(1 People gave this 1.00 out of 5)

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“Something elusive”

Click here to jump to the Swift’s Notes (AKA Cliff’s Notes) Review!

Swift shot:  In 1977, I was three years old, so there is no way I could have possibly seen Star Wars in theaters . . . but, I did.  I was probably four when my dad took me in his yellow MG convertible, the kind you had to snap shut, and (perish the thought) I sat in the front seat . . . with only a seat-belt to protect me, well, that and my dad.  Funny how we overlook the most important part of child safety, the parent!  Still, we went, and the roads were wet, and the air was kind of musty outside, like after a dog shakes and there is a light fog in the air.  I was really small, and the world was still new and exciting to me, I believed that anything was possible.  After I saw Star Wars, there is no denying this, I wanted to know what made Darth Vader so evil. Even before I saw Empire Strikes Back, I can remember being secretly happy that Vader didn’t die in the final battle in A New Hope.  He was . . . interesting, and I was compelled to know more about him.  Twenty-two years later, I would finally have a third of his legacy revealed.

Stavanger, Norway – the year was 1999; I had just gotten back from Albania, where I was doing Counter-Intel work for NATO where I saw more than I care to admit.  I saw humanity’s inhumanity.  With that backdrop, I was well ready for something to take my mind off of reality and to just be child-like again.

The film was released already in the states, it released in May, and it hit the can in August in Norway.  I had given strict instructions to every single American that I knew to reveal nothing to me . . . on pain of death!  Maybe the tone I took was sufficient, because no one revealed anything.  But, now we have all seen the film, and we are now thirteen years later, where all the questions have been answered . . . and then some.  So, I won’t pretend you haven’t all seen the film, and I will violate my rule of making spoilers verboten.

Let me start my defense of the film thusly.  When I was in high school, it wasn’t cool to like Bon Jovi, or Bon BlowMe as my friends and I all called them, because we were so damned cool.  But, years later I found out that we were all closeted fans, would go home and jam out to them, all while faking the funk back in school.  And, I think, that is what has happened with Phantom Menace.  I think it has become derivative to say you don’t like it, because of one stupid freakin’ Gungan! Ask yourself, honestly, when you saw it in 1999, was it so incredibly bad then?  Or were you sucking at the Lucas teat and waiting for whatever he would squeeze out, teasing you in anticipation of Episode III?  If nothing else, did not the film get your butt into the theater for Attack of the Clones?  I thought as much.

This first film holds a special place in my heart for being the first piece of a greater puzzle to make up arguably the most hated villain in Hollywood . . . Darth Vader.  When we first meet him, Anakin Skywalker is a slave boy who has dreams of grandeur and adventure . . . but he also is incredibly protective of his mother.  Is this fear of loss the thing that will finally make him the sinister lord of the Sith?  Well, you already know the answer, but I didn’t in 1999 – and neither did you!

Starring the incredible [Academy Award Winning] Natalie Portman as Padme/Queen Amidala and casting Ewan McGregor as the legendary Obi-Wan Kenobi was a master-stroke for Lucas.  Liam Neeson, no stranger to audiences now, and back in 1999 had a fair film resume and lots of hungry fans, plays Master Qui-Gon Jinn with Ahmed Best providing some exceptional voice-over work as the oft-derided Gungan Jar Jar Binks.  The pivotal character though, had to be a boy, had to be believable, and had to be someone you cared for in the end.  Jake Lloyd, all of ten years old had to step into some of the biggest, darkest boots Hollywood has ever created.

Could you have done better . . . at ten?  Hell, could you now for that matter?  There was one scene he had to get right . . . and he did!  When Yoda says there is much fear in Anakin, and Lloyd is looking at him with pure malice, that is one of the finer scenes of any young actor.  If he blew that moment, however subtle, it would have ruined the film for me.  That is the essence of Vader, he is an egoist, but he protects those he loves . . . anyone else is just in the way.  In that moment, Lloyd nailed it . . . at ten.  So, put that in your pretentious pipes and suck deep, cynics.

There has a been a lot of talk about Portman not doing a good job, bull, I think the scenes where she was being a queen, she was directed to be regal-sounding or something, and given that a lot of the work was done with a blue-screen, I think she did enough with what she had to work with.  Also, she had to alter her voice etc. to not make it obvious that she was Padme.  I must admit, in 1999, I didn’t know it for sure until she was washing R2-D2, after being (comically) ordered to clean the heroic droid by the “queen.”

Which brings us to the synchronicity quips of so many “critics” – it was “childish” to have C-3PO created by Anakin and to have R2-D2 already introduced in the series.  It was lame to have the force described in an organic, scientific fashion, and why did Lucas feel the need to force racial stereotypes in this film?  Because it is a film . . . it is a series driven by fan admiration, he was going to the candy store, maybe he did it one time too many with making C-3PO’s maker Darth Vader, but I actually thought that was a nice touch.  When he was a ” child” he created a toy, a “childish thing”, but when he becomes a man, that childish thing leads to his destruction.  Impressive.  Good mythology there, don’t ya think?  Or, did you not catch that, because you were too busy hating a certain Gungan?

Also, on to the Gungans . . . did you hate them all, Boss Nass, Captain Tarpals, every last floppy-eared “primitive life form?”  Or was Jar Jar the only Gungan you wanted to kill?  Newsflash, he was supposed to be annoying, he was the comedy-relief, buffoon, hell, even Obi Wan wants to leave him and can’t wait for him to shut up half the time.

All this is why I didn’t hate the film, because this is how I was already dissecting it in 1999, I was intrigued with the story-line, the epic battles, the droids, and then there was this new guy . . . Darth Maul.  When he makes his first appearance, it is one of those great movie moments, and when he engages the second blade on his light-saber, tell me you weren’t four years old again and thinking, “That’s cool!”

What I really liked about his character though, and the fight scenes in particular with him, he doesn’t say anything.  There is no, I am your father, I hate you, I am Sith, your mother is so fat . . . none of that trash-talking.  He just goes right for the kill.  I LOVED THAT, even though the dialogue is what fascinated me about Vader in 1977, in 1999 the lack of dialog had me thinking, woah, that Darth Maul is one bad mutha!

Episode I – The Phantom Menace had rich characters, a compelling plot that sets up the motions to create the Galactic Empire, and a few strikes which can mostly be over-looked to make for an enjoyable time at the theater.  The cinematography, albeit mostly CGI, was state-of-the-art for its time.  The ILM team may have used a softer stroke on the special-effects to create a more raw feel to the film, like they had to do in 1977.  In effect, they got too good, and they show-cased their work to the nth degree.  Still, the overall immersive feeling to transport myself outside of my theater seat was still there.  A few stilted lines delivered by a less than spectacular Samuel Jackson, and one overtly annoying Gungan, weren’t enough to ruin the film.  Telling the first part of the Anakin Skywalker trilogy, where he is but a small boy, the film does a fine job laying out all the pieces that will ultimately lead to his betrayal and his transformation to vile Sith Lord, Darth Vader.

I don’t read.  Well, I read occasionally.  And when I read – because I am a movie freak – I see each page as a film scene laid out in my mind. So, let me treat this book review much like a film review and let you know how Friends from Damascus played out in my mind’s ‘unblinking’ eye.

First, I need to offer a disclaimer:  Cliff Happy was my drill instructor (DI) in 1993.  He put me through the harshest physical experiences I have ever had to endure. And when I say he was tough, I don’t mean Hollywood tough – I mean the real deal, in your face, tough. He was less than ‘happy’ – demanding, and yet, somehow compassionate.  Friends from Damascus is no exception, that delicate balance is exactly what he delivers.  The story is a page-turner with lots of gore and meaty violence, yet the romantic passages were full of depth and passion. 

I felt a bit weird reading it, to be honest, because it has so much depth . . . I was expecting it to be more GO! GO! GO! And it is actually paced incredibly well.  The action is intense, and the romance is handled with aplomb.  The two love interests both have something to hide and something to share.  With each unable to trust a soul, they are eventually forced to trust each other, but testing this loyalty may put others in jeopardy as well.  And, in a world where betrayal has lethal consequences, these lovers have to come together and defeat a more sinister evil than we would care to admit exists. 

With an imagination for bad deeds, Happy creates a seemingly implausible scenario that is actually as equally terrifying as it is somehow believable.  The plot is simple in design: a bunch of bad guys are trying to release a nerve agent that is so nasty most special operators haven’t even met it yet.  The CIA will stop at nothing to prevent the gas from being released, which is what you would hope – unless you are some kind of pacifist who believes that talking to the bad guys gets results.  If that is you, you probably aren’t going to enjoy reading this one, because quite a few terrorist scumbags meet their maker.  Or as Happy used to say in a popular Marine cadence, they get turned into, “Bodies, bits of bodies.”

But that is just the plot. The story is interesting and globally complex.  While Friends from Damscus is a short read, the characters are developed enough that you want to know more about each, but you aren’t left feeling like you’re cheated out of the essence of who they actually are, what makes them all tick, and how they each completely relate to the overall plot. 

Mona Carlotti is, to be blunt, a CIA assassin, who has been put on ice for a year following a mission where she was compromised and was hoping to put the sordid life behind her.  She is trying to atone for her past, but her creator, Colonel Merrick, needs to pull her back in for one last job.  This might be a little cliché, but Happy does a good job of adding enough nuances to the Carlotti character to make this, oft-used, cliché permissible.  You will find yourself hoping that she takes the job to make the story interesting, and as she grows on you, you will feel guilty for wanting her to take the job in the first place.  Carlotti is one of those characters that won’t leave you immediately.  Maybe some of her actions come across as pushing the suspension of disbelief envelope, but I didn’t feel like I did after watching Hanna, where my BS detector tilted several times as we were led to believe some piss-ant teenage girl was the most lethal weapon since the Terminator.  The Carlotti persona is an established killer whom I would not want to cross in real life, and what she lacks in stature, she makes up for with a mischievous malevolence for creativity. 

The Friends From Damascus are a group of rogue operators sick of dealing with red-tape and pencil-pushing politicians who are more worried about covering their own asses rather than taking out actionable targets.  They have caught the ire of Merrick though, and he doesn’t much care for them running ops without his say-so.  He deems them as much a threat as the stolen gas . . . maybe more personally, as he struggles to keep a leash on his Mona Lisa, his creature Carlotti.  She is sent to track and liquidate the ‘friends’, but what happens from there is for me to know and you to find out.  Suffice it to say, we could all use some Friends from Damascus covering our butts!

Happy does a tremendous job with his attention to detail. No shocker there, as he used to (almost literally) hammer that into my head at Parris Island.  He paints wonderful mental cinematic scenes as he describes each new location and flawlessly places the reader into the center of the action.  Some sequences will feel like a hand-held, first person shooter, while some will come across as grandiose, picturesque landscapes where a bird’s eye view is warranted.  The action is dissected to a level that affords even the novice action reader a chance to follow every bullet and ricochet. 

This isn’t some pompous novel that will force you to rethink your pathetic lives, and it isn’t a history book, nor a trashy romance novel.  It is what I like to call a ‘travel read’.  Whenever I am traveling on a plane, I like to hit the gift store and find the most compelling looking action novel by a writer I have never heard of before.  I have come across good authors that way in the past . . .  some of whom I continue to follow. I think it goes without saying that Happy has, in me, a reader for life.  But, Semper Fi aside, even if I had never heard of Cliff Happy, I would be waiting with as much impatience to read the follow-up to Friends from Damascus, The Pelindaba Conspiracy.  So, stay frosty, and read all about the Friends from Damscus. It will make my crusty old D.I., if you will pardon the pun . . . happy.

(1 People gave this 4.00 out of 5)

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“House Keeping”

Swift shot: I N T E N S I T Y – Intensity, Intensity, Intensity!

Ever have one of those “boring” jobs where you wish something would happen . . . anything, just to kill the monotony of your daily existence?  Well, Matt Weston, of the Central Intelligence Agency has one of those jobs.  He is a safe house keeper, meaning he provides an off the grid location for the Agency to put up friendly, and not so friendly, guests as the situation demands.  He has been the sole proprietor at his safe house in Cape Town, South Africa for 12 months.  Poor Matt hasn’t even had one guest stop on by.  Think your job sucks?  Director Daniel Espinoza does an excellent job in the opening sequence of developing the boredom so we can all relate, using a little Steve McQueen nod as well, right out of The Great Escape I should add.  And, escape is exactly what Matt Weston is seeking . . . escape from this most uninteresting assignment, ever.  Thing is, as the old adage goes, be careful what you wish for, especially when you work for the CIA, because excitement can come in many forms!  And in “Safe House” it comes in the form of CIA spook, legend, boogeyman (insert other cliched titles here) Tobin Frost.

I heard NBC’s Matt Lauer said this one is “non-stop action”, and the hell if he wasn’t dead on!  Other than the opening sequence where we feel for Matt (Reynolds) to have even one guest, something, anything significant happen, when the shit hits the fan, it really is non-stop, in your face close quarters battles, gunfights on the streets of South Africa, car chases, foot chases, explosions, snipers, knives, broken glass and whatever the hell can deliver violence.

Matt quickly learns he may, or may not, be on the wrong side of the equation when he first gets introduced to his house guest, Frost (Denzel).  Frost literally re-wrote the book on psychological manipulation for the Agency (AKA mind-fucking), and now he is a victim of his own design.  Frost has been a rogue agent for over nine years and specializes in selling secrets to the highest bidder, at this point he is not interested in being a patriot, he just wants his money and understands that eventually everyone betrays everyone.  But Frost has one rule . . . he only kills professionals.

Not since “Training Day” have I been pinned to my seat just waiting for the next sequence to shock me.  Some lady sitting next to me must have said “shit!” twenty times as things kept going blam, splat, or boom and caught her unaware each time.  Much like real violence, it is brutal and comes seemingly out of nowhere, because that is when it is the most effective.  I mean, how many idiots call out, “Hey, you!” before opening fire?  The action sequences were incredibly well shot, crashes were believable, characters actually get dirty, beaten and bloody.  Continuity in this film was tight!  Overall it was a full-throttle spy thriller with plenty of bad guys, bullets and bravado.

So, why not five stars?  Well, to reveal that might be to include a spoiler as I didn’t much care for how the whole thing finally played out in the end.  Also, there should be a rule for modern cinema, we can tolerate bare-assed Ryan Reynolds if we get a likewise bare-assed beauty in Nora Arnezeder (come on, she is French, so we know she isn’t prudish).  A glancing side boob shot is not gonna cut it, what happened to women’s lib?  Where is the equality!?!  Other than those two things though (pun intended), this movie has no flaws!  See it at the theater if you can, and if you have a kick ass system at home, more power to you, because this will be fun wherever you watch it.  I wish all “spy” movies were this good!

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A film, long, long overdue, in a decade not so far away

Swift shot: Despite a tacky soundtrack and a high-school AV club font for the credits which looked like it was ripped right from Windows Paint, this film delivered some solid memories.  Thanks to the previews, I was expecting it to have modern music for the sound, ala “A Knight’s Tale” and “Marie Antoinette”, but they went with a more traditional score.  I wish they had opted for the modern style, because the music never worked for me . . . granted I was focused on it the whole time.  I was also expecting a lot from the folks at Lucas’ Industrial Lights & Magic (ILM), and they didn’t let me down.  The gritty attention to detail paid to the P40 Warhawks with rusty bolts and hinges in contrast to sexy, mint P51 Mustangs was noteworthy.  The actors were a bit rough around the edges, but as the film progressed, I found myself more drawn to the characters and less focused on the film’s elements.

Set in 1944, Italy, we follow the “historical” adventures of the 332nd Fighter Group, comprised entirely of “negro” pilots and crewmen.  In 1944, the brass has decided to grant black soldiers the chance to prove they can stand toe-to-toe with any other Americans in the war effort.  One bold initiative creates the 332nd and, at least on paper, affords the men that chance.  Met with nothing but resistance along their path to become pilots, the men form a strong bond – probably more significant than most other soldiers who essentially take for granted that they have at least earned a grudging respect from their comrades.  Not so for the 332nd, everything they are doing is literally being scrutinized by everyone in the world, not just the military, and not just the Americans.  They are under a lot of pressure to be beyond good . . . thing is, the brass isn’t exactly giving them any real missions worth a damn.

And that is where we come in, after a routine mission of “killing traffic” (one of my favorite lines) their Colonel, Bullard (Terrence Howard) is called to Washington D.C. following some harsh words from the press that the negro pilot experiment is a failure.  One particularly nasty Colonel, Mortamus (Bryan “Breaking Bad” Cranston) has leaked the false story in the hopes of putting an end to them once and for all.  Now the pressure is higher than ever for them to show they can take on dangerous missions, and they are granted an air cover mission for an Allied Landing . . . Operation Shingle.  Not only do they accomplish their mission, they log some significant kills.   Speaking of killing . . . this film is incredibly violent, lots of strafing runs, lots of explosions and people meeting their mortal end.  For the most part these people were Nazis, so no one really minded, but in all wars even the good guys die, and Red Tails does show a few of the good guys eating dirt too.  In fact, with four words, the entire tone of the film shifts in one dramatic dogfight.

I read on imdb that George Lucas started this project in 1988 and couldn’t get any significant funding, because “an all black cast isn’t going to sell tickets”.  Interestingly, he foot most of the bill for this film himself, and stylized the leads after historical figures from black civil rights lore, Easy, or Capt Marty Julian (Nate Parker) was inspired on Martin Luther King, Jr.  Lightning, or Capt Joe Little (David Oyelowo) was inspired on Malcolm X, and considering the screenplay was co-written by the controversial “Boondocks” writer Aaron McGruder, it makes perfect sense.  His characters are always bigger than life and inspired on great men and women.

The other characters make up a fairly motley crew of pilots and mechanics which reminded me a lot of the Black Sheep Squadron that I used to watch with my dad, with clever call-signs and a bit of arrogance and flair.  There really were too many to list here, but my favorite supporting actor would have to be Ne-Yo as Smokey who delivers the most clever line of the film.

I wanted to like this one a little bit more, and it is a freakin’ crying shame that in 2012 no one stepped up to the plate and assisted George Lucas to the point where this film was on an epic scale, I wasn’t overly impressed with Terrence Blanchard when I am spoiled with John Williams doing Lucas’ other scores and some other elements felt tacked on at the end as well.  In once scene, Lightning takes on an entire Officer’s Club filled with white pilots, and he is in the stockade the next scene without a scratch on him, not so much as a hangnail.  That might fly in an amateur’s reel, but not when I see Lucas’ name attached.  Ultimately, this film was not all that it could, and should, have been.  The aerial combat sequences were tight and magnificent, and I really have not one bad thing to say about them.  The story was interesting, but I felt that a lot of the film was rushed in order to get as much “history” into the final edits and I think some things should have been cut out altogether.

As far as the historical accuracy of this film, I will let you do your own research.  But in my research it was interesting to see that even as late as this decade, controversy over the historical accuracy of the documented combat missions still hasn’t been soundly put to rest.  Perhaps this film will serve to do what it was ultimately intended to do, get Americans, black, white, red, yellow, blue, purple, green, who cares, to care about the sacrifices of these ‘colored’ men who not only had to fight a war, they had to fight to earn even a modicum of respect in their “free” country.  We all have battles, and we have all had to deal with prejudices, but I challenge anyone to say these aviators weren’t some of the most mentally tough men to ever wear wings.  The Red Tailed Angels of the sky.

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Carano, you have arrived!

Swift shot: From the jump, let me just say I am not a Soderbergh fan, I didn’t care for Ocean’s Eleven; I am not big into the heist movies, they are always rife with double-crosses and become pretentious parodies of anything worthwhile in my earnest opinion.  But, regardless of that disclaimer, I actually liked Haywire despite its obvious attempts to stylize itself as one of those predictably unpredictable heist movies.  Haywire had one element that I couldn’t resist . . . Gina Carano.  She made Darth Vader’s choke hold look like a stilted pantomime.  In one brutally sexy scene, she dispatches a bad guy between her legs!  Wonder what that guy’s last thoughts were . . . The rest of the movie was just filler at that point, getting her from one kill to the next, so even though the journey was tedious at times, I did enjoy the payoff at the end.

I was happy to see that Channing Tatum finally took my advice and got himself some acting lessons.  They paid off.  But with the award-winning supporting cast of Antonio Banderas, Ewan McGregor, Michael Douglas and even a few small scenes with Bill Paxton, newcomer Gina Carano was tough-as-nails on scene and somehow didn’t come off as a fighter who plays at acting, or an actor who plays at fighting, she came across as a lethal fucking weapon, in every sense of that phrase.

[Swift aside: I blew an opportunity to interview her in South Beach, and all I can say is I hope she doesn't bear any grudges, because the thought of Gina Carano gunning for me, quite frankly, terrifies me.  Again though, depending on how she dispatched me, there are worse ways to die, I suppose.]

Because this movie was stylized as a heist film, with the requisite double-crosses and a pseudo 70′s soundtrack, I can’t give away too much about the story.  Point of fact, there wasn’t much story to be told, there was a whole hell of a lot of walking and foot-chases to sate Jason Bourne fans.  They won’t be disappointed.  I did hear one person in my row say, “What the hell, they are just showing her walking . . . and there’s no music.”  I hope Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy doesn’t translate into more of these ‘extended transition moments’ in cinema.

Haywire starts out with Marine veteran, Mallory Kane (Carano) meeting someone in an upstate New York diner.  Then things quickly go, wait for it, haywire!  (I love when the title of the film fits so perfectly into a review).  Mallory is a sub-contractor for a government agency that handles things the employers might not like traced back to their government.  She manages to escape the diner and sorta carjacks a young college kid, Scott (Michael Angarano) who, let’s face it, aint exactly trying to get away from her.  To me, Carano looks like a cross between Jolie and Spears, but she can literally hand you your ass!!  (Hey, I wanted to give you something special, so, here is your ass).  Accordingly, Scott buckles up and listens to her spill her guts about why she is on the run.

It isn’t clear if she is normally an assassin, a body guard, a goon, or what, we just know that on this particular job, she has been hired to retrieve a hostage in Barcelona, or to go along with the heist theme, the hostage, Jiang (Anthony Brandon Wong) becomes the sought after ‘package’.   Her team manages to retrieve the package, but other folks have different plans for that package, and she is caught in the middle.  Can she trust her employer, and lover, Kenneth (McGregor), the government agent (Michael Douglas) or her new MI6 contact, Paul (Magneto…I mean Michael Fassbender)?  Hell, can she trust anyone?  She soon finds out that the only person she can really trust is her dad, a Retired Marine Colonel (Semper Fi) who is a successful writer of his exploits overseas.  Paxton didn’t have his a-game in this one, but he didn’t suck either.

I recommend checking this Soderbergh film out, but not because of anything he did, other than get an incredible performance out of a neophyte actress who is sure to be all over the freakin’ place soon!  He just launched her career, she will be the most sought after ass kicking beauty this decade . . . mark my words!  She did this one thing in the film where she kept kind of biting her lip, and I don’t know if that was scripted, directed, but whoever came up with that little tick . . . keep it!  Hell, Gina, take some friendly advice, make that your “thing” – Arnold had “I’ll be back.”   You can do that lip biting thing in all of your movies and you will have at least one fan for life.  Oh, I also wanted to add she walked around with an umbrella which reminded me of Mrs. Peel from The Avengers or a lethal Marry Poppins, either way, I heard she is in talks to be the next Wonder Woman, you don’t need the lasso of truth to know I second that!

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You almost never see God, but the devil makes his presence known . . . daily

Swift shot: The Vatican does not authorize the recording of any exorcisms, this was the film’s disclaimer, and at my screening they actually had priests handing out the Prayer of Saint Christopher on little slips of paper.  Right before the film started, those same priests reminded us that while the devil is real, we have free will.  Nice touch, and it added a little bit of creepy atmosphere to the whole experience.  I wasn’t scared while watching this film; it played out as a mockumentary, and it was handled well, albeit a tad predictable in places, but I would see it again if someone else paid or once it is on cable.  Running just under 91 minutes, it had a great knack of keeping my attention the entire time and never became boring.

It’s 1989, South Hartford, Connecticut, and we are led on a police CSI type video walk-through of a crime scene of pure graphic, gory horror.  In what looks like a quaint, normal, suburb home, we see up close and personal the cadavers strewn about the house . . . all with one thing immediately in common, they are members of the clergy, or more to the point, were.  The classic film-footage was excellent, I think they may have actually borrowed some from an actual multiple slaying crime from that area and time.  It had the right amount of grain to make me think I was back in 1989.  As we see the footage, the police are escorting a frail looking house-mother into the back of a police cruiser, it’s Maria Rossi (Suzan Crowley).

Now it is 2009, twenty years later, and we meet Isabella Rossi (Fernanda Andrade), who lived her life thinking her mother was deranged, but just three days before her father dies, he tells her why her mother was moved from the states to Rome, Italy.  Turns out when her mother killed all those people of the cloth, they were conducting an exorcism on Maria.  Now a young woman, Isabella is driven to find out the truth about her mother and enlists the help of a film-maker to foot the bill and capture the results of her endeavors on camera.  She hasn’t seen her mother since she was eight years old, probably just as well.

To add some substance to the documentary, film-maker, Michael (Ionut Grama) manages to get his camera in some pretty restricted areas.  Isabella and he are invited to film a session at the Vatican School for Exorcism, which was also featured in ”The Rite”.   They are permitted film access to the Centrino Hospital in Rome that now houses the disturbed Maria Rossi.  But, as her doctor explains, it has been years since her last violent outbreak, because they have a strict no religion and no excitement policy when it comes to Maria.  But, just in case, her outer cell containment area is emblazoned with several crosses.

After the class, Isabella meets two priests that are, in fact, rogue exorcists that are not sanctioned by the Vatican . . . or are they?  Father Ben (Simon Quaterman) is young and ambitious and disagrees with the Vatican’s revision to permitting exorcisms which was released in 1999, essentially it makes it impossible to exorcise anyone, because the signs needed to require an exorcism aren’t typically present until the exorcism is actually happening.  A nice little, Catch-666 if you will permit me.  His fellow rogue is Father David (Evan Helmuth) who wants to help, but he doesn’t want to sacrifice anything real to help people.  Ben wants to save the world from the devil, and Isabella just wants validation that her mom isn’t crazy, because Dissociative Identity Disorder is genetic.  So, if her mom is possessed, she won’t have to worry about being a psycho herself.

The film reminds us that there are four signs needed to declare a bona fide possession: Preternatural strength; aversion to holy relics and symbols; speaking in foreign tongues; and objects moving by themselves while near the victim.   But, while few of us know anyone who has ever been possessed, we all know of a story not too far from home where a seemingly normal person slaughters his/her whole family.  It happens especially during the holy months, so while this film didn’t scare me as I watched it, it reminded me of the real horrors people commit every day that sometimes defy science and nature.  I was reminded of the chilling Yates case, where the Texas mother violently drowned all of her children because “God told her to do it”.  Who needs Hollywood to scare you, whether the devil is real or not, people can be manipulated by all manner of forces, light and dark.  Say your prayers tonight that you don’t start hearing little voices telling you to get creative.  If you want real terror, just turn on the news for more than twenty minutes . . . you will find the devil.

The film was worth the trip, gas and ticket price, but I think it is better watched at home with some open-minded friends who scare easily, because ten minutes after the film you can roll your eyes back into your head and start speaking Latin to them . . . all the better if you have mastered climbing the walls like a cockroach.

(1 People gave this 1.00 out of 5)

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The lifeless ‘circus’ 

Swift shot: Boring, Boring, Boring, Spy.  I had just one expectation for this film . . . to be less dull and uninspired than “The Good Shepherd”, and it was actually worse!  Everyone knows that US Intelligence is by far more sexy than the stuffy Brits, so I anticipated a lot of pensive thinking and intrigue in this film, but I thought The Good Shepherd’s poor reception by critics, essentially would set the ground work for a more imaginative script.  They blew it!  Of course, without fail, Oldman becomes his character, George Smiley, but I just didn’t know enough about any of the characters, including Smiley, to give a Tinker’s damn about them.  With such an impressive cast, shame on the writers for not giving them much with which to work.

I am no fan of torture, with some exceptions, and especially not when I am the one being tortured!  And, I willingly allowed the film-makers to torture me for over two hours, ok, I will give them about 20 minutes of film-time that didn’t suck and was even brilliant in fact, but when the majority of scenes are free of dialog and driven by sympathetic introspection, not to mention tediously boring, well, that is about how I define torture.

Set in 1972-73, Control (John Hurt) has gained wind of a possible mole within the circus (AKA, the leading echelon of British Secret Intelligence) and the only person on his payroll whom he can trust, Jim Prideaux (Mark Strong) is sent to Hungary for a meeting with one of his assets to help identify the villainous traitor.  But, as Control slips off to death, which is handled in such a bizarre, did you catch that fashion, that I almost didn’t catch it, so I am doing you the courtesy of providing that exposition free of charge.  Anyway, Control dies and a new Control assumes the position, and his greatest desire is to bring the Yanks on board to share intelligence.  Apparently, at some point in time, (at least it was implied) the Yanks found British Intelligence suspect and a “leaky ship” so the Americans have been avoiding sharing, well anything significant, with their British friends. 

Control manages to bring his trusted compatriot and former member of the circus, George Smiley into the hunt for the mole, all the while a mysterious figure from the circus’ past, a double-agent, code-named Karla is somehow involved and is believed to be the puppet-master of the mole.  George recruits the stalwart Peter Guillam (Benedict Cumberbatch) who risks career, and more, to discover if there is a mole within the circus.  Personally, I thought Cumberbatch stole the whole film, because I actually believed he was his character, he and Tom Hardy, as his ‘scalp-hunter’ Ricky Tarr were the most interesting characters in the film.

Mark Strong gives a great performance as Jim Prideaux, but again, I am only guessing what his character is really all about, because the story-tellers leave so much left to the imagination that it becomes downright annoying and even condescending at times.  I understand that the action and violence was used very little to ratchet up the effect when it finally happens, I get that, but just because you don’t want to oversaturate the film with violence and action, doesn’t excuse you from using other tools at your disposal . . . say an amazing cast who could put out some excellent dialog work and build these characters!  Shame, shame, for shame!

A lot of the story-telling is left for you to guess at, which I can appreciate to a point, but when half of the audience is comatose or snoring that says a lot.  I am in favor of using my imagination, and in some cases that is preferred, but not the whole bloody film!  The story was told as if it were a true story and the film-maker was afraid to reveal anything solid about any of the characters for fear of exposing them to the enemy.  Newsflash, we are an audience, we want to be entertained, we want to know about these characters so when anything compelling happens to them we will care.  The only time I excuse that is in a balls-to-the-walls action flick, which this was so incredibly . . . not.

Look, some critics are going to say, it dazzled me with its subtlety, it was so underwhelming that it was overwhelming, to which I say, and THAT is why you are a “critic” and I am not; I am a movie lover.  I did not love this movie, in fact I couldn’t wait to get home and share with my thousands of followers and friends how much I did not like this movie.

At best this is one you should watch alone, at home, when you have some time to dissect it and not be distracted by your friends falling asleep.  It was the most un-thrilling thriller I have ever seen, even less so than “The Good Shepherd”, which is really saying something.  With this award-winning cast: Colin Firth; Gary Oldman; John Hurt; Ciaran Hinds; Mark Strong, and even Tom Hardy, I challenge you to tell me anything significant about their characters after seeing this film.  You can’t, because you never actually learn anything real about them . . . some things are revealed, but nothing of merit.  So, why would you care what happens to any of them, it’s just a story, and a poorly told story at that!

(3 People gave this 3.00 out of 5)

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“Next time I seduce the rich guy.”

Swift shot: Mission Improbable is a better title, or maybe Mission Incredible – as in has no credence.  I go into these types of films with a high suspension of disbelief tolerance, but when the very element that MAKES this not just a “spy film” but rather an IMF film is so poorly executed, where even one of the lead characters has the line “it was all dumb luck” – yea, dumb luck is what critics call convenient writing.  If you walk out of the film thinking anything other than “how convenient” – I challenge your level of intellectual imagination.

Whenever I watch a film where I repeat that throughout, in my head, odds are I am not impressed with the story or the writing, and Ghost Protocol is no exception.  Apparently being disavowed agents means squat to Interpol, CIA, Mossad, MI6, anyone who matters, because these jokers were flitting from country to country with nary a care in the world, all whilst being declared the greatest threat to global security since Bin Laden.  They tried to account for everything, but overall it was that dreaded convenient writing rearing its ugly head all too many times.

Still, I didn’t feel like I wasted my money, there was plenty of action and international intrigue with a bit of sex appeal to season the script.  The film was visually superb with even the opening credits offering a glimpse of what was to come. While this was produced by my favorite production studio and the Bad Robot team with many of J. J. Abrams loyal actors used throughout, the whole thing felt flat and contrived, like the whole point in making this film was to allow Tom Cruise a literal platform to scale .  . . this time the world’s tallest building.

I didn’t see MI3, and I can’t even remember much about MI2, but I did enjoy the “original” MI film when it first ran in theaters.  I guess if I had seen MI3 I would know the significance of Ethan Hunt’s wife’s untimely demise.  That seemed to be a pivotal plot point in this film, but I really didn’t care about these characters that much, even with Simon Pegg affording us a few laughs.  Jeremy Renner stood up well in his scenes with Cruise as Chief Analyst Brandt, actually playing the role of film-critic within the film.  I appreciate when film makers incorporate that element, because they are trying to answer their critics, and Brandt’s constant questions were indeed the same ones jiffy popping in my head, minus the butter, of course.

Paula Patton didn’t suck as Agent Jane, and I didn’t really find out much about Pegg’s character, Benji, if he had a back-story, it wasn’t developed at all in the theatrical release. Michael Nyqvist steps into this international cast as the evil genius, as his Millenium role is being played by the current James Bond.  It would all be surreal, if the rest of the film’s incredulity didn’t demand more attention.  In one climactic scene, Hunt is fighting with Nyqvist’s character, Hendricks, who is reported to have an IQ over 190, but they neglected to mention that this scientist also was trained in some form of martial art that Hunt can’t seem to best . . . how convenient!  And, in one of those “mask reveal” moments, they had someone pretending to be someone else that made absolutely no sense . . . period.  See if you catch it.

I am always asked, that’s great Rick, we know how you felt about the film, but what was it about?  Simply put, international genius, nutball, wants to do global damage and only the exposed and disavowed IMF “team” can stop it.  What, like you need anything else?  If you are a fan of the original series, skip this one, if you like your popcorn flicks with lots of fatty butter and want to just enjoy the action, see it!

(3 People gave this 4.67 out of 5)

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“Be careful what you fish for!”

Swift shot: Frantically paced, clever, fun, with an imaginative script.  Holmes and Watson find themselves married to their work, in more ways than one, as they match wits with the fiendishly calculating Professor James Moriarty (Jared Harris) across Europe.  Guy Ritchie turns in another winner this time with witty scribes Keiran and Michele Mulroney delivering an action-packed story.

The year is 1891, Europe is on the brink of a global war, anarchists and nationalists are juxtaposed as the nations amass their forces preparing for a dreadful, technological slaughter. Everyone else sees the rampant bombings of the occupiers, oops, I mean anarchists as solely anti-government loons hell bent on tearing down the establishment, but Holmes (Downey Jr.) knows better.  It doesn’t take him long to convince his astute mate, Watson (Law) that someone, a well-connected character, Moriarty may be pulling all the spiders webs, but to what end?

It isn’t like Watson wants to run around on another potentially perilous adventure with Holmes, especially considering he is finally going to wear the shackles of horrible matrimony, get married, rather.  Kelly Reilly reprises her role as Mary, soon to be Mrs. Mary Watson, unless Holmes manages to massacre her wedded bliss. On a wonderfully shot  train sequence, with close-quarters combat and all manner of ingenuity to escape death, she gets her chance to show she is worthy to marry a veteran of the Afghanistan campaign.

Mary is dispatched to let another feisty feminine join the game, Noomi Rapace (fresh off her fiery performance as Libeth Salander) assumes the role of gypsy Madam Simza, who is just as much a badass as Salander . . . she was well cast!  When we first meet her character, she is dealing with a pesky Cossack who must have cockroach DNA!  She is concerned because her brother, a dedicated anarchist, has gone missing and sent her a mysterious note.  That is how she makes Holmes’ acquaintance.

Meanwhile, Holmes’ older brother, Mycroft (clearly the Holmes parents were sadists) unveiled by the wonderfully talented Stephen Fry, is working behind the scenes to determine if his troubled kid brother is onto something real, can all these bombings across the globe somehow be connected?

Well, here is where the film fell a bit, for someone as genius as the Professor, and for someone who never leaves loose ends, he sure left enough to have Holmes very quickly surmise he was the Soros, I mean, puppet-master behind the violence and protests.

It was all a little too convenient, really.  But, I didn’t mind, because this film was every bit as much an action flick as it’s older brother from last Christmas.  Getting to the good bits might have been less cerebral than most people preferred, but I heard a few people say that the original film was “boring” – so maybe the writers decided to trim some fat to get to the action.  I won’t fault them for that, but remember, this is a Holmes film – it needs to be incredibly clever . . . it needs to dazzle with brilliance, not baffle with the typical Hollywood bullshit.  I don’t know if it was a puzzler per say.

Still, there will be surprises, you do have to pay attention, and there are things for you to try and unravel – you may find yourself wanting to watch it again, right away, just to see if you missed anything, but in the end, the great reason for Moriarty’s game left me wanting something a bit less derivative.