Movie Review: “The Interview”

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Christmas Day, thousands of Americans filled theaters to see a Japanese corporation’s movie by a Canadian director mocking the dictator of North Korea. All in the name of freedom — and rude, raw laughs.

And if we’ve learned nothing from the international incident titled “The Interview,” it’s that Kim Jong-un has good reason to fear this stupider-than-stupid comedy. However broad the rest of the movie might be, it’s not the movie assassination plot against Kim that would give North Koreans ideas. It’s the ridicule of their “god-like leader.”

Randall Park’s interpretation of Kim is dark, and darkly funny, a delusional turn with wincing, believable bits of psychoanalysis. Whatever else co-directors Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg, working from a story they dreamed up (Dan Sterling wrote the script), present here — it’s the “common sense” depiction of an overgrown, insecure boy in a bubble who insists the world notice him that sticks.

James Franco may not seem real as Dave Skylark, an idiot TV chat show host, and he goes out of his way to amp up the wacky to make Dave as broad as possible. Rogen’s TV producer, Aaron, may show signs that he worries that he’s smarter than his boss, the host — but not smart enough to do “real journalism.”

But Park’s Kim is a stereotypical hoot, a foul-mouthed Margarita lover who keeps Katy Perry CDs in his favorite tank, a roly poly paranoid who knows everybody around him, in his “compound,” in his country and in the world, is out to get him. A dictator with Daddy Issues, who loves “The Big Bang Theory” and “The Dave Skylark Show”? We can buy that.

“You so FUNNY, Dave!”

That fandom is what gives fluff-interviewer Dave the idea to get “the most famous guy on the planet,” and also “the most dangerous,” on his show. Aaron is stunned when the interview is set up, more stunned when the C.I.A. (Lizzy Caplan) wants him and Dave to poison “The Supreme Leader” and rid the world of a tyrant with nuclear-equipped missiles that could wipe out the west coast of the United States.

Naturally, the plan goes awry when Dave starts improvising around it, and finds himself out of his depth and utterly himself charmed by their host. Aaron falling for their North Korean minder, the sexy public relations chief named Sook (Diana Bang), doesn’t help.

Some standard-issue Rogen gags — hilarious celeb cameos (Eminem, playing it straight, and Rob Lowe), the bluer-than-blue language used by one and all, his matter-of-fat-fact nudity, drug jokes — work. Skylark’s incessant “Lord of the Rings” analogies don’t, and you have to let Franco’s performance grow on you. It’s off-puttingly bad for much of the film. Then, he answers his critics with a catch-phrase for the ages.

“They hate us, cuz they AIN’T us!”

There’s also sharp and snide commentary on U.S. meddling with other countries and C.I.A. screwups mixed in with real world North Korean shortcomings (millions starve so this or that “Dear Leader” can make the world tremble at his tantrums).

“Interview” is never much more than a cult film, a Kevin Smith comedy as directed by Quentin Tarantino, or vice versa, a quirky oddity. But Dear Leader made it such an issue that seeing it is borderline patriotic.

Still, I’m guessing any plans Rogen has for a comedy mocking, say, The Prophet Muhammad, are going on the shelf. This was a costly victory that only becomes a complete victory when Anonymous loads the film onto every computer in the People’s Republic.

2half-star6

MPAA Rating: R for pervasive language, crude and sexual humor, nudity, some drug use and bloody violence

Cast: Seth Rogen, James Franco, Diana Bang, Randall Park, Lizzy Caplan

Credits: Directed by Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg, screenplay by Dan Sterling. A Sony release.

Running time: 1:50

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Marc Eliot’s new John Wayne biography sucks

wayneThere’s a lot about John Wayne that I didn’t know before picking up Marc Eliot’s “American Titan,” the latest Wayne bio. From his Oscar night kick down of the door to Taylor and Burton’s bungalow (cool), to more rational explanations of Wayne’s wingnut turn after dodging the WWII draft, to his propping up the alcoholic John Ford for the last 20 years of Ford’s career, there’s much to chew on. But Wayne deserves a better written, better buttressed and better EDITED book than this. Factual blunders, botched names and simple typos jump off every page. When you get the most famous quote from “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance” wrong, you don’t get a contract to hack out a book about John Wayne. One shudders at what the proofs to this looked like.
He’s talking about Howard Hawks and it becomes “Hanks,” “felt” becomes “feld,” and “When the truth becomes legend, print the legend” becomes…”print the truth.” Seriously?

He says “The Alamo,” which cost $17 million+, needed to earn “$4 million” for Wayne to break even. HarperCollins, hire some editors, or get out of the business of hiring people who need editing. As we all do. But Marc Eliot writes like a blogger — blundering, unpolished, typo and error-packed piffle.

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Movie Review: “Poker Night”

pokernight1Round up a handful of top drawer character actors, cast them as veteran cops who gather to pass on the wisdom of their years to a single new recruit during weekly poker games, and have then new detective draw on their stories — “lessons” — during a harrowing showdown with a serial killer.
That’s the premise behind “Poker Night,” a solid and well-acted if overlong and overly tricky thriller from Greg Francis, a TV veteran with such shows as “A Haunting” among his credits.
Beau Mirchoff of TV’s “Awkward” is Stan Jeter, the hero/narrator of this grisly tale. We meet him, bloodied, collapsing on the ground at what we figure is the end of some ordeal, narrating about the differences between wisdom and hindsight.
“Here’s the problem with wisdom,” he says. “You only get it AFTER you need it.”
Det. Jeter works for the Warsaw (U.S.) P.D., which is trying to find a shortcut to wisdom. The force has all these grizzled cops from all over the country. Foul-mouthed, two-fisted and incorruptible, they’re played by the likes of Ron Perlman, Giancarlo Esposito and Ron Eldard. During their poker nights, each tells stories — flashbacks within flashbacks within flashbacks — of some telling case from their past, a lesson Jeter needs to learn to keep him alive on the job and help him solve his most difficult cases.
These lessons involve serial killers or simple murderers each has pursued, doggedly, for years, and the strategies employed in tripping up the bad guy and keeping him from killing whoever was chasing him as they did.
All manner of (movie) killer was faced down — a kid accused of murdering his parents is the case Esposito’s cop solved, the most interesting of the flashbacks.
But in the fictive present, Stan has left the game, gone on a call and seen a terrorized and underclothed young woman (Halston Sage) sprinting through the dark. Stan is tased, tied up and face to mask with a monster-masked kidnapper, a smooth-talking villain who tells his own story in flashbacks, the “normal” life with the “normal” wife and office job. The joke here is that his flashbacks show him in this leathery mask, which is the only way Stan knows him.
Stan must use what he’s learned on his own, and from the various lessons of his elders (Titus Welliver and Corey Large are the other poker players) to survive this ordeal, reason it out and find a way to turn the tables on his captor, who it turns out is a serial killer.
Writer-director Francis stages passable chases and shootouts, and spares us little of the gore of these gruesome killings by gruesome killers. A clever touch, transforming the aged cop telling the story into young Stan in the flashbacks, which are shot in washed-out colors, either over-exposed or underexposed and dark.
But Francis outsmarts himself, groping around for twists to toss our way, losing track of the clean lesson-to-its-application throughline of the plot. With so many flashbacks, even he seems to lose the thread, and he veers sharply in the end to try and defy our expectations one last time, utterly violating the logic of this “world.”
The players are good, with Mirchoff earnest and young as a nice contrast to the salty, rough-and-tumble elders, especially the iconic screen heavy, Perlman.
It’s just that when the last card is dealt on this “Poker Night,”  Francis isn’t content to let the best hand win.

2stars1MPAA Rating: Unrated, with graphic violence, profanity, sexual situations

Cast:  Beau Mirchoff, Ron Perlman, Giancarlo Esposito, Halston Sage, Ron Eldard, Titus Welliver, Michael Eklund

Credits: Written and directed by Greg Francis. An XLRator Media release.

Running time: 1:44

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Where to see “The Interview” on Christmas Day

It started with tweets from The Alamo Drafthouse and the Plaza in Atlanta. Theaters, high and low, north and south, east and west, will be showing “The Interview” now that Sony has un-surrendered to North Korea.

Here’s The Verge’s list — I hear Enzian in Orlando and suspect many others will be added to this list shortly.

See you at the Terrace in Charleston on Jimmy Buffett’s Birthday!

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Holiday movies: “Sniper,” “Woods,””Gambler,” “Big Eyes” —tip-ins, no slam dunks. “Unbroken” busted

tomMetacritic and Rotten Tomatoes both suggest that this year’s crop of holiday movies are worth checking out, but there’s no serious “must see” in the mix.

“American Sniper” and “Big Eyes” have the best reviews, a return to form for Clint Eastwood and a beautifully executed mainstream bio-pic from the quirky Tim Burton.  But even those films linger in the 70% range on the rottentomatoes tomatometer. Not EVERY critic was dazzled or impressed by them.

wahl“The Gambler” and “Into the Woods” both earned more endorsements than pans. The Mark Wahlberg remake of a 1974 picture differs from the original in some interesting ways, and a few irrational ones. They could have done more with the transgressive gambler-professor sleeping with a student relationship. It’s more  of a symptom of his mental state, and would get him fired, than a simple emotional rescue.

“Woods” lost some musical numbers — one good one — and is overly reliant on new TV chat show host James Corden’s talents than  it should be. But Streep and Blunt and Pine and Kendrick are all great fun, the heart and soul of the piece, and its comic backbone. It still works, but not as well as it did on the stage.

unbrokeAngelina Jolie’s take on “Unbroken” didn’t find a dazzling lead and blows any suspense or big moments of heart that were there in the Louis Zamperini survival tale. What this Olympic runner went through, surviving a crash at sea in his bomber, drifting for weeks and weeks, followed by a long imprisonment by the Japanese, he endured a lot. But survival at sea narratives and POW stories have much in common, and Jolie failed to do much with what made this one special. An Olympic flashback is all that distinguishes the “We’re out of water, we’re going to die” raft sequences and the sadistic, torturing prison commandant story. Been there, seen that, with real airplanes, prisons and prisoners that didn’t look so backlot neat and clean. Weak reviews rolled in, across the board, for “Unforgettable.”

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Movie Review: “Big Eyes”

Big-Eyes-1Casting Amy Adams to star in “Big Eyes” is one of the great no-brainers in Hollywood history.
Yes, the movie’s about Margaret Keane, the secret painter behind those “big-eyed waif” paintings and posters that dominated pop art of the pre-Andy Warhol ’60s. But mention that titular phrase and the first face that comes to mind is Adams, the sweet, soulful star of “Enchanted,” “Junebug” and “The Fighter.” It’s practically Adams’ Hollywood nickname.
And it’s no eye-opener that she is stunning in the part, a demure Southerner who marries a San Francisco hustler who transforms her art into a kitsch phenomenon in a sort of Golden Age of Kitsch. Adams’ big eyes invite us into the hurt she feels when her husband starts taking credit for her waifs, the sad resignation that sets in as she goes along with the lies and the soul-crushing pain that comes with the withering reactions of the art establishment — critics included. Adams is great in a role she was born to play.
But Christoph Waltz and Tim Burton may be the real revelations here. Waltz, a two-time Oscar winner for taking on the outrageous and faintly charming sadists in a couple of Quentin Tarantino pictures, dials it down here. He makes Walter Keane a beguiler, a back-slapping teller of tall-tales. We can see what the newly-separated (with a young daughter) Margaret falls for. He is delightful, and if his stories of life in Paris, his Bohemian lifestyle choices and all the rest are suspect, his rash realization that Margaret is the one for him and that she needs him feels without guile. And since we know it isn’t, there’s the brilliance of the performance. Forget Tarantino. THIS could have won the man an Oscar.
And Burton? Now an elder statesman among cinema eccentrics, he re-makes himself for this delightful, light and moving film biography. There’s love in every frame, and not just the special effects-enhanced ones where Margaret starts to see everyone she meets with the over sized sad orbs that are “windows to the soul.” The director of “Edward Scissorhands” and “Ed Wood” must feel a kinship with the critically-derided Keanes. He’s made his most conventional film and one of his most moving.
“Big Eyes” lovingly re-creates the late ’50s-early’60s San Francisco scene, where cool jazz, beat poets and pretentious art were all the rage. Keane couldn’t crack into galleries with his “Pissarro-influenced” Montmartre street scenes. But then he sees the puzzled, yet still dismissive reaction of one gallery owner (Jason Schwartzman) to his new wife’s big-eyed portraits. In quick, tried-and-true brushstrokes, we see Keane glad-hand his way to showing their art at the ultra-hip Hungry I jazz club. Keane has an eye for the main chance, and so does the story’s droll, cynical narrator (Danny Huston), a newspaper columnist who creates the notoriety that turns Margaret’s paintings into must-have art.
Except that the super-salesman Walter is taking credit — accidentally, at first, and then with a vengeance. Margaret is caught up in the “fraud,” bullied into producing more work by his “If you tell anyone, this whole empire collapses.” It’s an empire that made them rich.
Terrence Stamp plays a huffy, self-righteous New York Times critic, Krysten Ritter a friend whom Margaret refuses to come clean with and Madeleine Arthur is the daughter, in later scenes, who has grown up only suspecting the lifetime of lies that her mother has told her.
But what sells the giddy fun of Walter’s empire-building chutzpah and the sorrow of Margaret’s invisible fame is the reason the movie could be made — Adams. From the first time we saw her on the screen, we knew what she was feeling and thinking, just from staring into those huge, hopeful and sometimes hurt eyes. Her big eyes make this “Big Eyes” one of the best pictures of the year.

(Roger Moore’s interview with Christoph Waltz is here.)

3half-star
MPAA Rating: PG-13 for thematic elements and brief strong language

Cast: Amy Adams, Christoph Waltz, Danny Huston, Krysten Ritter, Jason Schwartzman

Credits: Directed by Tim Burton, written by Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski. A Weinstein Co. release.

Running time: 1:45

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Movie Review: “American Sniper”

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The acting drops away from Bradley Cooper’s performance as “deadliest American sniper” Chris Kyle. Cooper bulked up, kept a pinch between his lower lip and his lower jaw and became a man of few drawled words, the perfect Clint Eastwood hero in Eastwood’s film “American Sniper.”
The director, who has seemed distracted if not downright bored with his recent films — “Jersey Boys” was sort of a post-orangutan low — returns to form with a clean kill of a movie, an unfussy combat film that only drifts in a third act. And that drift only sets in because the director decided to err on the side of trying to do justice to the real hero’s life.
Kyle grew up in rural Texas, absorbing his daddy’s simple, black and white values. The world, Daddy (Ben Reed) taught him, is full of sheep, wolves and sheep dogs. He wasn’t raising sheep, and wouldn’t stand for his boys becoming bullies or predators (wolves). Since there’s “evil in this world,” his boys need to be “sheep dogs.”
That explains the reaction Chris had when American embassies were bombed in 1998. His moral code has him abandon the cowboy lifestyle and enlist in the Navy. Because that’s where the SEALS are.
By the time 9/11 rolls around, he’s already a top sharp shooter. Eastwood’s film follows Kyle from his first kill, through multiple tours in Iraq, a guy his own troops call “The Legend,” a man with a high Iraqi insurgent bounty on his head.
“American Sniper” tells this story not just from Kyle’s point of view, but through it. He is not shooting insurgents — snipers, bomb makers and “savages,” as he calls the enemy. He is “protecting” Marines as they deploy on house-to-house searches, giving up his secure sniper’s perch to bust down doors and show the green troops how to stay safe and do the job on later tours.
First scene to last, Cooper keeps Kyle buttoned down, a man of such moral certitude that he’s prepared “to answer for each and every kill to the Almighty” when his time is up. The war turns personal when an opposing sniper starts picking off Americans. But Kyle tries to keep his cool and works hard to keep his bride (Sienna Miller) sheltered from the dangerous and deadly details of the job.
An excellent early scene – Kyle flirts with that future bride in a bar during SEAL training. Miller’s Taya is quick with a brush-off. The swaggering SEALS are “arrogant and self-centered.” Kyle keeps his cool, seems to accept the dismissal. But “self-centered” he will not take.
“I’d lay down my life for my country.”
Too much of “American Sniper” is standard-issue military service movie, from the abusive training sequences to the standard operating procedure of house searches, dusty firefights and bodies dropped like a rising score in a first-person-shooter video game. No characters outside of Cooper and Miller make much of an impression.
Eastwood allows for a few grace notes in between the war movie cliches — the brother (Keir O’Donnell) who also enlisted and is first to weary of America’s longest war, the hint that Kyle’s crack-shot counterpart (Sammy Sheik) lives a life parallel to Kyle’s, that of the lonely hunter/family man.
The director has a reverence for his subject that goes beyond covering the usual bases such as a SEAL funeral, suggesting the cost even a guy as sure of himself and what he is doing as Kyle pays an emotional toll for this bloody work.
And that reverence trips Eastwood up as he looks for his own exit strategy, a way of getting into and out of a third act that isn’t as simple or neat as a “clean kill.”
But Cooper, to his credit, rarely flinches, never chest-thumps and never loses his cool, even when Kyle is starting to lose his. It’s a masterful interpretation of a man with a lot more on his mind and blood on his hands than he was ever inclined to let on. And it’s a performance worthy of Eastwood himself — 50 years ago.
3stars2
MPAA Rating: R for strong and disturbing war violence, and language throughout including some sexual references
Cast: Bradley Cooper, Sienna Miller
Credits: Directed by Clint Eastwood, screenplay by Jason Hall. A Warner Brothers release.
Running time: 2:12

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Movie Review: “After the Fall”

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Wes Bentley may be more than just another generic hunk, more than a “Hunger Games” and “Ghost Rider” alumnus, more than just the scientist with the “red shirt role” in “Interstellar.”
Not that “After the Fall” does much for his resume. Bentley is a mostly blank-faced hero of this less-than-thrilling thriller about an overextended home owner, husband and father who takes to a life of crime to keep up appearances.
Bill Scanlon is a meticulous guy, carefully going over the claims he works as an Albuquerque insurance claims adjuster. He’s upright, firmer with his kids than his wife (Vinessa Shaw), especially when his tweenage son is caught cheating.
“When we do something wrong, we own up to it. That’s what you do when you’re a man.”
His dad was a cop and we suspect that’s had a big impact on his character
But 15 minutes into the film, we learn that he’s not on the job. Not anymore. He was laid off.
“I need guys who can make it a little more…challenging for people” filing insurance claims, his less ethical boss confesses.
So Bill gets up, puts on a tie and heads out each day, badgering possible employers in the most polite, most pathetic way. His credit cards max out. Chasing the repo creeps who take his SUV in his pajamas is his wake-up call, even if his wife is still somehow without a clue. What’s worse, her rich, disapproving dad (Keith Carradine) is just waiting for him to fail.
That’s when Bill pulls out his dad’s old service revolver. That’s when he thinks about wandering into the subdivided desert where they live to shoot himself. And that’s when he stumbles into a life of crime.
Saar Klein’s film is a “Fun With Dick and Jane” without much of the fun. Bentley’s Bill is a good man going wrong, all poster-slogans about how his sons should try to live their lives.
“Intensity is doing something you hate…like you love it!”
But it’s all unraveling. The petty robberies — aimed at those who “deserve” it, a hooker and her john, the repo guys, a cruel convenience store manager — won’t cover their lifestyle. Bentley only lets Bill start to show emotion as all this gets to him.
Jason Isaacs is a hard-drinking cop who befriends Bill, takes him out target shooting and lectures him on the good life he has and the moral relativism of the world.
“There ain’t no sin. There ain’t no virtue. There’s just things people do.”
Bentley is pretty bland, start to finish, but let’s face it — the screenplay does him no favors. You introduce his career as catching people trying to commit insurance fraud, but you don’t use that expertise in the plot, in Bill’s crimes? That’s not tripping up our expectations. That’s looking a gift horse in the mouth.
The crimes start out polite and almost funny — almost. But this never rises to satire, never evolves into some bigger statement on morality and the world men live in.
And with unemployment below six percent, the “Fall” this is “After” seems instantly dated, robbing the film of whatever relevance and urgency it might have once had on the page.

1half-star
MPAA Rating: R for language and some sexual content.
Cast: Wes Bentley, Jason Isaacs, Vinessa Shaw, Keith Carradine
Credits: Directed by Saar Klein, written by Saar Klein, Joe Conway. A Phase4 Films release.
Running time: 1:50

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Movie Review: “The Gambler”

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Mark Wahlberg takes on his most ambitious acting job ever in “The Gambler,” a gritty remake of a 1974 film that starred James Caan. And the new gambler doesn’t embarrass himself.
Playing a college professor addicted to losing, digging a deeper and deeper hole for himself with loan sharks, underworld gambling entrepreneurs and his family, Wahlberg never gives away the game — that long, erudite speeches about Shakespeare and Camus are not his forte.
But as Jim Bennett, one-time novelist turned arrogant assistant college professor with a gambling problem, Wahlberg also fails to let us taste the desperation. His fatalism — written into the character by William “The Departed” Monahan– locks the door on panic, and empathy. We see the clock ticking down on his debts, his repeated treks for cash to pay back what he owes, money that he then gambles away. We note his efforts to fight his attraction for the one promising student in his otherwise bored class (Brie Larson). And we never see him sweat. So it’s an impressive performance, not a moving one.
For Bennett, “Life’s a losing proposition. Might as well get it over with.”
That’s why he’s deep into debt with the shady Korean gambling mogul, Mr. Lee (Alvin Ing), willing to dive into dept with the even more dangerous Neville (Michael K. Williams, silky smooth) and hoping to get the massive, aged King of the Sharks, Frank (John Goodman) to lend him the cash that might cover his losses to the first two.
“Going on as I am is the only thing I’ve got,” he tells his mother, given a desperate fury by the great Jessica Lange. She can’t stop Jim any more than the threats made by the others.
“He wants to dance with the devil,” and that’s that.
Jim published a novel, “one of the best-reviewed first novels of 2007,” Neville cracks. But he realized his destiny with that book. And mediocrity was never going to be enough for a child of privilege, of intellectual advantage. “Victory or death” is his credo, which only partially explains why we see him, time and again, “double-or-nothing” his way out of a winning streak at blackjack or roulette.
Every character in this Rupert Wyatt (“Rise of the Planet of the Apes”) film is an articulate, quotable archetype-breaker — from the verbose and literary lowlifes who inhabit Jim’s secret world, to the students — even the jocks — who sit through his showboating, confessional, profane and semi-profound lectures.
The arrogant jerk cannot answer the challenge of a student athlete (Anthony Kelley) — “You’ve got a BMW M-1. How are you not happy?” He cannot learn the basic gambler’s lesson that Frank passes on between threats.
“You get up, you get out.” Jim never quits while he’s ahead.
But as meaty as this script sounds — every line another morsel — it never allows Wahlberg the chance to make us care what happens to Jim. Do we want him to get what’s coming to him, or are we rooting for him? Either way, Wyatt, Monahan and Wahlberg succeed only in frustrating our will, cashing out with a cop-out finale, making our two hour gamble on “The Gambler” something less than a sure thing.
2half-star6
MPAA Rating: R for language throughout, and for some sexuality/nudity
Cast: Mark Wahlberg, Michael Kenneth Williams, Jessica Lange, John Goodman, Brie Larson, Anthony Kelley, George Kennedy
Credits: Directed by Rupert Wyatt, screenplay by William Monahan, based on the James Toback script for a 1974 film. A Paramount release.
Running time: 1:51

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Movie Review : “Into the Woods”

woods1

“Into the Woods,” the Stephen Sondheim fairy-tale musical that sent up every contrivance and cliche that The Brothers Grimm could cook up, earns a lush, grand and star-studded production for the big screen. Disney brought out and bought the big guns — director Rob “Chicago” Marshall, Meryl “Mamma Mia!” Streep and Anna “Pitch Perfect” Kendrick.
There’s even a role for the one-time rocker turned Captain Jack Sparrow, Johnny Depp, in this no-expense-spared extravaganza.
But that bigness is only a burden when you see some of your favorite fairytale figures shortchanged in the trimmed-down film, when you fret over the weaker voices and less charismatic players cast in lesser parts.
And if it’s still long enough to be wearying, blame James Lapine and Sondheim, whose original show was longer and so richly detailed that it inspired everything from “Wicked” to Disney’s “Enchanted” and “Tangled.”
A baker (James Corden) and his wife (Emily Blunt, a vocal surprise) live under a curse of childlessness. The witch (Streep, stunning) who holds that curse over them offers an escape clause. They can go into the woods and fetch the cow from “Jack and the Beanstalk,” the cowl from “Red Riding Hood,” a slipper from “Cinderella” and a lock of Rapunzel’s golden hair, and she’ll call it quits on the curse.
Of course, the couple doesn’t know these talismans belong to those characters. But stumbling through the woods, they intercept dopey young Jack (Daniel Huttlestone) on the way to the market, sent by his mum (Tracey Ullman) to sell the cow. There’s Rapunzel (Mackenzie Mauzy), pining away in her tower, sassy-brassy Red Riding Hood (Lilla Crawford, a hoot) on her way to granny’s.
And Cinderella (Kendrick, spot on) is making her way, night after night, into a prince’s (Chris Pine) festival ball, escaping his clutches before each midnight.
Crawford has the biggest “stage” voice here, but Streep’s preparation has turned her into a real Broadway baby. Her various witch laments are musical highlights of a show best known for its title tune and “Children Will Listen.”
Depp’s whiskers-twirling turn as the Big Bad Wolf is a stitch. But if you know “Red Riding Hood” at all, you know he won’t be around for encores.
Pine, apparently doing his own singing, and Billy Magnussen (as Rapunzel’s princely suitor) stop the show with “Agony,” a mock-comic duet about true truer truest prince-love which Pine just vamps up and kills. It’s so good that even if you’ve never seen the stage product, you miss the second act reprise of the show’s comic highlight, edited out here.

wods3
Sondheim’s tongue-twisting, footnotable psycho-babble lyrics challenge one and all, and none will have you humming the tune as you leave the theater. And despite the editing, the predictable story tends to seriously drag in the second act, when lesser lights make us long for the return of the princes, Cinderella or The Witch..
But Streep, Marshall & Co. still manage to do the “Woods” justice. And if it’s more impressive than embraceable, remember your Sondheim (“Sweeney Todd,” “A Little Night Music,” etc.). That’s kind of his thing.

2half-star6
MPAA Rating: PG for thematic elements, fantasy action and peril, and some suggestive material.

Cast: Meryl Streep, Anna Kendrick, Johnny Depp, Chris Pine, Emily Blunt, Tracey Ullman, James Corden, Lilla Crawford, Daniel Huttlestone

Credits: Directed by Rob Marshall, written by James Lapine, based on the musical by Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine. A Walt Disney IFC release.

Running time: 2:04

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