Movie Review: “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”

“What to Expect When You’re Expecting” is a “Valentines Day” take on impending parenthood. Assorted couples cope with pregnancies, planned and unplanned, adoption and the epic change that is coming to their lives.

It’s wafer-thin, but it has plenty of laughs — a lot of them involving pregnant women’s bodily functions, the rest coming from Chris Rock, who unloads lots of daddy-to-be wisdom on one prospective father. But what’s surprising is how touching this film from the director of “Waking Ned Devine” and “Nanny McPhee” manages to be. Kirk Jones and the screenwriters found real pathos in adapting the Heidi Murkoff self-help book, dubbed America’s “pregnancy bible.”

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Movie Review: “End of Watch”

 ImageThe writer of “Training Day” and “Harsh Times” brings us more cop movie grit with “End of Watch,” a vivid series of impressionistic sketches of a year in the lives of two Los Angeles police officers.

These aren’t the corrupt cops writer-director David Ayer built his name on. They’re just patrolmen, in a family of officers — sometimes heroic, often cocky, occasionally miscalculating. And in telling their stories episodically, with a rhythm that builds suspense slowly, Ayer gets at the level of trust they have to have for one another and the meaning of that old cop movie cliche — “He took a bullet for me.”

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Movie Review: “The Five Year Engagement”

2stars“The Five Year Engagement” plays like a five episode R-rated story arc from “How I Met Your Mother.” With more profanity and more explicit sex. And considerably less drinking.

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Movie Review: “Killer Joe”

ImageTracy Letts’ searing stage thriller “Killer Joe” comes to the screen with all its nervous laughs, its jittery fear and sexual sweat intact. It’s yet another showcase for the new and improved Matthew McConaughey — in the title role — and a breakout opportunity for Juno Temple, as the odd, seemingly slow-witted object of Killer Joe’s desire.

And it is the best movie of the summer.

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Movie Review: “We Need to Talk About Kevin”

3stars“We Need to Talk About Kevin” is a horror movie for parents. Strip away the showy flashbacks — cutting between several pasts and several points in the present — and it’s “We Need to talk About Damien.” Because the only simple, the only satisfying way of explaining the monster at the heart of this nightmare is “He’s the spawn of the Devil.”

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Movie Review: “Dredd 3D”

ImageIn the movies, the old saying goes, some stars wear the hat. And sometimes, the hat wears them.

Say whatever else you want about Sylvester Stallone’s kitschy 1995 turn as futuristic comic book judge-jury-executioner Judge Dredd, the dude wore the helmet. Karl Urban replaces him in the new “Dredd 3D.” And frankly, the helmet wears Karl.

He never takes over the over-sized thing. It closes off his performance and masks his charisma. We only see his scowling jaw and hear his hissed one-liners, chewing out the rookie mind-reading judge (Olivia Thirlby) who forgets to wear hers.

“Sir, helmets interfere with my psychic abilities.”

“Think a bullet in the head might interfere with’em more,” the Judge mutters.

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Movie Review: “The Devil Inside”

1starThe things young Isabella Rossi sees on her fateful trip to Rome! She sees bodies contort into pretzels and climb walls and fling themselves across rooms, breaking restraints as they do. She sees blood and hears all manner of blood-curdling cursing in languages familiar and foreign.

And playing her in The Devil Inside, actress Fernanda Andrade — who is easy on the eyes — barely bats an eye. I guess she’s grown up with exorcism movies, so nothing’s going to shock her.

If it’s January, it must be low-grade horror season. And since The Rite cashed in last January, why not roll out a Blair Witchy hand-held “We’re making a documentary about my ‘possessed’ mother” documentary?

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Movie Review: Tobey Maguire wears the crazy eyes in “The Details”

 ImageIn “The Details,” the Devil isn’t in the you-know-whats. It’s in Tobey Maguire’s eyes.

He’s got the crazy eyes of the deranged, the bug-eyes of the shocked, the dazed eyes of the comically dismayed. All of which come in handy when you’re swirling down the drain of sexual betrayal, when you’re facing professional, personal and financial ruin, when you’re being outsmarted by raccoons.

Yes, raccoons. That’s how it all starts.

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Movie Review: “Deep Blue Sea”

ImageA brittle bitterness and forlorn melancholy hang over Terence Davies’ film of Terrence Rattigan’s post-World War II melodrama “The Deep Blue Sea.” A story that begins with a failed suicide attempt and then strains to justify that action for the following 90-plus minutes can’t help but wear a pall, and your ability to embrace it depends on how eager you are to wallow in that.

But it’s a clumsy, dated and stodgy production — ugly to look at, unromantic in the extreme. This isn’t Britain’s “finest hour,” but the five years after the end of World War II. And Davies makes the movie about those years of privation (prolonged rationing) dull, emphasizing the resignation and stripping it of the wistful nostalgia that this version of “Brief Encounter” needs.

Hester (Rachel Weisz) has just tried to kill herself. In the aftermath of that, she wrestles with the fallout from that event, the failed love affair that sparked it and the loveless marriage she abandoned for that affair.

Freddie (Tom Hiddleston) was a Royal Air Force pilot when she met him, a bubbling, manic warrior who thrilled to the blend of excitement and fear that was combat. Now, years later, all he can do is reminisce.

“We were doing something important for dear Ol’ Blighty,” back then, he laments to his omnipresent chum (Harry Hadden-Paton).

Hester is married to a judge many years her senior (Simon Russell Beale), a marriage presented here as an awkward, unpleasant arrangement. Sir William never granted her a divorce, but being a well-to-do mama’s boy, he never gave her much of a reason to stay, either.

After failing to kill herself, Hester is both chastised and nursed to health by her landlady and a neighbor. And as played by Weisz, we can never decide if what she’s remembering in these flashbacks was worth suicide, or if there’s enough for Hester to look forward to that makes another attempt at killing herself out of the question. It’s a dry, staid performance in a film that plays like a still-life in Post-War Brown.

One of the rumors about the play that Rattigan spent years shooting down was that it had gay subtexts that altered the central love triangle that has been the traditional interpretation of the piece. This incarnation muddies those waters all over again by casting actors opposite Weisz who generate neither sexual heat nor romantic fondness. Nothing we can see on the screen bonds her to either man other than the simple necessities of the plot.

Davies doesn’t give us anything for Hester to mourn for. It’s all right to plant the seeds of doom in the flashbacks, but surely we should get a sense of what it was that she got out of this manic-depressive courtship in the first place.

She gives a drained performance that makes for a dreary film, start to finish. And surely that wasn’t Ratigan’s intent.

MPAA Rating: R, for a scene of sexuality and nudity

Cast: Rachel Weisz, Tim Hiddleston, Simon Russell Beale

Credits: Written and directed by Terence Davies, based on the Terrence Ratigan play. A Music Box release.

Running time: 1:38

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Movie Review: “The Dictator”

ImageWith “The Dictator,” Sacha Baron Cohen and his partner in comic crime, director Larry Charles, leave the improvisation of “Borat” and “Bruno” behind and return the more structured world of scripted comedy. And the strain shows.

The unruliness, the chaos of their improvised “gotcha” mockumentaries is missing. Cohen, forced to remember lines, stick to a script and sustain a character who only exists when the director says “Action,” struggles with the voice, the persona.

The result is a fitfully hilarious farce made up of patched-together comic “bits” — the bit where the dictator stages his own Olympics (and shoots other sprinters to win his race), the bit where the dictator, having annointed himself his nation’s chief surgeon, attempts to deliver a baby (with the camera taking in-utero point of view), the bit where the dictator and a flunky have an animated pseudo-Arabic chat about exploding fireworks, American landmarks and Osama bin Laden on a New York tourist helicopter tour. 

Most of the bits are funny, but the film that connects them is flat, the performances — especially Cohen’s — incomplete, under-developed and poorly cut together.

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