Cinelux 6

Zack Snyder's Man of Steel is a movie event with an actual movie inside, crying to get out. Despite its preposterous self-seriousness, its overgrown, CGI'ed-to-death climax, and its desperate efforts to depict the destruction of, well, everything... More »

Zack Snyder's Man of Steel is a movie event with an actual movie inside, crying to get out. Despite its preposterous self-seriousness, its overgrown, CGI'ed-to-death climax, and its desperate efforts to depict the destruction of, well, everything on Earth, there's greatness in this retelling of the origin of Superman, moments of intimate grandeur, some marvelous, subtle acting, and a superhero costume that's a feat of mad mod genius. There's almost a story here. And the actors, including the picture's quietly dazzling star, Henry Cavill, do their damnedest to draw it out. But there’s no stopping what comic-book movies have become, especially those bearing the royal seal of Dark Knight auteur Christopher Nolan. (He's one of Man of Steel's producers and also helped develop the story.) In Man of Steel, the titan in the red cape is almost a distraction from the movie's larger mission to impress us with its spectacle and vague, lofty ideals. And once Michael Shannon's General Zod shows up on Earth with his dumb little goatee, you know it will only get bigger and emptier. It's a relief just to watch the actors act once in a while, and thankfully, Snyder is astute enough to punch some breathing holes in this steel-clad colossus. Amy Adams is a fine, no-nonsense Lois Lane; she makes nosiness sultry. And Kevin Costner and Diane Lane, in their depiction of heartland parents, turn corn-pone dialogue golden. No wonder their pensive, angst-ridden kid grows up to be Henry Cavill, so who grounds the movie. His Superman is more a listener than a talker. That's probably what happens when you have X-ray vision, and you can see Cavill soaking it all in. « Less

4:30 PM, 7:45 PM, 11:00 PM

Much more entertaining than you might expect for one with "fast" or "furious" or "six" in the title, director Justin Lin's Fast & Furious 6 offers the series' most resplendent parade of chases and crashes yet, all shot and cut in that radical new... More »

Much more entertaining than you might expect for one with "fast" or "furious" or "six" in the title, director Justin Lin's Fast & Furious 6 offers the series' most resplendent parade of chases and crashes yet, all shot and cut in that radical new style, the one where audiences can apprehend in one viewing just what is supposed to be going on. In the most exciting sequence, there's a tank to be brought down, a hilariously high and long bridge, and winning business with a harpoon. That ridiculousness is topped by the climax, when the franchise's action figures must stop a cargo plane from taking off. Everybody races at what seems to be impossible speeds, for what seems to be 15 minutes, down what certainly is the world's longest runway. There's nothing to laud here in terms of storytelling, and the dialogue is all quips and exposition, but Lin aces something rare: the spirit of freewheeling play. His chases seem to take place in the mind of a 10-year-old, and there are few of the stiff dramatic scenes that in earlier editions suggested that 10-year-old's Hot Wheels had gotten stuck in the sandbox. Tyrese is given more one-liners than he's had since 2 Fast 2 Furious. Warheaded leads Vin Diesel and Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson leaven their hulking by making it clear their characters relish the mayhem. And the non-vehicular action is ace, especially an extended womano a womano between Gina Carano and Michelle Rodriguez, and one sublimely dumb bit of tag-team ass-kicking from Diesel and Johnson. « Less

4:00 PM, 7:00 PM, 10:00 PM

While at heart a Pinkett-Smith family bonding project, the kind of sci-fi play therapy Big Willie and son would get up to if they had a holodeck, the dreary After Earth still bears the stamp of authorship of M. Night Shyamalan, its director.... More »

While at heart a Pinkett-Smith family bonding project, the kind of sci-fi play therapy Big Willie and son would get up to if they had a holodeck, the dreary After Earth still bears the stamp of authorship of M. Night Shyamalan, its director. There's the handsome scenecraft, those smartly constructed revelations and jump scares, often sprung on you during a shot that seems to be about something else. (Recall the kitchen drawers and cabinets that suddenly all open in The Sixth Sense-- and recall that young writer-director's promise.) There’s that glum high seriousness and that insistence upon lit-class symbolism, no matter how risible. And there's Shyamalan's principled refusal to subordinate his ideas to narrative logic. Just minutes after being told that the planet he's crashed-landed on undergoes a fatal hard-freeze every single night, the hero leaps into a river-- the water's not bad. The kid (Jaden Smith) has to dash through some 100 kilometers of verdant Mystery Planet, while dad—stern, joyless, the Fresh Prince now a dour warrior king—grumbles junk cribbed from acting classes, Dianetics, and Tom Cruise's scenes in Magnolia: "Root yourself in this moment now. Stop, smell. What do you feel?" Jaden might face online wrath for his performance especially thanks to the pinched-up accent he's forced to adopt. He's a kid asked to do the extraordinary: compel us as he pretends to do ridiculous bullshit. As Will Smith coldly instructs him to feel, to root in this moment now, to master his own creation, I felt the purest horror I ever have at a Shyamalan film: What if this is what Jaden Smith’s life is actually like? « Less

4:50 PM, 7:30 PM, 10:15 PM

Something's misguided about a film built around magic in the digital era. When Georges Méliès transferred illusions to cinema his trickery was stunning, but with every DVD-extras documentary about CGI they see, contemporary audiences become... More »

Something's misguided about a film built around magic in the digital era. When Georges Méliès transferred illusions to cinema his trickery was stunning, but with every DVD-extras documentary about CGI they see, contemporary audiences become increasingly difficult to impress. Such considerations might have benefitted Now You See Me, Louis Leterrier's manic magic-heist film following the bank-robbing travails of a four-magician team (anchored by charming Jesse Eisenberg, whose talents extend beyond portraying the neuroses-riddled). Various magic tricks are demonstrated excitingly, if not convincingly—again, all those CGI wizards-- as the group teleports Euros from Paris to Las Vegas, makes safe-filled rooms appear empty, and instantaneously changes bank account balances. The bargain struck with Leterrier is a loan on credit-- the viewer will suspend disbelief if its clear the filmmakers will pay them back with a satisfying explanation. Here, problems arise. Whereas the purpose of a magic trick is its own entertainment, a film that raises crucial narrative questions is expected to answer them. When functioning like a magic trick, this breathlessly entertaining picture delights in its showmanship, but the more entertaining the trickery, the tougher the explanation, and when the truth is revealed the answer can't help but fail to satisfy. And like a magic trick, many of its visuals are captivating-- but the structure of a magic trick is ill-suited to cinema. « Less

4:15 PM, 7:15 PM, 10:20 PM

The formula for studio comedies the last 20 years has been simple: Dude acts like a dick for an hour, turns blandly sweet toward the end, and then everyone on the DVD commentary can claim to have made a movie about redemption. Perhaps Seth Rogen... More »

The formula for studio comedies the last 20 years has been simple: Dude acts like a dick for an hour, turns blandly sweet toward the end, and then everyone on the DVD commentary can claim to have made a movie about redemption. Perhaps Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg's wrath-of-God hang-out flick This Is the End can kill redemption cold. A deeply nondenominational Left Behind rip, the film makes absurdly literal the prick-becomes-a-man plotting that has held sway since Billy Madison. Here, it's judgment day, and our schlubby everydudes (playing themselves, who aren't everydudes at all) are holed up for the apocalypse in James Franco's compound. After much talk of where it's appropriate to ejaculate, the lugs--including Rogen, Jay Baruchel, Jonah Hill, Craig Robinson, and Franco--realize the obvious: Good people have already been raptured, and these guys haven't. ("I'm an actor," one moans in disbelief. "I bring people joy!") If they want a happy ending, and not to be devoured by horizon-straddling hellbeasts with schoolbus-sized phalluses, they'll have to stop being dicks and give the universe a reason to love them. Baruchel treats us to a winning shy-dude turn reminiscent of his itchy, appealing work years back on Judd Apatow's TV comedy Undeclared, and when all the cock-talk lets up, Rogen and Goldberg parade memorable surprises. There are ridiculous cameos (Emma Watson spits "fuck" like the word still means something), shock-effect horror kills (often of those cameo-ing actors), and stoned riffs on The Exorcist and Pineapple Express. Especially pleasurable are the light, hilarious gags on the cluelessness of Hollywood actors, especially from Jonah Hill, who has rarely been this disarming. « Less

5:20 PM, 8:00 PM, 10:30 PM

Eager young people can't find jobs; qualified older people can't find jobs. There's nothing funny about that, which is exactly why someone ought to be making comedies about it. The Internship, in which downtrodden old-school salespeople Vince... More »

Eager young people can't find jobs; qualified older people can't find jobs. There's nothing funny about that, which is exactly why someone ought to be making comedies about it. The Internship, in which downtrodden old-school salespeople Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson enter the 21st century and land internships at Google, might have been just the palliative for this sad state of affairs. But do you really want to drop 10 precious shekels (or more) on a movie so desperately unfunny it makes you want to slit your wrists? I laughed exactly once, at a moment when Vaughn’s character performs a Google search using the words "jobs for people with few skills." If you've been there yourself, you’ll probably find this funny, too. But mostly, it's depressing to watch two reasonably gifted comic actors play clueless oldies who just can't get the hang of this brand-new Internet thing. Luddite numbnuts Billy (Vaughn) and Nick (Wilson) decide the path to riches lies in the World Wide Web, and they somehow land an online interview with Google. The internship committee takes pity, and before long, Billy and Nick land at the company's headquarters, where they're forced to attend corporate brainwashing sessions while wearing stupid propeller beanies, all in the hopes of landing a job. They're also, of course, lumped in with a bunch of kids some 20 years their junior. Vaughn and Wilson look out of place and uncomfortable-- they're not just playing two getting-older guys who need to jump-start their careers, they're acting out a personal pantomime of middle-age discomfort that's unpleasant to watch. « Less

5:00 PM, 7:50 PM, 10:45 PM