summer

Starting at the bottom and working my way up- sort of- America’s Sweethearts, as plainly as I can put it, delivers exactly the movie you may very well expect to see when the movie stars Julia Roberts (oh, I’m sorry, she’s just in a supporting role, it’s not like her name’s selling the movie or anything) and is called sappily called America’s Sweethearts. Think of this film as “x” romantic comedy meets State and Main or Bowfinger, though nearly as clever as either of those.

Indeed, Sweethearts marks a debut both for novice director Roth and his newest production company, revolution Studios. (Technically speaking, The Adventures of Joe Dirt with David Spade was their first pic, but with Julia attached and Roth’s personal attention, this may be seen as their first true big market/big money bid to break wide as a production power.) Like any first date, though, this ride is bumpy and awkward with a few exceptionally pleasant turns.

The story goes as such: Eddie and Gwen are America’s Sweethearts, a powerful on/offscreen couple with a string of box office hits together…until now. She has flopped in her last two solo projects without him. He had a nervous breakdown after seeing her with a new Latin lover (Hank Azaria revisiting his time spent on the set of The Birdcage) and is now in seclusion in a Betty Fordesque retreat where is watched over by maharishi Alan Arkin in full freak out mode.

Meanwhile, back in Tinseltown, what may be their last picture together is getting ready to be released. Unfortunately for the studio head, a nerve racked Stanley Tucci, the film is being held hostage by its Oscar winning director cum Unabomber, Christopher Walken- also in full freak out mode- and its up to the studio’s publicist, schticky Billy Crystal (who also wrote the script with Peter Toland) to bring the two back together for a press junket in order to promote the film, distract the reporters from the tensions behind the curtain, and cultivate a hit picture for the studio.

Where this film fails is, I believe, in its intentions. While it appears to want to be a bit of hand-biting farce, ala Mamet with State and Main or Steve Martin’s script for Bowfinger, it is actually a bubbly romantic comedy more in the vein of Roberts’ other efforts like My Best Friend’s Wedding or Notting Hill. It is worth noting, I feel, to point out much of the seemingly fresh ribbing at the expense of press conferences and junketeers seems old hat after being lifted right out of Notting Hill. Certainly the side story hinted at in the film’s multiple trailers of the romantic relationship between John Cusack- the movie star- and the Queen of Smiles- the nobody girl (who, by the way, is supposed to be playing Catherine Zeta’s sister- See the resemblance? Neither do I) is rightly identified as the very crux which Notting Hill was built. In any case, it appears the silver tongued Crystal has gone soft. Also to the film’s discredit is Catherine Zeta Jones’ entire performance, which I sadly have the feeling is more fact than fiction. A classic Hollywood diva bitch who shines onscreen and glares most everywhere else. Think Bette Davis’ immortal performance in All About Eve with the shrill factor cranked to 11.

On the up and up are the minutiae. Especially in the comedy genre, films such as The Big Lebowski and Rushmore are good examples; the smallest additions and details make the largest impact. So, too, here in America’s Sweethearts. For example, the film that the two have been recruited to promote is called Time After Time, a sci-fi action romp whose tagline reads, “He went back in time to save her future,” a sore indictment of Hollywood’s typical lamo fare (ironic for a couple reasons too 1:strange pet project for a seasoned Oscar winning director 2: that this film is itself typical of pandering lowest-common-denominator dreck. Also watch early on for a highlight reel of their other odd couplings. Supporting performances by Walken, Tucci, and perhaps especially Seth Green as Crystal’s film-ignorant successor/protégé are all hilarious in their individual ridiculousness. The promoted film that turns up finally at the press junket, too, is a bit of cinema verite likely to turn an ugly mirror on many young starlets- though I won’t ruin the surprise.

All in all, a very on-the-level base romance from an under performing cast of A-listers.

Well off Hollywood’s beaten path, Tim Burton’s been busy mining a not-so-old American classic, Planet of the Apes, which I enjoyed immensely. Not only was it not the straight on remake that I had been (somewhat grudgingly) expecting.

This new rendition- which definitely should have kept its more ominous, less cheeky working title, The Visitor- comes complete with its own brand new twist ending to turn its predecessor on its head and prepare us for an inevitable sequel. (Burton, it should be mentioned, though, has clearly expressed his complete disinterest in returning for a second Apes feature) More changes are apparent, too. The humans talk, though they are still servile and weak. The clay structure city of old has now been replaced by a full-on city in the trees more akin to an ewok village of the Gummi Bears. This version also integrates the use of real chimps (especially in the new outer space epilogue) as well as more simianesque behavior for those hidden beneath Rick Baker’s jaw-dropping makeup effects. Also, one may notice a wide variety of ape species from guerilla gorillas to smartass orangutans as opposed to the original’s one monkey fits all aesthetic. And, last, in a bit of role reversal and good humor, Charlton Heston himself makes a great cameo as an elderly dying ape. Think of a feebler Dr. Zeus, though with equal knowledge of a hidden human past.

The premise- if you don’t already know- follows as such: Mark Wahlberg is an astronaut with the US Air Force in the near future. His objective is to train caged chimps to operate and pilot launch modules to record data in uncharted parts of space. Well, needless to say, conflict arises when his chimp disappears into space and Marky Mark Trail decides to boldly attempt an unauthorized rescue. Whoops! Wahlberg gets trapped in some sort of wormhole/time warp and before you know it *CRASH* he’s landed on the Planet of the Apes, where his experience with caged monkeys gets reversed in a bad, beaten bloody by warrior apes way. Under the guise of human activist ape Helena Bonham Carter, though (think of Nora in the original) Wahlberg’s space man is given VIP treatment and attempts to escape back to where he came from. In the meantime, he not only ruffles the fur of ape baddie General Thade (a scenery chewing Tim Roth) but begins to unravel the very core of the apes’ entire cultural history.

The major difference here between old and new- aside from those I’ve mentioned before- is time and social importance. What do we get now when we see Apes? Not a lot. A little religiosity, questions of faith and Creationism, and certainly arguments for gun control. But, really, the new Apes feels like just what we’re looking for, harmless summer fun. Back in the day, however, the social climate of America was much more radical. The struggle between man and ape did not only reflect racial turmoil stateside, but the sociopolitical struggle of young America escaping confusion amongst alienation ad the effects of the Vietnam conflict. Heston’s embattled performance and immortal line, “Get your hands off me you damn, dirty ape!” was a slap in the face America’s growing police state and a triumphant blow against assumed tyranny. In this new version, these lines are given little more respect than through coy parody. Michael Clarke Duncan as an ape, for example, bellows early on to Wahlberg, “Get your hands off me you damn, dirty human!” Later too, in a slap at the more serious racial messages of the film, the comic relief Limbo says, “Can’t we all just get along?” followed by a big audience laugh.

Last, but not least, let me stand on my soapbox for a moment. Much conversation has been had with my friends this summer over going to see this obvious summer escape. However, the more of you I talk to, the more I discover the very disturbing fact: too many people have not ever seen the original Planet of the Apes!?!?! Now, working in a video store, I know that right now is not the best time to rent the original because lots of people are doing same thing making it very hard to get a copy. But, PLEASE, do yourself a favor! See the original Planet of the Apes! What will initially seem rather cheesy (thank Heston for that) is ultimately an undeniable piece of Americana. Camp be damned! this movie is still the real deal. And, no! I will not spoil one of the greatest twist endings of all time. If you don’t already know what happens, I’m impressed and you should be happy. Having been spoofed everywhere from the Simpsons to Spaceballs, it’s a wonder that it’s not tattooed on your brain like a monkified Rosebud.

The next query inevitably asked is ‘Which should I see first?’ or ‘Do I ruin the original for myself by seeing the new one?’ Well, I will say, ‘It doesn’t matter, really, and no. I should say they are different enough as to merely compliment- but not undo- each other. While the bones of old may be excavated through a viewing of the new, you’re not digging up skin or personality (perhaps this is an awkwardly ridiculous metaphor) Love the original, enjoy this reimagining.

Last, but obviously not least is The Score. Initially I had my reservations against this film. First, the decisive grouping of the best actors of three generations, Brando, DeNiro, and soon-to-be-recognized Norton, carried a lot of weight nearly impossible to lift up to. (Sidenote: Al Pacino is truly a better actor than DeNiro, but public perception would believe otherwise) Then there was the matter of the director for this prestige project: Frank Oz. The man behind Yoda, Kermit the Frog, and Bowfinger (which was notably clever, yet silly). But, surprise! The Score comes out on top. And, yes, my favorite movies in the world are heist/perfect crime films, so perhaps I’m biased, but I think you’ll agree, this one’s a winner

This film follows- as many heist movies do- an aging criminal pulled in for one last monster job who must contend with a cocky upstart to pull off the heist. (even the Rush Hour movies employ this East meets West, age vs. attitude approach) DeNiro’s the criminal who does most of the grueling grunt work throughout the film, especially when the big job’s going down. He also is afforded the requisite love interested who stays out of his business but is really the force pushing him to pull out. In an effort, to make him seem supercool (?) she’s black and he also owns a jazz club- in Ontario. His cocky upstart is played to whiny perfection by Norton who doubles impressively and convincingly as a retarded janitor- his means of gaining identity-free access on the inside for the job to go through without trace. The man behind the plan is Brando who’s really pushing DeNiro to go through with the crime cause he turns out to pathetically owe money to the wrong people. The goal: a nearly priceless French septre being held in the supersecure Ontario Customs House- another no-no for DeNiro’s thief who never works on his home turf.

Sound a little formulaic? Well, it is a little, I suppose. However, the care and craftsmanship with which it was constructed is superb and sells the whole package very realistically and without the requisite lamo humor or cop-out explosions. Rather- and this is what really makes this movie- The Score is a performance based- not action based- action movie. A potboiler simmering inside each actor. Also, something I loved- to pull off the job, there are no crazy gadgets or laser pens or any sort of James Bond type cheat devices. Through practical application of conventional mechanics only do they proceed. (Norton does use a laptop to regulate the security cameras, but you know what I mean. DeNiro sweats his pants off the old fashioned way.)

Perhaps if there were a better abundance of smart, heist dramas, The Score would not shine like the beacon it is. However, such is not the case- and if it were, I’d probably hate heist dramas! Look at Bond or Mission Impossible movies as chief examples of what’s wrong. Gone are practical, intelligent films that stimulate through the promise of perfect crime without resorting to ridiculous and unnecessarily mindless action. The best movie I saw all summer, in fact, was released almost 50 years ago, but holds true to this basic psychological principle that smarter- not louder- is better. The film is Dial M for Murder directed by Hitchcock himself and managed to have me pinned on the edge of my seat while the entire film unraveled in one room. Other films of this ilk (brainier thriller, suspense, heist movies, I mean) that I recommend are The Manchurian Candidate, Parallax View, Topkapi, Ocean’s Eleven (the original), Out of Sight, The Big Lebowski, Three Kings and the greatest heist movie ever filmed, Jules Dassin’s Rififi, which is hard to find, but more than worth the effort.

For now, dismiss the frills of summer and Freddie Prinze Jr. Go instead to see The Score, a practical action movie for those of us sick of being dealt cinematically raw deals that promise but never deliver. And if you still like your popcorn with extra butter, Planet of the Apes should satisfy for requisite big budget summer escapism. Enjoy.