once again the Scary Movie ingénue), a bubbling reporter, is investigating a mysterious tape that kills whoever watches it. The plots for Signs and The Ring are thrown into a blender, and the ensuing mush is the shaky plot for Scary Movie 3 to stage its jokes within.

But instead of swinging for the stars, Scary Movie 3 often settles for countless swings to the head or crotch. I swear, I saw more people getting hit in the crotch in Scary Movie 3 than if I had spent a weekend strapped to a chair, Clockwork Orange-style, and been forced to watch an endless loop of America’’s Funniest Home Videos. It’’s almost like sixth graders wrote the script, and their creative process revolved around the question, “”Will someone getting hit in a sensitive body area ever not be funny?”” And of course, the answer was, “”Never, dude. Let’’s go look at your dad’’s nudie magazines now.””

Despite the scattershot nature of spoofs, Scary Movie 3 is a noticeable step up from its predecessor. Scary Movie 2 was comedy lost in the woods as if it were in search of a Blair Witch of comedic sensibility , unsure of any direction and falling back on lame gross-out gags and scatological humor. When you have to go to the “giant geyser of semen” more than once, you’’ve got some dire script problems. Credit new director David Zucker (Airplane, Naked Gun) with classing up the place after the absence of the Wayans’ brothers, who wrote and directed the previous Scary Movie films.

Scary Movie 3 has more of a steady footing for its comedy, but its parodies can seem flat. A Matrix: Reloaded parody with George Carlin as the uppity Architect only serves to make you remember that Will Ferrell did it better for the 2003 MTV Movie Awards. The lengthy subplot supposedly spoofing 8 Mile is dead on arrival. He’s white, get it? No, really, get it? Hey, didn’’t Eminem actually rap about this at the end of 8 Mile? So then Scary Movie 3 isn’t even parodying 8 Mile so much as repeating it in inferiority. There are several times that Scary Movie 3 seems like it’s struggling to lampoon anything popular at the time, no matter if it has anything funny to say about it.

What redeems Scary Movie 3 is what made the original Scary Movie so enjoyable: several scenes of laugh-out-loud, tears-in-you-eyes comedy. Some personal favorites of mine are scenes that go bizarrely over-the-top, like the funeral of Regina Hall, or the more clever jabs at pop culture, like the origin of the evil videotape having something to do with Pootie Tang. Faris is also a very talented comedic actress that proves game for whatever is thrown at her (usually at her head).

So while some of the topical parodies may not work, Scary Movie 3 seems to hit its stride when touching on others. Characters get battered, bruised, flattened, smacked, and thrown all around like the film was a living cartoon. Many of the film’s jokes are juvenile, but not the puerile juvenile demeanor the Wayans dealt in. Scary Movie 3 is the first film of the franchise to be rated PG-13, and in some lights it liberates the comedy. Instead of trying to out-do sex gags, the filmmakers turn toward the more universal art of slapstick and a slyer pop culture commentary. The comedy may only be there in spurts but it is there.

With any comedy there are hits and misses, and Scary Movie 3 has plenty of misses (a kid being beaten repeatedly does not get funnier as it goes), but when it hits its targets it strikes hard. And when it doesn’t? Well, I do so hope you like people getting hit in the crotch. Scary Movie 3 is worth a rental price and best enjoyed with large quantities of popcorn, friends, and alcoholic beverages. Fans of slapstick will be tickled pink, people who left the franchise after Scary Movie 2 may rejoin the flock.

Nate’s Grade: B-

Bubba Ho-Tep (2003)

Bruce Campbell gives a memorable performance as the aging king of rock ‘’n roll, Elvis, spending his remaining years wasting away in a Texas nursing home. He and a black man (Ossie Davis), who thinks he’s JFK, battle a mummy that’s feeding on the souls of the nursing home. It’s a fabulous premise, pure and simple. The trouble is, ‘Bubba Ho-Tep’ works well in great bits and pieces but doesn’’t have the hold of a feature film. This feels more acquainted to a short film or a TV sketch. There are parts where I was laughing hysterically (Davis has my favorite line: “”They took my brain! I’m thinking with sand up there!””), and then there are other moments toward the end where I was catching myself nodding off. Writer/director Don Coscarelli has a cool visual palette of light and shadow, reminiscent of Guillermo del Toro (Blade 2). He also has a wicked sense of humor. The best moments of ‘Bubba Ho-Tep’ are the back-story involving how the real Elvis swapped places to live a normal life. Campbell is wonderful, and the movie is alive in spurts, but it can’t shake the illusion of feeling stretched.

Nate’’s Grade: B-

Cabin Fever (2003)

Throw out all your foolhardy preconceived notions of what you believe to be man’s greatest endeavor. Fire, the wheel, antiseptics, flight? Toss them all in a big garbage can, because Cabin Fever is the greatest single thing human beings have ever and will ever create. I hear a select few countering, “What about the Renaissance?” Oh yeah, did the Renaissance have gratuitous nudity? Wait, scratch that. Did the Renaissance have indulgent nude scenes involving the former Yellow Power Ranger? I think not. Did your fancy-smantzy Renaissance have dogs ripping people apart, backwater yokels who perform kung fu and hobos being set on fire? That’s what I thought. Now who looks like the fool? If I had to live in a Cabin Fever-less world, I would hope it would collapse upon itself, because humanity shouldn’’t have to continue without this movie.

Cabin Fever is a delirious new horror film tweaking all the clichés and expectations of horror. Five friends who have just graduated from college rent a secluded cabin for a weekend. Then their numbers start dwindling through horrific killings. The brutal murderer? A flesh eating bacteria infecting their numbers, ravaging inside them and making flesh fall off like loose cheese on a pizza.

Once the group discovers that one of their friends has become infected they without hesitation quarantine her in a shed. They make failed attempts at getting outside assistance but are pushed back into the hot zone. Their fears and distrust manifest, and what was intended to be a sexual romp in he woods (we all know how that goes in horror flicks) has turned into a microcosm of Lord of the Flies meets Evil Dead II, with a dash of Night of the Living Dead.

What elevates Cabin Fever from similar brainless exercises in mutilating sexually active teens is its self-awareness and constant humor. It plays upon horror staples, particularly the notion of a nation of creepy backwoods folk waiting to take advantage of lost teens. Cabin Fever proudly wears its horror influences on its sleeve. The film is also relentlessly hilarious in its tongue-in-cheek self-awareness. I was laughing all the way through. The film even ends in an inter-racial ho-down with banjos!

The film isn’’t so much scary, though it does have a few shares of scares. The film also isn’’t as gory as you’d believe, but when it shows the gory goods Cabin Fever swings for the fences. Interesting enough, someone on the Cabin Fever crew actually suffered an attack by flesh-eating bacteria in their life and claims the gruesome makeup to be 100 percent authentic.

Writer/director Eli Roth’’s Cabin Fever is a scream. He has an amazing sense of visuals and creates a vivid picture of doom. He displays a sickly entertaining sense of humor, much like Sam Raimi and Peter Jackson did before they went Hollywood. The photography is great, the disgusting makeup is skin-crawling (perhaps a more appropriate term than intended) and the performances are dead-on camp. Each of the characters fits into a horror archetype from innocent girl next-door (who gets infected first), sexy brunette vamp, loudmouth drunkard and nice guy who lacks confidence (Rider Strong of Boy Meets World).

Now some will take umbrage to the fact I’m giving a goo-filled horror flick such a high rating. Cabin Fever is the most fun I’ve had at the movies in some time, and is perfect for getting a group of your friends together to experience. I couldn’t ask for more breezy entertainment from a movie. You know what else your fancy Renaissance didn’’t have? People swallowing their harmonicas. I’’m pretty sure they didn’’t have that. Take that harmonica-less Michelangelo, you hack!

Nate’s Grade: A

Freddy vs. Jason (2003)

Usually cross-over flicks seem like the last stop in a flagging franchise’s journey before the wheels fall off. When it comes to slasher flicks, the nature of the genre is the exact opposite of more traditional horror flicks. Instead of rooting for their survival we can’t wait for their evisceration. Freddy and Jason are tycoons of bloody teen tyranny; this is their business, and apparently, ladies and gentlemen, business is good.

It seems that Freddy Krueger (Robert Englund) is not having a grand ole’ time in hell. This horrifically scarred former boogeyman used to slaughter the residents of Elm Street in creative yet gruesome manners. The residents of Elm Street have been giving their kids potent pills to stop them from dreaming, thus shutting the door on Freddy. Now Freddy isn’’t even remembered, and as he so eloquently remarks, “that’’s a real bitch.” He’s not down for the count, though. He reawakens Jason (Ken Kerzinger), an indestructible behemoth with lucky hockey mask and machete, to terrorize the residents of Elm Street so the fear quotient peaks and Freddy can regain power. Jason gets a little carried away, notably at a student rave in a corn field, and Freddy doesn’t like Jason having all the murderous fun. Thus establishes a showdown.

For the first fifteen minutes or so, it appears like Freddy vs. Jason (no under card like Michael Myers vs. Pumpkinhead) is a winking parody of the slasher films it made famous. In the opening minutes we already get our first dose of gratuitous nudity as a foolhardy coed skinny-dips in some familiar camp waters. She actually says, while swimming naked, in the year 2003, “Where are you? This isn’’t funny anymore!”

Another example of self-awareness occurs after the first murder on Elm Street. Immediately after a gruesome murder the trio of girls runs out the house shrieking, “HELP!” at the top of their lungs (and for Kelly Rowland that could get high). A passing police car stops by. The girls frantically bang on the car window, still crying for help. The officer rolls down his window and says plainly, “You girls need some assistance?” Don’t even get me started on the sudden appearance of a goat.

Director Ronny Yu previously resurrected the Chucky franchise with 1998’’s Bride of Chucky and works his magic yet again. Yu’’s staging of mayhem is alert and, despite an overly enthusiastic score, some dread does build. Some of his camera angles are also very unique.

The female lead (Monica Keena) seems like the definition of the blonde of slasher films. She’’s mysteriously always wearing white (she’s a virgin!) outfits that get drenched with water. Hmmm, wonder what the reasoning with that is? All the disposable one-note characters that populate horror films are here. The very bland male (Jason Ritter) lead looks remarkably like a Matt LeBlanc Jr., which could explain the incredible amount of blandness he exhibits. Rowland, she of Destiny and her children, plays the sassy best friend to our virginal protagonist.

Actually, the character and actress that most grew on me was Gibb played by Katherine Isabelle. She previously starred in Ginger Snaps, a really good Canadian horror flick about teen girls and werewolves (you know how teen girls are). This made it so much more surprising when the movie put her in a sequence where it appeared date rape was going to save her life. That’’s probably a movie first.

Of course with a movie title like Freddy vs. Jason ya gotta have some hearty versus action. And it’s during these moments when the Gloved One and the Solemn Goalie duke it out that the film is really cooking with gas. The battles between these two are brutal, but also brutally entertaining. When they get to their final showdown, limbs hacked off, blood spewing like caramel geysers, and these two weary fighters are still going at it, then you know you’re getting your money’s worth.

Freddy vs. Jason has the smartest collection of teens I may have ever seen in a slasher flick. They even have a round table discussion summarizing the plot and connecting the dots rather easily. “Jason was killed by water and Freddy was killed by fire. Maybe we can use that.” They don’’t. It’’s never mentioned again. But just the fact that this group is dissecting their situation calls out for a gold star. There’s a lot of dropped storylines here, like the father who may or may not have killed under Freddy’’s influence. He just kind of drops in and out whenever necessary. There’s even a stoner character that wears a knit cap, has long wavy blonde hair, and spews forth profanities. I call criminal negligence for aping Jason Mewes (he the Jay part of Kevin Smith’’s Jay and Silent Bob).

Freddy vs. Jason is nothing more than throw-away, trashy fun, but it’s a good way to waste an afternoon. I can’t recall any other movie I verbally said “”Hell yeah”” aloud during. The scene prompting this utterance was when a secondary character tries impaling Jason with an American flag. Yes, an American flag. I think that may deserve a second “”Hell yeah”” but I’’m currently undecided. Fans of the slasher genre will love this film, and fans of somewhat self-referential old school horror will get a kick too. I’ll say this; I wouldn’’t mind seeing the rematch.

Nate’s Grade: B-

28 Days Later (2003)

Zombies have generally seemed one of the “little brothers” of the horror genre. Certainly not as complicated or Freudian as Frankenstein or Jekyll and Hyde, and no where near as seductive as vampires and werewolves. Zombies are stumbling, bumbling cement-shoe wearing monsters. They’re usually conduits for some kind of social message, like George Romero’s classic Night of the Living Dead and Dawn of the Dead. The scary part of zombies is the methodical eventuality they exhibit. They may be stupid, they may be slow, and they may be really stupid, but they’ll keep coming. They’’re dead and they got no where to be. And there’’s the pull –– that they will eventually get you. You’’ll give in, something will happen, and they’’ll seize upon that unfortunate misstep (I did an extensive paper on the symbolism of zombies in Romero’’s films and the connections between religion and horror. I think I deleted it though, so this is the best analysis you’’re gonna get). Now there’s director Danny Boyle’s indie horror flick, 28 Days Later, which gives the zombie genre a few good shocks to the system.

We open up with stark television clips of violence, genocide, and all around mayhem around the world. It’s basically what the cable news stations are now, except in this case, the viewership of these broadcasts are monkeys. Yes, it seems that the British government is experimenting on the nature of rage by strapping monkeys onto slabs and forcing them, A Clockwork Orange style, to watch all kinds of icky video. Animal rights activists break into the facility and plan on freeing the primate prisoners. A lab assistant tries to deter the monkey theft. He says alarmingly that the animals are infected with “rage” (as are most drivers it seems), and that this infection is highly contagious. The animal rights activists scoff at his concern and open the cages to the primates. For their altruistic virtues the activists are instantly attacked, bitten, mauled (can one be mauled by monkeys? It just seems like bears and lions have a monopoly on this verb) and infected with this deadly rage disease. This is likely the worst PR set-back for the animal rights activists since PETA clubbed baby seals. Look it up.

Flash to the titular 28 days later. Jim (Cillian Murphy) comes to in a hospital bed, and like previous films, Boyle finds an outlet to shoehorn in some full-frontal male nudity. It’s almost like a director’s trademark. Jim’s a bike messenger and has been in a coma for about, oh, let’s just say for the sake of it, 28 days. Jim wanders through the vacant hospital calling out for anyone. He hits the streets of London to find them startlingly empty, like some Twilight Zone episode. City kiosks are papered with numerous pictures for missing relatives or good-bye letters. A scattered newspaper says London has been evacuated. Jim meets two other survivors, Mark (Noah Huntley) and Selena (Naomie Harris). They wax chunky exposition to tell us what we already know: the virus got out, spread rapidly, is transmitted through the blood. Selena does have more unsettling news about the nature of the disease. It turns out that once infected a person has about 10-20 seconds of rational thought left before they fully turn into the rabid, crazed not-dead zombies. Jim demands to see his parents and the two agree to lead him to his home in the morning.

The next morning the surviving trio trek through the empty streets and residential areas. Jim enters his home calling out for his parents. He immediately has to cover his nose with his shirt sleeve. He walks into his parents’ bedroom to find both curled up next to each other long dead. On the nightstand are a bottle of wine and a slew of pills. His mother holds a picture of Jim as a child. On the back Jim reads: ““We left you sleeping. Now we’’ll be with you again.”” At the bottom it says, “”Don’’t wake up.”” Jim is devastated.

They find refuge in the apartment building of a Frank (Brendan Gleeson) and his daughter Hannah (Megan Burns). The two have been surviving since the outbreak. Frank is delighted to find other survivors. He shares a radio message he picked up. The message, though slightly garbled, is from a military base a way’s away. They say they have discovered the answer for infection and will provide shelter for any survivors. The foursome pack up their belongings in Frank’s car and head for the military base with a new sense of hope.

The cinematography of 28 Days Later is wonderful. It’’s the best I’’ve ever seen digital video. The choice of shooting on that medium also amplifies the horror and creates a more immediate sense of danger. The musical score could have been written by one of those popular Brit-rock bands. It’’s propulsive, effectively building, and wonderfully sonic.

Harris is the star of the film, whether the makers know this or not. She’s one tough cookie but also reflects great moments of vulnerability as she opens up to the group and starts kindling some feelings for Jim. Gleeson is one of the best character actors out there, as evidence by a great turn in Scorsese’’s Gangs of New York. Acting is never the strongest suit for horror flicks but 28 Days Later has some nice exceptions to this norm.

28 Days Later has a resonating sense of truth to it, if that can be said about apocalyptic cinema. When one character regrettably becomes infected they order their fellows to stand back, but before succumbing they say, “Just know that I love you.” This felt so genuine to me. Like if a comet was hurtling to decimate the planet within seconds, and your loved ones were around you, would you not act the same way? How does one compress all their feelings and appreciation and love in closing seconds? Something tells me it’s something like what is displayed in 28 Days Later.

Boyle, as has been ingrained into me from the blurb-heavy ads, has indeed reinvented zombie horror. However, what you may not know is that zombie horror doesn’’t exactly have many titles to it. I think I’’ve already mentioned most of them. Boyle’s zombies aren’’t dead, just infected human beings. They don’’t move at that lumbering drag-your-feet speed of classic zombie lore, no these not-so-undead move with great velocity and ferocity, like rabid junkyard dogs. The new touches here and there provide some interesting dynamics to the genre.

Perhaps what is different than most zombie films is that the audience grows to like the characters and root for their survival. In most horror films the characters are either too stupid or sketchy that it allows the audience to wait in amusement for their eventual horrific deaths. It’s simple: we want to see these people die because it’s titillating (Maybe I was wrong about all the zombie analysis I still had in my head).

Boyle does service a slight message in his zombie film when the group gets to the military base. Perhaps, he muses, our military and trusted leaders are no better than those rabidly wandering the streets. The idea of a thriller set against a biological pandemic also feels very timely and relevant. The film kind of drags in the middle during the stretch between London and the military base. And the end was a bit too much Die Hard for my taste, but is suitably climactic.

Boyle has crafted a creepy, smart, and engrossing piece of entertainment. I hope people don’t confuse this film with that Sandra Bullock clunker, 28 Days. They may be spending the entire time wondering where shirtless Viggo is and when Bullock will start her endless pratfalls (You knew I was going to talk about that movie somewhere).

Nate’s Grade: B

Dreamcatcher (2003)

Stephen King movie adaptations are usually a mixed bag. For every Carrie there’’s a Sleep Walkers or a Sometimes They Come Back. Let’’s not even discuss how many straight-to-video Children of the Corn releases there are (the answer, of course, is far too many). So what can we expect from a novel that featured butt weasels?

Dreamcatcher centers on four friends and their annual hunting trip in the woods recounting an earlier time when they befriended a mentally retarded child who would later give each of them psychic gifts. At the same time it appears an alien invasion is nearby, the military are to quarantine the area, and the lost hunter has expelled a bloody serpentine-like creature from his bowels. What does it add up to? The craziest spring break ever man!

There are several moments in Dreamcatcher where you think to yourself, “”Well, it can’’t possibly get more stupid,”” and yet the movie routinely will find a way. It doesn’’t know when to stop. Just when you think the bottom of the Stupid Hole has been hit, here comes an alien possession where the alien uses a freaking British accent (and actually says the word “”guvna’,”” proving to be the most dangerous interstellar chimney sweep). The only reason I knew what was going on was because I read the book over the summer.

The story is a mixture of different King staples: schmaltzy coming-of-age buddy stuff (It), alien invasions (Tommyknockers), gory monsters (take your pick). Dreamcatcher feels like a Stephen King greatest hits tape. The different narrative elements have great trouble gelling, as you can only segue from mentally challenged boy with mystical powers to crazy Morgan Freeman shootin’’ up slimy aliens so often. The story does not work and has too many leftover bits it doesn’’t know what to do with. Dreamcatcher is a proverbial square peg being jammed into a round hole.

The movie shows some promise in its opening, displaying the camaraderie of actors Thomas Jane, Jason Lee, Damien Lewis and Timothy Olyphant (a younger looking Bill Paxton if I ever saw one). The notion of the “memory warehouse” is a fun idea that is used for nice comic touches.

Director/co-writer Lawrence Kasdan has written some of the most exciting films of the past 25 years, and screenwriter William Goldman is an old hand at adapting King (having done the masterful Misery and the mawkish Hearts in Atlantis). So what in the world went so horrendously wrong? For starters, the book is a whopping 620 pages and would be more suited in the frame of mini-series. Condensed into a messy two-hour movie, Dreamcatcher is sloppy with its pacing and scope. The movie drags for an eternity and then makes a mad dash at a finish (I won’t spoil its unbelievable awfulness but will say it veers SHARPLY from the novel).

The most interesting part of the novel, for me, was the second half that involved the alien (Mr. Gray) taking over the body of Jonesy (Lewis). What kept me reading was Mr. Gray finding a liking to human temptations like bacon and, later, murder. Seeing Mr. Gray become intoxicated with humanity and perplexed by it at the same time was interesting. Sadly, all you get in the movie is the British accent and some goofy faces as Lewis holds two conversations in one person.

Few movies come along that are as incredibly stupid as Dreamcatcher. I can’t exactly recommend it for this quality. They are playing that Matrix cartoon after it (my theater showed it before the film started). It looks like a video game and features a woman doing flips and sword fighting in a thong, because, quite simply, that’’s what women do in these things. It’’s not really that good either.

Nate’s Grade: D

The Ring (2002)

So have you heard the one about the videotape where you die seven days after you watch it? No it isn’t a new late fee ploy by Blockbuster. It’s the great premise for the entertaining new horror movie The Ring. After you watch this eerie video your phone rings. A raspy voice on the other end tells you that you have seven days, then, one week later to the minute, you die. How cool is that?

Seattle reporter Rachel Keller (Naomi Watts) learns of this urban legend at the funeral of her teenage niece, who died suddenly and mysteriously. Through research she observes that her niece’s three friends all died at the same hour on the same day, though through different circumstances. She recovers pictures of the four of them at a campsite, where they had watched the video, except their faces are blurred in pictures taken after they had watched the tape.

The Ring has its shares of creepy scares but midway in it makes an unexpected turn. Rachel, being the good journalist she is, goes to the camp and pops in the dreaded videotape. She watches it and makes us watch it too! Afterwards, working against the death clock here, she tries piecing together clues left on in the tape’s grisly and stark images to solve the mystery of who is behind it. It’s at this moment that The Ring turns into an extended beyond-the-grave episode of Law & Order.

As with most mysteries, the intrigue and questions are more interesting than the eventual answers. As Rachel’s investigation picks up steam we start to lose interest. Of course it wouldn’t be a supernatural thriller these days without a Sixth Sense-like twerpy kid. This one features Rachel’s son (who looks like the lost Culkin child) who has premonitions of death.

Watts, who wowed critics with her breakout role as the good girl/bad girl in Mullholland Drive, is luminescent as a leading lady. Watts can deliver parts passion, fright, curiosity and concern without blinking an eyelash. She is an exciting actress to see develop.

The Ring is directed with a vibrant sense of foreboding by Gore Verbinski (The Mexican). He delivers some definite cover-your-eyes moments but also creates a wonderful atmosphere of fear throughout with illuminating visuals. There is an absence of gore and any real violence, just an emphasis on intense atmosphere like what the classic horror films would achieve.

The scares that The Ring can conjure are genuine and the film has a nightmarish undertone to it. This Hollywood remake of the Japanese cult classic can stand on its own legs with confidence, even with an overextended ending that you may require initiating another person to explain to you. So, anyone want to watch a killer movie?

Nate’s Grade: B

Halloween: Resurrection (2002)

So, what could be timelier than releasing a Halloween slasher film around… July? The plot (i.e. flimsy device to set up killing horny teenagers by) is something that you might actually see on MTV’s Fear show. Busta Rhymes is the head of an online entertainment company and has proposed a contest where the lucky few get to spend a night in the creakily and poorly lit house of serial killer Michael Myers. Their prize seems to be nothing more than the notoriety of being seen live on the net. College student Sara Moyer (Bianca Kajlich) is one of the lucky winners along with her stars-in-her-eyes gal pal and culinary obsessed friend (‘Save the Last Dance’’s Sean Patrick Thomas). Some other people get picked including the requisite smart girl and “weird” guy. And then there’’s the horn dog played by the insufferable Thomas Ian Nicholas of ‘American Pie’ fame. For some randomly selected process it’s kind of odd that three people who are all good friends got picked. Eh, oh well.

Anyway, the kids go exploring through the decrepit remains of the house with cameras strapped to their heads. Why the house wasn’’t knocked down after the first baker’’s dozen of murders is anyone’s guess. The kids try and look for any clues to explain the psychological nature of Mr. Hack-N-Slash. Michael Myers eventually makes a homecoming complete with his favorite set of cutlery and goes to town. People go missing and eventually the participants, with Busta at the wheel, figure out that this whole thing ain’’t make believe.

Now this movie could have been a lot worse, although the scene where Myers kills a cameraman with a tripod leg is dearly pushing it. Jamie Lee Curtis even shows up for about five minuets in the beginning before having an early confrontation with Myers. Let’’s just say that Curtis seemed to want out bad, and realistically who can blame her?

I realize there are certain leaps of logic when even entering into the darkened theater to take in a slasher flick, but ‘Halloween: Resurrection’ doesn’t just defy logic, it slaps you across the face with it like a cold fish. Myers is no super human entity, to the contrary, and should actually be pushing 50. But man, can he still jump out of walls needlessly like the Kool-Aid man. And can he still dangle from poles with one arm like a champ. Talk about upper body strength.

There’’s a scene toward the beginning of the film in the basement of the mental hospital Jamie Lee resides in. Two guards retreat down there and one of them stops to purchase a vending machine goodie while the other goes ahead only to meet his doom. The lone guard now timidly searches around the nearby laundry machines and discovers his colleague’s head inside the tumbling machine. If you look closely, and do some marginal thinking, you’ll find out that in order to achieve this spook Mr. Myers actually had to put money into the laundry machine. Talk about your commitment to fear.

This whole bloody ordeal is streamed live across the Internet with something like 50 camera choices. Now the Internet, if no one’ told you, is not exactly a small thing. Wouldn’’t someONE someWHERE be watching one of the camera angles where they DO happen to see the killings and phone someone? Maybe everyone in the world just has a dial-up modem. You must realize that this bare-bones cheesy reality show concept was likely from everyone making a movie as they went along.

Let’’s face it folks, the thrill of this whole thing is gone. Somewhere along the way, I’’m guessing 19‘83, the whole concept just got stagnant and poorly executed. But now with the rise (or resurrection if you will) of the slasher genre in our post-irony world we get things like Jason in Space! And Michael Myers in an episode of MTV’s Fear! The draw is supposed to be the tightly wound suspense but, and maybe it’’s just me, where is the suspense when you could care less about the cheese-heads that are supposed to be the heroes and you KNOW what’’s going to happen to them?

Busta Rhymes, the thespian, is going to need more time to hone his craft. LL Cool J took up the rapper-come-Halloween-victim role in the last film, 1998’’s ‘Halloween: H20’ (which flagrantly did not take place underwater at all). To compare the acting prowess of the two rappers is like questioning the cooking ability of the Star Trek starship captains. It’’s just very inconsequential and should never be asked rightfully. Tyra Banks is in this movie for some reason even though her scenes account for about a weekend of work. Everyone else in the cast is forgettable, even the cute Uma Thurman-looking redhead who has the most head-scratching nude scene in an underground crypt.

‘Halloween: Resurrection’ is sloppy, dumb and above all things not scary. It seems Michael Myers is the ultimate boogey man –  he’’s survived seven straight duds.

Nate’s Grade: C-