Category Archives: Germany

Motherland (2010, Hannes Appell)

Motherland wasn’t made with a reference copy of Film Symbolism for Dummies handy. Director Appell apparently had a copy of Film Symbolism for Complete Freaking Morons on hand instead. It’s painful to watch, especially towards the end. Appell actually gets worse after aping the little girl in red from Schindler’s List. I didn’t know you could get cheaper with sentimentality than ripping off Schindler’s List, but Appell manages.

The short is a mix of CG and live action. The design–combining Soviet architecture and Nazi Germany visual staples–isn’t bad. The CG isn’t particularly good though. Stevo Arendt’s photography is awful. It doesn’t match the CG lighting and Appell’s ambitions for Motherland flop due to its technical incompetencies.

As for the acting… none of the actors speak, which is probably a good thing. They’re terrible without dialogue; they’d probably be worse with it.

It’s a risible attempt at “deep” filmmaking.

CREDITS

Written and directed by Hannes Appell; co-directed by Krystof Zlatnik; director of photography, Stevo Arendt; music by David Christiansen; produced by Libor Tesacek and Felix Vollmar.

Starring Simona Sbaffi (Mother), Christina Uhland (Daughter), Moritz Gaa (Worker), Ulrich K. Günther (Capitalist) and Bernhard Linke (Soldier).

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Orphan (2009, Jaume Collet-Serra)

Orphan‘s a peculiar failure. The script isn’t particularly good; it’s layered with foreshadowing upon foreshadowing and some very predictable turns. But it has these occasionally strong dialogue scenes between Vera Farmiga and Peter Sarsgaard. It runs out of them after a while, but they leave a positive memory.

Then there’s director Collet-Serra. He really likes crane shots in what should be enclosed spaces and he likes to use handheld when he should have a track. Orphan feels like an inexperienced director who got the opportunity to do a lot of things just because he could. Collet-Serra can’t do the two simple things Orphan needs him to do.

First, it needs him to tie a children’s story–Aryana Engineer and Jimmy Bennett get an adopted sister–to an adult’s story–Farmiga and Sarsgaard are new adoptive parents. Both of these stories (more Farmiga and Sarsgaard because of their fine acting, Farmiga in particular) have some strong moments. Scared kids is a classic, cheap movie standard and Collet-Serra can’t pull it off. It’s sort of embarrassing, because he doesn’t even seem to get it.

Second, he needs to give the family’s house a personality. He can’t. Some of it is lousy production design courtesy Tom Meyer, some of it is Collet-Serra’s incompetence.

As the film’s bad seed, Isabelle Fuhrman is mediocre. She can’t hold her accent and she’s never believable in hindsight after the big reveal.

Orphan‘s a boring thriller with bad direction and an excellent Farmiga performance.

CREDITS

Directed by Jaume Collet-Serra; screenplay by David Johnson, based on a story by Alex Mace; director of photography, Jeff Cutter; edited by Timothy Alverson; music by John Ottman; production designer, Tom Meyer; produced by Joel Silver, Jennifer Davisson Killoran, Susan Downey and Leonardo DiCaprio; released by Warner Bros.

Starring Vera Farmiga (Kate), Peter Sarsgaard (John), Isabelle Fuhrman (Esther), CCH Pounder (Sister Abigail), Jimmy Bennett (Daniel), Margo Martindale (Dr. Browning), Karel Roden (Dr. Varava), Rosemary Dunsmore (Grandma Barbara) and Aryana Engineer (Max).


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The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest (2009, Daniel Alfredson), the extended edition

The first half of The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest falls victim to the Halloween II phenomenon. The main character–in this case Noomi Rapace–is in the hospital and out of commission. Hornet’s Nest is never comfortable giving insight into Rapace’s actions, which makes it a mildly pointless final entry.

I mean, a Hollywood ending was unlikely, but director Alfredson doesn’t seem to get he can’t flipflop between Rapace being the protagonist and subject.

So instead of Rapace, much of the film concerns Michael Nyqvist and Lena Endre bickering over magazine publishing issues and these evil old Swedish guys manipulating everyone. Some strong casting makes all the difference.

Niklas Falk shows up in this installment as an ally for Nyqvist and gives a complex performance in a small role. And Annika Hallin, as Nyqvist’s sister and Rapace’s lawyer, is fantastic. She owns the second half of Hornet’s Nest, which is basically a courtroom drama.

Or, you know, it could have been one if so much attention wasn’t paid to the bad guys.

Hornet’s Nest has a big problem with bad guys. There are real bad guys, the ones who actually hurt Rapace, and those who conspired against her. The latter are weak villains, the former are good though.

It’s not good–the endless first half reveals the ludicrousness of the story. It’s a huge conspiracy against a specific target, constantly introducing new plot contrivances.

The second half succeeds enough to forgive the first.

Until the soft ending anyway….

CREDITS

Directed by Daniel Alfredson; screenplay by Ulf Ryberg, based on the novel by Stieg Larsson; director of photography, Peter Mokrosinski; edited by Håkan Karlsson; music by Jacob Groth; produced by Søren Stærmose; released by Nordisk Film.

Starring Noomi Rapace (Lisbeth Salander), Michael Nyqvist (Mikael Blomkvist), Lena Endre (Erika Berger), Annika Hallin (Annika Giannini), Sofia Ledarp (Malin Erikson), Jacob Ericksson (Christer Malm), Georgi Staykov (Alexander Zalachenko), Aksel Morisse (Anders Jonasson), Niklas Hjulström (Ekström), Micke Spreitz (Ronald Niedermann), Anders Ahlbom (Dr. Peter Teleborian), Hans Alfredson (Evert Gullberg), Lennart Hjulström (Fredrik Clinton), Carl-Åke Eriksson (Bertil Janeryd), Per Oscarsson (Holger Palmgren), Michalis Koutsogiannakis (Dragan Armanskij), Mirja Turestedt (Monica Figuerola) and Johan Kylén (Inspector Jan Bublanski).


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The Girl Who Played with Fire (2009, Daniel Alfredson), the extended edition

Calling The Girl Who Played with Fire pointless is an insult to all the other pointless sequels out there. Fire–and I’m sure it’s a faithful adaptation of the source novel, which is undoubtedly pointless as well–is the worst kind of sequel. It has no new story, so it just goes back and forces one out of the first film.

Oh, there’s the hint of a new story–something about human trafficking–but it’s all a MacGuffin to reveal Noomi Rapace’s protagonist is a mix of Riggs from Lethal Weapon and Luke Skywalker. Her character’s incredible change from the first film can likely be attributed to the bad fake tan Rapace wears at the beginning. It changed her brain chemistry.

Screenwriter Jonas Frykberg’s attempts to seriously discuss misogyny, while occasionally effective in the beginning, are tiresome by the end. He doesn’t believe in subtlety. Or in the need to plot well.

Since they’re adapting a popular novel, the filmmakers fill the runtime with useless scenes. Instead of fixing a badly plotted story, they stay faithful.

Rapace is okay, but can’t overcome the inane writing. Her erstwhile co-star Michael Nyqvist sort of wanders through the picture. The plot does him no favors.

As far as the supporting cast, there are only a couple standouts. Yasmine Garbi, Tanja Lorentzon and Per Oscarsson are good. Georgi Staykov is awful as Darth Vader.

Alfredson’s direction is dispassionate, but competent.

Fire might amuse as an example of contrived, predictable plotting… but little else.

CREDITS

Directed by Daniel Alfredson; screenplay by Jonas Frykberg, based on the novel by Stieg Larsson; director of photography, Peter Mokrosinski; edited by Mattias Morheden; music by Jacob Groth; produced by Søren Stærmose; released by Nordisk Film.

Starring Michael Nyqvist (Mikael Blomkvist), Noomi Rapace (Lisbeth Salander), Lena Endre (Erika Berger), Peter Andersson (Nils Bjurman), Michalis Koutsogiannakis (Dragan Armanskij), Annika Hallin (Annika Giannini), Sofia Ledarp (Malin Erikson), Jacob Ericksson (Christer Malm), Reuben Sallmander (Enrico Giannini), Yasmine Garbi (Miriam Wu), Ralph Carlsson (Gunnar Björk), Georgi Staykov (Alexander Zalachenko), Hans Christian Thulin (Dag Svensson), Jennie Silfverhjelm (Mia Bergman), Per Oscarsson (Holger Palmgren), Sunil Munshi (Dr. Sivarnandan), Anders Ahlbom (Peter Teleborian) and Micke Spreitz (Ronald Niedermann).


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The Man Who Knew Too Little (1997, Jon Amiel)

As unlikely as it might seem, The Man Who Knew Too Little could have been really good. Here’s the basic plot–an American rube, who loves movies and television so much he knows the lines, is confused for a dangerous psychopathic hitman involved in international intrigue while vacationing in the UK. All of his hitman lines, for example, could be from movies or something.

Instead, Too Little is a train wreck of a star vehicle for Bill Murray. One has to wonder if co-stars Joanne Whalley, Peter Gallagher and Alfred Molina recognized Murray’s terrible performance on set. If they did, and still managed such good performances opposite him, it says something about their skill… and professionalism.

Murray is awful. Obviously, the script is at fault to some degree, but it’s really Murray. An engaged actor could have overcome any script problems.

However, Murray’s not entirely at fault for Too Little. Director Amiel is the other obvious culprit. Amiel’s attempts at a spy thriller–even a spoof of a spy thriller–are awful. He apparently told composer Christopher Young to make the score sound like a Pink Panther cartoon. Young’s credited as “Chris Young” here… maybe he was embarrassed by the lame score. It’s technically fine, just stupid.

Another fine performance is from Anna Chancellor, in her too small role as Gallagher’s wife. Of course, the film forgets about branding she and Gallagher terrorists so it can get to its idiotic finish.

Too Little is dreadful and shouldn’t have been.

CREDITS

Directed by Jon Amiel; screenplay by Robert Farrar and Howard Franklin, based on a novel by Farrar; director of photography, Robert M. Stevens; edited by Pamela Power and Paul Karasick; music by Christopher Young; production designer, Jim Clay; produced by Arnon Milchan, Michael G. Nathanson and Mark Tarlov; released by Warner Bros.

Starring Bill Murray (Wallace Ritchie), Peter Gallagher (James Ritchie), Joanne Whalley (Lori), Alfred Molina (Boris ‘The Butcher’ Blavasky), Richard Wilson (Sir Roger Daggenhurst), John Standing (Gilbert Embleton), Simon Chandler (Hawkins), Geraldine James (Dr. Ludmilla Kropotkin), Anna Chancellor (Barbara Ritchie), Nicholas Woodeson (Sergei), Cliff Parisi (Uri), Dexter Fletcher (Otto) and Eddie Marsan (Mugger #1).


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Drowned Out (2012, Leo Claussen and Nicholas K. Lory)

I thought Drowned Out about young American yuppies (circa 1985 based on their clothes), but it’s actually about young German yuppies. Maybe they just dress twenty years behind. Out is in English, which is a funny choice as the actors stumble over their dialogue–they’re German, after all. Directors Claussen and Lory should have given their actors the opportunity not to be unintentionally goofy. Was the language choice to make Out more internationally accessible? To give more people the chance to suffer through it?

The lead character, atrociously acted by Tim Haber, is alone in a country house. Eventually his trite friends arrive, but Claussen and Lory don’t have any dialogue in Out for the first twelve minutes while Haber’s exploring the house. In addition to being lame, the directors fail to introduce it well. It’s also annoying due to the film’s ambitious and inept sound design.

Claussen and Lory are only the directors of this lemon, so one can’t entirely fault them. Besides the terrible editing choices and their inability to direct actors, a lot of Out looks pretty good. At least during the daylight scenes. When it’s nighttime, Lory (also the cinematographer), can’t figure out how to make anything shoot well on the DV. Writers Marco Margaritoff and Maximilian Claussen are the ones who took a short subject topic and drug it out to full length, just because the film’s producers had access to the single setting.

Drowned Out isn’t just awful, it’s offensively long, pointless and stupid.

CREDITS

Directed, produced and edited by Leo Claussen and Nicholas K. Lory; written by Marco Margaritoff and Maximilian Claussen; director of photography, Lory; music by Giona Ostinelli.

Starring Tim Haber (H.R.), Elena Claire Grebe (Maria), Marco Margaritoff (George), Jillian Barreca (Jennifer), Julia Schmidt (Hannah) and Maurice Dyba (Paul).

Diagonal Symphony (1924, Viking Eggeling)

If I knew how Eggeling made the shapes in Diagonal Symphony move–or if I was really into geometry (but probably not)–I might appreciate it more.

The short is some shapes doubling and duplicating until they eventually start rescinding. The shapes aren’t interesting; in fact, when Eggeling does complicate the object, Symphony becomes less engaging. At least the less complicated objects move better together.

Eggeling’s greatest success is the editing. He’ll have two objects of differing sizes moving in different directs and the timing of the cut is dependent on one of them. It’s unpredictable and engaging editing.

Otherwise, Symphony just goes on too long. It could have easily run half its length–especially when the final stage, large object disappears for a minute or two, before returning with no discernible reason.

That ending would be disruptive. Instead, Eggeling shrinks the object down, tilting and repeating the opening in reverse.

CREDITS

Directed by Viking Eggeling.

Resident Evil: Retribution (2012, Paul W.S. Anderson)

I’m not sure what subtitle Resident Evil: Retribution should have, but it definitely shouldn’t be Retribution. The movie really doesn’t have enough story for a subtitle, actually. Unless it’s Old Friends. For the ten year anniversary of the franchise, director Anderson brings back a bunch of old faces–Sienna Guillory and Michelle Rodriguez get the two biggest parts (while Oded Fehr and Colin Salmon get the smallest). Anderson does come up with a good reason to bring them back, he just doesn’t know how to turn it into a story.

Retribution mostly alternates between good fight scenes and painful exposition scenes. Anderson’s got enough money (or CG’s less expensive) so he doesn’t do the regular exposition tricks the franchise used to do on the cheap. Instead there’re long patches of characters spouting exposition, usually either Li Bingbing or Shawn Roberts. Sadly those actors are the worst in the film.

The music, from tomandandy, occasionally compliments the action well but it’s usually just loud and annoying. Good production values though–Kevin Phipps’s production design and Glen MacPherson’s photography in particular.

Anderson opens the film with a great reverse sequence, really showcasing the effects and his vision for the picture. Unfortunately, once it’s over, he changes visions. Then he changes them again. And again. And… well, you get the idea.

He finally decides on star Milla Jovovich having a complicated relationship with an orphan (Aryana Engineer) and it works. He just decided too late.

Retribution‘s tedious, but not without good moments.

CREDITS

Directed by Paul W.S. Anderson; screenplay by Anderson, based on the Capcom computer game series; director of photography, Glen MacPherson; edited by Niven Howie; music by tomandandy; production designer, Kevin Phipps; produced by Don Carmody, Jeremy Bolt and Anderson; released by Screen Gems.

Starring Milla Jovovich (Alice), Sienna Guillory (Jill Valentine), Michelle Rodriguez (Rain), Aryana Engineer (Becky), Li Bingbing (Ada Wong), Boris Kodjoe (Luther West), Johann Urb (Leon S. Kennedy), Robin Kasyanov (Sergei), Kevin Durand (Barry Burton), Ofilio Portillo (Tony), Oded Fehr (Carlos), Colin Salmon (One) and Shawn Roberts (Albert Wesker).


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Hollow Man (2000, Paul Verhoeven), the director’s cut

Is Hollow Man the last of the “for CGs’ sake” blockbuster attempts? In the nineties, post-Jurassic Park Hollywood assumed doing genre standards over with CG would get big grosses. Hollow Man feels like one of those.

There’s nothing nice to say about the film, except one has a lot to mock. Incompetent screenwriter Andrew W. Marlowe doesn’t just write insipid dialogue, he also doesn’t know the difference between MDs and PhDs. Apparently neither does director Verhoeven since he let the line pass.

Speaking of Verhoeven (to get it over with), Hollow Man lacks any personality. Sure, Elisabeth Shue acts a little trampier than one would expect, but in her only good acting move, she never lets it get explorative. Verhoeven’s composition is competent, I suppose, but boring. He really likes CG-assisted helicopter establishing shots. Not exactly an exciting directorial flourish.

Watching the film, which does have some good special effects and inventive uses of invisibility, one can just marvel at Kevin Bacon’s terrible performance. While both he and Shue are bad (so are Greg Grunberg and Joey Slotnick), Bacon has to be seen to be believed. Marlowe’s dialogue is atrocious, but William Devane can manage it. Bacon’s attempts at scenery chewing are disastrous.

Only Josh Brolin and Kim Dickens escape with some dignity (besides Devane, of course).

Jerry Goldsmith recycles a lot of his old stuff for the score; it’s not terrible though, just redundant.

Hollow Man would be loathsome if it were competent. Instead, it’s immediately dismissible.

CREDITS

Directed by Paul Verhoeven; screenplay by Andrew W. Marlowe, based on a story by Gary Scott Thompson and Marlowe; director of photography, Jost Vacano; edited by Mark Goldblatt and Ron Vignone; music by Jerry Goldsmith; production designer, Allan Cameron; produced by Douglas Wick and Alan Marshall; released by Columbia Pictures.

Starring Elisabeth Shue (Linda McKay), Kevin Bacon (Sebastian Caine), Josh Brolin (Matthew Kensington), Kim Dickens (Sarah Kennedy), Greg Grunberg (Carter Abbey), Joey Slotnick (Frank Chase), Mary Randle (Janice Walton) and William Devane (Dr. Howard Kramer).


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D-Tox (2002, Jim Gillespie)

D-Tox is a messy film with way too high a concept. Sylvester Stallone–who’s good when he’s actually in the film, which isn’t much–is a FBI agent who becomes a drunk following a bad result in a big case. He ends up in a rehab for cops. It’s in an old missile silo (or something along those lines) in the middle of nowhere. And guess what… there’s a serial killer on the loose.

The supporting cast is full of people who have seen better roles yet still manage to turn in good performances. Charles S. Dutton, Polly Walker, Courtney B. Vance, Robert Patrick, Robert Prosky, Dina Meyer, Tom Berenger. All of them are fine. Some of them are great–Patrick in particular. Yet D-Tox doesn’t have anything for them to do because it’s Ten Little Indians, but it only runs ninety-some minutes and there’s a bulky opening to turn Stallone into a drunk.

Like I said, messy.

There are some bad performances too. Christopher Fulford, Stephen Lang, Jeffrey Wright. Kris Kristofferson might be better if his character weren’t a complete idiot (he hires incompetent repairmen for his isolated missile silo for starters).

There’s some actual suspense involving the bad guy’s identity, but director Gillespie can’t figure out how to pace it. When he gets to the finish, the big action scene, he flops. He can’t even direct a couple guys punching. Stallone should’ve stepped in.

Decent photography from Dean Semler helps.

It’s bad, but still watchable.

CREDITS

Directed by Jim Gillespie; screenplay by Ron L. Brinkerhoff, based on a novel by Howard Swindle; director of photography, Dean Semler; edited by Timothy Alverson and Steve Mirkovich; music by John Powell; production designer, Gary Wissner; produced by Karen Kehela Sherwood and Ric Kidney; released by DEJ Productions.

Starring Sylvester Stallone (Jake Malloy), Charles S. Dutton (Hendricks), Polly Walker (Jenny), Kris Kristofferson (Doc), Mif (Brandon), Christopher Fulford (Slater), Jeffrey Wright (Jaworski), Tom Berenger (Hank), Stephen Lang (Jack Bennett), Alan C. Peterson (Gilbert), Hrothgar Mathews (Manny), Angela Alvarado (Lopez), Robert Prosky (McKenzie), Robert Patrick (Noah), Courtney B. Vance (Reverend Jones), Sean Patrick Flanery (Conner), Tim Henry (Weeks), Dina Meyer (Mary), Rance Howard (Geezer), Frank Pellegrino (Jimmy) and James Kidnie (Red).


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