OCEANS: 4 STARS

To really know the ocean, says narrator Pierce Brosnan, you have to see it, taste it and live it to feel its power. “Oceans,” the spectacular new Disney nature film doesn’t literally let you feel or taste the sea, but its beautiful and intimate photography will get you as close as possible to experiencing the ocean without actually getting wet.  

Released just in time for Earth Day, “Oceans” is the evolution of “The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau.” Technological advances allow “Winged Migration” co-directors Jacques Cluzaud and French star Jacques Perrin to go deeper and stay longer to capture a vivid portrait of life in the sea. Not strictly a documentary—some scenes are staged—it is more a travelogue of the earth’s oceans and their citizens.

It may not fit the traditional definition of documentary but it certainly is cinematic. With a minimum of narration—the weakest part of the film—they present a dazzling array of images from a spectacular ballet of dolphins, diving birds and a school of sardines to a spider crab showdown that looks like an underwater version of Michael Jackson's “Bad” video. And there’s drama too. A scene with sea turtle hatchlings and a flock of hungry frigate birds wouldn't be out of place in a Hitchcock film, but it’s bloodless. There’s nothing here that will upset the little ones.

It is a representation of life at its most basic. Sometimes it’s as brutal as a Tarantino revenge drama—a mantis shrimp pulls an arm off a crab and eats it in front of him. But often it’s eye-poppingly beautiful with close-ups of creatures that look like they sprung from the depths of H. R. Giger 's imagination—there are as many strange beasts here as in almost any sci fi movie—and impressive wide shots of cascading schools of fish and dolphins leaping in and out of the water.   

It’ll entertain the eye, but it probably won’t engage the brain in the same way. There isn’t much in the sense of educational information—for instance, we're told that the humpback whale is majestic and that penguins aren’t very good “figure skaters” and not much more—but it should spark kid's interest in the ocean and will certainly fire their imaginations. If nothing else it’ll make adults crave sashimi.

The inevitable eco message about humans polluting the sea is effectively illustrated by a shot of a sea lion frolicking with a rusted shopping cart, but like the educational component of the film it’s more a starting point for conversation with the kids over fish sticks after the movie than a complete lesson in conservation.  

Much of the pleasure of “Oceans” is derived from seeing it on the big screen. The scale of the screen pales compared to the size of the ocean, but it is as up-close-and-personal as most of us will ever get to these strange and often wonderful creatures.

OLD DOGS: 2 ½ STARS

“Old Dogs,” the new comedy starring John Travolta and Robin Willliams as two middle aged men who discover the importance of family, clearly knows what its demographic is. With a boomer soundtrack heavy on hits from the 60s and 70s and a gaggle of incontinence jokes and prostate jokes it’s aimed directly at the crowd who can remember what they were doing when Kennedy was shot.

Williams and Travolta play Dan and Charlie, lifelong friends and business partners on the verge of their biggest deal ever. Dan is a business minded divorcee, who is “allergic to anything under four feet.” In other words no kids—doesn’t have them, doesn’t want them. Just as well, he doesn’t really need children when Charlie is around. He’s still a big kid with an ultramodern apartment full of toys and a habit of flirting with every woman he meets. Their carefully manicured lives are turned upside down when Vicki (Kelly Preston) re-enters Dan’s life. With her are her two kids, the result of a one night stand Dan had with Vicki in Miami seven years before. When Daddy Dan and Uncle Charlie take the kids for two weeks while Vicki serves a jail sentence for environmental activism (how au currant!) they learn that business doesn’t always come first.

“Old Dogs” is the broadest played comedy since “The Three Stooges Go Around the World in a Daze.” It’s filled-to-bursting with funny faces, slapstick humor and not one, but two crotch shots. It’s mostly by-the-numbers—except for a strange “body puppet” sequence featuring the late Bernie Mac—that relies on Williams and Travolta to bring a little something extra to a script that may have been a laugh-free-zone in lesser hands. Williams wrings whatever laughs there are to be found in a spray tan catastrophe scene and Travolta finds the funny as an over medicated man at a bereavement pot luck.  Also packing a few laughs are Luis Guzmán as the hungry childproofing expert and Matt Dillon as the hard line camp leader.

“Old Dogs” works best when it is going for laughs, unfortunately the slapstick is interspersed with mushy moments that seem to come out of nowhere. One moment Dan has lost all depth perception and is playing the wildest game of golf since Adam Sandler and Bob Barker threw it down on the links in “Happy Gilmour,” the next Williams is using his earnest “Patch Adams” eyes, staring at the camera, fretting that he’s not cutting it as a dad. The sudden shifts are a bit jarring, but for every sentimental scene there are four sciatica jokes, or a grand-pa gag.

“Old Dogs” is a sequel in spirit to Travolta’s “Wild Hogs.” Call it boomer porn if you like—it showcases older successful men, their beautiful younger wives and interesting lives—but at its heart it’s just an old fashioned family comedy. 

ORPHAN:
AS A HORROR FILM: 2 STARS
AS A COMEDY: 3 ½ STARS

There are a couple of lines necessary for the success of every Creepy Kid movie. Chief among them: “I have a surprise for you, Mommy!” Why is the line so successful? Because the surprise is never good. A close second is the old, “I don't think Mommy likes me very much” gag. These lines work because of the juxtaposition of innocence against a malevolent backdrop. In other words, evil children are scary. Orphan, starring Vera Farmiga and    Peter Sarsgaard is the latest Creepy Kid movie to hit the big screen, but is it as disturbing as the classics of the genre like The Omen or Village of the Damned?   

The story begins with a heartbreaking loss. John and Kate Coleman (Sarsgaard and Farmiga) are reeling after a miscarriage. The loss has taken a toll on their marriage, which seems about as stable as the bond between that other Jon and Kate we’ve been hearing so much about lately. In an attempt to right their awful situation they decide to adopt a child from a local orphanage. Finding themselves drawn to Esther (Isabelle Fuhrman) they welcome the young girl into their home, but as soon as they do strange things start happening. Certain that something is wrong—really, really wrong—with her new daughter Kate tries to convince John that Esther isn’t the little bundle of joy they bargained for. He doesn’t heed her warnings until it is too late.  

Orphan has echoes of many creepy kid movies but sets itself apart with (a probably unintentional) sense of camp that permeates its later scenes. It’s the kind of over-the-top dramatics that turned Mommy Dearest from bio pic into giggle fest. Its sense of hysterical fun makes it a good Friday night late show kind of movie with the right audience.

Orphan bills itself as a horror film, and it starts with a bang—well, more of a spurt or a gush, really—but many of the scares aren’t so much scares as they are jolts caused by loud audio cues and red herrings. I call them “booyas,” little unexpected shocks that snap you to attention. It’s a cheap way to get a rise out of people but it does create a bit of tension.

Modigliani beauty Vera Farmiga is effective as the woman on the edge of a breakdown. Peter Sarsguard wins the Least. Supportive. Husband. Ever. Award and has one insane, cringe worthy scene near the end of the movie that I assume he didn’t read before he agreed to take the part. It’s a ridiculous but of overacting but fits the camp feel established by director Jaume Collet-Serra.

The parents are the foundation that holds everything together but the kids are the stars. As younger sister Max Aryana Engineer has mastered the art of the terrified face and Jimmy Bennett as brother Danny has bored teenage boy down to a science but it is Isabelle Fuhrman as evil Esther who steals the show.

She’s a particularly good Creepy Kid, just other-worldly looking enough to be freaky but able to turn on the charm when she needs to. Her facility with Hieronymus Bosch-style paintings and claw hammers are definite signs that something’s not right with the little girl John and Kate invite into their home, but what can you expect when you spend less time deciding to adopt Esther than most people spend deciding on which kind of ice cream to buy.

Esther is a stern mistress who I could see inspiring a drinking game. How about a shot of Jäger every time she gives someone the creepy kid stink eye? You’d be on your butt before the forty minute mark.

Orphan isn’t great but it does provide a few campy laughs and a couple of squirmy scenes.

OBSERVE AND REPORT:
FOR ADVENTUROUS VIEWERS: 4 STARS
FOR FANS OF POLITE COMEDY: 2 STARS

Observe and Report comes hot on the heels of January’s box office champ Paul Blart: Mall Cop. On the surface they have a lot in common. Both center on suburban mall security guards with something to prove. Both star funny chubby guys who first made their mark on television and both feature blonde love interests. But as similar as they may be at first glance, Paul Blart and Observe and Report are as similar as apples and oranges. Imagine comparing The Three Stooges to Woody Allen and you get the idea.

Seth Rogen, in what will likely be his last heavy-weight film role, as he has now slimmed down for his part in The Green Hornet, plays mall security guard, er… make that Forest Ridge Mall “Head of Security” Ronnie Barnhardt. He’s a stickler for the rules, dreaming of the day when he can trade up and turn in his flashlight for a policeman’s gun. When a flasher begins terrorizing the mall Ronnie sees it as a chance to go from zero to hero, show his cop chops, earn a spot at the police academy and, as an added bonus, impress Brandi (Anna Faris), a hot, but bubble-headed make-up counter clerk at the mall. “This disgusting pervert may be the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he says. The only thing in his way is the surly Detective Harrison of the Conway Police (Ray Liotta) a motivated cop who is determined to break the case before Ronnie does.

Observe and Report was written and directed by Jody Hill, a relative newcomer who has quickly become Hollywood’s new King of Crude. In this film and his controversial HBO series Eastbound & Down Hill has established a reputation for envelope pushing. No joke is too offensive, no situation too outrageous.

Bad behavior is his canvas and Observe and Report is his masterpiece, his Mona Lisa.

This is not only probably one of the darkest comedies ever made, but also one of the most foul-mouthed and surprising. Think of Paul Blart: Mall Cop as directed by Sam Peckinpah with the action scenes staged by Martin Scorsese and you’ll have an idea of the tone of the film.

The lovable Seth Rogen of Knocked Up and The Forty Year Old Virgin is gone, replaced by a dead eyed borderline psycho who takes himself too seriously and is messed up enough to fail the police academy’s psyche test. It’s a strange and inspired performance that shows off his range, but isn’t for everyone.

I overheard two women at the screening sighing with relief that they didn’t pay for their own tickets. “I liked him so much better when he was with Kathyrn Heigl,” one moaned, pining for the days before Rogen turned into Norman Bates.

Any movie that bills itself as a comedy and yet gives second billing to Ray Liotta—the intense star of Goodfellas—is going to be dark, but Observe and Report redefines comedy noir, from Rogen and Anna Faris’s horrifying love scene to its violent finale, it is one of a kind. Not for everyone, but with show stopping work from Faris and an unexpected comedic performance from the usually very serious Michael Peña—“Sometimes I drink out of the volcano,” he says—it should please fans of extreme humor.

In other words, if you enjoyed Paul Blart: Mall Cop, then stay away from Observe and Report.

ONE WEEK: 3 ½ STARS

One Week tells the story of Ben Tyler (Joshua Jackson), a frustrated writer turned elementary school teacher. He’s on autopilot until he learns that he has stage four cancer but rather than go straight to the hospital and the inevitable, he buys a motorcycle and heads west from Toronto on a road trip that takes him to the western most parts of our country.

It’s a jam packed trip that sees him encounter everything from The Tragically Hip's Gord Downey as a pot-smoking cancer survivor to the Stanley Cup. On his trip when he isn’t doing such distinctly Canadian things as “rolling up the rim to win” he embarks on a personal journey that leads to a greater understanding of not only where he came from but also, where he is going.

Over top of it all is a clever voiceover supplied by actor Campbell Scott. It’s a voice of God narration that adds some perspective and depth to Ben’s on-camera antics.

One Week features a fine performance from Lianne Balaban, as Ben’s level headed fiancée Samantha, and some interesting cameos from Canadian rockers Gord Downey and Emm Gryner, but it is Jackson who surprises.

The former Dawson’s Creek star—and ex of Katie Holmes—hands in an unexpectedly interesting performance. As Ben he’s a conflicted guy, pulled between taking the safe route—giving up his dream of being a writer, settling down to a quiet suburban life with Samantha and accepting his fate—or pushing the envelope by breaking free and embarking on a physical and personal journey, if only until his illness forces him to return home.

It’s that push and pull that either makes Ben the most selfish guy in the movies this year or someone determined to go out in a blaze of glory. Jackson’s performance and the film leaves that determination up to the viewer, but it is the actor’s work that gives the movie steam and purpose. He’s likeable but there’s more to the performance than charm. Jackson gets under Ben’s skin, bringing realism to a character that sometimes does unreal things. This grounding keeps the film from going off the rails in some of its stranger moments.     

One Week has been called a “love letter to Canada,” and it is from its unabashedly Canadian setting to its strictly CanCon references—I doubt “roll up the rim to win” has much resonance for anyone outside the purview of Stats Canada—but its heartfelt story is universal and timeless enough to appeal to anyone whether they have the Queen on their money or not.

THE OTHER END OF THE LINE: MINUS INFINITY SQUARED STARS

Romantic comedies are all about two unlikely people beating the odds to become a happy couple by the time the credits roll. Dorky Harry meets beautiful Sally. Pretty Woman of the Night meets and is seduced by suave rich guy. You get the idea. In the new film The Other End of the Line two young, beautiful people must overcome odds both geographical and cultural before they can have their happy ending.

The cross cultural romantic journey begins as advertising executive Granger Woodruff (Jesse Metcalfe, best known for his role as the muscled teenage gardener on Desperate Housewives) chats on the phone with a customer service woman (Bollywood star Shriya Saran) in India who is pretending to be American. When their flirtation heats up to a boiling point she decides to take a drastic step, leave her fiancée behind and fly to San Francisco to hook up with the voice on the other end of the phone. It wouldn’t be a romantic comedy without a bit of complication, so when she arrives in the States she decides to keep her true identity a secret. Romantic hi-jinks ensue.  

I searched to find something, anything redeeming about The Other End of the Line, but a quick look at the notes I made while watching the movie says it all. “Looks like a bad karaoke video,” I wrote at one point. “By-the-book rom com,” was the next entry. “Jesse Metcalfe has negative charisma,” went another. The capper came when the woman sitting next to me leaned over, with an aggrieved look on her face and moaned, “This is painful.”

The whole script feels like it was Frankensteined together using discarded bits and pieces from other, more successful romantic comedies. I counted only two real laughs, both late in the movie, by which point I had pretty much given up the will to live, so perhaps my defenses were down and I was so desperate for entertainment that I would laugh at anything. Only my professional obligation to stay until the final credits kept me in my seat. If I had seen this movie on a airplane I still would have wanted to walk out. It’s that bad.

Poorly edited and senseless scenes bleed into one another for a mind numbing 106 minutes of brutal cinematic torture. The occasional spark—mostly delivered by the Indian family who appear to be acting in an entirely different movie—is dampened by a ham-fisted script, even worse direction and the nonexistent chemistry between the leads; two, supposedly star-crossed, lovers.

On paper The Other End of the Line looks like a good rom com. There are two attractive leads, exotic locations and a star-crossed-lovers storyline, but unfortunately not even the fetching Indian actress Shriya Saran in her first English role can save the movie from the slag heap of cinematic waste.  

THE OTHER BOLEYN GIRL: 2 ½ STARS

You don’t hear the term ‘bodice ripper” very often anymore. By definition it refers to a historical romance that emphasizes the sexual excitement of seduction and ‘ravishment,’ usually in intriguing settings and populated by royalty, pirates, highwaymen and wenches. In book form they often feature Fabio on the cover, in a new movie set in the court of Henry VIII Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Portman both have their bodices ripped by Eric Bana as the womanizing king.

Based on a historical novel written by British author Philippa Gregory The Other Boleyn Girl is a melodrama centered around the life of little known 16th-century aristocrat, Mary Boleyn (Johansson), who was the sister of Queen Anne Boleyn (Portman) and one-time mistress of King Henry VIII of England.

At the beginning of the film the Boleyn family is minor aristocracy with a desire to better their station in life by marrying off their two beautiful daughters, Mary and Anne, to wealthy men. When a scheming uncle cooks up a plan for Anne to seduce the King of England, become his mistress and hopefully provide him with a much needed male heir the simple family is introduced to the Machiavellian workings of the Royal Court. Things take an unexpected turn when Mary, an uncomplicated soul with a good heart, is actually the first to catch the King’s eye. Soon, however, his attentions turn to her devious older sister Anne.

In order to woo Anne he must first dispose of his wife, Queen Katherine. This split causes a rift with the Pope and directly leads to the creation of the Church of England. When Anne is unable to give birth to a son she finds herself alienated from the King and later the subject of scandalous charges that lead to her execution.

While watching The Other Boleyn Girl I couldn’t help but think what a different movie this would have been had been made by MGM sixty years ago. Certainly the bodice ripping aspects would have been toned down in favor of the kind of smoldering, suppressed sexuality that dominated mid-Century Hollywood films, but specifically I was thinking about the casting.

In the 40s or 50s the cast would likely have included Bette Davis as the devious Jane and, maybe Celeste Holm as Mary, the kind hearted sister. Those actors would have the heft needed to bring a sense of drama to the proceedings. To paraphrase another old time Silver Screen actress, “They had faces back then.”
As it is Portman and Johansson, both good actors, simply don’t have the gravitas needed to convincingly portray the conniving inner workings of the court. Portman’s performance as Anne would be better suited to a teen drama set in high school than palace life in Tudor England.

Other than the somewhat fatal casting flaw The Other Boleyn Girl has, at least, production value to spare. Period details are nicely presented with costume design by Sandy Powell who also worked on Shakespeare in Love and impressive locations such as Penshurst Place, Knole Park, Dover Castle in Kent, the City of Bath, and Bude in Cornwall.  

Historians should be warned that The Other Boleyn Girl plays fast and loose with the facts—Mary was actually the older sister, rumored to be promiscuous and not the blushing flower she is portrayed as in the movie—and really amps up the melodrama. There are soap operas that don’t have this much intrigue. It’s interesting to learn about the brutal Royal court, a gossipy and cruel place so vicious the other ladies-in-waiting make the London tabloid press look like Miss Manners.    

The Other Boleyn Girl plays like a mix of Masterpiece Theatre and Clueless, an awkward blend of historical drama and modern storytelling that skates over important details—was the love of Anne the only reason to break from Rome and form a new church?—while spending too much time on the more salacious aspects of the whole sordid tale.  

OVER HER DEAD BODY: 2 ½ STARS

In the dreaded January – February movie slump, when the studios traditionally dump their less than a-list movies into theatres no weekend is more brutal than Super Bowl Weekend. Luckily this year the pickings are better than usual for this time of year.  

The lone big release that was screened this week for the press is Over Her Dead Body, starring Knocked Up’s Paul Rudd and Eva Longoria-Parker of Desperate Housewives as his dearly departed who refuses to stay departed.

When the story begins Kate Spencer (Longoria) is very much alive. She’s a bridezilla to be, painstakingly double and triple checking every minute detail for her upcoming nuptials to handsome veterinarian Henry Mills (Rudd). After terrorizing the caterers and an ice artist (Stephen Root) hired to for event she is accidentally flattened by an ice sculpture.   

Cut to one year later. Henry, looking for closure contacts psychic Ashley (Lake Bell) in hopes that she can put him in touch with Kate in the afterlife. When the séance fails, Henry’s sister takes matters into her own hands and gives Ashley Kate’s diary so she can fake communication with his former fiancée’s spirit and finally be able to move on.     

The subterfuge works and soon Henry is ready to date again. He’s been flirting with Ashley during their sessions together so it makes perfect sense that they should hook up. Perfect sense to everyone except Kate who thinks Ashley is a “lying, cheating, red-headed hussy.”  

As the movie’s tagline says, “Just because she's passed on... Doesn't mean she's moving on.” Determined to protect Henry from Ashley the headstrong Kate returns to earth in ghostly form and makes the new girlfriend’s life a living hell. Of course, since Ashley is a psychic she is able to see and hear Kate even though nobody else can.

Over Her Dead Body is the kind of screwball supernatural romance that Hollywood used to churn out by the truck load. Stories of angels returning to earth to complete a mission have been a staple since the 1930s, but Over Her Dead Body updates the premise. IN this one the fallen angel isn’t a likeable sort out for redemption, but a foul tempered yuppie harridan much like the manipulative character Longoria-Parker plays on Desperate Housewives. The working title of the film says it all; originally it was called Ghost Bitch.

In the trailer it looks like Eva’s movie, and certainly she’s the biggest star in the cast, but her role is secondary to the main love interests Paul Rudd and Lake Bell.

Rudd, best known for his work with comedy maestro Judd Apatow, has an easy charm that lends itself to romantic comedy and Bell has the same kind of appeal as Cameron Diaz showed in There’s Something About Mary—she’s beautiful and goofy. The movie doesn’t have Mary’s ribald sense of humor—although it does contain the longest flatulence scene in movie history—but Bell is a good physical comedienne and isn’t afraid to take a pratfall.

The weak link here is Longoria-Parker, who as the vengeful angel, tries to channel Lucille Ball but ends up handing in a largely charmless performance.

Luckily the chemistry between Rudd and Bell keeps things interesting as they milk every laugh out of a script that is, at best, only mildly amusing.

Over Her Dead Body, however, has more laughs than that other recent high profile romantic comedy 27 Dresses and should be good counter programming for those wanting to escape football this weekend.

ONE MISSED CALL:

In recent years Hollywood remakes of Japanese horror movies (or J-horror as they’re known by hipsters on the internet) have given us videotapes which cause the death of anyone who watches them, websites that kill and now, in a new film that is bound to turn viewers into technophobes, afraid for their safety every time the phone rings, a movie in which people start receiving voice-mails from their future selves, messages which include the date, time, and details of their deaths. And you thought telemarketers were annoying.

In this remake of the 2003 Japanese horror film Chakushin Ari Shannyn Sossamon plays Beth, a young woman traumatized by the grisly deaths of two friends; fatalities foretold by strange cell phone messages. When she tells the police that there may be a link between the calls and the untimely passing of her friends she is dismissed as a nut by everyone except Detective Jack Andrews (Edward Burns) whose sister had passed under similar circumstances. Together they try and get to the bottom of the mystery of the ominous calls. All goes well until the day Beth’s phone rings with a strange new ring tone…

You know it’s the January slump when a movie as awful as One Missed Call gets a wide release. This is, at best, a direct to video movie; one that mistakes loud noises and frenetic editing for suspense and scares. When the most terrifying thing about a movie is an asthma inhaler you know you’re in trouble. Hang up on this one.

OCEAN’S 13: 3 ½ STARS

Ocean’s 13, the third installment of the modish crime comedies, involves an over-the-top casino owner, the giant tool that drilled the Chunnel and George Clooney in very nicely tailored suits. With style to burn and an all-star cast of Hollywood hunks, director Stephen Soderbergh returns to the roots of the franchise after the unfortunate European vacation of Ocean’s 12, unraveling a convoluted but exciting story that’s as smooth as a fine cigar. 

Gentlemen thieves Danny Ocean (Clooney) and Rusty Ryan (Brad Pitt) are about to pull off the biggest heist of their careers, but this time they’re not in it for the money. They hatch a plan to avenge their mentor Reuben Tishkoff (Elliott Gould), struck down by a heart attack after being jilted by a business partner. With his Swifty Lazar glasses and trusting nature Rueben allowed himself to be taken for everything he owned by the shifty casino owner Willie Bank (Al Pacino).

Ocean and his henchmen (the 13 of the title) hatch an elaborate plan to crack the uncrackable security system at Bank’s newest casino, taking him for wads of cash, and embarrassing him in the process. All they need to do is fake a natural disaster.

Ocean’s 13 is effortlessly cool, a hipster’s delight of jazzy camera moves, chic colors and a la mode art direction. It looks so great you won’t realize that the cockamamie caper is about as realistic as Don Cheadle’s faux English accent until well after you’ve left the theatre, but that’s OK. If you want to get an inside look at crime and criminals, watch Court TV. This is escapist fun that doesn’t take itself seriously and doesn’t expect you too either.

Ocean’s 13 isn’t about the caper, it’s all about the camaraderie of the actors. It’s all style and little substance; attitude mixed with a dollop of humor to take the edge off and it succeeds in its effortless way in becoming one of the most agreeable movies of the summer. 

OPEN SEASON: 2 ½ STARS

There have been so many animated talking animal movies in the last couple of years that it is getting hard to tell one from another. Remember the one where the animals break out of the New York City zoo and travel back to Africa? Wasn’t that Madagascar? Or was it The Wild? Actually it was both. These movies have become so interchangeable that even the five year olds that make up their target audience must have a sense of déjà vu when they go to the movies.   

The latest animated movie to recycle this journey theme is called Open Season, and it is essentially the same story with a few minor tweaks. Martin Lawrence voices Boog, a friendly, spoiled bear who lives in his trainer’s garage. Like the lions in The Wild and Madagascar he’s the pampered king of his urban environment and knows little about nature. He performs in a wildlife show and is perfectly content until a fast-talking deer named Elliot comes along. Elliot, voiced by Ashton Kutcher, shows Boog how to punk the local convenience store, a move that convinces his custodian that he should be returned to the woods. The kind-hearted keeper drops him in the middle of the woods, far from hunters who have declared open season on every living thing in the forest.

Boog is lost without the comforts of home and is determined to make it back to his old way of life, but first he must answer that age-old question, “Does a bear s**t in the woods?” Apparently not if your name is Boog and you’ve been raised in a garage with indoor plumbing. He must also learn to fend for himself and out-smart a psycho hunter who has a vendetta against all furry creatures.

With a story this familiar the movie really needs some exceptional voice work to elevate itself above the others, but few of the voices here are remarkable. Lawrence and Kutcher do good work, as do supporting actors like Scottish comedian Billy Connolly who lays on the brogue as a belligerent squirrel, and Patrick Warburton who lends his distinctive “Puddy” voice to Ian, the vain deer, but most of the voices are quite ordinary, the kind you hear on straight-to-video animated releases.  

Open Season is an amiable enough movie, with a few laughs and the kind of life lessons about friendship that have become commonplace in these animated movies, but I left the theatre feeling like I had been there and done that. The similarities to other recent movies are so strong that it takes more than just a couple of new characters doing the same old jokes to maintain interest.

OVER THE HEDGE: 3 STARS

There has been no shortage of animated talking animals at the theatres in recent years but the mobbed-up penguins of Madagascar, Chicken Little’s paranoia and The Wild’s sarcastic koala mostly make me long for the days of Dr. Dolittle, where our four legged friends didn’t burst into song and the humans got all the funny lines.  With the release of Over the Hedge there is, finally, a talking animal movie that didn’t make me long for Penguin Pie, Lion Fricassee or any other carnivorous delight.

The film, based on a long-running comic strip of the same name, gently pokes fun at modern life, satirizing North America’s love affair with conspicuous consumption. The story revolves around a loosely knit family of cute woodland animals—who look like they wandered into frame from a 1940s Disney cartoon—who awaken from their winter hibernation only to find that half their forest has been leveled to make way for a pristine housing development.

Instead of foraging for food in the forest they fall under the spell of a devious raccoon named RJ who convinces them to raid the suburban mansions, bulging with junk food, that lie just over the hedge from their woodland home. The humans don’t react kindly to this merry band of thieves and hire an exterminator to eliminate them.

The satire here isn’t particularly stinging—if you want a real comment on suburbia’s effect on the ecology ask David Suzuki—but it does make the point that North America’s green spaces are quickly being eaten up by suburbs. More to the point the movie stresses the importance of togetherness and family values.

Over the Hedge isn’t a classic like Finding Nemo—which remains the Citizen Kane of computer animated kid’s movies—but it is solid family entertainment. It contains enough amusing action sequences and good voice work from Bruce Willis as the conniving raccoon, Wanda Sykes as a seductive skunk and Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara as a pair of hilariously Canadian-accented porcupines to put it a tier above recent lackadaisical animated releases.

THE OMEN: 2 ½ STARS

In this era of product placement one very obvious bit of marketing was overlooked in The Omen, the remake of the spooky 1976 film starring Gregory Peck. It seems to me that Trojan condoms should have sponsored this movie because after seeing it if the prospect of giving birth to the anti-Christ isn’t an incentive for birth control I don’t know what is.

In the reworking Liev Schreiber plays Robert Thorn, aide to the American ambassador to Italy. His wife, Kate (Julia Stiles) is pregnant but there are complications. At the hospital he is told by a mysterious priest that their baby has been born dead, but another child, born at virtually the same time, whose mother died in childbirth is available. The priest convinces the grieving father not to tell his wife of the switch and the couple raise the child, named Damien, as their own. Five years later when Thorn is made ambassador to Great Britain strange things start to happen in their new mansion. The rest of the movie can be summed up thusly: Big creepy house, little creepy kid.

As the leads Schreiber brings a square-jawed determination to his role, while Stiles copes as best as one can when raising the child of the Devil. In a smallish supporting role Mia Farrow returns to the devil-child genre almost 40 years after Rosemary’s Baby made her a star, as Mrs. Blaylock, a demonic wet-nurse with the movie’s only funny lines.

With the multitude of sequels and remakes hitting the theatres this summer everything old is new again, but that saying is especially true in the case of The Omen, which is more than a remake, it’s a cover version of the old film. Line for line and shot for the shot this new version of the film simply replaces the original cast with current actors, updates the technology—e-mail replaces snail mail—and dismisses some of the outdated 70s mores of the first one to recycle the story for a new generation. The movie is hair-raising enough and the mysterious murders are a little more graphic and disturbing than the original, but the only reason I can see for remounting this movie is the once-in-a-century chance to open it on the demonic date June 6, 2006—6/6/06.

ONE HOUR PHOTO

In the last year Robin Williams has re-invented himself – Goodbye Patch Adams, hello Norman Bates. The frenetic comedian seems to have shifted 180 degrees away from the heroic nice-guy roles he became mired in and is now determined to scare us, or at least make us uncomfortable. In Death to Smoochy he was a foul mouthed lunatic bent on revenge. After that he played Walter Finch, a brutal killer and blackmailer in Insomnia. One Hour Photo sees Williams in his most introspective role yet, an obsessed photo-mart clerk on the verge of madness. Who knew Mork could be this creepy? As Sy Parrish, Williams lets go of his usual arsenal of acting tricks, and develops a powerful performance by internalizing the character’s pain. Parrish is very still, like a pot of cold water on the heat waiting to boil. Dressed head to toe in beige – even his hair is blonde – Parrish’s world is stark, boring. He knows he has no life, and has invented an intense imaginary relationship to the Yorkin family, based on the photos of theirs he develops. When he discovers that Mr. Yorkin is cheating on his wife, he springs into action. One Hour Photo is a taut thriller that will take you down unexpected paths.   

OLIVER TWIST: 4 STARS

Oscar winning director Roman Polanski’s vision for Oliver Twist is just as dark as you would expect it to be. The pink parasols and stylized costumes from the musical version have been replaced with rotten teeth, muddy streets and starving kids. Polanski roots the classic story in reality—Victorian London was a rugged place to be poor in—and in doing so presents an interesting backdrop for the little boy who asked for more.

Topping the list of good performances here is Sir Ben Kingsley who, as Fagin, the criminal who schools Oliver and the other urchins in the way of grifting and pick pocketing. Kingsley reinvents the character, eliminating the anti-Semitic caricature that marred other versions of the story—most notably David Lean’s 1948 version that was banned in many places for its outrageous portrayal of the character. Kingsley’s take on Fagin is more pathetic than hateful and it could be argued that by offering these boys a life of crime he was, at least, offering them some kind of life other than starving to death on the streets. Look for Kingsley to be nominated for Best Supporting actor come Oscar time.