Shark Tale (2004)

Rated: PG for some mild language and crude humor

Runtime: 90 mins
Genre: Comedies
Theatrical Release:Oct 1, 2004 Wide
Box Office: $160,762,022
Review :
On our way to a screening of "Shark Tale," my daughter and I fell into a discussion of "Finding Nemo," a movie she has seen several dozen times. The subject came up naturally enough, since the movie we were about to see, which opens nationwide today, is DreamWorks's attempt to follow Disney and Pixar into the lucrative and technologically demanding world of underwater computer-generated 3-D animation.

In anticipation of the novel delights of "Shark Tale," my daughter was happy to revise her earlier high opinion of "Nemo." "It's about a fish who gets lost," she said with a shrug. "That's not really very interesting."

As if on guard against such jadedness, the makers of "Shark Tale" have ensured that their movie is about as many things as possible, including a fish who gets lost, though not quite in the way that Nemo did. The busy story, in any case, with its predictable messages — Be who you are! Don't forget where you came from! Fish are friends, not food! — is secondary to the packaging, a bright, hectic swirl of easy jokes and accessible pop-culture allusions.

There are cheerful quasi-ethnic stereotypes — jellyfish Rastafarians, shark Mafiosi, aquatic ghetto kids with cans of spray paint — that are technically insulated against offensiveness because, well, they're all fish. There are movie-star voices galore — Robert De Niro, Will Smith, Renée Zellweger, Jack Black, Angelina Jolie — and even, more unusually, a recognizable movie-director voice and caricature. I'm relieved (and maybe just a tiny bit disappointed) to report that when Sykes, a fast-talking blowfish with bushy eyebrows, appeared on screen, my daughter, who is 5, did not lean over and whisper, "Hey, isn't that Martin Scorsese?"

But of course Mr. Scorsese was not there for her benefit. Like the "Shrek" pictures, also from DreamWorks, "Shark Tale" lobs a barrage of movie and television references over the heads of the children in the audience and into the faces of their parents. Some of these are visual, like Sykes's resemblance to the auteur reading his lines, while others pop up on the soundtrack, which quotes the scores from "The Godfather," "Car Wash" and, of course, "Jaws." For the finale, fishy likenesses of Christina Aguilera and Missy Elliott strut and prance while the real-life divas sing us through the closing credits.

Mr. Smith, as charming with fins and scales as he is in the flesh, plays Oscar, a feckless fish who works at Sykes's whale wash. Ms. Zellweger is the receptionist, Angie. She is madly in love with Oscar, who regards her, to her chagrin, as his best pal and nothing more. Meanwhile, Don Lino (Mr. De Niro), the capo of the local shark mob, is having trouble with his younger son, Lenny (Mr. Black), a sensitive guy who can't stomach either his family business or the predatory ways of his species.

The plots converge when Lenny's brother, who is about to make a snack out of Oscar, smashes into an anchor. Oscar becomes a local celebrity — the Shark Slayer — while Lenny's identity crisis becomes even more acute. A further complication arrives in the slinky form of Lola (Ms. Jolie), a gold-digging fish fatale who steals Oscar away from loyal, good-hearted Angie. It all ends pretty much the way you expect it will.

There are some inspired scenic touches — a seahorse racetrack, Sykes's whale wash — but the undersea environment lacks the sublimity and detail of "Nemo." The fish faces, especially in kisses and close-ups, are more clammy than cute, though the sharks have a doughy integrity and some of the minor players, like Don Lino's octopus consigliere and a plate of terrified shrimp cocktail, are cleverly rendered. All in all, "Shark Tale" is reasonably good fun, even if, in the end, it's not really very interesting.

Synopsis:
Oscar (Will Smith) is a fast-talking little fish who dreams big. But his big dreams land him in hot water when a great white lie turns him into an unlikely hero. At first, his fellow fish swallow... Oscar (Will Smith) is a fast-talking little fish who dreams big. But his big dreams land him in hot water when a great white lie turns him into an unlikely hero. At first, his fellow fish swallow Oscar’s story hook, line and sinker and he is showered with fame and fortune. It’s all going along swimmingly, until it starts to become clear that Oscar’s tale about being the defender of the Reef is all wet. Oscar is finding out that being a hero comes at a Market Price when his lie threatens to make him the Catch of the Day. Now he has to tread water until he can get the scales to tip back in his favor again. "Shark Tale" stars the voices of Will Smith as Oscar, a hustler, who has always been able to fin-agle his way out of trouble, until now; two-time Academy Award® winner Robert De Niro ("Raging Bull," "The Godfather, Part II") as Don Lino, a great white shark at the top of the Reef’s food chain; two-time Oscar® nominee Renée Zellweger ("Chicago," "Bridget Jones’s Diary") as Angie, a beautiful angel fish who harbors a secret crush on Oscar; Academy Award® winner Angelina Jolie ("Girl, Interrupted") as Lola, the femme fatale, a dragon fish who uses her feminine wiles to get what she wants; Jack Black ("School of Rock") as Don Lino’s son Lenny, a great white shark who is a closet vegetarian; and multiple Oscar®-nominated director Martin Scorsese ("Gangs of New York," "Goodfellas") as Sykes, a puffer fish who is full of hot air and never misses an opportunity to make a few extra clams. Rounding out the main cast are: veteran actor Peter Falk ("Columbo") as Don Brizzi, a shark who is long in the tooth, but still has plenty of bite left; Michael Imperioli ("The Sopranos") as Don Lino’s oldest son Frankie, a chip off the old shark; Vincent Pastore ("The Sopranos") as Luca, an oily octopus, which makes him the perfect right-hand man; and Doug E. Doug and Ziggy Marley as Bernie and Ernie, two Rastafarian jelly fish with a stinging sense of humor. "Shark Tale" is directed by Eric "Bibo" Bergeron and Vicky Jenson, with Rob Letterman serving as co-director. Bill Damaschke, Janet Healy and Allison Segan are producing.

Starring: Will Smith, Renée Zellweger, Jack Black, Martin Scorsese, Robert De Niro, Angelina Jolie, Ziggy Marley, Peter Falk, Vincent Pastore, Michael Imperioli Director: Vicky Jenson, Bibo Bergeron Screenwriter: Mark Swift, Damian Shannon Producer: Allison Lyon Segan, Bill Damaschke Composer: Hans Zimmer Studio: DreamWorks Distribution LLC

Read more...

Kung Fu Panda (2008)

Rated: PG for sequences of martial arts action.
Runtime: 1 hr 50 mins
Genre: Action/Adventure
Theatrical Release:Jun 6, 2008 Wide
Box Office: $215,395,021
Review :
At once fuzzy-wuzzy and industrial strength, the tacky-sounding “Kung Fu Panda” is high concept with a heart. Even better, this animated feature from DreamWorks is so consistently diverting and visually arresting that it succeeds in transcending its storybook clichés. The tale has the consistency of baby pablum — it’s nutritious and easy on the gums — but there’s enough beauty and pictorial wit here from opening to end credits, enough feeling for the art and for the freedom of animation, that you may not care.

The panda of the title is Po, a generously proportioned mound of roly-poly black-and-white fun voiced with gratifying restraint by Jack Black. You know the next turn in the road as well as any Disney-and-Pixar-weaned 7-year-old: Po is different, Po has a dream, Po has to struggle and so forth. Po also has a loving father, naturally (and no mother, predictably), a loosey-necked goosey, Mr. Ping (James Hong), who runs a noodle shop that he hopes his son will take over one day. Po’s unlikely passion for kung fu intervenes, leading him out of the noodle shop and into the metaphoric hot pot, whereupon he kicks, grunts and groans toward his destiny amid the usual clutter of colorful sidekicks and one nasty foe (Ian McShane, grrr).

For an ostensible outsider, Po conforms very much to familiar animated-movie type. Like Nemo and the rest of his cartoon brethren, he needs to embark on the hero’s journey, which he does with help from a miscellany of pals voiced by the usual A- and B-listers. Among those nudging and guiding Po is Master Oogway (Randall Duk Kim), an ancient turtle with a mellifluous voice and long, liquid neck who, um, invented kung fu and now serves as the spiritual adviser (Yoda) to an elite squad, including a kung fu master, the mustachioed red panda Shifu (Dustin Hoffman), and his students, the Furious Five: Tigress (Angelina Jolie), Viper (Lucy Liu), Monkey (Jackie Chan), Crane (David Cross) and Mantis (Seth Rogen).

The screenplay by Jonathan Aibel and Glenn Berger is ho-hum without being insulting, a grab bag of gentle jokes, sage lectures, helpful lessons and kicky fights. There is none of the self-conscious knowing that characterizes the Pixar factory, which makes the whole thing seem either winningly innocent or terribly cynical, depending on your mood and worldview. I’ll go with innocent, at least on first viewing, because while “Kung Fu Panda” is certainly very safe, its underlying sweetness feels more genuine than not. The Ayn Randesque bottom line of Pixar’s “Incredibles” can be difficult to argue with — namely, if everybody is special, no one is — but the heroic outsider has his own durable appeal, particularly if he’s a great big bouncing ball of fat and fuzz.

That outsider is even more irresistible when nestled amid so much lovingly created animation, both computer generated and hand drawn. The main story, executed via 3-D animation (all done on computers) and directed by John Stevenson and Mark Osborne, fluidly integrates gorgeous, impressionistic flourishes with the kind of hyper-real details one has come to expect from computer-generated imagery: photorealistically textured stone steps, for instance, and fur so invitingly tactile you want to run your fingers through it. One of the pleasures of “Kung Fu Panda” is that instead of trying to mimic the entirety of the world as it exists, it uses the touch of the real. The character designs may be anatomically correct, but they’re cartoons from whisker to tail.

In the end, what charms the most about “Kung Fu Panda” is that it doesn’t feel as if it’s trying to be a live-action film. It’s an animation through and through, starting with the stunningly beautiful opening dream sequence, a graphically bold hand-drawn interlude rendered by James Baxter that looks like an animated woodblock print with slashes of black and swaths of oxblood red. This opener is so striking and so visually different from most mainstream American animations that it takes a while to settle into the more visually familiar look of the rest of the movie. And while nothing that comes afterward really compares to it, a volley of arrows that falls down like red rain and a delicate swirl of pink petals come delightfully close.

Synopsis:
"Kung Fu Panda" features Jack Black as Po the Panda, a lowly waiter in a noodle restaurant, who is a kung fu fanatic but whose shape doesn't exactly lend itself to kung fu fighting. In fact, Po's... "Kung Fu Panda" features Jack Black as Po the Panda, a lowly waiter in a noodle restaurant, who is a kung fu fanatic but whose shape doesn't exactly lend itself to kung fu fighting. In fact, Po's defining characteristic appears to be that he is the laziest of all the animals in ancient China. That's a problem because powerful enemies are at the gates, and all hopes have been pinned on a prophesy naming Po as the "Chosen One" to save the day. A group of martial arts masters are going to need a black belt in patience if they are going to turn this slacker panda into a kung fu fighter before it's too late. -- © DreamWorks

Starring: Jack Black, Dustin Hoffman, Angelina Jolie, Jackie Chan, Lucy Liu, Ian McShane, David Cross, Seth Rogen, Michael Clarke Duncan, James Hong, Randall Duk Kim, Dan Fogler Director: Mark Osborne, John Stevenson Screenwriter: Jonathan Aibel, Glenn Berger Story: Ethan Reiff, Cyrus Voris Producer: Melissa Cobb Composer: Hans Zimmer Studio: DreamWorks Distribution LLC

Read more...

Spider-Man 3 (2007)

Rated: PG-13 for sequences of intense action violence
Runtime: 2 hrs 20 mins
Genre: Action/Adventure
Theatrical Release:May 4, 2007 Wide
Box Office: $336,530,303
Review :
If ever a movie had a case of the blues and the blahs, it’s “Spider-Man 3,” the third and what feels like the end of Sam Raimi’s big-screen comic-book adaptations. (Ready or not, the studio is talking about a fourth.) Aesthetically and conceptually wrung out, fizzled rather than fizzy, this latest installment in the spider-bites-boy adventure story shoots high, swings low and every so often hits the sweet spot, but mostly just plods and plods along, as if its heart were pumping tired radioactive blood.

Maybe it’s middle age. In fictional terms Spider-Man a k a Peter Parker a k a Tobey Maguire looks like he’s pushing 23, but there’s something about the guy that shrieks midlife crisis. Peter is still hitting the books and still snapping photographs for The Daily Bugle, run by the flattop blowhard J. Jonah Jameson (J. K. Simmons, in clover, as usual). It’s a living, kind of, enough for an enviably situated dump in Manhattan with artfully peeling walls and a fabulous picture window through which Peter regularly bounds into the air in full superhero drag. (The neighbors in this part of town evidently always keep the blinds drawn.) It’s a calling, sort of, though it’s also started to feel a bit like punching the clock.
The programmatic screenplay credited to Mr. Raimi, his brother Ivan Raimi (a third Raimi brother, Ted, plays a tiny role in the picture) and Alvin Sargent certainly feels more like work than play. The big selling point in “Spider-Man 3” is that Spider-Man or Peter or some combination of the two discovers his so-called dark side when an inky extraterrestrial glob (a symbiote in Marvel-speak) spreads its gooey tentacles over his body, turning his suit and soul black. Though there’s something dubious about the idea that black still conveys evil in our culture, pop or otherwise (tell it to Batman and Barack Obama, for starters), the idea of messing with Spider-Man’s squeaky-clean profile, smearing it with dirt, a touch of naughtiness, seems too good to resist.

It’s also too good to be true. There’s no knowing if the problem is bottom-line reserve, or a lack of imagination or creative nerve, but Spider-Man’s voyage into darkness turns out to be little more than an overnighter. The goo transforms Spider-Man, but the alteration barely registers. There’s some wacky, misguided nonsense involving Peter’s super-inflated ego and Mr. Raimi’s apparent desire to direct a musical, as well as fleeting nastiness with a resurrected foe, Flint Marko (Thomas Haden Church), recently escaped from prison. Marko has the makings of a super-antagonist, and Mr. Church brings a touching delicacy to the few short scenes in which you can see his face, the skin pulled back so tightly that you fear his jagged cheekbones might pierce right through.
With his hard-body physique and a striped shirt that evokes a 1930s chain gang, Marko also feels and looks like a fugitive from an earlier era, one of the film’s many such nostalgic flourishes. Marko’s earthbound trudge makes it seem as if he’s dragging a literal ball and chain, not just the baggage of a sick daughter and a cranky missus (Theresa Russell, in and out like the Flash). And when he rises from a bed of sand after a “particle atomizer” scrambles his molecules, his newly granulated form shifts and spills apart, then lurches into human form with a heaviness that recalls Boris Karloff staggering into the world as Frankenstein’s monster. There’s poetry in this metamorphosis, not just technological bravura, a glimpse into the glory and agony of transformation.
It’s this combination of exaltation and dread that can come with radical life change that made the first film work as well as it did. The first “Spider-Man” never soared, but there was something very appealing about the image of a skinny, geeky adolescent struggling to rise to the occasion of his newfound powers, like a 97-pound weakling tiptoeing on the beach after getting with the Charles Atlas program. Part of the allure of superheroes, of course, is how they serve as wish fulfillments for the faithful, allowing their mild-mannered fans to settle scores and snare the babe by proxy. But nothing seems to put a damper on interesting self-doubt faster than fame, or so this film and its lead character both seem intent on proving.

Success may not have spoiled Mr. Raimi as it has Peter Parker, but it seems as if it has zapped his gracious good humor, which was so critical to the first two films. The story this time unfolds as a series of increasingly dreary and teary melodramatic encounters regularly interrupted by special-effects-laden fights. As it happens, the over-all shape does recall a Busby Berkeley musical — snappy story, lavish number, snappy story, lavish number — but without the snap or fun. Peter ignores his girlfriend, Mary Jane (Kirsten Dunst), so she reaches out to her friend and his frenemy, Harry Osborn (James Franco), a k a Son of the Green Goblin (Willem Dafoe, revived in flashback), while Peter turns to his Aunt May (Rosemary Harris), who shovels the manure with grace.

And so it goes as the Sandman cometh and goeth and a twerp named Eddie Brock (Topher Grace, running fast with a small role) throws a couple of monstrous hissy fits. Bryce Dallas Howard shows up to smile at the camera, as does a marvelous Bruce Campbell, who almost swallows it whole. Ms. Dunst looks a bit lost, at times even bereft, but you want to catch hold of her story line and follow her home. When she tramps across the screen, this wispy, sad-eyed beauty turns into Melancholy Girl, able to melt hearts in a single glance. For his part Mr. Maguire needs to stop relying on those great big peepers of his: simply widening your eyes to attract attention does not cut it when you’re over 30.

It’s hard not to think that Mr. Raimi would rather follow Ms. Dunst to wherever her story might take them too. And while Marko is mainly around to show off the franchise’s snazzy special effects, it feels as if the director has put quite a bit of himself into the Sandman, whose struggle to find a form that suits his talents has the sting of a metaphor. The bittersweet paradox of this franchise is that while the stories have grown progressively less interesting the special effects have improved tremendously, becoming at once more plausible — when Spider-Man swings through the urban canyons he finally looks almost real — and more spectacular. In Sandman you see the vestiges of Mr. Raimi’s personal touch slipping through a nearly empty hourglass.

Synopsis:
The Marvel comics hero returns for more high-flying fun in this third installment in the series. Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire) is up to his usual Spidey tricks, attending university classes as an... The Marvel comics hero returns for more high-flying fun in this third installment in the series. Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire) is up to his usual Spidey tricks, attending university classes as an awkward geek, then quickly slipping into his red-and-blue suit to save New York City from various villains. And there are villains aplenty. Thomas Hayden Church blows in as the Sandman, an escaped convict whose molecular structure is destroyed in a particle accelerator. The freak accident gives him the ability to form and reform from piles of dust. While the Sandman sifts through the city streets robbing banks, Spidey must also contend with his onetime friend, Harry (James Franco), who has taken up where his father, the Green Goblin, left off. Harry chases Spider-Man down on his goblin glider, hurling pumpkin bombs. But Spider-Man's biggest battle is perhaps within himself, when he is taken over by meteorite ooze--a substance that gives him great power, but also turns him into a vengeful, selfish jerk. Throw into the mix Peter's new competition at the Daily Bugle--the ambitious, sneaky Eddie Brock (Topher Grace)--and Peter's relationship troubles with Mary Jane (Kirsten Dunst), and SPIDER-MAN 3 weaves a tangled web indeed. Director Sam Raimi's playful style and his delightfully campy screenplay hold true to the spirit of the Stan Lee comics, and he does an excellent job of hitting all the right superhero notes. Raimi has created an action film that is a feast for the eyes, but comes with fully rounded characters and a moving moral lesson to boot. The special effects are astounding, but Raimi makes sure the film isn't all action and no talk--he makes Peter's struggle a human one, and one that we can all relate to, regardless of our web-spinning ability.

Starring: Tobey Maguire, Kirsten Dunst, Thomas Haden Church, Topher Grace, James Franco, James Cromwell, Bryce Dallas Howard, Dylan Baker, Rosemary Harris, J.K. Simmons
Director: Sam Raimi
Screenwriter: Alvin Sargent, Ivan Raimi
Producer: Laura Ziskin, Avi Arad, Grant Curtis
Composer: Christopher Young
Studio: Columbia Pictures

Read more...

Superman Returns ( 2006 )

Rated: PG-13 for some intense action violence
Runtime: 2 hrs 34 mins
Genre: Action/Adventure
Theatrical Release:Jun 28, 2006 Wide
Box Office: $200,006,305
Review :
Jesus of Nazareth spent 40 days in the desert. By comparison, Superman of Hollywood languished almost 20 years in development hell. Those years apparently raised the bar fearsomely high. Last seen larking about on the big screen in the 1987 dud "Superman IV," the Man of Steel has been resurrected in a leaden new film not only to fight for truth, justice and the American way, but also to give Mel Gibson's passion a run for his box-office money. Where once the superhero flew up, up and away, he now flies down, down, down, sent from above to save mankind from its sins and what looked like another bummer summer.

The super-size (more than two and a half hours) "Superman Returns" was written by Michael Dougherty and Dan Harris, working off a story hatched by them and the director, Bryan Singer, after what appears to have been repeat viewings of Richard Donner's "Superman." Released in 1978, that film ushered Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster's original comic creation into the blockbuster age with frothy wit and a cast that included Marlon Brando in a creamy scoop of white hair and Gene Hackman in clover. Christopher Reeve, of course, wore the cape and tights, while Margot Kidder did a fine approximation of the young Katharine Hepburn at her most coltish. Valerie Perrine and Ned Beatty added some laughs, while Glenn Ford supplied a pinch of gravitas.

As nutritious as a box of Cracker Jack and just as yummy, "Superman" was at once a goof and a self-conscious bid at modern mythmaking. Years later, what resonates aren't Mr. Donner's action scenes, which look crude compared with what he would do later in the "Lethal Weapon" series, but how fluidly he changes tones from the iconic (as when the supertoddler lifts a truck off his Earth father) to the playful (as when the souped-up adult realizes that the closetlike phone booth is a thing of the past). Mr. Reeve worked the tonal changes with similar ease, delivering a superhero whose earnestness was strategically offset by his fumbling, bumbling, all-too-human twin, who was just the ticket for the post-Watergate, pre-Indiana Jones moment.
Mr. Singer's Superman, played by Brandon Routh, is a hero of rather different emotional colors, most muted. Like Christopher Nolan's "Batman Begins," Mr. Singer's effort reworks the legend against a vaguely modern, timeless backdrop that blends the thematically old with the technologically new. The story opens with some necrophiliac wizardry and Brando newly arisen as Superman's extraterrestrial father. Well represented even from beyond, the dead actor receives billing for his spectral turn, squeezed between Eva Marie Saint, who plays Superman's earth mother, and Tristan Lake Leabu, who plays Lois Lane's young son. The Daily Planet's star reporter is in turn played by Kate Bosworth, whose glum mien and curtain of brown hair suggests that blondes really do have more fun.
Lois, however, doesn't enter the picture until after the filmmakers have laid the story's Oedipal foundation, which finds two men saying goodbye to the much older women who will, intentionally or not, shape their destinies. In one corner, Lex Luthor (Kevin Spacey taking up the role played by Mr. Hackman) bids cold adieu to the crone who will make him fantastically rich; in another, Superman again digs a fiery trough into the Kent family farm upon crash landing. This time, it's the grown man who brings tears to his mother's eyes and who stares at the sinking Kansas (actually Australian) sun, weighing his responsibility to humankind after a five-year hiatus crossing the galaxies to visit his original home.
It's too bad that Mr. Singer and his colleagues don't really do anything substantial with the good-guy-bad-guy routine. Superman may be a super-creation, but it's his villains rather than his dual identity that have usually given him a kick. Unlike his brooding and angst-ridden rivals in the superhero game, his alter ego is only as interesting as the comic book artist or the actor adding shades of gray to Clark Kent's business suit. Part of the charm of Mr. Reeve's interpretation was that a guy this impossibly handsome, who literally towers over everyone in the office, could hide behind a slouch and oversize eyeglasses. It was absurd, but then so too was the idea that a powerful extraterrestrial would hang around Earth to take the kind of abuse perennially heaped on his human half.
That identity allowed Superman to walk among us, but mostly it allowed him and, by proxy, generations of geeks both creating and consuming the character, to engage ritualistically in a sadomasochistic relationship with Lois Lane. A variation on the high school homecoming queen who sails past the shy guy in glasses on her way to a back-seat tumble with the captain of the football team, this trouble-seeking reporter has always brought out what is most human, vulnerable and identifiable in Superman. He gives her headlines; she gives him a broken, or at least bruised, heart. In "Superman II," which was directed by Richard Lester (and an uncredited Mr. Donner), she gave him a bit more, too, thereby transforming the world's most powerful virgin into a one-night stud.
Near the end of the second film, Superman, realizing that he and Lois have no future, wipes away their boudoir encounter with an amnesia-producing kiss. Mr. Singer expends much more time and many more resources to do pretty much the same, erasing part of the past to create what is essentially a new and considerably more sober sequel to the first two films, one that shakes the earthiness off Superman and returns him to the status of a savior. There's always been a hint of Jesus (and Moses) to the character, from the omnipotence of his father to a costume that, with its swaths of red and blue, evokes the colors worn by the Virgin Mary in numerous Renaissance paintings. It's a hint that proves impossible not to take.
Intentionally or not, the Jesus angle also helps deflect speculation about just how straight this Superman flies. Given how securely Lois remains out of the romantic picture in "Superman Returns," now saddled with both a kid and a fiancé (James Marsden), it's no surprise that some have speculated that Superman is gay. The speculation speaks more to our social panic than anything in the film, which, much like the overwhelming majority of American action movies produced since the 1980's, mostly involves what academics call homosocial relations. In other words, when it comes to Hollywood, boys will be boys and play with their toys, whether they're sleeping with one another or not, leaving women to weep, worry and wait to be rescued.
Every era gets the superhero it deserves, or at least the one filmmakers think we want. For Mr. Singer that means a Superman who fights his foes in a scene that visually echoes the garden betrayal in "The Passion of the Christ" and even hangs in the air much as Jesus did on the cross. It's hard to see what the point is beyond the usual grandiosity that comes whenever B-movie material is pumped up with ambition and money. As he proved with his first two installments of "The X-Men" franchise, Mr. Singer likes to make important pop entertainments that trumpet their seriousness as loudly as they deploy their bangs. It's hard not to think that Superman isn't the only one here with a savior complex.

Synopsis:
For five years, Superman (Brandon Routh) has been away from Earth, coaxed into space by a belief that Krypton may still exist. Finding nothing, he comes back to a changed world--not only has... For five years, Superman (Brandon Routh) has been away from Earth, coaxed into space by a belief that Krypton may still exist. Finding nothing, he comes back to a changed world--not only has terrorism become rampant, but Lois Lane (Kate Bosworth) has married, started a family, and won the Pulitzer for her piece "Why the World Doesn't Need Superman." After a stop in Smallville to see his adopted mother (Eva Marie Saint), Superman is back in Metropolis, and Clark Kent has his old job back at the Daily Planet, with everyone still incredibly oblivious to his alter ego. But where there's Superman, there's Lex Luthor (Kevin Spacey), and he is likely to be planning something dastardly--in this case, using a piece of pilfered kryptonite to grow an entirely new continent that he will control. Bryan Singer (X-MEN 1 and 2), armed with a script by Dan Harris and Michael Dougherty, approaches the red cape with reverence for the lore of the character, and respect for Richard Donner's SUPERMAN (1980) and Richard Lester's 1980 sequel, films that ushered in the era of the modern superhero film. Singer's SUPERMAN is filled with melancholy, and not so subtly suggests the notion of Superman as a Christ figure, sacrificing himself to save mankind. But there are still laughs, mostly courtesy of Spacey (clearly having a blast) and Parker Posey as his moll, Kitty Kowalski, as well as plenty of gasp-inducing set pieces, including a spectacular and terrifying almost-plane crash and a sinking boat. While modern visual effects have allowed Superman to go to entirely new realms, Singer keeps them from becoming the film's raison d'être, thus keeping the Man of Steel's gigantic heart intact--heavy though it may be.

Starring: Brandon Routh, Kate Bosworth, Kevin Spacey, James Marsden, Parker Posey, Marlon Brando, Frank Langella, Eva Marie Saint
Director: Bryan Singer
Screenwriter: Daniel Harris, Michael Dougherty
Story: Daniel Harris, Michael Dougherty, Bryan Singer
Producer: Gilbert Adler, Jon Peters, William Fay, Chris Lee, Bryan Singer
Composer: John Ottman, John Williams
Studio: Warner Bros.

Read more...

Box offices new released

• Obsessed
• Crank : High Voltage
• 17 again
• Hanna Montana The Movie
• Fast and Furious
• monsters vs alliens
• Observe and Report
• Knowing
• I Love You, Man
• The Haunting in Connecticut
• Dragon Ball evolution
• adventureland
• duplicity

Read more...