Chapelwaite, on Epix

Even though it was originally a 30-page short story in Nightshift, it sort of makes sense “Jerusalem’s Lot” has become a mini-series. Technically, it is a prequel to Salem’s Lot, which still holds bragging rights as best Stephen King miniseries yet (and maybe second best overall adaptation behind the original The Shining). This one isn’t quite that good, but it definitely represents a rebound from the disappointing Lisey’s Story. Maine (circa 1850) gets weird again in creator-writers Peter & Jason Filardi’s 10-part Chapelwaite, which premieres Sunday on Epix.

There has been little happiness in the Boone ancestral home of Chapelwaite, but retired whaler Charles Boone hopes to change that when he inherits the property and the local mill from his estranged cousin, Stephen. Much to his surprise the townsfolk of Preacher’s Corners make no effort to hide their hostility when he arrives. The presence of his mixed-raced children, eldest daughter Honor, troubled middle daughter Loa, and son Tane, the youngest, only fan their prejudice, but he promised their late mother he would provide a stable upbringing for them (on dry land).

Unfortunately, Chapelwaite appears to have a destabilizing effect on Captain Boone. He is constantly unnerved by the sound of rats in the walls that only he can hear, especially in light of the family’s history of insanity. Initially, only their governess, modern-thinking Rebecca Morgan and loyal mill employee Able Stewart befriend the Boones, but as the captain uncovers an unholy cabal centered in the nearby ghost town of Jerusalem’s Lot, the local Constable and deeply flawed parson also side with the pariah family.

Indeed, Chapelwaite is at its best during its mid-to-later episodes, when the rag-tag Team Boone takes its stand (so to speak) against the infernal forces of Jerusalem’s Lot, led by the ferocious Jakub. There really is a bit of the vibe from It or The Stand, but set against a wonderfully eerie gothic setting. You can see the King-ish themes and motifs, but there are also Hawthorne-like elements. Unfortunately, that also means there is a very King-esque hostility towards fathers and clergymen, even though both Charles Boone and Rev. Martin Burroughs grow in stature and have their grand moments.

Adrien Brody does a terrific job freaking out and brooding hard as Charles Boone. Young thesps, Jennifer Ens, Sirena Gulamgaus, and Ian Ho, are all quite effective as the Boone children, but the Filardis maximize Loa’s petulant acting-out, to a point that becomes tiresome. However, Devante Senior, Gord Rand, and Hugh Thompson really stand-out, adding depth of characterization as Stewart, Rev. Burroughs, and Constable Dennison.

Bullet Head: Dogs and Robbers

This dog definitely has a purpose—to bite your face off. He was trained to be a killer, but he exceeded his handler’s expectations. Now he is roaming the decrepit warehouse where a trio of hard luck thieves hope to regroup and lay low after pulling their latest job. Good luck with that. The killer dog movie gets a gangster twist in Paul Solet’s Bullet Head (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

We can have confidence in a jaded old crook played by John Malkovich. That is less true for his younger but nearly as jaded associate portrayed by Adrien Brody, but we can give him the benefit of the doubt. However, we assume the worst about their junky accomplice, with good reason—he is played by Rory Culkin. They have holed up in a squalid former warehouse, waiting for their getaway ride, but they are not alone. Cujo is also roaming the halls, but he was known as DeNiro during his dog-fighting days. His trained assumed those days were over after a particularly nasty battle royale, but he assumed wrong—fatally wrong.

The larcenous trio mostly concentrate on eluding the homicidal pooch, which does indeed require their full efforts. However, they eventually come to realize he is part of a particularly evil criminal enterprise, whose mastermind will most likely be returning sometime soon, to look for his now dead accomplice and the bag full of money from the last fight.

Solet’s feature debut Grace was weirdly over-hyped, but his follow-up release Dark Summer and his contribution to the anthology film Tales of Halloween were quite sly and pleasingly sinister. He shows even greater range this time around, mashing up horror and Elmore Leonard-esque crime elements into a hybrid that defies all expectations.

Of course, Solet has Malkovich doing Malkovich, which is a rock-solid foundation to build on. This is a weirdly discursive film, featuring several stories within the main narrative, but that definitely plays to Malkovich’s let-me-tell-you-a-thing-or-two strengths. Brody’s hound dog face also works well in the context of the film. In contrast, we just want to give Culkin a good slapping, but that is how we are supposed to feel about him. Plus, Antonio Banderas is absolutely not fooling around as the all-business, seriously malevolent dog-fighting gangster. He is hardcore, for real.

At this point, the combination of Banderas and Brody might suggest straight-to-DVD retro cash-ins, but Bullet Head is a straight-up good movie. It also suggests Banderas is a dog who can learn new tricks, while Malkovich’s old tricks are still just as entertaining as they have always been. Highly recommended for fans of heart-warming dog movies, like The Pack and White Dog, Bullet Head opens this Friday (12/8) in New York, at the Village East.

Manhattan Night: Nocturne for Tabloids

Porter Wren is a New York City tabloid columnist constantly bemoaning the passing of his once great profession. It is a rather self-serving pursuit, but somebody has to do it—and it apparently won’t be readers. Like his colleagues, he is not inclined to take any responsibility for the decline of old media, but he will eventually have to own up to all the personal mistakes he is about to make in Brian DeCubellis’s Manhattan Night (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Adapting Colin Harrison’s New York Times Notable novel, Manhattan Nocturne, DeCubellis started the dumbing-down process with the title and presumably kept it going all the way through. Initially we meet Wren working the late night crime beat. He tells us people open up to him because he is such a good listener and he shows it to us by cocking his head like a golden retriever whenever witnesses talk to him. He made his name and column byline by finding a missing child the cops had given up on, but he is now in a bit of a rut, albeit a sensitive muckraking one.

Enter Caroline Crowley to liven things up. She is the widow of Simon Crowley, an acclaimed filmmaker who died under mysterious circumstances. The married-with-children Wren senses this might be the kind of sensational story that will keep the paper’s new Rupert Murdochian owner Sebastian Hobbs at bay, but he does not start investigating until Crowley sweetens the deal by seducing him. However, he quickly discovers this case is more about blackmail than murder. Evidently, Simon Crowley compulsively shot videotape all around the City, like an annoying Tarantino character. One of his tapes included something Hobbs very much wants to keep out of the public eye and he has been regularly paying someone to keep it so.

That is all perfectly reasonable as noir set-ups go, but the third act is just a logical train wreck. We can try to avoid pedantry, but there are just too if-that-was-X-than-who-did-Y questions to glaze over. Seriously, it makes the conclusion of The Big Sleep look neat and tidy, while completely lacking the wit of Bogart and Bacall.

Somehow as Wren, Adrien Brody manages to look simultaneously morose and smug. At least Yvonne Strahovski brings all kind of femme fatale heat as Crowley, despite the film’s constantly vacillating attitude towards her. On the other hand, there is no getting around the icky awkwardness of her flashbacks scenes with Campbell Scott hamming it up as the games-playing Simon Crowley. Steven Berkoff (who played Soviet villains in Octopussy and Rambo: First Blood Part II) also gets to play it coolly ruthless and openly revealing as Hobbs. Unfortunately, Jennifer Beals is completely under-employed as Wren’s not so forgiving wife Lisa, but she looks smart enough to be a doctor, which is something. What she is doing with him is anyone’s guess.

Real noir fans could still forgive the plot holes if there were more humor and attitude to spruce up the film. Yet, DeCubellis’s screenplay takes itself too seriously, in all the worst ways. It is safe to say the laughs all come at the wrong spots. Not recommended, Manhattan Night opens this Friday (5/20) in New York, at the AMC Empire.

Dragon Blade: Jackie Chan, Centurion

The ambitions of a corrupt Roman consul would belittle Alexander’s conquests if he could realize them. He intends to assert control over the entire Silk Road, starting with the sleepiest stretch in western China. However, the impossibly upbeat captain of the Silk Road Protection Squad and a band of maverick centurions will stand against him in Daniel Lee’s Dragon Blade (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Huo An always tries to avoid physical violence. Yet, despite his status as a heroically departed general’s only true protégé, he has been banished to the provincial Wild Geese Gate due to trumped-up corruption charges. Apparently he is quickly rehabilitated, because he has already re-assumed command of the Silk Road forces when a Roman remnant arrives in all their glorious belligerence. First they fight, but they quickly forge a wary truce. Real camaraderie between the Han Silk Road forces and Roman soldiers follows soon after.

When word arrives Huo An’s men must rebuild the crumbling city in fifteen days, the Romans agree to help in exchange for assistance reaching the legitimate Roman authorities in Parthia. Combining Roman engineering with good old fashioned Chinese slave labor, they do indeed rebuild a shining city on a hill, throwing in a few extra aqueducts just because they enjoy building them. Unfortunately, the villainous Tiberius does not appreciate Han do-gooders aiding his enemies. After all, he has a young brother to kill in the astonishingly annoying Publius, who has thus far been protected by the world weary Lucius and his band of brothers, which now includes the honorary centurion Huo An.

Dragon Blade is not terrible, even though it has nearly all of the shortcomings you would fear. Of course, it starts with casting of John Cusack and Adrien Brody as Lucius and Tiberius. Probably no actors have looked or sounded more out of place in a classical antiquity setting since Edward G. Robinson appeared in the Ten Commandments. While Cusack seems to be trying to slouch through the film unnoticed, Brody is conspicuously dull in role that requires serious flamboyance.

Chan is hardly blameless either. Although he thankfully reins in the shticky comedy, Dragon Blade is a perfect example of his burgeoning martyr complex, which he shamelessly indulges. It also reflects his increasingly problematic Mainland-centric China chauvinism. According to Huo An, Westerners are trained to kill people, whereas Chinese soldiers serve to protect. Okay, while you’re at it, why don’t you explain to the emperor how the common people would like more say in issues of governance—or try telling it to Beijing today. Tens of thousands of Hong Kongers came to the Admiralty to do exactly that, but Chan didn’t want to hear it.

Yet, one of the coolest things about Dragon Blade is the democratic idealism represented by Wild Geese Gate, as well as the massive CGI awe of the place. There are also some pretty spectacular warfighting scenes that inventively combine the styles of the two rag-tag forces united against Tiberius’s armies. Old Man Chan can still handle himself in a hand-to-hand scene, when he is not lecturing his audience and Lin Peng similarly makes the most of her limited screen time as the Hun warrior princess Lengyue. Costume designer Thomas Chong also takes full advantage of the opportunity to create costumes in the traditional styles of at least a dozen distinctive nationalities.

Regardless of Chan’s ideological baggage, director-co-screen writer Lee takes viewers on a rough narrative ride. There are more conspicuous gaps in Dragon Blade than Hillary Clinton’s email archives. Reportedly, twenty-some minutes were cut from the Chinese version for the American theatrical print, including a modern day framing device featuring Karena Lam. That was probably one of the easiest parts to lose, but as it is currently cut, characters’ allegiances will change drastically and considerable geographic distances will be traveled all quite suddenly without anyone taking any notice. That is just life on the Silk Road.

A chaotic mixed bag, Dragon Blade lacks the mature and engaging heft of Chan’s work in the unfairly dismissed Police Story: Lockdown and The Shinjuku Incident. For diehard fans, it opens this Friday (9/4) in New York, at the AMC Empire.

Tribeca ’15: Backtrack

There are two things that always worked in Hitchcock movies: trains and psychiatrists. It is therefore a rather shrewd strategy for screenwriter Michael Petroni to combine them in his feature directorial debut. Sometimes it makes sense, sometimes it doesn’t, but it is always stylish when head-shrinker Peter Bower tries to get his head around his traumatic past in Petroni’s Backtrack, which was recently acquired by Saban Films after successfully screening at the 2015 Tribeca Film Festival.

Still devastated by the accidental death of their pre-teen daughter, Bower and his wife Carol have moved back to Melbourne, hoping the change of scenery will do them good. For the time being, Bower’s practice consists of evaluation-cases referred by his former teacher, Dr. Duncan Steward. These patients seem to have a lot of issues, but they can hardly compare to the visibly disturbed teenager Elizabeth Valentine. She has all kinds of problems, starting with the fact her records say she died in 1987.

Evidently, one Elizabeth Valentine was a victim of a tragic train derailment accident that devastated Bowers’ provincial hometown of False Creek years ago. While Bowers investigates the circumstances surrounding the catastrophe, he starts to remember his own unfortunate involvement. As he stirs up a hornet’s nest of local resentment, the pushback of the living and the torments of the ghosts start to jog Bowers’ long suppressed memories.

Frankly, there are a lot of logical holes in Backtrack, but they are mostly concentrated in the first half hour. If you are willing to gloss over them, the film picks up considerable steam in the second and third acts. Throughout it all, Petroni demonstrates a mastery of atmosphere, building suspense through creepy ambiance and the restrained use of Grudge-like supernatural effects.

It is hard to imagine Adrien Brody saying “put another shrimp on the Barbie,” but his sad-eyed, hang-dog screen persona works quite well for Bowers. As usual, Sam Neill’s forceful bearing classes up the joint, even if his character, Dr. Steward, really doesn’t make a lot of sense. George Shevtsov also adds some grizzled seasoning as Bowers’ old man. However, Bruce Spence (whose mind-blowing credits include the Mad Max, Star Wars, Matrix, and Narnia franchises) arguably lands the best scene as Bowers’ jazz musician patient.

Part of the fun of Backtrack is identifying where the pieces fit seamlessly into each other and where they are just sort of jammed together. Cinematographer Stefan Duscio (who lensed the breathtaking Canopy) gives it all the perfect look of noir foreboding. Petroni rewards viewers who can overlook the narrative’s early ragged edges with a lot of clever bits down the stretch. Recommended for psychological thriller fans not inclined towards pedantry, Backtrack will eventually hit theaters following its successful world premiere at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Houdini, the Man, the Miniseries

He collaborated with H.P. Lovecraft and became the sworn enemy of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. In the nearly eighty-eight years since his death, nobody has approached Harry Houdini’s fame and accomplishment as an illusionist and escape artist, while perhaps only the Amazing Randi has equaled him as a debunker of psychic phonies. Yet, despite some vintage stills and a brief flirtation with those new-fangled moving pictures, his live performances were almost solely the stuff of memory. Yet, the fascination with Houdini persists. The man in chains takes center stage once again when the two-night miniseries Houdini premieres this Labor Day on the History Channel (promo here).

As we meet young Erik Weisz (soon to be Ehrich Weiss and eventually Harry Houdini), it is clear he is a mother’s boy, with deep-seated father issues. These themes will constantly return over the two nights like swallows to San Juan Capistrano. Due to his youthful confidence, the future Houdini is convinced his facility for magic tricks will bear great fruit eventually. Naturally, he spends years scuffling, but at least he meets his future wife Bess through those down-market gigs. However, when Houdini’s handcuff escape starts generating buzz, he re-invents himself as an escape artist and his career ignites.

Screenwriter Nicholas Meyer (The Seven Percent Solution novel and screenplay) takes viewers on a mostly breezy jaunt through Houdini’s colorful life, largely sticking to the facts, or in the case of Houdini’s supposed work with the American and British Secret Services, well reported suppositions. Whether it is true or not, Tim Pigott-Smith looks like he is having a ball playing British spymaster William Melville, the original “M.” It is also allows for some entertaining intrigue, as when Houdini thoroughly befuddles the Czar and his fellow faker, Rasputin.

The second night is necessarily darker, progressing as it must towards the inevitable, with the bulk of the drama devoted to Houdini’s drive to debunk false mediums using parlor tricks to fleece the grieving. There is very little that could be considered truly genre-centric in the séance sessions, but the trappings will still have a bit of appeal to fans.

Although he is considerably taller than the spark-pluggish Houdini, Adrien Brody’s gaunt, sad-eyed persona fits the escape artist rather well. He also looks like he put in the time when it came to the crunch sit-ups. As Bess, Kristen Connolly’s earthy energy plays off him well, even if their chemistry is a little flat. While he has little dramatic heavy lifting to do, Evan Jones’s earnestness also wears well on Jim Collins, Houdini’s assistant and chief co-conspirator.

There are a lot of fun sequences in Houdini (the disappearing elephant is particularly well staged), but the visually stylized punch-to-gut symbolic motif is way over done and the effects look terrible on screen. Still, the mini addresses Houdini’s Jewish heritage in respectful, sympathetic terms, which must have been a strange change of pace for director Uli Edel, whose highly problematic terrorist apologia Baader Meinhof Complex suggests killing Jews is nothing to get upset about.

Fans with a checklist will be able to tick off just about all of the iconic escapes, from straightjackets to milk cans. Overall, it is a nice blend of fact-based fiction and somewhat more fanciful speculation. However, it feels slightly stretched to cover two nights. Recommended for admirers of Houdini the performer and scourge of spiritualists, Houdini the mini-series airs this Monday and Tuesday night (9/1 & 9/2) on the History Channel.

Back to 1942: War and Famine in Henan Province

Over the centuries, it has been tough to be a Chinese peasant.  Famines have been a fact of life, but because they have been traditionally interpreted as a sign of heavenly displeasure with the ruling authorities, those in power have been more inclined towards denials than an activist response.  Such was the case during the Great Leap Forward and such was the case during the Republican era, at least according to Feng Xiaogang’s latest historical epic, Back to 1942 (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in New York.

The war is not going well for the Nationalist forces, but Chiang Kai-shek is trying to keep up appearances with the Allies.  He is looking to Henan’s granaries to support his beleaguered troops and his local administers do not have the guts to explain the boots-on-the-ground reality to him.  Faced with high taxes, drought, locusts, and the Imperial Japanese military, the peasants of Henan do what they have traditionally done: take flight to Shanxi.

It turns out the drought is a great leveler.  Amongst the refugee contingent is Landlord Fan and his family, accompanied by their sort of faithful servant and their formerly resentful tenants.  As they trudge towards an unwelcoming Shanxi, they are victimized by deserters and strafed by the Japanese, losing what little they had left.  While the Nationalist government turns a blind eye, American journalist Theodore H. White sets out to shame them into action.  Yet, even when relief is authorized, it is held up by graft and incompetence.  So pervasive are the horrors, they might even cause the ardent Father Sim to lose his faith.

Back is a tough film to take.  Based on Liu Zhenyun’s memoir (adapted by the author), Feng’s film puts his characters through the ringer for precious little pay-off.  Granted, it was a bleak period of history, but viewers are still left with the feeling of “all that for this?”  As one would expect from Feng (whose jingoistic Assembly happens to be a ripping good war film), Chiang rather takes it in the shins.  However, the film arguably has a soft spot for trouble-making Americans, like White (indeed, defying authority is what we’re best at, or at least it used to be).

Like the converse of Ironman 3 casting Andy Lau, Back to 1942 recruited some name actors to appeal to the American market, including a not half bad Adrien Brody as White.   Unfortunately, Tim Robbins looks completely out of place as Father Thomas Morgan.  Almost as if by design, the refugee characters largely blend together into a throng of downtrodden humanity, but Assembly star Zhang Hanyu stands out as the humbled Father Sim.  For shell-shocked angst, he is the man to get.  Likewise, Ziwen “Fiona” Wang has her moments as Xingxing, the disillusioned former daughter of privilege.

Although Feng is remarkably adept at staging big warfighting scenes, there is little of the spectacle of battle in Back.  Instead, he concentrates on the overflowing transports and teeming masses of refugees.  It is all quite a big, impressive production, but after a while it becomes exhausting overkill.  For hardy war movie enthusiasts, it opens tomorrow (11/30) at the AMC Empire and Village VII and in San Francisco at the AMC Mercado, courtesy of China Lion Entertainment.

Detachment: Adrien Brody Looks Sad

Do not blame teachers for their students’ behavioral problems. The fault lies with irresponsible parents argues the latest Blackboard Jungly social issue drama. Yet perhaps some kids are just soulless punks, who need a sub like Tom Berenger in the unabashedly politically incorrect The Substitute. What they get instead is Adrien Brody in Tony Kaye’s Detachment (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Henry Barthes is the long reliever of substitute teachers. He can come in for an extended stretch and then leave with no emotional attachments holding him back. He is not a terrible guy. In fact, he seems to care about his addled grandfather’s well being. At least he is interested enough to bully the nursing staff whenever he feels necessary. However, his students are another matter entirely, particularly at his new school.

All his fellow faculty members feel downtrodden and the cynical board is scapegoating the principal. Yet, somehow Barthes makes an impression on students by keeping his cool, except of course, when he talks about “No Child Left Behind.”

Detachment is an overstuffed traffic jam of a movie, but some of the conflicting parts are quite good. Every member of the all-star ensemble gets their solo spotlight and most of them nail it. It sounds highly unlikely, but James Caan and Lucy Liu have a particularly moving moment of consolation together.

Frankly, Detachment might have worked better as a theater piece, stitching together dramatic monologues. Structurally, it is better suited to such an approach, using sociological interviews with Barthes as the narrative framing device. There are also twee hipster graphical transitions that rather clash with the gritty vibe Kaye is otherwise going for.

Barthes’ story is sort of all over the place too. He gradually reveals some dark family history fairly deftly, but a major subplot is bit much to swallow. For murkily defined reasons, Barthes invites a teenaged junkie prostitute to crash in his apartment, but not his bed, giving her free access to the place, with no adverse consequences. Right, maybe he should leave his bank card and PIN number with her, just for emergencies.

We understand Kaye likes teachers. That is all well and good. However, his diatribes against NCLB are a bit off point. The purpose of the tests Barthes inveighs against is simply to gauge teacher performance with respect to their students’ proficiencies. The terrible pressure to perform on said tests comes solely from the teachers trying to save their bacon.

Without question, Barthes is the sort of sad sack character Brody was born to play. Indeed, his morose screen persona works well in this context. Nearly everyone has memorable moments in the film, but they are often not given adequate space to breath. Strangely too cute around the margins, Detachment earns a fair measure of respect, but never really pulls it all together. It opens this Friday (3/16) in New York at the Village East.