Tag Archives: Mimi Rogers

Lost in Space (1998, Stephen Hopkins)

For maybe forty minutes–from twenty minutes in to the hour mark–Lost in Space is actually rather engaging. It’s not any good as a narrative, but Hopkins’s direction of the space sequences is phenomenal. The film opens with something familiar, a dogfight out of Star Wars, but the later sequences are not. They aren’t original, but they’re the first time such a budget had been expended on them.

Overall, Hopkins does an excellent job with the film. The last hour, featuring an alien planet and time travel, falls apart because Akiva Goldsman’s script collapses under its own idiocy. The first hour, when Goldsman is still setting up the plot, only has awful dialogue and can survive.

The CG is sometimes excellent, sometimes not. Lost in Space tries a lot with the technology. Hopkins is able to get good performances opposite the CG–especially from Lacey Chabert and Heather Graham.

Chabert is good throughout (she’s inexplicably underused, having nothing to do) while Graham occasionally runs into some problems. Her flirting scenes with Matt LeBlanc are terrible, but she’s otherwise good. LeBlanc’s terrible the whole time. Often laughably so.

William Hurt is excellent (though one wonders why he said yes to Lost in Space and not Jurassic Park). Gary Oldman is hammy, but the character’s terribly underwritten. Mimi Rogers, Jack Johnson and Jared Harris are all awful. Watching Rogers act opposite Hurt is painful.

The film’s bad, but there are some amazing sequences in it. Nice score from Bruce Broughton too.

1/4

CREDITS

Directed by Stephen Hopkins; screenplay by Akiva Goldsman, based on the television series created by Irwin Allen; director of photography, Peter Levy; edited by Ray Lovejoy; music by Bruce Broughton; production designer, Norman Garwood; produced by Carla Fry, Goldsman, Hopkins and Mark W. Koch; released by New Line Cinema.

Starring Gary Oldman (Dr. Zachary Smith), William Hurt (Prof. John Robinson), Matt LeBlanc (Maj. Don West), Mimi Rogers (Dr. Maureen Robinson), Heather Graham (Dr. Judy Robinson), Lacey Chabert (Penny Robinson), Jack Johnson (Will Robinson) and Jared Harris (Older Will Robinson).


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White Sands (1992, Roger Donaldson)

It’s not hard to identify the problem with White Sands. Daniel Pyne’s script is terrible. His characters often act without motivation and the double and triple crosses he writes into the plot never have any pay-off. It doesn’t help director Donaldson sees himself–and not incorrectly to a point–doing a desert noir in the vein of Touch of Evil. But Sands is too big for a desert noir and Donaldson doesn’t have any tricks, except good Panavision composition, once the desert element runs out.

There are a lot of good performances in the film–Donaldson casted a lot of fine character actors–but Willem Dafoe is an ineffective lead. A lot of that deficiency is the script’s fault, but Dafoe doesn’t bring any implied depth. It’s a casting misfire (bad guy Mickey Rourke, who’s quite good, would have been a better lead).

Samuel L. Jackson, M. Emmet Walsh, Miguel Sandoval, John P. Ryan and Fred Dalton Thompson all provide texture to the supporting cast. Walsh isn’t doing anything new and Jackson gets off to a rocky start, but they’re fine. The only other misfire is Maura Tierney, who’s absurd.

As Dafoe’s erstwhile romantic interest, Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio is okay. If the script were better and gave her a real part (she doesn’t even show up until a half hour in), she’d do better.

There’s excellent photography from Peter Menzies Jr. and Patrick O’Hearn’s score often makes Sands seem like a better film.

With a rewrite, it would’ve been.

CREDITS

Directed by Roger Donaldson; written by Daniel Pyne; director of photography, Peter Menzies Jr.; edited by Nicholas Beauman; music by Patrick O’Hearn; production designer, John Graysmark; produced by Scott Rudin and William Sackheim; released by Warner Bros.

Starring Willem Dafoe (Ray Dolezal), Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio (Lane Bodine), Mickey Rourke (Gorman Lennox), Samuel L. Jackson (Greg Meeker), Miguel Sandoval (FBI Agent Ruiz), M. Emmet Walsh (Bert Gibson), James Rebhorn (FBI Agent Flynn), John Lafayette (FBI Agent Demott), Maura Tierney (Noreen), Alexander Nicksay (Ben Dolezal), John P. Ryan (Arms Dealer), Fred Dalton Thompson (Arms Dealer) and Mimi Rogers (Molly Dolezal).


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Trees Lounge (1996, Steve Buscemi)

I suppose it would be possible for Trees Lounge to be more depressing. It’s a character study; the epical part of the narrative forces the protagonist (writer, director, star Buscemi) to realize he does not just dislike himself, he’s never really liked himself, and he’s not just hurting people now, he’s always been hurting people.

Maybe the most stunning thing about the film–besides Buscemi’s direction of actors–is how he inserts humor into the mix. There’s a running gag with a kid never getting ice cream and when Buscemi falls asleep drunk at a wake, it’s played humorously. The first part is more “cleanly” funny (it also foreshadows how people in general do not think about how events effect others–something very important in the narrative towards the end), while the second is awkward. The film’s full of desperate alcoholics and occasionally Buscemi makes them funny, giving the viewer little warning.

Buscemi juxtaposes his character’s arc against Mark Boone Junior’s. The difference is in the self-realization (Trees Lounge might even have a happy ending, there’s about a fifteen percent chance).

He spends the first forty-five minutes of the film exploring the ground situation, then introduces one event to stir up the pot. It’s a lovely plot structure, made perfect by the excellent dialogue.

Amazing supporting performances abound–Boone is great, as is (especially) Chloë Sevigny. Daniel Baldwin and Mimi Rogers have superb small parts. Samuel L. Jackson is outstanding in a cameo.

It’s a fantastic, depressing film.

CREDITS

Written and directed by Steve Buscemi; director of photography, Lisa Rinzler; edited by Kate Williams; music by Evan Lurie; production designer, Steve Rosenzweig; produced by Chris Hanley and Brad Wyman; released by Orion Classics.

Starring Steve Buscemi (Tommy), Mark Boone Junior (Mike), Chloë Sevigny (Debbie), Anthony LaPaglia (Rob), Elizabeth Bracco (Theresa), Michael Buscemi (Raymond), Eszter Balint (Marie), Daniel Baldwin (Jerry), Mimi Rogers (Patty), Carol Kane (Connie), Debi Mazar (Crystal), Kevin Corrigan (Matthew), Samuel L. Jackson (Wendell) and Seymour Cassel (Uncle Al).


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Unstoppable (2010, Tony Scott)

It would go a little far to say Scott’s reinvented the disaster genre with Unstoppable, but he’s certainly reinvigorated it. He borrows from the traditional standards (the Irwin Allen is heaviest in the first act, when setting up innocent people–children no less–in peril), then a little from the revisionist standards (the Die Hard approach), while maintaining a brisk pace. The present action isn’t quite real time, but close to it.

Scott maintains his formula (solid composition if you can catch it–he cuts away from his shots every one and a half seconds) and it works out. He and cinematographer Ben Seresin construct a thoroughly acceptable action picture. But–even though Mark Bomback’s script waxes melodramatic for the protagonists’ ground situations–the movie really succeeds because of Denzel Washington.

Why Washington, maybe the most assured movie star of his generation, wastes his time with Scott films is inexplicable. His performance here is outstanding, whether it’s chewing or hopping from train car to train car. It’s so good, in fact, it hurts Chris Pine.

Pine does an okay job. Bomback’s script gives him a stupid backstory and continues it through the entire film instead of just setting him up and leaving him alone. Worst is when Jessy Schramm, as his wife, shows up. She probably has three lines and she’s absolutely godawful.

Great supporting turns from Rosario Dawson and Kevin Corrigan and an excellent score from Harry Gregson-Williams round it out.

It’s easily one of Scott’s strongest films.

CREDITS

Directed by Tony Scott; written by Mark Bomback; director of photography, Ben Seresin; edited by Chris Lebenzon and Robert Duffy; music by Harry Gregson-Williams; production designer, Chris Seagers; produced by Julie Yorn, Scott, Mimi Rogers, Eric McLeod and Alex Young; released by 20th Century Fox.

Starring Denzel Washington (Frank), Chris Pine (Will), Rosario Dawson (Connie), Kevin Dunn (Galvin), Ethan Suplee (Dewey), Kevin Corrigan (Inspector Werner), Lew Temple (Ned), Kevin Chapman (Bunny), T.J. Miller (Gilleece), Jessy Schram (Darcy) and David Warshofsky (Judd Stewart).


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