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Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 18 April 2003

Standing beside his long-time girlfriend Linda (Tomei), Dave Buznik (Sandler) is about to board a plane.  He doesn’t kiss Linda good-bye because a painful childhood incident has left him with a phobia of kissing in public.  Once aboard, the quiet, nervy Dave takes his seat next to an eccentric gentleman who won’t give him any peace.  He asks the stewardess (sorry I mean, flight attendant) for some headphones but she seems preoccupied with gossiping to her fellow employee.  As she walks past his seat empty handed, Dave grabs her arm to ask yet again.  Sooner than you can blink, Dave’s in court on an assault charge and sentenced to 20 hours of anger management therapy under the guidance of Dr. Buddy Rydell (Nicholson).

This was the dumbest, stupidest opening to a film so far in 2003.  I was literally shocked at how bad and implausible this scenario was.  Yet, for some reason, I had faith.  Faith that actors like the re-born Adam Sandler and the reliable Jack Nicholson wouldn’t sign on for such garbage without a reason.  The thought foremost in my mind was that the silly introduction was designed to lure the audience into a false sense of security before revealing the true “humour”.  Oopsy.  I was wrong.

This farce continues in a similar vein.  Dave finds himself up again on another “anger management charge” and to avoid a one year prison sentence, Buddy gets approval of the court to move in with Dave to cure his problem.  With Buddy now following him 24 hours a day, the therapy is only adding to Dave’s anger.  They have to sleep in the same bed.  All the phone lines have been bugged.  Dave has to cook breakfast for both every morning.  He’s missing deadlines at work.  Life has become a living hell.

There’s an attempt at the very end to explain these crazy happenings.  Whilst my tongue burns to reveal all, I’ll limit myself to a brief scathing.  This ending is completely bogus and the more you think about it, the more you’ll realise it doesn’t make a single shred of sense.  It’s as if two completely different scripts were written with the beginning of one was attached to the ending of the other.

It’s hard what to make of it all.  Amongst the childish jokes (highlighted by a scene where Nicholson farts in bed), there’s a slight hint that there may well be a darker undertone to Sandler’s story (ala Punch-Drunk Love).  Don’t even bother getting your hopes up as the lovey-dovey ending immediately put that theory to sleep.  You’ll find it’s easy to compensate for the lack of darkness by simply closing your eyes and cringing.

The film comes to us from the Happy Madison production company whose 2002 releases were Eight Crazy Nights, The Hot Chick, Mr. Deeds and The Master Of Disguise.  With four consecutive dismal efforts, I should have been more apprehensive towards Anger Management.  The film will undoubtedly be a box-office success (due to the huge marketing campaign) but it’s just as bad and unfunny as the aforementioned titles.  The only joke here, is the film itself.

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Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 08 April 2003

Girls, wanna know how to lose a guy in 10 minutes?  Take him to see this film – there’s your answer!  Ok, I’m being a little harsh perhaps, but at the advance screening I attended, 90% of the audience were female and they all seemed to be laughing.  I was not.

The fat-fetched plot is based on a novel (believe it or not).  Andie Anderson (Hudson) works for a columnist for Composure Magazine.  She wants to use her journalism degree to cover more cutting edge topics (such as religion and politics) but her editor demands she concentrate on fashion, gossip and other trashy news.  Inspired by a friend’s broken relationship, her latest column is to be titled “how to lose a guy in 10 days”.  She’s going to meet a guy, have him fall in love, then do everything wrong to make him break it off.  The results will all go into print.

It’s time for Ben Barry (McConaughey) to enter the frame albeit under strange circumstances.  He works at an advertising company and with his all male team, is competing against an all female team within the office to impress the boss and secure the chance to produce a marketing campaign for a leading diamond seller.  The adverts are to appear in Composure Magazine.

The female team are visiting the Composure offices on business and overhear the idea for Andie’s column.  Then comes that one-in-a-865-billion moment.  The female team are having a meeting with the boss in a club to impress and pitch ideas.  Ben crashes the meeting to prove he also has what it takes.  By fluke, the conversation turns to love and the fact Ben thinks he can make any woman fall in love with him.  Lo and behold, Andie walks into the club at the exact same instant looking for the man to use as her subject.  One of the female team sees her, and has the idea for a bet.  Knowing Andie’s intentions, she bets Ben that he can’t make her fall in love with him in 10 days.  At stake is the choice of which team will get the diamond contract.

It goes on from here in a rather predictable fashion.  These characters are all spoilt brats and deserved to be smacked up and live a life of misery.  This of course will not happen but I can only dream.  This script could very well be the most unadventurous of 2003.  I’ll concede some chemistry develops between stars Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey towards the end but it is all too late.  My attention span was long finished by then.

With the film being classed in the romantic comedy genre, you’d think there’d be some “comedy”.  All the jokes are pathetically obvious and set up by stupidly unrealistic plot developments and lame acting. The laughter that kept echoing in my theatre was a little confusing.  Either I wasn’t getting it or those around me were just dumb suckers.  I won’t offend further but you know the answer.

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Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 13 April 2003

Helping to pass the time on a recent flight, I read an interview in a film magazine with Steve Martin.  He speaks of the truth in the claim that comedy is the hardest genre to pull off.  You can have your instincts and think something is funny but until you put it in front of that audience, you’ll never know for sure.

In the past twenty years, few have delivered as high a success rate in comedy than Martin.  Since his breakout theatrical performance in The Jerk, his comedy has “mellowed” (his admission) but he’s still making people laugh and delivering when he has to.  As host of this year’s Academy Awards, Martin emphatically proved he can ad-lib just as well, if not better, than that scripted.

Sadly, no one is perfect and Bringing Down The House is a sub-standard blip in his lengthy resume.  He plays Peter Sanderson, a divorced lawyer who is looking to secure a big new client at work.  On the internet, he falls for a woman who it turns out was slightly misleading in providing her details.  She’s Charlene Morton (Latifah), fresh from prison and looking for a lawyer to clear her name.  Peter immediately kicks her out of the house but Charlene threatens to send the emails to his bosses if he doesn’t co-operate.

As always happens in the wonderful world that is Hollywood, Charlene and Peter become friends and learn valuable lessons in life.  Peter gets to know his kids better, realises his personal life is more important than work, and reconciles with his ex-wife.  Charlene clears her name, makes new friends and develops a whole new better life.  Comedy is mixed amongst these adventures with Martin doing his utmost but failing under the weight of the restricted screenplay.

A particular matter of disgust was the film’s method in delivering the message that we should be appreciating African American culture rather than chastising it.  I felt Martin’s antics (particularly those in the club scene at the end) were insulting and I’m interested in anyone else’s opinion on this matter.  The jokes were in very poor taste.

Queen Latifah gets few chances to dazzle, the usually witty Eugene Levy is lifeless and the other supporting stereotypes (sorry, I mean characters) are summed up by the stupidity of the next door neighbour (Bette White) and the silliness of the wealthy new client (Joan Plowright).  First time screenwriter Jason Filardi needs to throw away his textbook of overused clichés and rising director Adam Shankman (The Wedding Planner, A Walk To Remember) needs to be more selective of his material.  Honestly, I can’t think of a single member of the cast or crew who brought any initiative to this project.

Details

Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 06 April 2003

Dreamcatcher is a horribly confusing thriller which is always off balance and rarely making sense.  Four guys in their early 30s, Henry (Jane), Jonesy (Lewis), Pete (Olyphant) and Beaver (Lee) are on a hunting holiday out in the snow covered woods.  All of them can read other people’s minds.  On this point, the reason how they can do so isn’t clarified until well into the film and even then I wasn’t satisfied.

Anyway, with Henry and Pete out in the car, Jonesy and Beaver come across an injured man in the woods.  He’s suffering from mild hyperthermia, has a nasty red rash and an extremely bad case of gas.  They leave him to rest in the bedroom before joking about his situation between themselves.  Outside the window, they see hundreds of animals fleeing the area.  Exactly what are they running away from?

Mmm, should I tell you?  In the interests of giving the film a chance for those who do want to see it, I better not.  The script degenerates into a jumbled mess.  There are flashbacks to try to explain the past but seems to glaze over important details.  In the current time frame, Morgan Freeman and Tom Sizemore enter the picture as an important character but I cannot believe how small and underdeveloped their roles were.

The flick is adapted from a novel by thriller guru Stephen King.  Over 60 films have been made from King novels but Dreamcatcher is far from his finest works including The Shawshank Redemption, Misery and The Shining.  I haven’t read the novel but I assure you it must be better than the book.  As is always the case, there’s more room in a novel to explore details and it’s the lack of these details which gave this cinematic interpretation no chance of success.

Take a pillow also because it clocks in well over the two hour mark and there’s a fair chance you’ll be dozing during the later stages.  Director Lawrence Kasdan (The Big Chill, The Accidental Tourist) doesn’t extend himself and seems content to churn out this mediocre product filled with lame editing and plot inconsistencies.  The only plus are the visual effects which were created from a team led by Stefen Fangmeier (Twister, The Perfect Storm).

To insert my traditional lame joke, this film certainly wasn’t capturing any my dreams in what I’d like to see in a motion picture.  I only hope it doesn’t give me nightmares.

Details

Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 13 April 2003

Johnny English become a spy by default when all the agents at the department in which he works are killed in an explosion.  He is called upon to guard the crown jewels at a special unveiling but as expected, he blows the job.  Given the chance to redeem himself, he immediately suspects wealthy Frenchman Pascal Sauvage (Malkovich) but doesn’t have the evidence to support his theory.

With partner, Bough (Miller), and another curious damsel, Lorna (Imbruglia), he begins his investigation.  As you’d be well aware, it’s one “joke” after the other.  He bumbles through the case in the tradition of Austin Powers and The Naked Guy to wind up becoming the hero.

Like so many other comedies I’ve been critical of in the past few months, Johnny English is terribly unadventurous.  The punchlines to most of these jokes aren’t required because we’ve heard them before.  Don’t you hate someone telling you a joke when you already know how it ends?  That suffering in the forced laugh you would reply with is roughly equivalent to the experience of watching this film.  The three-man screenwriting team is well behind the times in terms of its material.

Australian singer Natalie Imbruglia makes her motion picture debut with little fanfare.  Her own lines require even less effort than the hammy material she delivered in her run on Neighbours ten years ago.  I will not be too hasty in judging her talents though as the limited screenplay clearly contributed to her performance.  I also hope dual Academy Award nominee John Malkovich regrets his involvement.  His accent is lame and the concept is just really, really stupid.

Helping this package stay together are a few select gags which do hit the mark.  Sadly, I emphasise these being the minority rather than the majority.  An idea which is funny for a few minutes doesn’t make a motion picture.  That’s the lesson here.