Spring is in the atmosphere and discoveries abound: people on this campus have skin (such pallor!), Capri pants on men is a debacle, and, most importantly, you can blame promiscuity on the weather. Don’t take that flavor of the day to a strip joint though; rein in those hormones and see a flick. As a result of my demanding presidential campaign, I am giving you a preview peek at some potentially intriguing films coming out this week that I would elect if they were people like me.
Fever Pitch
Directed by Bobby and Peter Farrelly. Starring Jimmy Fallon and Drew Barrymore.
Synopsis: “Lindsay (Barrymore) is stuck in the middle of her relationship with Ben (Fallon) and his passion for the Boston Red Sox.”*
Cute romantic comedy with cuties Fallon and Barrymore set against the Boston Red Sox’s cute World Series triumph. It is derived from a book written by Nick Hornby, the scribe behind the cute pics “High Frequency” and “About a Boy,” and with a screenplay by the cute writers of “Robots.” Have the Farrelly Brothers gone cutesy? Lame.
“Fever Pitch” playing at Destinta: Fri., Sat., Sun. Rated PG-13, 1 hr. 41 min.
Showtimes: (1:25), (2:25), (3:45), (4:45), 6:05, 7:05, 8:20, 9:20, 10:35, 11:30 ( )=Matinee
Sahara
Directed by Breck Eisner (Michael’s kid). Starring Matthew McConaughey, Penelope Cruz and Steve Zahn.
Synopsis: “Master explorer Dirk Pitt (McConaughey) takes on the adventure of his life when he embarks on a treasure hunt through some of the most dangerous regions of West Africa. Searching for what locals call ‘The Ship of Death,’ a long lost Civil War battleship which protects a secret cargo, Pitt and his wisecracking sidekick (Zahn) use their wits and clever heroics to help Doctor Eva Rojas (Cruz) when they realize the ship may be linked to mysterious deaths in the very same area.”**
“Sahara” sounds like “National Treasure” meets “Indiana Jones” meets brain dead, but I am always in the market for some “clever heroics.” McConaughey put down his bongos for this rousing adventure yarn, and he usually has a certain roguish charm, I’ll admit. He is apparently playing Cruz’s bongos off of the set as well. Yowzers! Since his tongue is all up in her cheek, I hope it’s the same with this film, because it could not possibly work straight-faced.
Sahara playing at Destina: Fri., Sat., Sun. Rated PG-13, 2 hr. 7 min.
Showtimes: (1:00), (3:30), 6:05, 8:40, 11:15
Kung Fu Hustle (Gong Fu)
Directed by Stephen Chow. Written/Produced by Stephen Chow. Starring Stephen Chow.
Synopsis: “Despite his shortcomings, Sing (Chow) looks to get in with the Axe Gang, a notorious mob with designs on running things in Pig Style, the toughest district in Canton, China (circa 1940’s). Soon, though, Sing realizes his destiny is quite different than his original desire.”*
So mofo psyched for this piece! The astoundingly prolific Stephen Chow (starred in 49 films in 16 years), the J.C. (Carrey) of China, produced, wrote, directed, starred, and did his own stunts, as he did in the modern classic “Shaolin Soccer.” “Shaolin Soccer,” if you recall, combined the kinetic visual artistry of Shaolin Kung-Fu with nobody’s favorite pastime, soccer; all the players could bend it far better than Beckham. Chow is an adroit physical actor whose most popular films fall under the genre of “nonsense comedy;” (Mo lei tau) a genre dictated by Flockhart-thin plots, and tangential, secant-ial filmmaking. “Shaolin Soccer’s” gleeful inanity shined through, independent of the Great Wall of language. His films have an epic feel, and are deliriously, zanily, surreally, absurdly, captivatingly, logic be damned-ly entertaining. It’s a visual buffet and I don’t mean the scenery the actors chew.
Miramax totally blew it on “Shaolin Soccer:” They cut out 25 minutes and, in the marketing scheme, the goofy charm was sacrificed in favor of an underdog tale on a CGI-mega budget (Tagline: “Kick Some Grass.”). Sony Pictures Classics probably won’t bungle this crowd-pleaser. The trailer is swell. “Kung Fu Hustle” is even more user-friendly: music video style dance numbers, Mafioso gunplay, parodies of Americana, and Chow’s trademark cartoony chopsocky meld into this tapestry of delight.
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