Movie/TV Reviews

The Other Boleyn Girl

Susan Granger’s review of “The Other Boleyn Girl” (Columbia Pictures/Focus Features)

It’s not really fair to compare a film adaptation with its novel source. While a novel can sprawl over hundreds of pages, a movie generally wraps in about two hours. But this dull mediocrity is an insult to Philippa Gregory’s historical concept of the two rival sisters who both bedded England’s King Henry VIII.
When Henry’s first wife, Catherine of Aragon (Ana Torrent), was unable to bear him a heir, the King’s (Eric Bana) attention was drawn to the nubile daughters of Sir Thomas Boleyn (Mark Rylance) and his wife (Kristin Scott Thomas). Feisty, flirtatious Anne (Natalie Portman) was the obvious choice since she was the elder and, besides, her younger sister Mary (Scarlett Johanson) was already married to a local merchant. But Henry preferred dutiful Mary, dispatching her to serve as his Queen’s lady-in-waiting. Soon Mary became pregnant but her child, alas, was a bastard. Then Anne, having returned from exile in the French court, caught his eye. But she held out for marriage. So Henry Tudor divorced Catherine, abandoned Mary, ditched Roman Catholicism and started his own Church of England. Eventually, Anne had a daughter – who became Elizabeth I – but Anne was beheaded so that Henry could marry Jane Seymour.
Good story, eh? Not the way that screenwriter Peter Morgan (“The Queen”) and former TV director Justin Chadwick present it. Underwritten to the point of sketchiness, you need to understand British history for any of it to make much sense. Neither sensual nor sexy, Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johanson seem to be groping for subtlety in their characterizations – while Eric Bana just gropes. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “The Other Boleyn Girl” is a clumsy, clunky 4, totally lacking in passion and cohesion.

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Vantage Point

Movie/TV Reviews / Susan

Susan Granger’s review of “Vantage Point” (Sony Pictures Entertainment)

This terrorism thriller has a terrific premise but fizzles into a forgettable formula.
In Salamanca, Spain, global leaders have gathered for an important World Summit Against Terrorism. At a midday rally in the city’s crowded Plaza Mejor, just as the President of the United States (William Hurt) is about to speak, he is shot by an assassin. Then a bomb goes off, reducing the government building behind him to rubble, as a TV news producer (Sigourney Weaver) and her crew watch, horrified by what’s unfolding in front of them.
This incident is repeated again and again, each time from a different person’s point-of-view, much like Kurosawa’s concept in his classic “Rashomon.”
There’s the perspective of Thomas Barnes (Dennis Quaid), an understandably edgy, veteran Secret Service agent who, a year ago, took a bullet to save his Commander-in-Chief’s life. At his side is his colleague, Agent Taylor (Matthew Fox), who has another angle, as does a plainclothes Spanish cop (Eduardo Noriega) and an observant American tourist (Forest Whitaker) who chronicles everything on his camcorder.
Although screenwriter Barry L. Levy and director Peter Travis add a fillip of new information, a tantalizing clue, with each retelling, tedium soon sets in, along with growing disbelief. Quick cuts and throbbing music punctuate the seemingly indestructible Barnes’ pursuit of the culprit. The climactic chase is ludicrous, as a multitude of characters careen through crowds, dodge bullets and crash cars – as the body count mounts. Obviously, there’s a dastardly conspiracy but the motive behind this complex exercise in lunacy is never revealed. So there’s no emotionally satisfactory payoff – and far too many loose ends.
On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Vantage Point” is a suspenseful 6 but it’s all too far-fetched to matter much.

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Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day

Movie/TV Reviews / Susan

Susan Granger’s review of “Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” (Focus Features)

The 1930s and ‘40s were the heyday of Hollywood’s screwball romantic comedies and now, for a brief, fleeting moment, that charming, irresistible nonsense has returned.
In 1939 in London, middle-aged Miss Guinevere Pettigrew (Frances McDormand) is summarily fired from yet another governess position, a profession for which she is obviously not well suited. Downtrodden and desperate, she swipes an employment agency reference and presents herself as a ‘social secretary’ to an American actress/cabaret singer, Delysia Lafosse (Amy Adams), whose hectic, chaotic life is in need of the kind of order and common sense that Miss Pettigrew dispenses with gallant aplomb. And, while untangling Delysia’s frivolous web of deceit and deception, Miss Pettigrew seizes the exhilarating opportunity to forge a future for herself that she never dreamed possible.
The screenplay by Simon Beaufoy and David Magee – evolving over a 24-hour period – was based on Winifred Watson’s scandalous novel which – back in 1938 – glorified sexually liberated women flouting convention and class distinction. Recently rediscovered by Persephone Books, London’s Daily Mail cited the book’s Cinderella-like message “that everyone, no matter how poor or prim or neglected, has a second chance to blossom in the world.”
Frances McDormand (“Fargo”) merges her down-to-earth intensity with Amy Adams’ (“Enchanted”) recklessness impatience, as they share a mutual, unconquerable hopefulness. Reduced to stereotypes by director Bharat Nalluri (“Tsunami: The Aftermath”), the men (Lee Pace, Ciaran Hinds, Tom Payne, Mark Strong) fare less well, as their giddy fun becomes very deliberate very quickly, their hijinks emerging as complacent, rather than adventurous or daring. Nevertheless, on the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” is a stylish, sparkly 7. Amid the dark, dreary dirges on the screen, it’s wonderfulness on a rampage.

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Penelope

Movie/TV Reviews / Susan

Susan Granger’s review of “Penelope” (Stone Village Productions)

Giving a gender tweak to “Beauty and the Beast,” this is a contemporary fable about a princess who is cursed with a pig snout.
Many years ago, a heartless Wilhern aristocrat impregnated a young serving girl. Her mother, a witch, gave the family a curse that the next female child would be born with a deformity – a pig’s snout – that will only disappear when one of her own blue-blooded kind loves her. For generations, there were only sons – until Penelope (Christina Ricci).
When she was born, sleazy tabloid journalists, like Lemon (Peter Dinklage), so hounded the family that her overly protective parents (Catherine O’Hara, Richard E. Grant) faked her death. Sweet-natured porcine Penelope grew up sheltered in an attic bedroom, surrounded by toys. But now she’s of age – and a proper socialite suitor must be found.
One cad (Simon Woods), who escapes before he signs the required confidentiality agreement, babbles about the Miss Piggy encounter which alerts Lemon that Penelope Wilhern is still alive. Together they connive to hire Max (James McAvoy) to pose as a prospective husband and snap a photograph. But while clueless Max is charmed by her, he cannot propose, so Penelope flees into the outside world where she’s befriended by a bike courier, Annie (Reese Witherspoon, also executive producer), and, eventually, decides to go public.
Written by Leslie Caveny and directed by first-time filmmaker Mark Palansky, it’s a whimsical romance. Shedding her usual caustic persona, Christina Ricci cleverly embodies the plucky heroine and Peter Dinklage proves, once again, why he’s one of the best character actors on the screen today. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Penelope” is a plucky 7, as the ugly-duckling fantasy morphs into a satiric take on celebrity culture.

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Charlie Bartlett

Movie/TV Reviews / Susan

Susan Granger’s review of “Charlie Bartlett” (MGM)

Mix the rebellion of “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” with a bit of “Igby Goes Down” and a touch of “Rushmore” and you come up with this cautionary coming-of-age tale about teens’ recreational use of prescription medications and the necessity of parental involvement.
Kicked out of his very last prep school – this time for a scheme to sell nearly flawless fake IDs – rich kid Charlie Bartlett (Anton Yelchin) must enroll in a public high school. After enduring the ritual newbie hazing, confidently optimistic Charlie becomes partners with the class bully (Tyler Hilton), becoming the alienated, overly-pressured student body’s underground psychiatrist, dispensing not only counseling but also mood-altering pills (Ritalin, Zoloft, Wellbutrin, Xanax, Prozac, etc.) from a make-shift office in the boys’ bathroom. These pharmaceuticals are made available by gullible psychiatrists kept on retainer by Charlie’s exasperated, ineffectual mother (Hope Davis).
Charlie soon becomes enamored of Susan (Kat Dennings), daughter of Principal Gardner (Robert Downey Jr.), whose transfer from iconoclastic history teacher to paper-pushing bureaucrat under pressure from the superintendent drove him to drink. While their relationship ripens, there are subplots including a suicidal reject (Mark Rendall) and a promiscuous cheerleader (Megan Park) with self-esteem issues.
Making their feature film debuts, screenwriter Gustin Nash and director Jon Poll go for high spirited exuberance over cynicism. With his gift for timing, disarming Anton Yelchin (“Alpha Dog”) lobs volleys over the heads of the grown-ups; he’s charming, sly, vulnerable and wholly sympathetic. Downey and Davis epitomize the frailty and disillusionment that – all too often – comes with age. And the climactic face-off between Yelchin and Downey cannot help but evoke undercurrents of Downey’s own drug-riddled past. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Charlie Bartlett” is a refreshingly clever 8. It’s tart, smart and fun.

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In Bruges

Movie/TV Reviews / Susan

Susan Granger’s review of “In Bruges” (Focus Features)

If you haven’t had your fill of senseless, bloody violence, here’s another dose of swearing and shooting blarney. Following in the sprockets of Quentin Tarantino’s “Pulp Fiction,” it’s the story of two morally conflicted Irish gangsters from London.
“After I killed him,” hot-tempered Ray (Colin Farrell) explains in the introduction, “I dropped the gun in the Thames, washed the residue off my hands in the bathroom of a Burger King, and went home to await instructions.”
He’s told to go to the Flemish town of Bruges in Belgium with his older partner Ken (Brendan Gleeson) and await further instructions from their boss Harry (Ralph Fiennes).
While Ken would just like to go sightseeing in the cobblestone streets of medieval Bruges, Ray is miserably remorseful about accidentally killing an innocent youngster while assassinating a priest in his confessional – an emotion he acts out by 1) attempting suicide, 2) beating up a Canadian tourist, 3) chasing a prostitute (Clemence Poesy), arousing the ire of her pimp (Jeremie Renier), and 4) obsessing about a surly, racist dwarf (Jordan Prentice) who’s filming a surreal Dutch art movie there. This infuriates homicidal Harry, who has ordered Ken to kill Ray – and is forced to interrupt his Christmas holiday plans to do it himself.
Irish playwright and first-time feature-film writer/director Martin McDonaugh blithely skips from one hackneyed, un-funny vignette to another, punctuated by repetitive, often incoherent dialogue, as one actor reiterates what another has just said. Plus, McDonaugh has a quirky penchant for red, as in blood, as those who saw “The Lieutenant of Inishmore” on Broadway can attest. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “In Bruges” is an offbeat, off-putting 5 – unless you’re really heavily into “guilt and sins and hell and all that.”

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Definitely, Maybe

Movie/TV Reviews / Susan

Susan Granger’s review of “Definitely, Maybe” (Universal Pictures)

Making a contemporary romantic comedy isn’t easy but this one delivers an enjoyably romantic whodunit, just in time for Valentine’s Day weekend.
Will Hayes (Ryan Reynolds) is a 30-something Manhattan dad in the midst of an impending divorce when his precocious10 year-old daughter Maya (Abigail Breslin) returns from a sex education class demanding to know how her parents met and fell in love. That leads Will to tell her about his relationships with three important women in his life, changing the names so she has to guess which of them he married.
“It’s like a love story/mystery,” Maya burbles with endearing curiosity.
Is it Emily (Elizabeth Banks), his college sweetheart; Summer (Rachel Weisz), an ambitious, bohemian journalist; or April (Isla Fisher), his frazzled, free-spirited best friend?
Writer/director Adam Brooks (“Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason,” “Wimbledon,” “French Kiss”) obviously understands that romantic relationships don’t end, they change; that’s inherent for the believability quotient. Too bad producers Tim Bevan and Eric Fellner (“Four Wedding and a Funeral,” “Notting Hill”) didn’t insist on some judicious pruning because the less-than-sparkling banter runs on too long.
As a leading man, likeable Ryan Reynolds (“Van Wilder,” “Smokin’ Aces”) may be a bit on the bland side, but Abigail Breslin is as audacious and entrancing as she was in “Little Miss Sunshine.” And while identifying who wound up as her ‘mom’ becomes obvious, it’s helpful that Abigail could actually be the daughter of any of the three actresses. Derek Luke, as Will’s buddy/partner, scores as a comic foil, as does Kevin Kline as a political analyst with a penchant for younger women.
On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Definitely, Maybe” is a soulful, sweet-natured 7, proving that living “happily ever after” isn’t quite so easy.

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Over Her Dead Body

Movie/TV Reviews / Susan

Susan Granger’s review of “Over Her Dead Body” (New Line Cinema)

Don’t believe the advertising: this is not a romantic comedy. There’s little that’s endearing and the laughs are scarce.
The fantasy begins as shrewish Kate (Eva Longoria Parker) and smirking Henry (Paul Rudd), a veterinarian, are about to get married in sunny Long Beach, California. But hours before the wedding, when a massive ice sculpture of a wingless angel falls and crushes her, the bridezilla is dead. By the time Kate gets her spirit act together in the all-white afterlife, it’s a year later. Once grief-stricken Henry is now attracted to Ashley (Lake Bell), a scatter-brained psychic/caterer who has been hired by Henry’s kooky sister, Chloe (Lindsay Sloane), to convince him he should get over his depression and “move on.” Perhaps start dating again. Jealous Kate doesn’t like this turn of events one little bit and decides to scare Ashley away. To add to the ghostly frivolity, there’s Ashley’s gay catering assistant, Dan (Jason Biggs). Yada, yada.
While Jeff Lowell is credited with writing “John Tucker Must Die,” this is his first attempt at directing – and it shows. His helming is not incompetent but it is inept, and his shamelessly derivative, sit-com script is filled with blandly idiotic, generic, one-dimensional characters and frothy, cinematic clichés, like the climactic rush to the airport with a possessed talking parrot.
Making a miniscule jump from her cloying “Desperate Housewives” character, curvaceous Eva Longoria Parker, who has adopted her NBA star husband’s surname, is a force to be reckoned with. Yet Lake Bell from TV’s “Boston Legal” gamely steals the picture right out from under Parker’s tiny, turned-up nose. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Over Her Dead Body” is a silly, campy, tepid 3. No hearts ‘n’ flowers here.

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Untraceable

Movie/TV Reviews / Susan

Susan Granger’s review of “Untraceable” (Screen Gems)

There’s a serial killer on the loose in rain-drenched Portland, Oregon, a predator who tortures his prey on-camera, ramping the grisly, graphic violence with every gawker who clicks on his website to observe what’s happening. A counter reveals the accelerating number of hits as each new agony is unveiled.
One woman is hung, upside-down, from the ceiling and gradually lowered over sharp, rotating blades. A man is trapped inside a tank of water into which sulfuric acid is slowly dropped. When there’s a predetermined amount of Internet voyeurs, the victim – animal or human – is killed in front of millions of viewers.
FBI Special Agent Jennifer Marsh (Diane Lane) is a struggling, widowed single mother working in the cybercrimes division, along with her nerdy young partner, Griffin Dowd (Colin Hanks). Marsh is horrified by the streaming videos on killwithme.com, but this tech-savvy psychopath is virtually untraceable. And when she finally realizes that the anonymous stalker is striking too close to home, she gets help from her supportive mother (Mary Beth Hurt) and a Portland police detective, Eric Box (Billy Burke).
Written by Robert Fyvolent, Mark R. Brinker and Alison Burnett, directed by Gregory Hoblit (“Fracture,” “Primal Fear”) and photographed by Anastas Michos, it’s a formulaic, melodramatic, ultimately improbable cyber-thriller.
Don’t blame the actors. Diane Lane is convincingly conflicted, torn between work and family, and Colin Hanks – Tom’s son – acquits himself admirably, looking for love in cyberspace.
On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Untraceable” is a geeky, gruesome, repugnant 3. The moral – we’re told – is that the acting of choosing to watch makes us accessories to the crime; without an audience, presumably, there would be no murder. And without an audience, this disturbing police procedural should move quickly to the video store.

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Rambo

Movie/TV Reviews / Susan

Susan Granger’s review of “Rambo” (Lionsgate)

Sylvester Stallone’s claim to fame is the iconic characters of “Rocky” and “Rambo,” and he doesn’t tire of recycling both of them.
“When you’re pushed, killin’ is as easy as breathin’,” growls ex-Green Beret John Rambo, who’s been living as a recluse in northern Thailand, where he runs a motor boat and wrangles poisonous snakes on the Salween River near the Burma border, where a long-running civil war still rages. Maybe he has clandestine meetings with Capt. Willard from “Apocalypse Now.” Who knows?
Then a group of Colorado human rights missionaries wamts to rent his boat to transport medical supplies and Bibles upriver to struggling Karen villagers; the Burmese military has strewn landmines along the roads.
“Are you taking guns?” Rambo inquires. Of course not! “Then you’ll change nothing.”
Rambo turns them down, but the group’s only woman, Sarah (Julie Benz of “Dexter”), convinces him to change his mind.
Yet after he drops them off at their destination, they’re ambushed and taken prisoner by sadistic Burmese soldiers. Of course, the church’s pastor (Ken Howard) relies on Rambo to execute a rescue mission. Reluctantly, the bandana-wearing renegade rounds up a squad of nasty mercenaries – and then the loud, violent, relentless carnage begins, taking the R-rating to its utmost, stupefying limits.
Claiming that he devised this fourth installment with geopolitical relevance – namely, to draw attention to the need for aid in war-torn Burma (Myanmar) – writer/director/actor Stallone has clearly made a vanity project. He’s even included a flashback sequence for those who managed to miss his first three Rambo excursions; seeing Richard Crenna again was an unexpected bonus.
While Stallone’s beefcake is a brawny testament to steroids, on the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Rambo” is a graphic, blood-drenched 2. Stay out of the jungle!

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