The Virtuoso

 

Something was bugging me all throughout watching "The Virtuoso." It's the tale of an assassin trying to reconcile the capricious brutalities of his life while pulling off an especially vexing job in which he's sent to a small town to kill someone -- but he doesn't know who.

Even though the film is engaging and full of plenty of suspense, I couldn't shake the vague feeling that what I was watching was not a movie. A large part of it has to do with the narration, which is done in second-person, present-tense form: "You are very careful. You know never to rush. You always take your time and do not be distracted," etc. 

At first what bothered me about the narration is that it's largely unnecessary. As our titular protagonist, a stern-looking fellow of middle years played by Anson Mount, assesses threats and undertakes risks, we can generally see his mind working clearly. For example, at one point he encounters a body in the trunk of a car, so we know that he knows that the person driving that vehicle isn't who they say they are.

Nevertheless, here comes the narrator to solemnly intone, "But if so-and-so is dead in the trunk, then who is the imposter inside the house?"

It's thudding and it's distracting. In movies it's best to lead your audience to where you want them to go, but don't spell it out for them. Show, don't tell. Less is more. It's better to let them be momentarily confused that always feel one step ahead of the characters. 

This is filmmaking 101 stuff. And director Nick Stagliano is not a newbie with three previous feature credits under his belt. Screenwriter James C. Wolf is a little greener, but they seem adept at pacing the plot it. So why the damn narrator?

It wasn't until the movie was nearly over I figured it out: it's a video game. Watching the movie is an equivalent experience to having your avatar go through the tricks and tumbles of a role-playing game, with the narrator helpfully providing clues and insights you might have missed. 

Should the virtuoso go here and talk to this woman? Or hang back and watch what unfolds? Should he start up his car, or will the taillights give away his position to the enemy? And so on.

It's too bad, because this invasive choose-your-own-adventure warbling keeps getting in the way of a perfectly serviceable story. 

The assassin lives in a shack in the woods, totally off the grid and cut off from all communication or human contact. He gets his assignments through notes in a private mail service box, and can pick and choose his jobs. 

Sometimes he gets a name, location, details, everything. Other times it's just a few clues, and he has to follow the breadcrumbs to find his mark. His only real connection is with his handler, an enigmatic fellow played by Anthony Hopkins. He's essentially an older version of the virtuoso, and even though they work together they circle each other like wary wolves, affection not giving all the way to trust.

You may wonder why a screen icon like Hopkins is doing in a little potboiler like this, and I can say with a lot of confidence that it's all because of one speech the handler gives in a graveyard scene. I'd bet a steak dinner Hopkins was flipping through that script thinking, "This guy doesn't really do much but sit at his desk and answer one of several phones in front of him," but got to that stem-winder speech and said, "I'll take the part!"

Turns out the handler was a soldier who served with the assassin's father, and has taken on a mentor role now that his old man is passed. Hopkins is frisky and a little scary as a man who knows the dark parts of man's heart, knows that duty requires wandering in there from time to time, but understands how to set it aside and move on to the next mission.

The virtuoso is having trouble with this because his last job went terribly bad, so he wants to jump back into the game so as not to stew over it. His next assignment is a doozie, and the handler suggests he pass on it, but he's resolved.

It involves going to a tiny, tiny town in the woods that seems to consist of just a motel and Rosie's Cafe, a roadside greasy spoon where he is to meet his quarry at exactly 5 o'clock. The hitch: he doesn't know who it is, other than it has something to do with "White Rivers."

He goes to the appointed place and finds several potential threats. There's an older loner (Eddie Marsan) in the corner who's carrying a concealed gun. A handsome dude with a wolf's smile (Richard Brake) who appears to be a boyfriend of a woman (Diora Baird). The assassin is trying to figure out who to kill when a sheriff's deputy (David Morse) strolls in to refuel with coffee and danish. Now what?

He subtly enlists the help of the waitress, Dixy (Abbie Cornish), Rosie's niece who is filling in while her aunt is sick. She takes one look at the steely virtuoso and recognizes a choice pick in an unlikely place, and comes on hard to him. He uses her attraction to his advantage, plumbing her for information to scope out the others. Things go from there.

It's a pretty neat setup, although I have to confess I figured out the twist pretty early on, and I'm guessing you will, too. Still, I was never bored watching it all play out.

Mount is an intriguing figure, a guy who has to practice smiling so he'll pass for a normal citizen. He's not a bad person at heart and the collateral damage that sometimes happens weighs heavily on him. Mount, who sort of resembles George Clooney's harder-hearted cousin, gives the virtuoso a sort of polite distant quality -- a gentlemen with a thousand-yard stare.

There's a lot to like about "The Virtuoso," which plays on the conventions of the killer-among-us shtick while offering enough originality to make it seem like not another cookie-cutter flick. I also appreciated that they didn't gift the assassin with otherworldly fighting skills a la Wick or Bourne, so when he gets into a scrape he gets as good as he gives.

If only they would've nixed that damnable "quest hints" narration...

Review: "The Father"

I confess I went into “The Father” without much enthusiasm. Dementia is a subject that’s been pretty well explored in cinema -- “Supernova” is just one recent example -- and I wondered how much familiar ground this film would tread all over again, even with Oscar winners Anthony Hopkins and Olivia Colman leading the way.

It took but a few minutes to replace my anxiety with astonishment. Director Florian Zeller, who adapted the screenplay (along with Christopher Hampton) from his own play, gives us a gripping tale that puts us right inside the mind of Anthony (Hopkins), an 83-year-old Londoner.

I don’t think I’ve seen a better cinematic depiction of mental illness since “A Beautiful Mind.”

The trick here is that we’re not witnessing Anthony from without, but seeing things through his eyes. To him, everyday life is a confusing journey in which strangers suddenly appear in your apartment, claiming to have known you for years, or strangers seem as old friends.

He also experiences agonizing time slips, so he’ll think it’s still morning when it’s suppertime -- or even that he believes an hour has gone by when it’s been more than a month.

Colman plays his daughter, Anna, who has come to live with Anthony in his marvelous flat… or he has moved into her place, depending on his current mindset. Shockingly, Anna is sometimes played by another actress, Olivia Williams, and the pain on both their faces when he angrily denies her identity is a sight to behold.

This is a masterwork in acting by Hopkins, playing a proud man who’s desperately trying to put up a front of still being in charge of his own life. He’ll make a joke of his forgetfulness, charm the pants off whoever he’s talking to, then teeter off into a canyon of anger and despair the next moment. It’s an incredibly vulnerable performance.

Colman is solid too, playing a woman of middle years who has watched her own life flash by as she’s tended to her father in his decline. She lets us feel the mixture of shame, guilt, resentment and affection when she sees her father. Part of her knows a time is coming when he’ll need more care than she can give, but she’s not yet ready to let go of the responsibility.

At various times (from Anthony’s perspective) Anna is currently married, or divorced, or recently met someone and decided to move away to Paris. Rufus Sewell and Mark Gatiss play her lover alternately, whose patience for Anthony varies quite a deal, from kindly tolerance to outright abuse.

Imogen Poots turns up as Laura, a young caregiver who Anna has hired to look after Anthony while she goes away. He’s gone through a slew of such women who couldn’t take his abuse -- for example, he’s constantly misplacing his watch but accuses his caregivers of stealing it. He’s immediately taken with Laura, who reminds him of his younger, favorite daughter: another reservoir of pain for Anna.

“The Father” falls into that small category films that can be painful to watch, but is extraordinarily rewarding for those that do. Such a beautiful, and very human, story.

Review: "The Two Popes"

Before Joseph Ratzinger, aka Pope Benedict XVI, resigned his position in 2013 no Catholic pontiff had voluntarily stepped down prior to death going back to the 1200s. The fact that his successor, Pope Francis, represented a sharp turn from Benedict’s adherence to strict, conservative interpretation of scripture underscores what a watershed moment their passing of the baton was.

“The Two Popes” is an often-mesmerizing, splendidly acted look at the relationship between the two men. It is a semi-fictitious account of their secret meeting over the course of a few days as two adversaries come to be allies, and perhaps friends.

Anthony Hopkins plays Benedict and Jonathan Pryce is Francis, aka Jorge Mario Bergoglio, in what is essentially a two-man, two-hour dialogue about religious faith and earthly tribulations.

Think “My Dinner with Andre,” with cassocks.

It’s more Bergoglio’s story than Benedict’s, as the story follows him and Benedict is only glimpsed through his eyes. Still, both men are revealed as three-dimensional, flesh-and-blood creatures riven with a combination of gloomy doubts and fiery certitude.

The story begins in 2005, when Benedict is chosen over Bergoglio to be the next pope. The first is German, a scholar, and openly campaigns for the position. The latter is Argentinian, a conflicted man of the people, and quietly urges behind the scenes for the church to reform.

Flash to 2011, and the pope summons Cardinal Bergoglio to Rome for mysterious purposes. It turns out the subordinate had already bought a plane ticket to see his superior in order to ask for permission to retire. But it’s clear the pope is intent on taking measure of the cardinal’s mind and soul.

They share walks, meals and contentious conversations. Benedict, physically decrepit but strong in spirit, repeatedly challenges Bergoglio for failing to uphold church doctrine on things like condemning homosexuality and giving sacrament to divorced parishioners.

In turn, the younger man insists that the masses are turning away from Catholicism because of the church’s failure to live up to its own teachings, such as turning a blind eye to predatory priests who had sexually abused young members of the flock.

We also flash back to earlier periods in Bergoglio’s life, such as when he broke off his marital engagement in order to return to the seminary. (Juan Minujín plays the younger version.)

Later, there is a look at his actions as the head of the Franciscans during the Argentinian military coup of 1976. It was a dark time when citizens and even priests often disappeared into prisons, sometimes never to return. Bergoglio is challenged by his own priests, and has to make some harsh choices.

Back in the present of 2011, Bergoglio is still tortured over whether his actions were the right thing to do. Benedict, finally seeing the veil of certainty drop from the ardent reformer, sees not weakness but the humility needed to be a great leader.

Both men confess to each other, as men and as priests. Despite their lofty places in a religious order they experience crises of their faith. Bergoglio says he feels like “a salesman for a product I don’t endorse.” Benedict is haunted by the silence of God’s voice in his mind since he became pope.

Bergoglio flashes anger at the pope for letting predatory priests move from parish to parish while the victims were abandoned. Benedict both admires and resents the cardinal for the unassuming charisma he has with the people.

“Whenever I try to be myself, people don’t seem to like me very much,” he says with a painful grin.

Director Fernando Meirelles (“City of God”) and screenwriter Anthony McCarten (“The Darkest Hour”) have given us a film that is both intimate and grandiose. We don’t see a lot of serious explorations of faith in popular movies, religious characters tending to be portrayed as doctrineless saints or dastardly zealots using their deity’s teachings for their own purposes.

But “The Two Popes” is just such a film. Though it tends to paint Francis as the good-hearted reformer and Benedict as an old-world pedant, the movie refuses to worship or condemn either man. Both are given their due measure of grace.

Video review: "Thor: Ragnarok"

“Thor: Ragnarok” is the franchise’s full-flip dive into comedy mode, despite the storyline based on the fabled end-times apocalypse of the Norse gods. It’s rather an incongruous fit -- imagine a Biblical story set to the hilarious stylings of the Crucifixion -- but it’s hard to deny the sheer entertainment might of this movie.

Chris Hemsworth returns as the god of thunder, who’s brought low by the apparent death of his father, Odin (Anthony Hopkins), and the revival of his evil sister, Hela (Cate Blanchett), from eons of well-deserved imprisonment.

In short order she defeats Thor and his occasionally-do-well brother, Loki (Tom Hiddleston) -- destroying Thor’s mythic hammer in the process -- takes over their home world of Asgard and leaves the brothers banished to a far corner of the galaxy. They spend much of the movie trapped on the planet of Sakaar, where other civilizations dump their garbage, be it hazardous materials or underperforming life forms.

There the kooky Grandmaster (Jeff Goldblum) holds reign, overseeing the gladiatorial games that form Sakaar’s chief form of entertainment. Thor is quickly conscripted into the arena, where he encounters an old pal in the form of the Hulk, who sporadically reverts to his milder human version, Dr. Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo).

New characters include Tessa Thompson as a bounty hunter with a secret link to Asgard; Karl Urban as Skurge, Hela’s right-hand henchman; and Korg, a sweetly dim rock-like creature surviving in the gladiator ranks, who’s performed via voice and motion capture by Taika Waititi, who also directed the film.

(Korg’s scaly, rocky epidermis is so convincing, it becomes clear to me that all previous attempts to create the Thing in Fantastic Four projects must have been deliberately tanked.)

Of course, it’s all building up to another face-off with Hela, who coos and vamps like Greta Garbo given the full super-villain treatment.

With its fantastical science fiction backdrop and rain of funny one-liners, “Thor: Ragnarok” is a gleeful entry to the Marvel Comics Universe that doesn’t really make sense, or need to.

Bonus features are quite expansive. There is a director’s commentary track, deleted and extended scenes, gag reel, a new short film that gives clues to the Grandmaster’s life in exile, and featurettes focusing on the powerful female characters, the world of Sakaar, a tongue-in-cheek look at Korg and more.

Digital exclusives add more deleted scenes and “Evolution of Thor and Hulk’s Bromance,” which pretty much tells you all you need to know.

Movie:

Extras: 

Review: "Thor: Ragnarok"

“Thor in Space.”

That’s not actually the title of the third solo movie with Chris Hemsworth as the Norse god of thunder. But it could be.

“Thor: Ragnarok” definitely represents a conscious change of pace for the series. Instead of a lot of the sturm and drang characteristic of Nordic mythology, it’s a fast-paced dash of quips and dizzy action. And not just Thor swinging that big ol’ hammer around: lasers, machine guns, spaceships, a bunch of other whizzbang sci-fi gadgets.

Given the film’s overtly comedic tone and setting, you’d be forgiven for thinking it got jealous of the “Guardians of the Galaxy” flicks.

In general I’m not opposed to funny super hero flicks. If I could lift a bus or conjure lightning, I’d probably be smirking a lot, too.

But it sure is a gosh dang odd choice for Thor -- especially this story, which involves the threatened destruction of Asgard, the mystical realm of Thor and the other Norse gods. Ragnarok refers to the foretold end-times for Thor & Co., not unlike the Christian Revelations.

Not exactly a ha-ha goldmine.

Directed by Taika Waititi from a screenplay by Eric Pearson, Craig Kyle and Christopher Yost, “Thor: Ragnarok” is an undeniably fun movie. It’s just that with everyone muttering throwaway jokes under their breath and pratfalls that could’ve come straight out of Keystone Kops, it’s hard for the threat of doom to land with any weight.

Take Cate Blanchett as Hela, the goddess of death, sprung from the prison where Odin (Anthony Hopkins), the king and Thor’s father, exiled her eons ago. She’s now determined to claim the throne of Asgard, laying waste to the entire kingdom if needs be. In short order she defeats Thor and his mischievous brother, Loki (Tom Hiddleston) -- destroying Thor’s mighty hammer, the token of all his power, in the process.

The two find themselves stranded on the other side of the galaxy on Sakaar, a garbage world at the center of a bunch of time-space portals. This is a crossover from the “Planet Hulk” comics series a decade or so ago, and I’m not giving away anything by stating that Big Green makes a prominent appearance in the film, with Mark Ruffalo playing his human counterpart.

We get to see another scrappy Thor/Hulk faceoff, this time in the gladiator ring. It’s much more than just a cameo, as opposed to Doctor Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch), who makes a helpful (if annoyed) appearance.

(During his slave stint, Thor gets his signature long blond locks shorn off, revealing a short brown ‘do. Now everybody, not just his hairdresser, knows for sure. #FakeBlond)

Sakaar is ruled by the Grandmaster, whose main occupation seems to be finding fodder for his Contest of Champions. He’s played by Jeff Goldblum as a sort of vaguely malevolent, distracted poof -- the sort of guy just begging for a revolution.

Tessa Thompson plays a doughty bounty hunter with an unexpected past. Director Waititi also has a motion capture role as a rather sturdy fellow gladiator. Karl Urban plays Scourge, an Asgardian whose name is his destiny, or maybe not.

Meanwhile, back on Asgard the celestial watchman Heimdall (Idris Elba) is leading the resistance, vexing Hela. She has the ability to generate swords and other projectiles seemingly at will, not to mention transform her ebony mane of hair into a helmet of barbs. She’d be a pretty chilling villain, if she weren’t dropping droll one-liners of her own -- the Garbo of the gods.

Combining the sword-and-sorcery setting of Thor with a science fiction world of aliens and cool technology is a terrific idea. They maybe should have stopped there before layering in all the clown show stuff. But I guess even gods secretly want to be comedians.

Reeling Backward: "A Bridge Too Far" (1977)

Recently this column focused on "Theirs Is the Glory," a fairly unique film in which the actual participants of the failed Allied stratagem to end World War II by Christmas 1944, Operation Market Garden, returned to the site of the battles one year after the fact to recreate the action for a motion picture. The same military operation later became the basis for the 1977 feature film, "A Bridge Too Far."

In my essay on "Theirs Is the Glory," I mostly concentrated on the similarities between it and "Bridge," wondering if screenwriter William Goldman or author Cornelius Ryan, on whose book the latter film is based, were influenced by the earlier picture. That inspired me to go back to "A Bridge Too Far," and see how it has held up to my memory.

It only reinforced my opinion: "A Bridge Too Far" is one of the great WWII epics, and an incredible marriage of narrative structure, inspired direction, gritty performances and technical mastery from the support crew, particularly the musical score by John Addison (who himself served as a soldier in Market Garden).

Market Garden would remain a forgotten bit of history for 30 years until Cornelius Ryan wrote his book about the adventure, in which the Allies dropped 35,000 paratroopers behind enemy lines to capture a series of bridges. The plan was to have XXX Corp, the British armor column, punch up the road to connect the bridges, thus creating a hole directly into Germany.

Except, the Allies ignored evidence of a great deal of German resistance along the route, including an entire Panzer tank division near Arnhem, the last and most important of the bridges, since it spanned the Rhine River and the border into Germany itself. The British paratroopers, who were only supposed to have to hold the bridge for two days, gave up after nine, leaving behind 80% of their men as casualties or prisoners of war.

That's a lot of story to cram into a feature film, even a three-hour one, but Goldman's screenplay is an exercise in elegant structure. The story begins and ends with generals, both Allied and German, as they plan bold stratagems and then later try to pick up the pieces of where things went wrong. The middle section focuses on the lower ranks of soldiers, the dogfaces who actually have to carry out the fight their superiors dreamed up.

You've heard of "all-star casts," but this one is simply jaw-dropping. For the Brits: Anthony Hopkins, Dirk Bogarde, Michael Caine, Edward Fox, Sean Connery. For the Germans: Hardy Krüger, Maximilian Schell, Wolfgang Preiss. For the Americans: Robert Redford, Elliot Gould, Gene Hackman, James Cann, Ryan O'Neal. Not to mention Liv Ullman and Laurience Olivier  as Dutch civilians. And Denholm Elliott and John Ratzenberger turning up in bit roles.

Redford, arguably the biggest movie star in the world at the time, doesn't even show up until after the two-hour mark. 

I found it interesting how the script is laid out into essentially four sections. The first is the planning of Operation Market Garden, in which British heads are swelled and the first seeds of doubt creep in. Frank Grimes has a terrific role as a nervous major who unsuccessfully points out the presence of tanks, and is sent on medical leave as a result. The second section is the actual drop, a beautiful and daunting ballet of parachutes -- more than 1,000 men jumped out of planes for the sequence -- and the Allies' initial success in taking their objectives. The third is what I call the "American vignettes," and the last act is when everything goes to hell.

The vignettes are a quick succession of three stories centered around American characters. Elliott Gould is up first in a semi-comedic bit about his regiment failing to take the first bridge before the Germans blow it up, necessitating the building of a claptrap "Bailey bridge" to get the tanks across -- but not before delaying them 36 hours. Gould is terrific and charismatic, chomping on a cigar and shouting jokes in between the orders. Addison's music goes into a jazzy, bouncy mode.

Then we get James Caan as a nearly monosyllabic sergeant who protects his young captain -- he doesn't put on his coat at first, so we think he's just a punk private or something -- even guaranteeing the officer that he won't die. He appears to fail in his mission, as the captain is left for dead after being shot in the head. But the sergeant carries the body in a jeep through enemy lines to a mobile Army hospital and, at gunpoint, forces the surgeon (a spot-on Arthur Hill) to examine the wounded lad, revealing that he's still alive. 

(This may sound like Hollywood bullshit, but other than the part about being chased in a jeep by German soldiers, it really happened.)

The last and most harrowing of the vignettes is Redford as the major tasked with crossing the Waal River and taking the bridge at Nijmegen. Due to logistical snafus, they had to make a daytime crossing in flimsy portable boats, the wind blew away their smoke cover, and the unit was cut to pieces. Watching Redford with his helmeted head tucked down, pulling his rifle butt through the water like an oar, all the while chanting "Hail Mary, full of grace..." remains one of my seminal cinematic moments. (Again, this really happened.)

Sean Connery also gets a mini-vignette of his own as Major General Roy Urquhart, commander of the British airborne division dropped near Arnhem, who gets cut off from his own command and has to hide out in a little Dutch enclave, dodging from house to house, during which time he is presumed dead.

Lieutenant-General Frederick Browning, played by Dirk Bogarde, more or less acts as the heavy, playing the gung-ho Brit general who will not cancel the operation for any reason. Those who "rock the boat" are encouraged to clam up or suffer the consequences. 

At the end of the film Browning is depicted as duplicitously claiming to always have been skeptical about the operation -- "As you know I've always thought we tried to go a bridge too far" -- rather than an unreserved booster. In reality, Browning raised his doubts prior to the operation, and he and his family -- Bogarde actually served alongside Browning during the war -- were outraged at his villainous portrayal.

It being only three decades and a bit after the events depicted, many of the actors had an opportunity to talk with and even befriend the men they were playing. Edward Fox knew Lt. Gen. Brian Horrocks, commander of XXX Corp, prior to filming and later cited it as his favorite movie role. Michael Caine changed some of his dialogue after asking his counterpart how he would have issued orders, and the real Lt. Col. Johnny Frost had to explain to Anthony Hopkins that he would never have run too quickly between cover, because he had to show his men how contemptuous he was of enemy fire.

The production of "Bridge" is a Homeric story unto itself, and one others have already told better than I could -- notably by Goldman himself, who wrote a making-of book, "Story of a Bridge Too Far," and also included an entire chapter about it in his seminal showbiz tome, "Adventures in the Screenwriting Trade." 

(Extremely short version: Joseph E. Levine, a lifelong maverick producer, personally financed the film's $22 million budget -- about $86 million in today's dollars -- himself, then convinced some of the biggest global movie stars to participate by all accepting the same weekly pay rate. He recruited Richard Attenborough (him again) to direct, undertaking an incredible logistical and artistic challenge. Then as some of the amazing footage of the airdrops and battle scenes started to come back in, Levine showed the rushes to distributors who bid on the international distribution rights to the film. As a result, "Bridge" was already in the black before the first ticket was sold.)

The ultimate result was surprising, and not. Everywhere but the U.S. the film was a smash hit. Here, American and audiences and critics used to rousing pro-Allies depictions of the war collectively shrugged their shoulders at a massive production about a colossal military screw-up. Thus, "A Bridge Too Far" is barely known on these shores.

Their loss; "A Bridge Too Far" was perhaps the last of the great World War II epics.

Video review: "Noah"

Darren Aronofsky is not the sort of filmmaker who punts.

He makes dizzyingly complex movies that charter a course through the interior minds of his characters, who often descend into madness or despair. He broke onto the scene with “Pi,” and more recent efforts include “The Wrestler” and “Black Swan,” both of which got the attention of Oscar voters.

For his latest effort Aronofsky literally reached back to his childhood and a poem he wrote about Noah, the Biblical savior who builds an ark to save his family and two of every creature on Earth from God’s destructive flood. Religious literalists may be offended by the modernist reimagining of scripture by Aronosfsky, who also co-wrote the script with Ari Handel.

In this version of the tale, Noah (Russell Crowe) is a temperamental eco-warrior, a vegetarian who carefully harvests the bounty of the land, as opposed to the meat-eating descendants of Cain, who mine for precious metals, wage constant wars, and worse.

He receives dream-visions from the Creator (the word “God” is never used) indicating He plans to destroy the world, and Noah is charged with saving all his creatures. In Noah’s interpretation, he, his wife Naameh (Jennifer Connelly), their three sons and adopted daughter (Emma Watson) are merely caretakers for the animals, and are expected to die out afterward.

His enemy is Tucal-Cain (a snarly Ray Winstone), who thinks his right of free will includes displacing Noah and his clan from the ark. Lending a hand are the Watchers, golem-like giants made of stone who are actually the souls of fallen angels, trapped for helping the descendants of Adam and Eve.

Also hanging around is Noah’s grandfather Methuselah (Anthony Hopkins), the last of the great Biblical patriarchs endowed with magical powers. A major subplot involves a rivalry between Noah and his middle son Ham (Logan Lerman), who resents that his father refuses to let them choose wives to take along on the ark.

“Noah” represents a bold vision, unintentionally goofy at times, but one still engaging and illuminating.

Extra features are a tad disappointing, especially if you buy the DVD version, which contains exactly nothing. Upgrade to the Blu-ray, and you add three making-of featurettes: “Iceland: Extreme Beauty,” “The Ark Exterior: A Battle for 300 Cubits” and “The Ark Interior: Animals Two by Two.”

Movie:

Extras:

Review: "Thor: The Dark World"

So much darkness in our popcorn movies lately. Everybody wants their comic book and sci-fi heroes to be brooding fellows trapped in grim, dim circumstances. We know it to be so because -- apparently not confident in their own ability to express it onscreen -- Hollywood keeps putting the word "dark" into the titles.

"Star Trek Into Darkness" is a fit example, both for the curious lack of a colon as well as being colossally inaccurate. (Might I suggest: "Star Trek Into Regurgitation.")

So now Thor, the mighty, grinning blond Norse god of thunder, has gotten himself mired in a patch of inky intrigue. Things are looking bad for his home world of Asgard, which has been invaded by an ancient evil: dark elves! And they've got some nasty red goo called the Aether, which floats around and gets absorbed into bodies, making people all-powerful.

"Thor: The Dark World" is a muddle of a movie, and not entirely because it's trying to be dour. Mainly the problem is that director Alan Taylor and his trio of screenwriters can't decide between a sober action/drama and a doofy superhero flick, and end up with ingredients for both. It's not that either way is better or worse, but that they simply don't taste good together.

For instance, it might not be apparent to Taylor & Co. that the death of a major character tends to have less of an impact when someone makes a joke about it not five minutes later.

That's the thing about dark movies -- you've got to keep at it. Trying to brighten things up with little rays of sunshine and humor just fouls it all up.

The movie also lacks the one thing necessary to a really good super-hero movie: a terrific villain for him or her to match wits against. That's entirely a loss here, with the main bad guy sporting a mouthful of a name, Malekith, and actor Christopher Eccleston buried under mounds of pasty white makeup and costume.

Seems he's been sleeping the eons away, waiting for his chance to reclaim the Aether and avenge himself upon Odin (Anthony Hopkins), Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and the rest of Asgard and the nine realms. Those universes are about to sync up in a once-in-5,000-years Convergence, which could result in a return of eternal darkness, something dark elves tend to like.

Returning for another go is Natalie Portman, Thor's totally unnecessary girlfriend, who's also an astrophysicist studying the links between her world and Asgard because she's sweet on the big guy wielding the big hammer. Meanwhile, Thor's been too busy saving worlds to check in on her, despite a lengthy stop in New York for that Avengers thing.

As he was in the first Thor movie, Tom Hiddleston is the best thing going as Loki, Thor's adoptive brother and chief rival for the throne of Asgard. He's now languishing in Odin's dungeon for his past crimes, but you know it's just a matter of time before he gets sprung for one reason or another.

Smirking and charismatic, Loki is the lovingly loathsome bad guy this movie desperately needed. Instead, he's given one last chance to prove he's not the turncoat everyone thinks by teaming up with Thor against the elves.

"Thor: The Dark World" features lots of screwy action scenes, including one where Thor and Malekith fight while being transported multiple times between worlds. Up is down, left is right, and nothing really makes a lick of sense. That's pretty much how it goes for the rest of the movie.

Reeling Backward: "Magic" (1978)

"Magic" is one of those good movies that, for whatever reason, saw its reputation fade as the years went by. It got good reviews and box office when it came out in 1978, and arrived right around the beginning of the horror film boom of the late '70s and 1980s. But it didn't have the lasting cultural impact of, say, "Halloween," which came out the same year.

It's probably a mistake to toss "Magic" into the horror bin, since it's more a psychological portrait of a deranged mind than a movie whose primary vocation is to scare you. Certainly, director Richard Attenborough and screenwriter William Goldman (who adapted his own novel) are not names associated with cheap slasher flicks.

Still, it features a lot of the same tropes of horror films, and what fame it does have is usually framed in terms of Anthony Hopkins' performance as a creepy precursor to that in "Silence of the Lambs." And, of course, the kicker ending is in the classic horror mold -- giving the audience a final thrill while setting up the possibility of a sequel (wisely left unmade).

For the movie Hopkins had to learn a number of difficult skills: magic tricks with cards, coins, and of course ventriloquism. His work with the puppet Fats -- a leering, oversexed, R-rated version of his character's own crushingly repressed id -- is so good, in fact, that we wonder if there wasn't a little help from the sound looping department.

Hopkins' lips and teeth barely seem to move at all, and if it weren't for a slight tremor under the jawline, I'd chalk it up to Hollywood trickery.

Voice has often seemed an important element to Hopkins' body of work, much more so than most actors. The flat, metallic sound he gave Hannibal Lecter reflected the timbre of a man who had barely spoken for more than a decade (mostly because he deemed his few visitors unworthy of his speech). Hopkins is also known to be a really good mimic -- including dubbing the lines of the late Laurence Olivier for the restored footage of "Spartacus."

Here he employs a high, reedy tone that tip-toes right up to the edge of being shrill. For the dummy, it jumps whole hog right into screechy. In this sense the way Fats sounds parallels his looks, which are meant as a crude caricature of his partner's own visage.

Hopkins plays Corky Withers, a failed apprentice magician whose first attempt to appear on stage is a horrible disaster. The story opens with him relating the tale of his bombing in flashback to his dying mentor. The old man advises him that since he lacks anything like charisma or showbiz flair, he needs a gimmick.

Flash to a year later, and Corky is on the verge of hitting it big, playing sold out performances and appearing several times on "the Carson show." He has now incorporated Fats into the act, using him to tell off-color jokes and operate as his own personal court jester, hurling insults and put-downs at the guy working his levers.

His own TV show is in the works, and eel-ish agent Ben Greene (Burgess Meredith) advises him that the only formality is a medical exam. This sends Corky running off into hiding, leaving New York City for his hometown in the Catskills. It appears he knows the doctors would conclude something is wrong with his head, so he doesn't give them a chance.

There he hooks up with his old high school love interest, Peggy Ann Snow (Ann-Margret), whom he never had the courage to approach when they were youngsters. Now trapped in an unhappy marriage to a brute (Ed Lauter), she at first resists Corky's overtures -- played mostly through Fats' persona, who can flirt and cajole while Corky can't get past a stammer.

Ann-Margret has verve and sass, and seems to exist as a thinking, independent character who isn't just there to be acted upon by the male protagonist. That wasn't always an assured thing in the 1970s (or now).

Attenborough and Goldman tease the audience with the possibility of something supernatural going on with Fats -- that he's actually a sentient being who only plays the part of a ventriloquist's dummy. On a couple of occasions we seem to catch his head moving on its own, but it's always in the corner of the screen and/or out of focus.

Of course, the most glaring evidence is when Fats stabs Peggy Ann's husband to death with a switchblade -- it's shot to suggest that the dummy is wielding the knife. But we can see it's a human hand holding the blade, and after the man falls dead, dragging Fats to the ground with him, the curtain behind where the dummy was sitting parts to reveal Corky.

The point is that while Fats isn't really alive, Corky thinks he is. Their ongoing conversations with each other are actually symptoms of a split personality, or at least a manifestation of Corky's darker instincts. (Of course, this doesn't explain the ending, where Peggy Ann starts talking in a voice similar to Fats', suggesting Corky's delusion has been passed on to her.)

One of the things I most liked about the movie was the distinction Corky makes between "magic" and "tricks." Tricks, to him, are a set-up -- something the magician has arranged in advance with special equipment or a volunteer who's in on the gag. Corky insists that he performs magic, which he defines as simply a skill that has been practiced and honed so that it appears to be extraordinary.

Fats, for his part, tells Peggy Ann that "Corky does magic. I just do tricks," emphasizing the opposition between their warring personalities. In essence Fats is Corky's trick, the prop he uses to get the audience to pay attention to his magic act, which otherwise wouldn't impress them.

I haven't read Goldman's book, but I wonder if it explores the process of how Corky evolved from nobody loser to huge ventriloquism success. My guess is no.

It's merely supposition, but if I were to fill in the blanks for Corky's missing year, I would say he forced himself to sell out his purist magic principles by adopting the cheapest, moldiest carny sideshow trick: the ventriloquist dummy. Self-hatred drove him to endow the object of his parallel success and degradation with seething hatred.

Here's one thing I know: I would've loved to have seen the Corker & Fats television show.

"Magic" is a very good and borderline terrific proto-horror film that showcases Anthony Hopkins at his nervy best. Hopefully the movie can conjure up a new generation of admirers.

Review: "Hitchcock"

If Alfred Hitchcock hadn’t been a bona fide figure, Hollywood would’ve invented him. With his inverted-light-bulb physique and that pained slur of a monotone drawl, the great film director stood out both for his exemplary craftsmanship and his oddball image. In some ways his personal iconography has endured every bit as much as his movies.

“Hitchcock,” which puts the filmmaker under the microscope during the making of his landmark film “Psycho,” features a spot-on impersonation by Anthony Hopkins. Wearing an impressive body suit and extensive facial prosthetics to mimic the droopy mien of “Hitch” (as he preferred to be called), Hopkins evokes the spirit and personality of the man behind masterpieces like “Rear Window,” “North by Northwest” and “Vertigo.”

In this portrait, Hitchcock is both supremely self-confident and filled with obsessive fears about being a washed-up failure. At age 60, Hitch frets that his best days were behind him, that he is tainted by his association with television, and that he will never receive the accolades (i.e., an Academy Award) he feels are surely deserved.

But the movie, directed by Sacha Gervasi from John J. McLaughlin’s screenplay (based on a book by Stephen Rebello), goes further by exploring the relationship between Hitchcock and his wife, Alma Reville. And it’s in this journey that the film rises from amusing bauble to a full-throated and satisfying depiction of a great man and the unheralded woman who helped make him so.

Alma, played by Helen Mirren, dutifully performs the role of the loyal wife in public, but quietly seethes with resentment underneath. A talented editor and writer in her own right, she married a promising young director and made his career her own. Reville rewrote scripts, played the part of Hitch’s main sounding board and even (if this film’s depiction is to be believed) stood in for him behind the camera when his health failed.

As the story opens, Hitch is coming off the resounding success of "North by Northwest," but hasn't a clue as to what to make for his next picture. Some, including Alma, are quietly suggesting he retire with grace. Those calls become increasing urgent as he lights upon the gruesome story of Ed Gein, a serial murderer who chopped up his victims.

When the Hollywood press is repulsed by the topic, Hitchcock digs deeper. When Alma dismisses the story as cheap horror show, he is intrigued by the challenge: "What if someone really good made a horror picture?" he asks.

Realizing that his dream female star, Grace Kelly, is now unavailable due to having married into royalty, Hitch settles on Janet Leigh. As played by Scarlett Johansson, Leigh is a paragon of niceness and professionalism in a cutthroat business. At first she's ambivalent about Hitchcock, especially how he will handle the famous shower scene. But she eventually finds herself in his corner.

"Compared to Orson Welles, he's a sweetheart," she muses.

Her counterpoint is Vera Miles (Jessica Biel), whom Hitch had hoped to make a big star, but she rejected him to play the real-life role of wife and mother. It was part of his long fixation on "these blonde women of mystery" who regularly populated his films.

Hitchcock can't get the studio to finance "Psycho," so he ends up writing a check for $800,000 out of his own pocket. It threatens to bankrupt them, and Alma responds to being shut out of the creative process by collaborating with an old friend (Danny Huston) who's a little bit too familiar with the married "Mrs. Hitchcock."

Director Gervasi's only other film was the documentary "Anvil: The Story of Anvil," which looked at a washed-up heavy metal band. His switch to narrative storytelling is a seamless one, as he expertly plucks the audience's strings, much like composer Bernard Hermann's screeching violin strings in "Psycho."

At a crisp 98 minutes, "Hitchcock" is as taut as one of Hitch's own mystery thrillers.

3.5 stars out of four

Video review: "Thor"

Summer's first major blockbuster announces the march of high-profile movies arriving on video from now through the rest of the year. I'm glad to see "Thor," because the pickings has been a mite slim lately.

Based on the comic book, "Thor" is the tale of the Norse god of thunder, an arrogant warrior played with brio by Chris Hemsworth. No hero creation myth necessary here: Thor was born a mighty god, the son of the all-powerful Odin (Anthony Hopkins). After offending Odin with an ill-advised attack on the home of their mortal enemies, the frost giants, Thor is banished to Earth and stripped of his powers -- including the hammer Mjolnir, which is to him as Excalibur is to King Arthur.

While vulnerable, Thor finds himself falling for a mortal scientist (Natalie Portman) and dealing with the machinations of his half-brother Loki, who has some serious daddy issues and would like to sit on Odin's throne.

As a villain, Loki is a little lacking, more of a mopey presence than a truly forbidding one. Fortunately, Laufey, the king of the frost giants, serves as a suitable backup.

The movie occasionally gets tripped up by its own sense of pomposity, taking on Shakespearean overtones when the material is more suited to bubblegum action set pieces. But there are plenty of those, and despite a few weaknesses "Thor" packs quite a wallop.

Video goodies are decent with the basic DVD edition, and improve significantly upon upgrading to Blu-ray.

The DVD has a feature-length commentary track by director Kenneth Branagh, four deleted scenes with commentary, and "Road to The Avengers," a featurette building up to the super-hero super-group (including Iron Man and Thor) debuting in their own flick next summer.

The Blu-ray/DVD combo pack includes all that stuff, plus seven more deleted scenes, a digital copy of the film, seven making-of featurettes centering mostly on visual effects, and something called "Marvel One Shot: The Consultant," a short film that helps bridge the divide between "Thor" and the Avengers movie.

Movie: B
Extras: B-plus

Reeling Backward: "The Tenth Man" (1988)

I don't usually write about television movies, but 1988's "The Tenth Man" has more cinematic roots than most TV.

It was based on a novel by Graham Greene, whose work has been the basis for a number of movies -- "The End of the Affair," "The Quiet American," "The Third Man," etc. And director Jack Gold had plenty of feature film experience as well as television.

And, of course, it stars a trio of magnificent English film actors: Anthony Hopkins, Kristin Scott Thomas and Derek Jacobi. Given that pedigree, I'm willing to give it an honorary inclusion into the Reeling Backward club.

It's a tragic tale about fear and regret, and the impossibility of escaping the past. Its hero begins the story in shame, and ends it with a brave sacrifice. He is a liar and a coward, and yet culminates his journey ennobled.

Hopkins plays Jean Louis Chavel, a wealthy French barrister who is rounded up by the Nazis in the early days of the German occupation of France. There is no reason for his arrest, or I should say there is no particular reason that he should be among those arrested -- he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Germans are plucking men off the street at random to hold as hostages. Whenever the French Resistance stage any sort of violence, a few of the prisoners are executed.

(I should note that although all the major characters are French, everyone speaks in the finest upper-crust British accents -- one of those conceits of filmmaking we're asked to just swallow.)

Sure enough, after some trouble the Germans announce that three of 30 Frenchmen will be executed in the morning. As an added twist of the knife, they will force the prisoners themselves to choose from among their number the condemned. After drawing lots, Chavel is horrified to find he has gotten one of the three pieces of paper with an "X" on it.

After breaking down in a tearful display, Chavel offers to give 100,000 francs to any man who will take his place. When this fails to net any takers, he increases the deal to include everything he owns, including his mansion estate in the countryside near Paris. Michel Mangeot (Timothy Watson), a sickly young man, agrees to the bargain, and sees to it that Chavel himself makes out the legal papers leaving everything to Michel's sister and mother.

Interestingly, the title refers not to Chavel, who is actually the 27th of 30 prisoners to draw lots, but Michel, who nabs the 10th ballot. Or perhaps it's just a reference to one in 10 men being executed ... but that would mean there were three Tenth Men. No, I think it's Michel. I'm always fascinated by movie titles that don't mean what they appear to, like "The Last of the Mohicans," which refers not to Hawkeye but his adoptive father, Chingachgook. 

Flash to the end of the war, and a bedraggled Chavel emerges from prison, bearded and wearing ragged clothes. Finding a ring in the cobblestones near the Seine River -- which he had contemplated hurling himself into -- he pawns it for enough money to travel to his former estate. He finds the grounds overgrown and the shutter hanging askew, but otherwise the house is intact. Chavel is startled to discover that it is not in fact abandoned, but still occupied by Michel's sister Therese Mangeot (Scott Thomas) and her elderly mother (Brenda Bruce).

He gives Therese a fictitious name, suspecting that she may blame him for the death of Michel -- a wise move. Turns out she is boiling with rage, waiting for the day Chavel returns so she can spit in his face and shoot him (though not necessarily in that order). He tells her he was in prison with her brother and knew Chavel, so she hires him as a servant. His main job is to alert her if Chavel should ever turn up.

There's a bit of literary conceit there, especially the idea that Chavel's former neighbors and the local priest (Cyril Cusack) wouldn't recognize him after being away just three years and growing a beard.

You can probably guess what happens next: Chavel finds himself falling for Therese, but can't bring himself to declare his true identity and feelings, knowing she burns with hatred for him.

It's a very subtle, interior performance by Hopkins, the sort of thing that typified his career before he won an Oscar for "Silence of the Lambs" three years later. The way his eyes fall to the floor, and his hands rub his forehead and cheek, it's almost like Chavel is trying to hide from himself. It would be interesting to know what sort of man he was before the war, bu the movie doesn't provide much illumination before he's thrown in prison.

Things grow more melodramatic in the last third or so with the arrival of an impostor (Derek Jacobi) claiming to be Chavel. The son of one of the other prisoners, he heard the story of Chavel and decided to make use of it. He's on the run from the authorities for collaborating with the Germans and needs a place to stay for the night. But smartly sensing the odd dynamic unfolding in the Chavel mansion, he decides to make a play for bigger stakes.

I enjoyed "The Tenth Man" for the most part -- the acting is splendid, and it has a dour, sober quality and an authentic period feel. Sort of "Masterpiece Theatre" meets Dostoevsky.

2.5 stars out of four

Video review: "The Rite"

"The Rite" is pretty much a one-trick pony: What if the exorcist became possessed himself?

Nearly 40 years after Linda Blair shocked audiences with some demonic neck-twisting and pea soup spewing, we've seen virtually every iteration of the exorcism routine. "The Rite," based on a nonfiction book by Matt Baglio, aims to drag exorcism into the 21st century by basing itself on real cases of demonic possession chronicled by the Catholic church.

Except... it's not real, really. The character Baglio used as his main character was a middle-aged priest, not a handsome young seminary student (Colin O'Donoghue) doubting his faith. And his mentor in the ways of exorcism (Anthony Hopkins) did not fall victim to possession himself.

So, "The Rite" is a mix of real-world religious lore and Hollywood hooey. I wouldn't mind the sham, except the end result is generally not very compelling, except for some nice scenery-chewing by Hopkins in the latter section where his eyes change color and his skin goes blotchy and cracked (well, more so).

This is a PG-13 horror film -- a contradiction in terms to purists like myself -- so the violence and taunting of religious mores never goes too far over the edge. It's Blasphemy Lite.

Extra features are nothing special. If you buy the DVD version, all you'll get are a handful of deleted/extended scenes totaling about 13 minutes, none of which is terribly consequential.

If you upgrade to the DVD/Blu-ray combo pack, you'll get a few more goodies, including an alternate ending with a creepier flavor, and a digital copy of the film.

A nearly 7-minute making-of featurette is interesting insofar as it introduces the real priest Baglio based his book on, and demonstrates how far afield the movie travels from it. In fact, the journalist character representing Baglio himself is changed to a hot Italian woman for O'Donoghue to make moony eyes at.

Movie: 1.5 stars out of four
Extras: 2 stars

Review: "Thor"

I think "Thor" is going to produce mostly groans from professional critics and huzzahs from audiences -- at least the fanboys who grew up reading the Marvel Comics version of the Norse god of thunder.

I was not among them; as a youngster I read comic books, but not Thor, who struck me as an arrogant clod. However, I knew all about the gods of Asgard, reading gobs of Norse mythology (I was a strange kid) in visits to the local library. The Norse gods seemed simultaneously more accessible and badass than their Greek/Roman counterparts -- at least they wore armor instead of a sheet.

Like Thor himself, the movie about him is overly puffed up and self-serious, and suffers from moments of pomposity as it reaches for the grandiose. But the character experiences a satisfying arc of change, turning into a genuinely heroic figure whose magic hammer does some serious smiting.

Plus, I admit I'm a sucker for celestial rainbow bridges, evil frost giants, sorcerous trickery and all the other claptrap of Norse lore.

Thor is played by Aussie actor Chris Hemsworth (it seems like all the action stars are from Down Under lately), best known for playing Jim Kirk's dad in the reboot of "Star Trek." He packed on thick slabs of muscle for the role, and is convincing as a born warrior and crown prince of Asgard who still has much to learn about the humility and sacrifice required of a true leader.

Thor spends most of the movie on Earth stripped of his powers, a result of an action-packed 30-minute opening sequence in which Thor and some comrades invade Jotunheim, the world of their frost giant enemies. For his arrogance, his father Odin (Anthony Hopkins) banishes Thor and confiscates Mjolnir, the all-powerful hammer that is the source of his power.

He falls to earth in the desert, where he meets astrophysicist Jane Foster (Natalie Portman) when she runs him over with her van. Thor is haughty and dismissive, until he finds out he's as vulnerable as any mortal.

Meanwhile, Mjolnir also appears, half-buried in rock, waiting Excalibur-like for a worthy hero to lift it free. It also draws the attention of some government spy-types (led by Clark Gregg) who place the hammer in lockdown.

The heavy is Loki, Thor's brother and a master magician who is supposed to be a trickster, despite a glum, self-loathing performance by Tom Hiddleston. Loki desires the throne for himself, though some family secrets are dredged up to complicate his plans.

As a sub-villain, I enjoyed Laufey, the frost giant king (played via CGI by Colm Feore), who has baleful eyes and a malevolent sort of patience.

Directed by Kenneth Branaugh from a script by Ashley Miller, Zack Stentz and Don Payne, "Thor" has about a half-dozen too many characters. Thor's four warrior buddies are about three sidekicks more than necessary, and Jane has her own duo of hangers-on, including Stellan Skarsgård as her scientific mentor.

There has been snide talk on the Web about some of the Norse gods being portrayed by non-Caucasian actors. I suppose they have a point -- I don't recall any Vikings showing up in the pantheon of African deities -- but for my money Idris Elba, as the Asgard guardian Heimdall, has an even more commanding presence than Odin. Heimdall guards the entrance to the gods' realm, and his sight can extend into other worlds.

That's much cooler than any silly hammer, if you ask me.

3 stars out of four

Review: "You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger"

I'm enough of a Woody Allen fan to say there's no such thing as a bad Woody Allen movie. The problem with "You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger" is not that it isn't good, but that it feels like we've already seen this movie too many times before.

The narcissistic writer, the ambitious career woman trapped in dead-end marriage, the workplace flirtation that turns into (maybe) something more -- we've encountered these characters many times before in various iterations over Allen's 40-plus years of filmmaking. The only thing that changes is which actors play them.

Allen is a famously prolific writer/director, cranking out about a movie a year. There's bound to be repetition of themes and plots across such a huge body of work, but lately it seems he sticks to a formula with interchangeable parts.

Even the plain, spare black-and-white title sequences and old-timey musical score feel less like the affectations of a stubbornly independent artist than the rut of someone who can't find anything fresh to say.

That's also the plight of Roy (Josh Brolin), an American novelist living in London with his wife Sally (Naomi Watts). Roy gave up a career in medicine to write, and after one modestly successful book he's been unable to come up with anything publishers want.

They depend on financial assistance from Sally's mother Helena (Gemma Jones), who recently was abandoned by her husband of 40 years, Alfie (Anthony Hopkins). He didn't seem to have any real reason for divorcing Helena, other than fear of getting old, and she took it rather badly -- first attempting suicide, and then turning to a fourth-rate psychic for spiritual help.

Sally has recently taken a job working for successful art gallery owner Greg (Antonio Banderas), and it's not long before she's longing for the attention of her sexy boss. Roy, meanwhile, has become enamored with the young Indian girl (Freida Pinto) who moved into the apartment across the way, allowing him to play peeping tom.

Helena takes to popping in at Roy and Sally's any hour of the day, chattering away about her latest revelation from the psychic. She believes she's destined to meet a new love, and that Alfie won't be nearly as happy with his new wife as he was with her.

That psychic may just be stringing Helena along, but proves prescient about Alfie's new relationship. Charmaine (Lucy Punch) is half his age and a prostitute -- that's actually how Alfie meets her. But the old dodderer convinces himself she's got a the proverbial heart of gold, instead of just being a digger of it.

When Allen is really clicking -- say, with "Hannah and Her Sisters" or "Annie Hall" -- these self-deluded creatures seem, for all the ridiculousness of their relationships, at least believable. But here, the characters are mere comedy constructs, built to be laughed at.

Is Alfie such an aging lothario that he'd hand over his life to an obvious tart? Could Roy be any more obvious and piggish in his overtures to his lovely neighbor? Would level-headed Sally really throw herself at a man who makes no pretense of returning her affection?

Only Jones, as the increasingly discombobulated Helena, has any real weight or plausibility to her character. She's wallowing in self-pity and half a loon to boot, but we at least deem her a real person we could pass on the street.

"You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger" is cookie-cutter Woody Allen. His fans will savor the familiar taste, while the rest of us wish he'd seek out new recipes.

2 stars out of four

Review: "The Wolfman"

There hasn't been a big-budget Hollywood werewolf movie in a long time, and based on this new venture there may not be again: "The Wolfman" is howlingly bad.

This film from director Joe Johnston and screenwriters David Self and Andrew Kevin Walker is a remake of the 1941 film "The Wolf Man" starring Claude Rains as a man suffering from lycanthropy, a movie that helped set off the monster movie craze.

The new version stars Benicio del Toro -- not that you could ever discern this fact from the movie's trailers -- in a glum, flat performance. Del Toro's no hack, so I can only guess he was trying to gauge his performance on some earlier interpretations, notably Lon Chaney, who portrayed the werewolf in the 1941 film.

If this new movie sounds familiar, that's because it was originally supposed to be released in November of 2008. It was repeatedly pushed back, and some new scenes were shot last year and computerized effects added in.

The result is a strange mix. The action scenes with the werewolf are exciting enough, although most of the kills seem to be of the "boo-gotcha" variety. Johnston starts out shooting the monster circumspectly, but about halfway through he switches to full-on gore mode. There's lots of torn limbs, spilled entrails, and ripping of flesh in long, stringy tendrils.

Then we switch the the "human" scenes, which are interminably boring.

Emily Blunt plays Gwen, the fiance of a son of Lord Talbot (Anthony Hopkins) killed by some beast. Del Toro plays the other son, Lawrence, a famous stage actor who returns to investigate his brother's murder -- and cast some goo-goo eyes at Gwen.

Lord Talbot is a strange figure who talks about how much he loves his sons, but behaves curiously indifferent to them -- especially whether they live or die.

The transformation scenes are impressive, but honestly aren't better than the ones achieved by "An American Werewolf in London" nearly 30 years ago.

Hugo Weaving is a welcome respite as Abberline, the Scotland Yard detective sent to investigate the murders. He has a great scene where wanders into the local pub and begins to read a newspaper. The frightened townsfolk demand to know why he isn't out hunting the creature. Abberline responds that since it's impossible for him to track the beast, it's better if he remains close to the largest concentration of "potential victims" -- i.e., the pub-dwellers swilling their pints.

The movie keeps tumbling along through alternating scenes of increasing violence and dialogue scenes of surmounting lethargy.

I have never fallen asleep in a movie, but I came dangerously close during "The Wolfman."

1 star