Weekly round-up

>> A real-life princess, creative masturbation,
a sadomasochistic hitman and more

ENCHANTING: Enchanted

by HILLARY BRENHOUSE,
MALCOLM FRASER,
MATTHEW HAYS
and MARK SLUTSKY

Enchanted

Movies like Shrek and Hoodwinked have given po-mo makeovers to the fairy tales that were once the bread and butter of the mighty Disney empire, so it’s not surprising that the house that Mickey built would try its hand at the same thing. And on the whole, Disney’s own efforts at self-parody are considerably more charming than its imitators, as the producers have the advantage of working from within the same system that’s being spoofed. For that same reason Enchanted is a little toothless compared with the Shrek series, but it’s not as desperate for laughs either, and it’s pleasantly self-contained, with almost no cheap throwaway pop culture jokes. In it’s own way, it’s a pretty classic kids’ film.

The film starts in an animated enchanted Disney forest, where heroine Giselle (voiced by Amy Adams), along with her animal buddies, pines away for a prince to sweep her off her feet. One comes along in the form of Prince Edward (James Marsden), but his scheming stepmother (Susan Sarandon) contrives to send the poor girl into real-life New York, and all of the animated characters to eventually follow, played by the actors who voice them. Adams is truly charming as the flesh-and-blood princess, and the film follows through with a satisfying and often funny storyline. A very sweet all-around family holiday movie. (MS)

Taxidermia

PERVERSE PROGENY: Taxidermia

In the era of Saw and Hostel torture porn, shock value isn’t what it used to be. All the same, the faint of heart and stomach are advised to stay away from this review, let alone the film itself. Hungarian director György Pálfi’s (Hukkle) perverse epic is unique and daring, but the gross-out factor is through the roof.

In novelistic style, the film unfolds over three generations. The first protagonist, a soldier on a remote rural post, is a loner who burns his flesh with candles, devises the most creative masturbation techniques this side of Léolo, and fantasizes about molesting the Little Match Girl of fairy tale lore. His progeny grows up to be a champion competitive eater in a parallel-universe 1950s where the “sport” is an internationally respected athletic pursuit, and prolonged scenes of communal vomiting test the most jaded viewer’s gag reflex.

The final storyline concerns the eating champ’s son, a master taxidermist whose rail-thin body is a profound letdown to his morbidly obese dad. The son decides to avenge his father and make his mark with a taxidermy project whose extreme nature is matched by Pálfi’s unflinching camera.

There’s more to the film than just shock; Pálfi has a painterly aesthetic that recalls the ambition and originality of other one-of-a-kind works like Brazil and Delicatessen. That said, there’s barely a scene that doesn’t induce cringes, nausea or the creeps in general. If you can get past that (or revel in it), you’ll enjoy this boldly original cinematic vision. (MF)

Hitman

SERIOUS SILLINESS: Hitman

Another based-on-a-video-game movie has arrived, and sadly, unless you’re addicted to the game, Hitman probably won’t please you. In it, Timothy Olyphant—the no-hair look works beautifully for him—plays a hitman who is suddenly targeted by both his bosses at the CIA and Russian agents. This leads to plenty of shoot-’em-ups and cut-’em-ups, all magnificently shot and choreographed. Hitman is smart enough not to even attempt to grab a brain—this is sheer silliness, after all—but as an outright actioner, it wanes after a couple of action sequences.

Toss in the obligatory Euro-slut, who offers sexual tension (dig those panties) and the set-up for the occasional one-liner, and Hitman proceeds to feel mighty routine.

The fight sequences, though, are noteworthy. As Agent 47, Olyphant doesn’t simply kill someone, he brutally and painfully tortures them, giving the film an added dimension of sadomasochism. It has been argued that the extreme violence in movies like these has potent sexual overtones. There’s a funny moment when the Hot Chick throws herself at Olyphant, and he rejects her overtures (the largely-male preview audience I saw the film with had trouble suspending their disbelief for this moment). It’s fitting that their tryst is never consummated; the filmmakers seem to be consciously pointing to the fact that the real sex in this movie is happening when people are beating the living hell out of one another.

Aside from the star turn by Olyphant—look for more of him soon—Hitman is largely forgettable. And that, as it turns out, is a merciful thing. (MH)

August Rush

BUSKING LOOSE: August Rush

This syrupy Oliver Twist tale is a far cry from Kirsten Sheridan’s violent directorial debut, Disco Pigs. A wholesome family feature sure to induce a sugar high or two, her latest is one predictable pic. Freddie Highmore (Finding Neverland’s heartbreak kid) plays Evan, an idealist orphan in a New York boys’ home who listens intently to the sounds of the world hoping to hear his parents’ call.

Flashback to the fateful, far-fetched night Evan was conceived. Promising cellist Layla (Keri Russell) and brooding Irish rocker Louis (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) meet on a rooftop to gape at the full moon and swap wooden dialogue. Come morning, Layla’s career-fixated father drags her off in a limousine, and soon the sheltered Julliard grad is gripping her pregnant belly. After a car accident, she’s led to believe that she lost the unborn child.

Eleven years later (though Russell and Meyers haven’t aged a day), Evan escapes to New York City and falls in with a band of streetwise performers. The ragamuffins answer to Wizard (Robin Williams), a menacing Fagin type who sees dollar signs when the newcomer reveals miraculous musical gifts. Renamed August Rush, Evan becomes an all-star busker, reaching out to his parents with every note. Cynics beware.

Mark Mancina’s original score, and in particular, the melding of city sounds into an extraordinary rhythm, carries the drippy fantasy. Remarkable visuals, like the opening shot of wheat fields swaying to Evan’s conductor-like commands, don’t hurt either. It’s a maudlin, make-believe story soaked through with hammy acting (Highmore’s onscreen sincerity is the exception), but moments of genuine charm manage to tug at the heartstrings. (HB)

Cannes Lions 2007 International Advertising Festival

The irony is a rich one. Every year, people line up around the block to pay to see advertisements that were created to sell something. But there are reasons why people line up—these are the cream of the crop, the very best ads chosen from around the world. And they are often very, very well done. In essence, they are short-film exercises, testing the creators to be as clever as they possibly can in a matter of a minute or two.

This year’s anthology feels a bit lacking, but there are some gems in the mix. In particular, some ads to persuade people that same-sex marriage isn’t such a bad thing are sharp, as well as a horror-movie montage that manages to plug the Volkswagen brand. Notably, CGI has altered the wonderful world of advertising as much as it has cinema and TV; there’s a very funny Bud Lite ad involving rubber floors. On the downside, I’m really sick of the PC vs. Mac series. They were mildly amusing the first 300 times I saw them, but they’ve become seriously tired.

Still, this collection is worth seeing. Check your attention span at the door and submit to the power of this ode to clever capitalists. Chances are you’ll be hankering to buy, drink, and/or eat something on your way out of the cinema. (MH)

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