(Th) Orange Flower Water (at the Theater for a New City; Written by Craig Wright, Directed by Carolyn Cantor) B-

(M) /Dirty Rotten Scoundrels/ (at the Imperial Theater; Book by Jeffrey Lane, Music and Lyrics by David Yazbek, Directed by Jack O'Brien) B

(M) *Oldboy (Park, 2003) A-

D.E.B.S. (Movie Review)

D.E.B.S. is an action comedy. But it is more of a parody on the action comedy it is trying to be. Actually, it is just plain fun.

I first became familiar with this group of “crime-fighting hotties with killer bodies” in director Angela Robinson’s 2003 short film with the same title (funded by POWER-UP, a professional organization for lesbians in the entertainment, arts, and media fields). The premise of the feature film as well as the short film is about a group of high school graduates recruited as top secret agents chosen by the government based on their scores on a secret test embedded within the S.A.T. that measures the ability to cheat, lie, and kill. But mostly it is for their ability to lie. If all those spy movies have taught one thing, it is that the best spy is capable of lying with the utmost sincerity.

That this feature is an action comedy parody on secret agents and teen comedies is nothing new. There are already several franchises in Hollywood that cover both separately. And they do it with big budgets, mind-blowing special effects, and top name billing that guarantees the number one spot for its opening weekend. Already, that is three strikes against D.E.B.S.

What is refreshing about this one, though, is in its departure from the other standard secret agent movies in that the love interest for the lead female character is another female (gasp!). The theme plays out wonderfully without being too self conscious about it. Though, it does not miss the point at self-parody, especially through the reactions of the character of Janet (Ritchie) to Amy.

The movie centers on Amy (Sara Foster), who has recently broken up with her boyfriend Booby (Geoff Stults of T.V.’s 7th heaven) because she simply is not in love with him. Things turn ugly when the ever elusive villain, Lucy Diamond (Jordana Brewster, has a run-in with the D.E.B.S. and is smitten by Amy. Lucy is now obsessed with seeing her, and so, a forbidden romance blossoms. But Amy is bound by the honorable code of the D.E.B.S. Not being one to take no for an answer, Lucy concocts a plan to “kidnap” Amy. The rest of the film finds the remaining crime-spies (Meagan Good, Jill Ritchie, and Devon Aoki) trying to get her back safely.

For all the freshness of its theme in this genre, it also proves to be its major drawback. The tongue in cheek dialogue moves the action along swiftly. It is at the establishing of the blossoming relationship between Foster and Brewster that the dialogue comes to a complete halt. It almost borders on cliché.

But its not enough to stop anyone from enjoying the rest of the film. It does pick up again towards the end and the result is a complete joy to watch. It almost seems a shame to have it end the way it does, because it leaves you wanting more. Who knows, there may be a franchise here all along—geared towards a specific audience. I think its time.

D.E.B.S. opens March 25 (Select Cities)
PG-13 for sexual content and language.
Distributed by Screen Gems
Starring: Jordana Brewster, Meagan Goode, Devon Aoki, Jill Ritchie, Michael Clarke Duncan, and Holland Taylor.
Directed by: Angela Robinson

(Special Event) Wall to Wall: Stephen Sondheim (at Symphony Space; Featuring Angela Lansbury, Caroleee Carmello, Greg Edelman, Tony Roberts, Joanna Gleason, Tony Roberts, Elaine Stritch, Jason Robert Brown, George Hearn, Michael Cerveris, B.D. Wong, Donna Murphy, Judy Kuhn, Barbara Cook, Stephen Sondheim, and many others)-

(M-R) It could probably only happen in New York. On Saturday, a popular concert house presented a "free" event celebrating the work of a major living composer and featuring some of the biggest stars of Broadway present and past. The catch? You have to be rich not to be called "selfish and self-centered." And if you want to see the whole thing, you can't eat for twelve hours.

That said, Wall to Wall: Stephen Sondheim came as close to perfection as a tribute concert may be able to. It would be foolish to try to list every thrilling moment, since there was as much an abundance of spine-tingling excitement as there was a lack of food. Sondheim is, without a doubt, at the top of a tiny list of geniuses celebrated in their lifetimes. Symphony Space is an incompetently run, corruptly managed host--- but this was still one hell of a birthday party.

The Play About the Everycouple: 'Virginia Woolf' on Broadway

(R) Say what you will about the nightly boxing match currently on display at the Longacre Theater, where Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? opened tonight--- but nobody expected it to be a fair fight.

After all, Kathleen Turner, the crunchy-voiced movie star cum Broadway headliner, has signed on to play Martha, Edward Albee's outlandishly vulgar heroine shaped by Uta Hagen and immortalized by Elizabeth Taylor. Her adversary? A mild-mannered and likeable former mime named Bill. (Irwin, that is.) Nobody who heard about the casting--- least of all those of us who didn't mutter "who?" at Irwin's name--- could help but sympathize with the guy. You may not love Turner, but she certainly seems born to pierce somebody's skull, most likely with the shingles of her deeply cadenced voice.

Call it the Tortoise-Hare phenomenon. Irwin has brought an blazingly focused energy to the production that Turner never matches. His George sneers and delights at all the right moments, but even when feeling threatened, he never loses his tight grip on the proceedings. For all the talk of George's emasculation, the text has always suggested a divine power for him. But Turner never truly makes a grab for it; her Martha gave up years ago, and now thrives on the ocassional jab or one-uppance. It's a bold choice, but not a dramatically compelling one, and it ultimately renders the play's three-plus hours only intermittently involving.

It doesn't help matters that its director, Anthony Page, appears to value efficiency over storytelling. I saw the show in late previews, yet it often felt like a cue-to-cue rehearsal, with a group of weary-eyed but determined professionals stumbling about in the ever-diminishing hopes of getting into bed close to midnight. This affliction touches even Irwin--- at times, you can sense him morphing into automatic pilot, particularly in his longer streches alone with Turner. It's never less than servicable, and it's peppered with several moments of coherence, but the only true revelation here is Mireille Enos, who brings an astonishingly frail sensibility to the role of the younger man's wife.

At the core of all this static, though, is Albee's now classic play, which holds up far better than should be expected under the circumstances. We still cry tears of sorrow and compassion when this American Everycouple's illusions shatter and we finally hear the answer to the play's title question. It is a marvelous tribute to Albee that even this routine production can't obscure the devastating impact of his words. Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? belongs, without a doubt, on the pint-sized list of American artistic miracles; listen, through its haunted characters, to a solemn warning for a nation on the brink of losing its innocence once again.

(M) Melinda and Melinda (Allen, 2005) C+

Updates

Hello everyone, and welcome to Hard Rain Falling! If this is your first time visiting, I want to personally thank you and let you know about a few of the current features of our site, and some exciting things to look for in the near future:

Grades. This is the oldest and most constant part of our site. Each time I see a movie or theatrical production, you'll see it logged and graded. It does not represent the official position of the log--- it merely reflects the single opinion of its editor-in-chief at the time of viewing.

Reviews (R) and Mini-Reviews (M-R). A fast growing feature of Hard Rain Falling, the reviews and mini-reviews posted here are written by our staff, reflecting a variety of perspectives and tastes. We know you won't agree with everything written, but hopefully you'll be satisfied with the professional quality of the staff we've assembled.

Features. Want to read about the Oscars? New trends emerging in film or theater? Interviews with important artists? It's all here, and we have some exciting new topics planned for later this month.

We want you to feel part of the Hard Rain Falling family. If you have any suggestions, comments, complaints, come-ons, or threats, please e-mail us at hardrainblog@yahoo.com. Happy reading!

P.S. Get ready for our new "Book" section--- including logging, reviews, and features on current and past literature--- coming April 1st!

She Never Sleeps, But You Will

The Ring Two (Nakata, 2005)

(R) When writing the screenplay for The Ring Two, Ehren Kruger, who also wrote the film's predecessor, must have known that he would have trouble replicating the success of the first film. The Ring worked because its concept of a killer videotape was fresh and innovative, bolstered by enigmatic, eerie imagery. But in a sequel, the tape itself could no longer be counted on to provide an unsettling mystery. It is, then, understandable that the writer would attempt to refashion the plot.

After a prologue that echoes that of The Ring, the film opens with a traditional horror sequel beginning. Rachel Keller (Naomi Watts, who is just about adequate) and her son Aidan (David Dorfman) have moved to a new town, determined to Start Over and Leave Their Horrors Behind™. Soon, however, Rachel discovers a suspected homicide that seems strangely familiar, and begins to suspect that It's Happening Again™. Around this point the film abruptly shifts gears, as Rachel begins to suspect that the evil Samara is possessing Aidan.

The problem with this storyline is that it is, by now, utterly stale and banal. The plot proceeds to be shockingly unoriginal, cribbing elements from sources ranging from classic possesed-child films such as The Exorcist to director Hideo Nakata's own Dark Water (which was, incidentally, his follow-up to Ringu). Meanwhile, Rachel investigates Samara's past, in a plot that manages to be simultaneously uninsteresting (especially since this was already explored in the first film) and utterly illogical. In other words, the idea of the tape -- you know, the entire premise of the first film -- is basically dropped, as the film is content to simply be yet another dull tale of ghostly possession.

All this is disappointing, but would perhaps be forgiveable if the film were well-made. It's not. The dialogue is cringe-inducing, sometimes laughably so (look out for a climactic line near the end that just may prove to be an oft-quoted camp classic). The so-called plot is utterly disjointed, with most scenes seeming totally pointless and bizarre. Director Nakata doesn't do much to help. The long, talky stretches of the film take place in Medium Close-up Hell. Nakata shoots the often-absurd shocks that punctuate these scenes with a flashy, MTV-like sensibility. It's as if he doesn't trust the images themselves to be sufficiently unsettling -- and he's probably right.

Perhaps it is foolish to expect The Ring Two to be anything but a failure; it's difficult to imagine a sequel to The Ring really working at all. But it's dismaying to see how much the filmmakers seem to have misunderstood what worked in the original film. Gone is the quiet moodiness, the unnerving imagery, the unforgettable moments of simple fright. The Ring Two proves to be precisely the opposite of The Ring -- a crushingly unoriginal horror flick that settles for cheap thrills.

A New Voice: O Medina

Thanks for adding me to your site. I look forward to reading reviews and posting some of my own.
Read my review on Evita here

(M) /Dog Day Afternoon/ (Lumet, 1975) A

(M) The Ring Two (Nakata, 2005) C

(M) Zelig (Allen, 1983) B+

(M) /Hannah and Her Sisters/ (Allen, 1987) A-

(Th) Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (in previews at the Longacre Theater; Written by Edward Albee, Directed by Anthony Page) B+

(M) /Best in Show/ (Guest, 2000) B+

(M) Nightmare on Elm Street(Craven, 1984) B

(M) Scream 2 (Craven, 1997) B

(Th) Brooklyn Boy (at the Biltmore Theater; Written by Donald Margulies, Directed by Daniel Sullivan) B-

(M-R) Is MTC reviving Brighton Beach Memoirs at the Biltmore? No, actually, although subscribers with a hazier recollection of Neil Simon can be forgiven for suspecting so after the first few scenes of Donald Margulies' Brooklyn Boy. Unfortunately, this is quite another cup of treacle. It's an autobiographiccal play about the author of a bestselling autobiographical novel that he insists is not autobiographical. While the pressures of fame and fortune (presumably familiar to Margulies after the undeserved Pulitzer bestowed on his Dinner with Friends) are undoubtedly annoying, can we honestly be expected to involve ourselves in a play where the great dramatic moment is a Hollywood producer's instruction to "tone down the Jewishness" in a screenplay? Autobiography can work, but only if the characters are real. Brooklyn Boy is painted with such a light brush that it borders on Lite.

(M) The Godfather (Coppola, 1972) A

(M) Twelve Monkeys (Gilliam, 1995) A-

(M) /About Schmidt/ (Payne, 2002) A

(M) /Waiting for Guffman/ (Guest, 1996) A-

What's up with all Jacques(s)?

Thank you, Cory, for letting me be a member of hardrainfalling. I'm about to go TDY to Hurlburt AFB, Florida - so I wont be able to post much over the next couple of weeks. Until then, I'll leave you with my top ten favorite films of all time:


01. PLAYTIME (Jacques Tati)

02. DAY OF WRATH (Carl Theodor Dreyer)

03. THE TROUBLE WITH HARRY (Alfred Hitchcock)

04. BREATHLESS (Jean-Luc Godard)

05. KISS ME DEADLY (Robert Aldrich)

06. TO HAVE AND HAVE NOT (Howard Hawks)

07. THE UMBRELLAS OF CHERBOURG (Jacques Demy)

08. AU HASARD BALTHAZAR (Robert Bresson)

09. MEET ME IN ST. LOUIS (Vincente Minnelli)

10. OUT OF THE PAST (Jacques Tourneur)

(Th) Hurlyburly (at the Acorn Theater; Written by David Rabe, Directed by Scott Elliot) A-

(M) Downfall (Hirschbiegel, 2004) B

(Th) Five of Us (at the Shop Theater, NYU-Tisch School of the Arts; Written by Len Jenkin, Directed by Emerie Snyder; with Thomas Hennes, Steven Todd Smith, MacKenzie Fegan, Jessie Warner, and David Nathan Perlow) B

SPOTLIGHT: 'HOTEL RWANDA'

(M) Hotel Rwanda (George, 2004)-

This film cannot be given a grade. Its aesthetic value is ultimately meaningless, although it certainly doesn't fall short there. It happens, in fact, to be the most compelling political film made in a long time; it treats its subject with perspective and dignity while minimizing treacly consolations about the triumph of the human spirit. It has the same sobering effect as Schindler's List, but the immediacy of its message takes it even a step further. It's easy to dismiss its somewhat conventional style, but keep in mind that, today, its content is quite subversive: after all, the Sudanese genocide somehow merited not a single mention in George W.'s last State of the Union.

SPOTLIGHT: 'DIRTY ROTTEN SCOUNDRELS'

It surely goes without saying that in a season like this one--- whose previous musical openings have been (in order) The Frogs, Dracula, Brooklyn, Little Women, and Good Vibrations--- Dirty Rotten Scoundrels feels like a gem. Last Thursday at the Imperial Theater, Scoundrels, Broadway's first anticipated musical (and, likely, first Best Musical nominee) of the season opened to a chorus of moderately pleased to considerably underwhelmed reviews. While a good sign for the state of intelligence and judiciousness among theater critics, it's quite another kind of sign for the state of Broadway musicals.

Scoundrels is the kind of show where a man--- a straight man, mind you--- stumbles into a room late in Act Two dressed like a woman. He's even wearing pink. Oh, the hilarity. So why doesn't anybody laugh?

Because it's not very funny. And neither is the show--- in fact, it's pretty tedious at moments. It has a few virtues--- mainly, its gifted headliners, John Lithgow, Norbert Leo Butz, Sheri Rene Scott, and Joanna Gleason--- but freshness and spontaneity are not among them. The same could be said for David Yazbek's score, which clunkily spans faux-genres, from faux hip-hop to faux 40's standard. The only successful songs, to this critic, are: a pleasant faux classic rock ballad that deliberately mixes banal metaphors like "Love is Your Legs" and features an candle-weilding ensemble; and an upbeat gag number called "All About Ruprecht," which sticks firmly to the melodic conventions of musical theater and also features some of Butz' best work.

The hope, then, is that among Monty Python's Spamalot, A Light in the Piazza, and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang will arise a winner. Should we hold our breath?

SPOTLIGHT: THE BEST OF THE CENTURY

So I've finally created for myself a little amazon Listmania! list with the rather ambitious name of "Best Movies of the 21st Century."

Yes, it's only been five years. And probably only one of these will actually--- in one hundred years, when I'm long gone--- end up on anyone's ultimate list of the century. But there've been some remarkable achievements in our little corner of the millenium--- from the thriller's embrace of an epic sort of new-age sentiment (The Ring, Mulholland Drive, Donnie Darko) to the startling new visual language being conjured up for the comedy and the romance (The Royal Tenenbaums, Punch-Drunk Love). We've seen a fine bunch of "genre films" that paid homage to their anscestors while adding a quirk or two of their own (The Man Who Wasn't There, Gosford Park, 25th Hour). To round it out, we have seen the most compelling documentary in a generation (Capturing The Friedmans), a bracing psychological thriller (In the Bedroom), a devilish Hollywood satire (State and Main), a carnival-like visual feast (Big Fish), a fresh and colorful exploration of teenage angst (Ghost World), and a delicate, understated romance (Sideways).

Who knows what it all adds up to? For now, it's a Listmania! List on Amazon.

(M) /*Donnie Darko: The Director's Cut/ (Kelly, 2004) A-

(M) *Mar adentro (Amenábar, 2004) B+

(Th) Our Town (at the Provincetown Playhouse; Written by Thornton Wilder, Directed by Dallett Norris) B+

SPOTLIGHT: 'WOODS' AND 'SWEENEY'

(Please note: As with all 'Spotlights,' the following article solely reflects the opinion of its author--- in this case, Daniel--- and has not been endorsed or otherwise approved by the staff of Hard Rain Falling. It is included here to provoke thought and stir conversation.)



I actually think I like both Sweeney Todd and Into the Woods better than Sunday in the Park with George.

Wait! Come back! I can explain myself! I lost you all with Into the Woods, didn't I?

Sweeney is, I think, great precisely because of its darkness, not in spite of it. It's an uncompromising, pessimistic exploration of what humankind can really be like. In the show, love leads to hate and victim becomes monster. The cycle of revenge sweeps like wildfire, leaving no one unscathed but the relatively unharmed young lovers -- and can we truly believe that they will live happily ever after? This view may be misanthropic and doomful, but the show suggests that mindless optimism comes only from luck and ignorance. It's this dark view of mankind that is shared by Cabaret (which is brilliantly self-referential when it criticizes "light" escapist fare), and, to a lesser extent, West Side Story (cautiously optimistic, but only faintly so). This quality is what makes these shows pack such a punch, to me.

But Into the Woods is a tougher sell. I recognize that some may find it too "commercial" or "light", but I think it deserves much more respect than I've heard it get. First, on a purely entertaining level, so many of the songs are wonderfully witty and tongue-twisting ("Any Moment", "On the Steps of the Palace", and "Your Fault" come to mind in particular). But besides this, the show manages to explore a mind-boggling number of intriguing, difficult questions.The most blatant problem it discusses is, of course, the dangers of what we teach our children, and what many of us subsequently believe our entire lives. The second act reminds us that getting what you want (or think you want, rather) may not -- will probably not -- make you happy, whether it's marrying a prince or being beautiful. Reality is far more complicated, and "Children Will Listen" suggests that children deserve to know this.

Meanwhile, "I Know Things Now" addresses the excitement and terror of being awakened to the real world, "On the Steps of the Palace" confronts the maddening difficulty of decision-making, and "Giants in the Sky" articulates the realization of your ultimate insignificance. And entire essays could be written about "Any Moment", which forces a choice between fairy tales and reality. In a way, this song inverts Sunday in the Park focus on searing, impossible love, eschewing it in favor of the real-life love which is rarer than movie love.

Each of these songs is a wonderful little wolf in sheep's clothing, a "light" number containing a full-blown Pandora's box. I far prefer this sort of gentle wisdom to Sunday in the Park's grand themes of love and art and proverb-like lines like "pretty isn't beautiful" and "look at what you want, not at where you are, not at what you'll be" (which, frankly, sounds like a fortune cookie).

Phew. Well. There's another two cents to put in the account, anyway.

(M) /Ghost World/ (Zwigoff, 2000) A-

(Th) Shockheaded Peter (at the Little Shubert Theater; Directed by Julian Crouch and Phelim McDermott) A-

SPOTLIGHT: CHRIS ROCK

Somebody on my live-journal friends page (who I actually don't know in real life, but is just one of those internet people) said the following, in reference to the Oscars:

"I thought everyone who won, save Jamie Foxx, deserved their award, competition aside.... Chris Rock pissed me off. The Oscars are not a roast, and I am annoyed with him in general, regardless of where he is, because I don't think that "black people/white people" jokes are funny or socially helpful to anything progressive in race relations. He offended me quite a few times, and I wasn't even the people he was directly insulting. I thought Sean Penn was awesome with his rebuke of Rock's disrespectful comments. Anyway, I hope he is NEVER host of anything ever again...."

Maybe I'm overreacting. But is that not clearly and abudantly racist?

You didn't like Jamie Foxx? Fine. I passed over that. You don't like Chris Rock? Fine, who gives a shit?But let's talk about the second-to-last sentence, and also about what ACTUALLY happened at the Oscars.

Chris Rock, in a warm-up monologue written with the help of Jerry Seinfeld and Jay Leno, said the following:"Who is Jude Law? Why is he in every movie I've seen in the last four years?"Personally, I believe the implication of this mysterious, highly obscure and hard-to-understand line is that JUDE LAW HAS BEEN IN A LOT OF MOVIES LATELY.

Apparently, Sean Penn--- the rich, smug, supercilious, over-earnest and hypocritical emblem of everything people hate about "Liberal Hollywood," with good reason--- didn't think so, because three hours later, he replied:"In response to our host, I'd like to say that Jude Law is one of our finest actors."

Okay. So, essentially, here's the recap: A "black man"--- one of the most successful comics working today, who regularly tackles the absurdity of modern race relations with his predominantly black audiences--- took note of the fact that a "white man"--- one of the wealthiest and well-regarded actors in the industry, who was recently voted the sexiest man alive--- had been in a lot of movies lately.And this, according to Sean Penn and my "friend," was a blatant show of "disrespect."

Disrespect.

See what happened? Chris Rock went from a world-class comic with millions of fans to a little boy who spoke out of turn. From a keen social critic to a vulgar nephew. From the host of the Academy Awards to a subordinate of the industry.

Amazing how the clock can be turned back fifty years in a single live-journal post.