Typically when you see Dwayne Johnson, otherwise known as ‘The Rock’, in a trailer of a movie, it’s almost a guarantee that the film is packed with crazed stunts, an overacted plot and those huge pecs bursting through a skin-tight shirt.

I like The Rock because he always manages to steal every scene he’s in with that huge on-screen presence; you can’t deny him that. However, some of his films are goofy and tired; d0es anyone remember “The Tooth Fairy?” I hope not. With that said, I walked into this film not expecting much at all and thought the 3D effects were going to be non-existent. I walked out pleasantly surprised and with a smile on my face.

We were first introduced to Sean Anderson (Josh Hutcherson) four years ago in “Journey to the Center of the Earth,” based on the classic Jules Verne tale. Now, Sean has matured into a handsome, determined teenager whose hormones are raging as he eagerly awaits another exciting adventure.

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It was fairly obvious that co-directors John Lasseter and Brad Lewis decided that their follow-up to the original “Cars” (2006) — which Lasseter also-co-directed — needed to broaden its scope beyond the small town of Radiator Springs. While I found the original as touching and charming as anything else Pixar has done,  many found the original subpar, and my guess is that was at least in part due to the  provincial nature of the story. Much of Pixar’s magic comes from their wondrous ability to create a world and then take us on a dazzling tour throughout it. The world of “Cars” was indeed small, but the good news is that by contrast, the world of “Cars 2″ is as exotic and worldly as any James Bond film.

And I say that because “Cars 2” opens like a James Bond film, and this is quite intentional. The story as a whole can be summed up with the word “spy-jinx,” and the opener involving Sir Michael Caine as a sleek, British super agent is pure 007 in tone, style, and the way in which it sets up a diabolical conspiracy involving Big Oil’s willingness to kill in order to strangle in the crib a promising alternative fuel.

From there we are sent back to Radiator Springs, where Lightning McQueen (Owen Wilson) has returned home from a successful tour of the racing circuit for some relaxation  and to hang out with his best friend Tow Mater (a superb Larry the Cable Guy). One thing leads to another, most of it due to Mater’s buffoonery, and before you know it, Mater and Lightning are touring Europe for a World Grand Prix and Mater has been mistaken for an undercover secret agent who holds the key to the Big Oil conspiracy.

The story itself is disappointing, far below Pixar’s usual imaginative and emotional standards, which is a disappointment. The emotional wallop is lacking due to a weak, predictable subplot involving the friendship between Lightning and Mater. Laziest of all is the Big Oil bad guy. You might have been able to forgive the preachier moments if there was any imagination at work.  Big Oil, really? I dislike big business almost as much as big government, but what I really dislike is lazy storytelling.

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Batman has bested such fiendish villains as the Joker, the Riddler and the Penguin. But his next enemy could be a gaggle of incoherent protesters clogging the fine streets of Gotham City.

‘The Dark Knight Rises,’ the anticipated third chapter in director Christopher Nolan’s Bat-saga, is expected to start shooting in New York City at the end of the month. And, if the Occupy Wall Street crowd isn’t dispersed by then, Nolan might find his meticulously planned sequel held hostage by the movement.

Under its code name “Magnus Rex,” the Warner Bros./Legendary Pictures production will arrive in the nation’s biggest city for 14 days starting Oct. 29, according to a casting notice recently issued by producers. And, according to a person briefed on actors’ schedules who requested anonymity because production details were being kept confidential, cast members have been told the shoot could include scenes shot at the Occupy Wall Street protests.

Some actors have been all too eager to support the OWS movement. But will their attitude change if the group starts affecting their precious product?

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It’s difficult to dislike a Pixar movie because the studio is well-known for telling great stories with wonderful animation. After all, this is the studio that released the “Toy Story” trilogy and the heart-warming “Up.” “Cars 2,” the newest Pixar film to hit theaters, continues the studio’s tradition of great animation but its story falls short and fails to capture the wonderment of some of the studio’s earlier films.

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The flaws in “Cars 2” are especially evident because the feature-length story is preceded by a short “Toy Story” film.  The short film displays the creativity and imagination that is sorely lacking in “Cars 2.” Despite the fact that the “Toy Story” crew has already been featured in three films, the new story about Ken and Barbie missing out on a Hawaiian vacation is inventive and extremely funny. The feature film that follows can’t hold a candle to it.

In “Cars 2,“ Lightning McQueen (Owen Wilson) is challenged by European opponent Francesco Bernoulli (John Turturro) to compete in the World Grand Prix, an international racing competition. After prodding from girlfriend Sally (Bonnie Hunt), McQueen decides to bring his friend Mater (Larry the Cable Guy) along with him. Mater, who acts like he’s never been on a vacation before, quickly begins embarrassing his friend overseas. Mater also becomes mixed up in a spy plot that involves two secret agents, voiced by Emily Mortimer and Michael Caine respectively.

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It’s not often that a popular actor sunk in disgrace and surrounded by media and movie-biz hostility can mount a comeback. Fatty Arbuckle—who was famously railroaded—never managed it; and Jeffrey Jones probably never will. So The Beaver is a triumph for Mel Gibson. Diving down into the alcoholism and manic depression he has implicated in his appalling behavior in recent years, Gibson has resurfaced with one of his most moving performances. This is all the more remarkable because the film’s premise seems so wildly unlikely, if not ludicrous.

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Gibson’s character is Walter Black, the successful—or once-successful—CEO of a New York toy company. Walter is being crushed to the ground by clinical depression and has just about given up hope. He’s tried some desperate therapies—from drum circles to self-flagellation—but now maintains on heavy meds. At work he’s a zombie; his staff is demoralized and profits are down. At home he spends most of his time in bed, smothering his pain in sleep. His loyal wife, Meredith (Jodie Foster), has stuck by him; but while the youngest of their two sons, Henry (Riley Thomas Stewart), still loves his dad, the oldest, teenage Porter (the excellent Anton Yelchin), has turned away in contempt.

Rooting around in some castoff junk one day, Walter finds an old hand puppet, a cute, nubbly beaver. When Meredith finally reaches the end of her marital tether and tells him to move out of the house, Walter takes the beaver with him. Checking into a motel, he gets drunk in his room and suddenly hears a voice: “Oi!” The Cockney accent is familiar, and at first we wonder if Walter has suddenly been joined by Michael Caine. But no—it’s the beaver. “I’m here to save your goddamned life,” says the puppet, no longer quite so cute.

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News of the death of legendary composer John Barry got me perusing through his astoundingly prolific repertoire of classic film scores. Although he is most famous for scoring the many James Bond films (even if his role in penning the original “Dr. No” theme song itself remains in dispute), my personal favorite movie theme by Barry is his overture for the 1964 film Zulu featuring Welsh actor Stanley Baker and a young up-and-coming English actor in his first starring role, Michael Caine.  Barry’s powerful opening score is just one of the many reasons I love this flick.  In fact, I believe that Zulu is one of the great underrated war movies of all time. 

Zulu was directed by blacklisted American screen-writer Cy Enfield who also co-wrote the script with historical writer John Preeble.  The film was produced by Enfield and lead actor Baker through the latter’s newly-formed production company, Diamond Films.  Zulu was a pet project of Baker’s who worked tirelessly to bring his vision of an article penned by Preeble to the screen. 

The film harkens back to the year 1879 during the opening of the Zulu War where lonely British army outpost called Rorke’s Drift sits nestled in the dry and rugged terrain of Natal, South Africa.  The little company of mostly Welsh soldiers left to guard the way station and hospital thinks they’re on quiet rear echelon duty when news arrives that their entire regiment of 1,200 men has been ambushed and massacred at the Battle of Isandlwana by the army of Zulu king Cetewayo (played in the film by the real Zulu chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi).  To make matters worse, 4,000 of them are now headed their way, hell bent on destroying the tiny garrison of just over 100 men. 

Tension builds within the command structure as the infantry company c.o. Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead (Caine) must relinquish control to the visiting Royal Engineers Lt. John Chard (Baker) who, though it’s not his unit, has seniority nonetheless.   Ordered to hold their ground, Chard applies his engineer’s eye to the problem and orders the garrison to construct a concentric series of defense lines from overturned wagons, crates and mealie bags…with a final redoubt at its core.  While the preparations for the attack are underway, the post is visited by a variety of characters. 

Natal native contingent militiaman Ardendorff (Gert Van den Bergh) has just escaped from Isandlwana.  The Boer—who ironically will soon be waging bitter war against the British himself—agrees to stay and act as military consultant.  (more…)

“Inception” opens July 16th, and represents one of those rare cerebral summer flicks that sometimes end up being the best studio offering of the season. With Christopher Nolan’s name on it and this mind-blowing trailer that promises plenty of realistic-looking special effects and action set upon a strong emotional foundation, every new piece of publicity makes it more of a must see.

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In the hands of any other director, the premise of entering someone’s dreams to gain their secrets would be worrisome. The key to that kind of concept is The Rules. Without the rules the premise can get away from you — become unwieldy — and you end up with a film where a lot of numbing special effects infest a dull but attractive world where nothing makes a damn bit of sense. With “Memento,” the man who brought us George W. Bush “The Dark Knight” proved that he’s more than capable of grabbing hold and executing a seemingly impossible idea and making it work… brilliantly. (more…)

There’s something unseemly about Hollywood’s “Bucket List” genre; where characters either facing their mortality or falling in love with the standard cute, quirky girl… or some such lame thing, let loose their inner narcissist and shift into emancipating All About Me mode. The lesson being that this is how they should have lived their lives all along. Really, is “Seize the Day” a realistic gameplan for a healthy, happy, and fulfilling life? Hollywood would have you believe so, which is why a film like “Harry Brown” is such a rare breath of fresh air.

The Mighty Michael Caine plays the title character, a retired British pensioner who once served as a Marine in Northern Ireland and now resides in a massive, generic, depressing and dirty housing project called The Estate. It’s here that Harry’s life became one of precision and sameness. He wakes, dresses, eats his jelly toast and then walks to a nearby hospital to visit his ailing wife. The most convenient route for this daily commute would be through the tunnel that runs beneath a busy freeway. But that tunnel is constantly infested with a rotating menagerie of dangerous youth gangs looking for a place to hang when not out terrorizing the Estate’s residents.

Because his wife is rarely conscious, Harry’s sole company is Leonard (David Bradley), a widower and fellow pensioner. To wile away the lonely afternoons, the men enjoy quiet, leisurely pints and games of chess at the local pub.  Though the old friends are comfortable in silence, when they do speak it’s frequently about the violence they’re forced to live with. Harry prefers to keep his head down and stay out of trouble. Leonard, however, is tired of being harassed and vows to start fighting back. (more…)

Almost fifty years ago, in the film journal Sight and Sound for Winter 1964/65, critic Roger Hudson wrote that the talent of motion picture production designers “is often overlooked, except where it is the greatest element in a film’s success, as it is in Goldfinger.”

The greatest element — that’s a bold claim, considering the hot competition among the movie’s other collaborators. But in hindsight, few would argue that the marvelous sets, vehicles, and spy gadgets of Goldfinger, masterminded by production designer Ken Adam, are any less iconic than Ian Fleming’s novel, Sean Connery’s performance, or John Barry’s musical score.

Production design is a largely unsung art. Both the script and the need for historical accuracy tend to serve as harsh governors on the dreams and fantasies of the people charged with designing a movie’s sets and props. But the Bond films, Adam says, “are done so loosely that the script isn’t the Bible that it is in most films. It changes all the time, and the whole process of writing is like some democratic debating society.”

When Dr. No went into production in 1961, Adam got a mere 14,000 pounds (out of the movie’s total budget of 350,000) with which to design all of the interior sets for this “tongue-in-cheek spectacular,” including the casino in the opening scene, Bond’s apartments, M’s office, and the sprawling, futuristic lair of the villainous doctor himself. He performed his task in England while the rest of the cast and crew were off filming exteriors in Jamaica, and when they returned they were stunned by what they saw: (more…)

In 1964, little-known actor Michael Caine was being evicted — again — and needed a place to stay — again. His friend Sean Connery, starting out in similar circumstances, had reached the pinnacle of the acting world as James Bond. But here Caine was, unable to pay the rent.

In desperation, he temporarily moved in with his pal John Barry, the music composer for the Bond series. Barry was a regular patron of London’s tony clubs and discotheques, and so Caine fully expected to have some good times while staying over as a guest. What he got instead was being kept up night after night by a strange tune Barry was tinkering with: two blaring notes in the key of F major, followed by a trailing melody in D flat, repeated over and over like a villainous echo:

YouTube -- click here to watch in full-screen

Decades later, music critic Terry Walstrom would marvel at how this famous introduction “arrests the attention and stuns the ear,” with the unorthodox key transition being akin to “opening a carton of fat-free milk and pouring out a glass of vodka. Entirely without precedent.”

Unknowingly just a few months away from his own stardom courtesy of 1964’s Zulu (another film scored by Barry), Michael Caine lay in the dark listening to the haunting melody of “Goldfinger,” little guessing that the song would one day be judged one of the finest of the last fifty years, with its young composer becoming the greatest British purveyor of movie music in the twentieth century.

John Barry Prendergast was the great-grandson of famous bare-knuckled boxing champ Jack Sullivan, but no hint of “the sweet science” filtered down through the family tree to him. Born in 1933, his father owned a chain of cinemas and his mother was a concert pianist. Barry took piano lessons from the age of nine (with one teacher whacking his fingers with a ruler whenever he missed a key), and fell in love with movies while working in the projection booths of his Dad’s theaters. Soon he had every intention of becoming a classically trained film composer. (more…)

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The Mighty Michael Caine as an elderly vigilante gunning down street punks after reaching his breaking point?

Oh. God. Yes.

Christian Toto has more, including a second trailer and a warning about the obvious hand-wringing we can expect from left-wing critics (but I repeat myself):

Film critics make things worse, gnashing their teeth over the fact that audiences might – gulp – be rooting for the vigilante to win the day.

If “Harry Brown” is a straight-forward vigilante film in the vein of “Death Wish” and “Taken,” you can most certainly expect the same critics who root for the undermining of America and our military in one lousy Iraq War film after another to express “thoughtful concern” over audiences rooting for the death of murderous street punks (which will hopefully be cold and violent deaths either preceded or followed by iconic tough guy lines like, say, “You failed to maintain your weapons.”) (more…)

By Christmas of 1964, nowhere was safe for thirty-four-year-old Sean Connery.

It started with the fan letters — fifteen hundred per week. Then came the mobs rushing gates at movie premieres and personal appearances — screaming, fainting, tearing at his clothes, all demanding time, autographs, kisses, and more. Soon, even walking down the street incognito or taking his family out to dinner became perilous endeavors.

“The whole damn thing took over,” said his then-wife, the Academy-Award nominated actress Diane Cilento. “He really didn’t know who he was. People would call over to him things like, ‘Hey, Bondy, where’re you off to next?’ or ‘See any Soviet agents lately?’ It became impossible to have any sort of life. . . .It got madder and madder with each film.”

Every time it looked as if matters couldn’t get any worse, they did. In Tokyo (where they greeted him with screams of  “Bondo!”) Connery was using a bathroom urinal when he heard a quiet click. Startled, he glanced up to see a Japanese photographer peeking around his shoulder with a Nikon. On another occasion, after graciously signing his name for an elderly lady at the airport, she reacted with a look of horror. “No, no!” she said, “I wanted James Bond.” Director Terence Young, who was with Connery, remembers that “Sean sort of crumpled. It suddenly occurred to him that he was no longer a human being, he was a symbol.” (more…)

A Muppet Christmas Carol is of course elevated, as all things are, by the presence of The Mighty Michael Caine, who wisely plays the role of Ebeneezer Scrooge perfectly straight amongst all the Muppetry and shenanigans that goes on around him. But it works on more levels than just an inspired bit of casting. Within seconds you completely buy into the world and tone created by Brian Henson, who doesn’t miss a step picking up where his father Jim left off.  Naturally, the Muppet characters are wonderful, but the film mainly benefits from a lean, very funny, and moving script that perfectly incorporates the famous Muppet personalities we’ve come to love into a classic story we love just as much.

The movie completely won me over during an early scene when Scrooge threatens his Muppet office workers if they dare to be cold. Instantly they put on a Hawaiian luau setting the irreverent and witty tone that will carry the remaining 85 minutes. 

This is also a perfect holiday film for small kids. Above-average songs, a faithfulness to the source material, a lot of heart, and an important lesson about the difference between Democrats and Republicans. (more…)

The members of the ruling class of the British Isles seem to be committed to demonstrating that they are nothing but hopeless neo-socialists busy sacrificing their green and pleasant land on the altar of nanny-state multiculturalism.  It seems that every day there is a report of some new Labor assault on free speech, a fresh disaster in the decaying single-payer health care system, or another craven surrender to domestic jihadism. The latest atrocity is Scotland’s politicians’ ”compassionate release” of Lockerbie mass-murderer Abdulbaset al-Megrahi, a shameful maneuver that managed to combine greed, cowardice and self-righteousness all into one gutless package. I used to emphasize that I was 25% Scot and not mention my 12.5% French ancestry.  Now?  Well, can you say, “Bonjour?”  At least the “frogs” leadership will take their own side in a fight.

But the people of the British Isles – the English, the Scots, the Welsh and the Irish – are a proud, tough bunch ill-served by their shabby politicians.  And nowhere on screen can you see their heart and glory displayed better than in 1964’s war epic Zulu.

Understand that Zulu is a true story.  In January 1879, a column of about 1500 poorly-deployed British troops was overrun at Isandhlwana by the 20,000-man Zulu army of King Catshweyo. After that slaughter – the Zulus did not bother with niceties like taking prisoners – the Zulus turned their attention to the nearby mission station at Rourke’s Drift, defended by about 100 Welsh infantrymen and their English officers. The desperate battle against overwhelming odds that followed became a legend. (more…)

I’ve already risked losing any credibility I might have in the theatre community by defending Andrew Lloyd Webber and his conservative politics, but I have to go back to that well once again because Webber has written an op-ed piece for London’s Daily Mail that received international attention and a surprising lack of criticism within the theatrical community.  The hardest part of writing this post is condensing his article down to just a few pull quotes so I encourage you to follow the link and read the entire piece.  He starts off by confronting the typical banal argument he is so used to getting when he raises concerns over the Labour Party’s confiscatory taxation:  (more…)