Movie Review: District 9

Movie Review: District 9
Dir: Neill Blomkamp

So many alien movies, and so many movies that simply have aliens in them. Aliens are just that, alien to what we, as a culture, know and can relate to. One of the reasons I love science fiction is because of the alien worlds and alien cultures. What District 9 does so well is to meld alien concepts and alien technology with a human culture and technology, and it does it with subtlety and with distinction all in one go. It comments on human nature with chest-popping brutishness, but still retains some subtle nuances that not only keep the film watchable but make it worth watching.

But I could prattle on from my humanist soap-box all day. That would be easy. Instead I am going to just pick a few aspects of what I found to be bits of artistic genius. I thoroughly loved this movie. As an amateur critic, though, I feel compelled to say at least something derogatory to ensure I retain some respectability amongst my peers: it was completely unbelievable in nearly every aspect even as it worked so hard to be a believably realistic oeuvre. With that out of the way, please indulge me while I gush.

The movie is about a race of intergalactic aliens who have arrived at Johannesburg, South Africa in a sort of colony ship. They arrive starving and are quickly placed into a kind of refugee camp, where they will continue to remain starving and poor. Poverty breeds crime and social programs, both of which take an economic toll on society, and at this point the movie uses the foil of post-apartheid cultures in South Africa to create a setting for the main plot of the movie. A well-meaning social worker named Wikus is accidentally exposed to a alien fuel-source and begins to genetically transform into an alien himself. This transformation makes him a hot commodity, since he is now the only human capable of using the genetically attuned weaponry the aliens brought with them. After escaping the deprivations of the medical/military/corporate community and the neo-religious/rebelious warlord/black-market community, Wikus falls in with an alien and his son, who have completed secret work on a transport ship designed to return them to the now-empty mothership, which has just been floating around above Johannesburg. Wikus finally locates the moral high ground and sacrifices his humanity to assist the two aliens in making their escape.

Sharlto Copley is a treasure in this film. He plays the dorky social worker with nuance and just the right amount of thoughtless racism, never stooping too low or backing down. A testament to the script, the character doesn't really find the path we so desperately want him to find until the last few minutes of the movie, hold onto all that we as viewers loath about despicable characters like a cultural lifeline. The leader of the military forces actually looked and acted like a coworker of mine, which made his deplorable attitude of “shoot first, because it is easier than asking questions, and kinda fun t' boot” all the more haunting. The quasi-documentary feel which began with the short-film (I urge your to watch it on Youtube.com) is a wonderful touch. The special effects were awesome, if grotesque. The aliens are realistic CGI, but with a conscious thought given to their movement and behavior, dress and voice. We find them wearing bras, caricatures of humanity, or their outer carapaces spray-painted as though clothed. The equipment is scratched and dented and sufficiently lived in. The setting is the worst living conditions imaginable, made all the more sad because it was filmed on location.

I appreciated the moral decadence that is portrayed in this movie, not because I believe it is a great motivator for the bad guys, but because it is so well handled. Everyone who portrays a morally black facade has a whole slew of reasons to support it; conscious reasons. Realistic reasons. The populace is upset over the cost, while the government wants alien technology, and the gangs want power, and the individuals want what so many individuals want when faced with an alien culture in their midst; power to usage their fears. Wikus even has his own reasons for turning on the only beings on the planet that can help him, a fear laced with a manic urgency to escape his plight. And though the movie is designed to let us loath all that is bitter about humans, there is still the seed of “how would I feel in that situation... how do I feel when I'm in that situation now?” planted like a weed within our souls.

District 9 is an unbelievable movie because there are way too many loopholes and unaddressed points. But it is well made, thought-provoking movie that brought an original idea and made it poignant and entertaining.

Movie Review: Cloverfield

Movie Review: Cloverfield
Dir: Matt Reeves

For me to review Cloverfield I must sadly include spoilers, so here is my warning up front.
(Spoiler Alert)
With a purposeful grimace and a terrible sound
He pulls the spitting high tension wires down, Godzilla!

Helpless people on subway trains
Scream BUG-EYED as he looks in on them, Godzilla!

He picks up a bus and he throws it back down
As he wades through the buildings toward the center of town, Godzilla

Oh no, they say he's got to go
Go go Godzilla, yeah
Oh no, there goes Tokyo
Go go Godzilla, yeah
Lyrics: D. Roeser, Sung by Blue Oyster Cult

Now, with the spoilers out of the way, on with the synopsis.

Cloverfield begins at a going away party, carries on through various Manhattan locales, and ends up under a bridge. Several people begin the movie alive, but ultimately none of them do. And along the journey of these hapless victims of America's own 30 story city-stomping monster, various thrilling events transpire that are meant to startle us, make us sad, have us cheering for the heroes, and hopefully gape in awe at the magnitude of destruction. The film-makers do a pretty decent job of it. The actors are all unknowns who may very well stay that way. The monster is not quite a cool as Godzilla. Since we have seen this before it is all mostly ok. Like I said, the film-makers do a pretty decent job.

It was marketed in hushed tones; secrecy being of the utmost importance. I had a pretty good idea of what the movie was about, but it has been a couple years since it was released, and I hear things. I remember thinking “Oh, that's clever: don't give away what the movie is about, so it is a surprise.” As I watched the various behind the scenes featurettes following my viewing, I began to realize that this movie was designed, from the onset, to be a gimmick; a glorious, epic gimmick. J.J. Abrams is unabashed when he talks about how he came about the original concept, believing it was high-time America had it's own timeless cult idol akin to Godzilla. I can see how the first-person camera shooting, designed to look like the viewer is watching the recovered footage of a lost camcorder, is just another gimmick. The choices to make the head of the Statue of Liberty crash down a crowded street, how the monster is never seen in its full glory but instead barely caught on tape as it turns down another corner several blocks away, how each victim is killed in a uniquely horrendous fashion; all this is gimmick piled on top of gimmick. Even the marketing campaign, cleverly hiding the monster, never hinting at what the movie is really about, is just another in a long string of gimmicks. Now, I believe in setting the hook to draw in movie-goers, but this is all hook, nothing but hook.

I am not even sure how to review this anymore, because I can nit-pick the various little flaws and inconsistencies, or I can rail against the lack of original thought, or I can point fingers at nifty special effects wizardry and bad acting and trite script and clever art... but that doesn't feel right because the movie wasn't about portraying any of that. It was, if I may be so bold, a big-budget indie-film whose unique statement is “I'll get you to watch this movie, by God!” And in that regard, I guess I would have to give it hesitant thumbs-up. The makers did a wonderful job of packing in as many gimmicks as possible in the making of this movies. What else can I say, but “Well done!” So many other film-makers take the high-road and refuse to incorporate more than just a select few gimmicks, usually designed to somehow enhance the telling of the story or showcasing the special effects. Cloverfield's creators didn't have that creative valve, they included whatever they could think of. I am just sad, for them, that the current trend of 3D has arrived too late, though I am not ruling out a “Special Producer's 3D Edition (finally rendered the way the producer originally intended to sell it)” in the possible future.

Cloverfield was fun, but I like Godzilla movies. We have an understanding; I don't expect much from them, and they don't try to deliver. Instead they focus on what works for this unique genre “Glorious Chaos”. Cloverfield succeeds in delivering this for us, and does so on an impressive variety of gimmicky fronts. So, if you are 12 years old, love seeing things destroyed by monsters, and are impressed by the dime-store tricks of a marketing department with Attention Deficit Disorder and more room to run than a 30-story lizard in down-town Tokyo, then I believe this movie will please you.

Movie Review: Pandorum

Review: Pandorum
Dir: Christian Alvart

I love Sci-Fi. Since I was a kid the genre has held me captivated. I remember how my dad exposed me to the classics: 2001: a Space Odyssey, Silent Running, Soylent Green, and I'll never forget the impact Star Wars made on me when I watched it with him on the big screen that spring of '77. Those early exposures forever locked me into the geek community as a fan of Science Fiction, and I am forever grateful.

Sadly, there are so few well made science fiction movies out there. I am not sure what the formula is for a good Sci-Fi movie, but many somehow just seem to miss the mark, though all the elements are apparently present. Pandorum has the makings of a good space-thriller, but falls sadly short. This time I know it is the script which was lagging.

It takes place on a colony ship traveling to a distant planet found years earlier to be habitable by the human race. We learn early on that some cataclysmic events on earth left it as the last hope for mankind to exist in the galaxy, so a lot of pressure was put on the crew, who work in decade-long shifts, to arrive safely. The story begins with crewman Bower and officer Payton waking up from deep-freeze at their supposedly allotted time to begin their shift. But, something is very wrong, because they are alone, trapped in the tail-end of the ship without power or a clue. Bower, played perfectly by the up-&-coming Ben Foster, does all the grunt work leaving the aging Dennis Quaid to relax as the befuddled lieutenant. Bower breaks into the rest of the ship to discover it is overran with a seemingly alien race that is feeding on the remaining crew-members who are running around like adolescent boys on a deserted island. At this point the action is thrilling and set design is superb. The ship, which we learn has somehow been abandoned for nearly a thousand years, periodically wakens crew-members to a struggle to survive among the “aliens”, who are actually genetically transformed human clones designed to learn to survive a yet unknown hostile environment, but which has become the powerless husk of the colony ship. Bower knows he can change everything if he can just reboot the ship's main power-source, the reactor, but he has to make it there alive. He does this by enlisting the aid of some of the wary crew who have been surviving for years by hiding among the ship's miles of corridors.

I was enjoying the movie at this point, because the acting was pretty good, though Dennis Quaid was a bit stale in his role. The genetically transmogrified clones were scary and alien. The ship was brilliantly hostile and broken and huge. It all fell apart, really, when the explanations begin to sew the plot together. I got the impression the writers had a groovy concept but were left spending sleepless nights over endless pots of coffee trying to tie it all together into a coherent story. What WE get is a final half-hour of the movie spent full to brimming with disjointed revelations leading to a deus ex machina ending that is made all the more trite by Hollywood's need to put a pretty bow on top.

Hollywood has made some impressive leaps when it comes to portraying a believable sci-fi/fantasy world. There is magic in there, when the movie carries the viewer into the dream. It is lost, however, when the fact that good story-telling is forsaken, when one artist palette is given precedence over another. A good movie is an amalgam of several art forms, not the least of which is good story-telling. And though Pandorum is pretty and impressive and conceptually inviting, it isn't a good balance of those key elements.

Series Review: My Name is Earl

Going to break from the original plan and talk about a TV series I've been watching instead of a movie, and offer up my review of it. My preference is to avoid the delay that comes from watching television series through the networks, and instead wait for the DVD packaging of the entire season. I do this for a couple reasons: I hate commercials and if I can avoid supporting the practice I will, and I don't wish to wait for the next episode, preferring instead to immerse myself completely in the show.

The last couple days have been spent enjoying a series I saw the first episode of when it was originally aired, then walking away while I patiently waited for the DVD's to arrive. I then completely lost track of it until now. It has since been canceled in regular syndication, but the seasons that were made, as of this writing, can be conveniently seen on Netflix, which I have been doing.

“My Name is Earl” was a brilliant premise: A guy, who has lived his life doing 'bad stuff' because he is self indulgent and lazy, finds a winning lottery ticket only to be hit by a car during his initial celebration. His time spent in the hospital in traction, watching Carson Daly talk about a blessed life led with the knowledge that Karmic Destiny will ensure what comes around goes around, becomes a moment of refection for Earl, and the impetus of an epiphany. Earl makes a list of all the things he has done in his life which were 'bad' and is now on a quest to set right all the wrongs made by his hand. Each episode is another number on the list, as he picks and chooses, at random, which wrong to right today.

The moral and ethical dilemma's are fun, especially when pondered by the group of white-trash, racist, criminally pathological and down-right idiot characters that comprise the cast. Earl doesn't just have to deal with a car he stole during his days of mischievous debauchery; no, he must deal with the one-legged one-night-stand he drunkenly took to bed and ran out on when the fog of beer wore off the morning after, and who's car he made his terrified get-away in, shotgun blasting behind him by the hopping one-legged victim. He doesn't just need to decide how to handle an ex-wife, but one who duped him into marriage while she was pregnant with another man's baby, and who's second child was not only also not Earl's, but a different race as well. And all through this show we get to see the rationale that led to Earl's original sin, and the trials he must endure to pay back for those choices now. It is all tongue-in-cheek, taking race relations, petty crimes, emotional/physical abuse and ignorance in stride while it reaches down and finds the heart behind the harmfulness.

What makes this show work is a combination of brilliance from many directions. The writing is wonderfully rude and caustic, hilarious and base, yet grounded in integrity and sincerity. The characters are drawn with brash colors, but there are subtleties that grant them more than one dimension. The artistic direction holds onto the trailer-park chic of the characters and setting, giving us working examples of the pool Jerry Springer dips into daily. The concept is simple, yet sincere. And it was designed to carry the message of the show effortlessly, which it does.

Jason Lee plays Earl, a rogue looking for the enlightened path. With an untrimmed Burt Reynolds mustache and eyebrows that dance like ballerinas on his brow, Jason breathes life to a character at once flawed and full of heart. He is the moral compass of the show, yet he doesn't quite know how to read his new-found compass, and Jason allows this ignorant innocence to shine through brilliantly. Earl is unkempt, brutish and driven, naive and sincere. The rest of the cast add equal genius to their respective characters, each one showing the worst of a white-trash caricature while pulling from deep inside a heart that can touch us profoundly. Of special note is Jaime Pressley, who's character Joy is so caustic, so rude and repugnant, so deliciously racist and repulsive and lacking any 'polite' setting on her dial. Her beautiful face is rubber when she calls on it to be, reminiscent of Jim Carrey. Constantly twisting into grotesque emotional roadsigns that don't just enhance the attitude of this powerful woman but often turn her into the gargoyle she is portraying, Jaime's lovely face is always flipping from feigned indulgence, unchecked aggression, and cherubic evil by turns. Wrapped in the daisy-dukes of her particular species, she is at once heart-stoppingly beautiful and horrendously aberrant. The entirely of the cast carries some form of this dichotomy with them in their characters

The show is a treasure. I laugh continuously while I watch it. It is filled with subtle nuance, after-school-special life-lessons, and jaw-dropping inappropriateness. It reminds me of what was done right by such shows as Arrested Development. It is a great series, on every level.

Movie Review: Zombieland

Review: Zombieland

Dir: Ruben Fleischer

Being a fan of comedy I have given over a portion of my attention to what comprises a good joke. Now my detractors will immediately state that humor is subjective, and to label any one thing as particularly funny while another may be labeled as not is merely an opinion on my part. As a retort, I would remind my detractors that there are, indeed, universal gags that transcend opinion and subjectivity, and the people who don't appreciate even the most fundamental comedic gags likely didn't get the joke.

Zombieland is a brilliantly written piece based in a post-apocalyptic world where some minimally explained virus has turned nearly all of humanity into mindless flesh-craving zombies. That is all that needs to be said about the setting; zombie movies through the years have explored every possible avenue of the genesis of zombies, and for a movie deigning to leave the over-taxed subject aside it justifiably just isn't important anymore. The story instead follows the life of a young man who, resolutely introspective in the normal world, finds a reason to emerge from his self-imposed cocoon while struggling as a survivor in a harsh environment under barbaric conditions. It is a coming of age tale, truth be told. What stands out, however, is the quality of writing and story telling; how this otherwise simple tale combined with a tired horror concept is given new life.

There is a particular gag among the myriad of wonderful comedic offerings in this buffet which stood out for me while I watched. And as I now sit reflecting on it, I ask myself why it was so effective. The gag is the young type-A hero's list of survival rules, of which we are given constant examples of as the movie roles on. “Don't be a hero”, “Cardio (being in shape)”, the “Double-Tap” (which simply means ensuring a Zombie is dead by shooting it once it is down and seemingly out, just to make sure). These rules are helpfully displayed on the screen reminiscent of a narrative along the bottom of a page in a novel. Just in case you missed Rule No. 17 in action, a partially interactive text pops on the screen and helps you along. It is a running gag, and it works powerfully in the way this story was told.

This quasi-horror movie doesn't fit in the horror category anymore because of gags like this. It is a comedy, and from the very beginning we are allowed to ignore the inconsistencies, laugh along with the whole-sale, and often ingeniously performed (note the “Zombie Kill of the Week”) slaughter of countless, otherwise tragic, beings. When the gore is thickest, and the tension is high, a moment of text will highlight the screen and remind us about Rule No. 9, and that it is OK to breathe, to laugh, to cheer the carnage. The timeless Running Gag has got our back all through the movie.

It even makes an appearance at the very end, when an important rule is broken, when our hero finds the nerve to break free from his self-imposed isolation. It is symbolic of how we all realize the rules we impose on ourselves may have had meaning, a clear rational cause for existence earlier in our lives and once served to protect us. Yet our circumstances change over time. Those rules sometimes debilitate us more, now, than they protect us. Heavy message to bring to the table. But not to worry; the Running Gag is here to remind us to breathe, and to laugh, and to cheer our hero as he learns to grow.

This movie is fun to watch. It is laugh out loud funny, which is always more when shared it with a group of friends, so I suggest you watch it with friends. The jokes are often small and subtle in contrast to the gun-shots and falling pianos and mobs of flesh hungry zombies being blasted from the seat of a roller-coaster. But that makes them all the more effective. It is a movie of contrasts, being both stomach churningly gross and tear producingly endearing. The actors are given the room to make us care about them and their survival, even as we find ourselves initially comparing them to people we know and don't like. It is horrific, it is touching, it is funny, and it is thrilling. And it knows how to tell the joke so everyone can get it.

Movie Review: Michael Clayton

Review: Michael Clayton

Dir: Tony Gilroy

Movies come in many shapes and colors, that much is obvious to even the most casual movie-goer. As a movie-phile I am not above pigeonholing any film that I feel warrants it, and Michael Clayton, in my opinion, warrants a good pigeonholing. I enjoyed the film. I think, however, it is a vehicle for one actor, and for him alone. George Clooney is a great actor, and this movie does a wonderful job of focusing on him, but to the exclusion of nearly everyone else who rounds out this star studded cast.

Michael Clayton is about a lawyer who holds the thankless role of being the “fixer” in a high-powered legal firm who represents huge multinational corporations when their deprivations lead to the odd class-action lawsuit. When the actions of a fellow attorney in the firm threaten to bring down the tenuous house of cards a chemical company has built for itself, Michael is called on to bring the errant lawyer to heel, convince him to put his clothes back on and start taking his meds again, and must do all this while the thoroughly evil head of the thoroughly evil corporation is pulling out everything from her thoroughly evil bag of tricks to eliminate any possible legal string from being pulled to unravel her tailor-made white-color corporate power-suit. The result, predictably, is said unravelling, and along the way we watch the thoroughly evil corporation as it is painted in darker and darker shades and money and power trump ethics at every turn. Michael, who appears to be the antithesis of the common man, is colored as an anti-hero until the last frames of the movie when his own ethically gray choices are redeemed by a last act of character defining heroism. But that is just the plot.

George Clooney's personal history of anti-corporate, pro-environmental political stances aside, this movie is all about him carrying a story for the director. It isn't a bad story, though it isn't all that original. The character of Clayton is a troubled anti-hero, as I mentioned, estranged from members of his family even as he tries to hold onto the relationship with his son, whom he sees as often as any divorcee is able given the company-oriented choices he has made which likely led to the divorce. As an example of what is original in this character study is how the director has allowed this to become merely a facet of Michael and his son's life, rather than pelting us with the bricks of morality many other directors may have resorted to. Michael is a flawed creature in a self-serving world, and isn't above the resentments we all hold on to when our relationships let us down, whether it be our families or our business partners, yet this is life as normal as life gets. Michael is dealing with issues concerning his brother, concerning his role in the company, concerning his clients, concerning the choices he made to arrive where he is. And instead of hammering home the heavy consequence of not always taking the ethical high-road, Michael Clayton is just a man struggling from one day to the next, bouncing back and forth as he strives to handle each issue in his life. At one point, as Michael is driving back from a family birthday party where his estranged brother made an uncomfortable appearance in front of his son; he stops the car and gives his son a short, heart-felt acknowledgment designed to guide him along life's obstacle ridden path. The scene isn't forced, but rather filled with the frustration of a resentful brother and essential father trying to do what is right, and not knowing what that right thing necessarily is. And Clooney carries the role of Clayton with as much subtlety as the director and writer asked for, a testament to the chemistry that must have been present on-set. The performance, the entire portrait, is therefore much more satisfying to behold, because it isn't forced, it is simply realistic.

Which is such a contrast from the rest of the characters in the film. The errant lawyer, over-played by the otherwise wonderful Tom Wilkinson (who just can't seem to keep his clothes on after “The Full Monty”) is more caricature than believable brilliant but bipolar trial lawyer who finds his moral compass late in the game and can only see the most self-destructive methods for righting the wrongs of his past. Tilda Swinton tries to evoke a level of humanity in her portrayal as the corporate demon, but her wonderful performance just isn't given the legs to really run. Sydney Pollack doesn't even try to repaint his portrayal as lead partner in the legal firm in shades of gray, letting the stereotype of the self-serving lawyer be his only muse. Nope, George Clooney is the only actor here allowed to put his best foot forward. And though he does, with a performance that evokes sympathy as well as disgust, his is the only character with more than 2 dimensions. I guess that shouldn't be a surprise; after all, the movie is named “Michael Clayton”.

I liked the movie quite a bit, because it is very well made, has a compelling story and a compelling performance by a great actor. It is refreshing in it's portrait of a man being human, making human choices, and struggling to find the conscientious path when that path isn't clear. It isn't a huge surprise at the end, but it is satisfyingly executed. If anything, it is a reminder that not all pieces of art are required to be brilliant or break the boundaries of whatever medium they exist in. Some pieces of art are simply well made, and a pleasure to appreciate.

Movie Review: Bad Taste

Bad Taste

Dir.: Peter Jackson

You may have heard of Peter Jackson. I'll assume you have.
We take for granted that creators of works of art which we consider classics have always been masters of their art. It is almost inconceivable that a renown artist was once simply a gifted amateur with a passion and a dream. Even more incomprehensible; an amateur showing little talent for the genre. Peter Jackson has been gracious enough to show us his early days as a budding director. He has a few slasher/horror movies to his credit, and stomach-churning gore was his canvas of choice. Bad Taste marks a moment is his career when money was nonexistent, plot and script were almost after-thoughts, and special effects producing the maximum amount of reaction from the viewer were high on the list of priorities. I won't criticize Jackson's muse; there is a huge fan following for such films and I am not going to judge the taste of others. What I will say is that Jackson the Auteur was still groping to find his way at this stage. There is a distinctive style, but the brush-strokes are broad and brutal.

Jackson doesn't make a narrative story so much as speak to you while throwing bricks at you, so to speak. The true star of this film is the gross-factor. At one point a hero of the movie has fallen to his seeming death over the side of a truly horrific cliff sprouting rocks and boulders like a Chia pet sprouts, well, sprouts. After a few scenes this hero, who was last seen sprawled across the rocks as a lifeless corpse, flails away the luckless seagulls and pulls himself back together; quite literally. A brilliant piece of cheap make-up has the back of the hero's skull hanging open like a trap-door, and bits of brain are falling out in a heap. He tries to shake the fuzziness out of his vision, feels the pangs of his missing brains, spots the stuff he is missing in a small gelatinous pile behind him; and proceeds to scoop it up and stuff it back into the open cavity, gravel, stray scrub-grass, seagull shit and all. A handy top hat found in a nearby wrecked car serve to keep his brain-flap closed until he can find his companions.

The movie is tongue-in-cheek, the budget consisted of pizzas and soft-drinks, and the script was likely written on the backs of tavern coasters. The special effects and make-up are pretty impressive, considering the amount of money going into the production, which is likely the truest testament to Jackson's genius. He made a bad film, but obviously wasn't aiming high, so it works. I am not a fan of this genre, but I could still appreciate the crafting of this piece of art. I didn't enjoy it enough to watch it again and again, but enough to have seen it once.

What really stood out for me was watching the formation of a truly great director who is finding his way. His use of guerrilla cinematography and cuts that make little sense for the viewer are tell-tale signs that he was still an amateur finding his way. His creativity, though aimed at producing a desired reaction, still shines like a lighthouse beacon through the fog of the film's other limitations. I had more fun comparing what he produced then and is able to produce now than I had actually watching the film for what it offered on it's own.

Movie Review: In the Name of the King

There is a song, by Whitesnake, and the opening lines go something like this:
“Who knows where the cold wind blows?
I ask my friends, and nobody knows.
Who am I to believe in love?
O-o-oh, love ain't no stranger.”

When I stop and reflect on that verse I tend to think, WTF? What the heck does that mean? That doesn't make any sense at all! Gawd! Whitesnake sucks!

So I pop in a movie and watch it instead. Movies offer me more. I get the complete package; compelling story, epic sounds and stirring music, lovingly crafted characters and an overall artistic rendering that can be seen as a whole, or micro-analyzed, and loved. Or hated. Which brings me to my first movie review.

“In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Story", came out in early 2008. It looked pretty fun, as per the trailer. But that is the job of the trailer, isn't it; to convince enough people to go watch a movie in it's opening week that the cost to make it is hopefully recovered? And this trailer did what it could, gentle readers. It did all it possibly could.

Just like the actors. There are some names in this cast which will stand out for you: Jason Stratham, John Rhys-Davies, Ray Liotta, Burt Reynolds, Ron Perlman, LeeLee Sobieski, Claire Forlani, Matthew Lillard... all of whom have some pretty impressive careers behind them. This vehicle, however, was beyond their impressive abilities and experience. The unexplainable mix and awkward chemistry of these actors feels more like a casting director calling in all the favors he was owed in one desperate push. The script was... well, let me tell you the story first. Allow me to tell you the plot, first, because I believe you will know the script shortly afterward.

Plot: Savage human/animal army is invading a kingdom, lead by an evil sorcerer from his dark lair. He has seduced the nephew of the king with promises of power, and the daughter of his arch-rival the King's Magus with promises of love. The evil army's first stop on the road to the castle is the small town of Stonebridge, where they kill the son of , and kidnap the wife of, “Farmer”, who has no other name because he has no parents and lives now as a, well, a farmer. Farmer is determined to get his family back, and though he has no love for the King, discovers along the way he really is the long-lost illegitimate prince. When people are pitching this to their producers over pricey brunches and say things like “it practically writes itself” they aren't exaggerating; after having been told so many times, there is no original way left to tell it. Oh, here is an unexpected twist; Farmer is a master with the Boomerang. Bet you didn't see that one coming.

So, now you've read the script (make up any tripe in your head, and as long as it doesn't shoot really far off the mark and can be brought back around somehow, like the toss of a boomerang, then you will be fairly close to the document the actors were handed.), all you need is a hook. Uwe Boll already has that covered. This movie is based on a video game, Dungeon Siege, which was an uninspiring RPG that didn't offer much innovation to a market already saturated by the fantasy genre. There are games that stand out as having achieved greatness and would acquire places of honor in a gaming hall of fame, but Dungeon Siege isn't one of those games. Does that mean it doesn't warrant a film based on its, uh, inspiration? Well, I will just say that it got what it deserved, and leave it at that.

Uwe Boll deserves recognition. Not many people can take a bad script and unoriginal story, and make it worst than the sum of its parts so effectively. And I place the blame for the mediocrity of this film completely on his shoulders. The actors do their best to rise from the mire of this script. Burt as the King is struggling to find his regal bearing, John is only a glance away from the misplaced camera's be convince us of his mystic power, And Ray Liotta is always just about to let his captivating smile and piercing eyes do the talking, but the cinematography is horrible and each scene is cut far too soon. Claire Forlani and Jason Stratham have a touching moment early in the movie, where his rough exterior is being gently prodded by her passionate love for him; just as we are beginning to fall in love with these characters ourselves, the scene is brutally cut, and we are left with precious little to carry us through the rest of the movie. Farmer's rag-tag group of friends he has enlisted to follow him to hell and back (I assume you already deduced he had one) show the signs of rib-poking fun all battle-hardened warriors share with each other, but each instance feels like it was slotted in afterwards, as though Uwe didn't come up with the idea until late in the shoot and wanted to splice them in whenever he found a spot. The run-time on certain scenes feels like it was determined using a dart-board, and the person in charge of continuity showed up late to the editing party, still hung over from the wrap-party. Uwe was the director, and ultimately it was his decision to carry on with a tired script, poor camera placement in nearly every scene, and editing that was done using a paper-shredder. It was his decision, and he deserves the blame for this movie

[Spoiler Alert] The movie does end, and I for one, was grateful for that.