I Drink Rob Marshall's Milkshake!

Nine

***1/2 out of ****

Directed by: Rob Marshall

Starring: Daniel Day-Lewis, Penelope Cruz, Marion Cotillard, Nicole Kidman, Judi Dench and Kate Hudson

Running time: 118 minutes

Nine - based off a Broadway hit inspired by Fellini’s classic psychodrama, 8½ - is slick, stylish and sexy. It’s a musical that’s as classy as it is sassy, and it put a spell on me.

Guido Contini (Daniel Day-Lewis) is a beloved Italian director in the mid-1960s. He’s nicknamed “Maestro” by Italian audiences who are floored by his cinematic genius.

There’s a saying: “Behind every great man, there’s a great woman.” Behind Guido Contini, there are seven.

“Maestro” is having a tough time grasping his latest project, an ambitious work titled “Italia,” due to the relationships he has with the seven women around him.

These ladies include his seductive mistress, Carla (Penelope Cruz), his leading actress and muse, Claudia (Nicole Kidman), his trustworthy costume designer, Lili (Judi Dench), a flirtatious arts journalist, Stephanie (Kate Hudson), and a prostitute from his youth, Saraghina (Stacy “Fergie” Ferguson).

Rounding off the group of seven is his mother (a rarely used Sophia Loren) and his wife, Luisa (Marion Cotillard), a delicate beauty who’s shattered by her husband’s relentless passion for making movies and romancing other women.

As Contini tells reporters early on in Nine, to talk about a movie is to spoil its mystery. As much as I agree, I’ll give you a few – say, nine – reasons that the film is worth seeing.

1)) (1) Daniel Day-Lewis. Sure, he doesn’t look Italian. But it’s nice to see the two-time Oscar-winner cut loose in a role that’s both challenging (two solos for his repertoire) and fun (clothed in a skinny suit and sunglasses, Day-Lewis gets to dance, romance and smoke up a storm).

2) (2) Rob Marshall. It’s been almost seven years since his film debut, Chicago, danced away with the Best Picture Oscar. It’s nice to see he’s found his footing with another project. The same vigor, sensuality and charm found in Chicago are all on display here.

(- (3) Penelope Cruz. She’s smoking, and I’m not talking about cigarettes.

4) (4) John Myhre. The production designer, also responsible for Chicago and Dreamgirls, has only one stage to work with for the musical numbers (thanks for the budget cuts, Weinsteins). Still, he makes us forget that by designing colourful, dynamic numbers and making them work efficiently with the space.

5) (5) Marion Cotillard. She’s captivating and an exceptional singer. Even if you already knew that from La Vie en Rose, she, nevertheless, demands the screen in two of the film’s best numbers – the heart-wrenching “My Husband Makes Movies” and the flat-out dazzling “Take it All.”

6) (6) A sly, witty script from Michael Tolkin and the late Anthony Minghella.

7) (7) The two biggest show-stoppers come from a Dame (Judi Dench) and a Black Eyed Pea (Fergie). Dench struts her stuff with ease and elation in the song "Folies Bergeres," while Fergie has serious simmer in her number, “Be Italian.”

8) (8) Dion Beebe’s cinematography. Another reliable crew-mate of Marshall’s, the camera indulges in as much hot-boiled fancy as Guido himself.

9) (9) The last scene. It’s elegant and exciting and crescendoes to the perfect closing line.

Nine is impressive and full of moment-to-moment pleasures, even if some of songs don’t measure up to Chicago’s, and some supporting characters (Kate Hudson’s journalist and Sophia Loren as “Mamma,” in particular) receive little development.

Regardless, it is supreme entertainment that pops with fiery excitement. To borrow a term from Marshall’s earlier picture, it simply razzle dazzles.

A First-Class Film

Up in the Air

**** out of ****

Directed by: Jason Reitman

Starring: George Clooney, Vera Farmiga, Anna Kendrick, Jason Bateman, Melanie Lynskey and Danny McBride

Running time: 109 minutes

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the zeitgeist-defining film of the year.

Adapted from Walter Kirn’s 2001 novel, Up in the Air is the 3rd major release from hot Canadian writer/director Jason Reitman (no longer just Ivan’s son). It’s a smooth-sailing satire for these turbulent times, and it’s bound to get people talking.

We follow Ryan Bingham (George Clooney), a no-nonsense corporate executioner and debonair motivational speaker. Traveling across the United States firing employees for numerous companies (whose bosses don’t have the guts to do so), Bingham relishes a worry-free lifestyle spent mostly in airport terminals and cushy first-class armchairs.

One evening, Bingham meets a sexy businesswoman – who also has a rigorous frequent-flying schedule – named Alex (Vera Farmiga). The two have a tryst, and decide to start a casual relationship, agreeing to meet whenever their flights land in the same destination.

Days later, Bingham returns to his corporate headquarters in Omaha, headed by the no-nonsense Craig Gregory (Jason Bateman). Gregory has hired Natalie Keener (Anna Kendrick), a peppy and ambitious Cornell graduate. SHe has developed an efficient online system that lays off people by interacting with them through a computer screen.

Gregory tells Bingham to teach the young entrepreneur the best ways to lay off employees as a means of helping her new innovation. Keener soon becomes the worst “single-serving” friend Bingham’s ever met.

It would be hard to root for a cold, rough-edged, smart-alecky downsizer who puts his aspirations for collecting flyer miles ahead of his family. That is, if he were not played by George Clooney.

The Oscar-winner brings Bingham a polished charm. But, this character has layers that are slowly uncovered throughout the film. We sympathize with him further as he falls for Alex and bonds with Natalie. The everyday quality that Clooney embodied as Michael Clayton is worked to even greater perfection here.

Farmiga is golden as well. Her sharp, sensuous chemistry with Clooney is spectacular. Also, Kendrick, a relative unknown (unless you sat through the Twilight films), injects a keen excitement and determination into her role as Natalie. She’s an actress to watch for.

Reitman and Sheldon Turner have written a tightly-wound script with elements of wit and charming light comedy, alongside devastating (and often discomforting) “termination” scenes.

The dialogue is sharp and snappy, with the same offbeat combination of cynicism and heart that made Reitman’s feature-length debut, Thank You for Smoking, such a joy.

Up in the Air may be the perfect movie to close the decade with, as it grasps elements of the overwhelming reliance on technology, as well as the economic uncertainties, that have defined the last 10 years.

While shooting the film, Reitman placed ads in local newspapers requesting for people who were recently sacked who wanted to be in a documentary about job loss. Of the several responses, 22 had footage shot and were inserted into the film as the “terminated employees” who are fired by Bingham.

The film opens and closes with these subjects speaking frankly about what happened to them. It’s a compassionate touch that works exceptionally.

Up in the Air also depicts the widening generational gap. A scene where Alex and Natalie both describe (quite differently, given their varying ages) what they specifically look for in a man is a highlight.

The film also demonstrates the overwhelming emergence of technology in the marketplace.

Bingham doesn’t mind that these advancements eliminate jobs, but how does he respond to a concept that uses online access to eradicate his services? Keener wants to fire employees through a computer screen, but how does she feel when her boyfriend breaks up with her through a text message?

Our downsizing protagonist is also a victim of a consumer culture. Most people have their family, friends and co-workers, but Bingham has his American Airlines, Hilton Suites and Hertz Rentals instead.

Up in the Air is hilarious, poignant, and undeniably authentic in its portrayal of Western civilization at the current moment. It’s a satire of the grandest kind. I hope you enjoy the flight.

Vanity Fear

A Single Man

*** out of ****

Directed by: Tom Ford

Starring: Colin Firth, Julianne Moore, Nicholas Hoult and Matthew Goode

Running time: 99 minutes

Film festivals were established to screen projects like A Single Man - strongly acted and thematically rich, with a potent ounce (or ten) of style to offset its lethargic pace.

It’s the directorial debut of fashion designer Tom Ford, successful for his turnaround of the once-inept Gucci during the late 1990s. He’s crafted a picture that, while overloaded with handsome flourishes in the art department, is intelligent, observant and exceptionally acted.

Based on Christopher Isherwood’s novel of the same name, we follow a middle-aged English professor at the dawn of the Cuban Missile Crisis. He’s the “single man” whom the title refers to, for two reasons: he’s not married, and he’s a homosexual.

His name is George Falconer (Colin Firth) and he lives in the City of Angels (fitting, since the spirit of his lover haunts him throughout).

Falconer is poignantly mourning the death of Jim, his longtime partner (portrayed in flashback by Matthew Goode). Falconer dwells on the past but is equally frightened with the perilous chance of nuclear war in the not-too-distant future.

Nearly paralyzed with grief, Falconer has distanced himself from his teaching. One of his students, Kenny (Nicholas Hoult), admires him, but has also noticed his despair. The sunny-haired, pill-popping pupil sees through the tortured soul of his professor and tries to initiate a friendship.

Moreover, Falconer confides in Charley (Julianne Moore), a boozy old flame who’s also his closest companion. She could be the subject of a companion piece titled “A Single Woman,” as she grapples with growing old and remaining alone in tumultuous times.

In the noir classic, Sunset Blvd., smarmy actress Norma Desmond recalls, “We didn’t need dialogue. We had faces.” The same line could be applied to Colin’s Firth subtle yet devastatingly powerful performance.

As a repressed homosexual in the early 1960s, Firth contains much of his performance in his face. He captures Falconer’s heavy expression and depressed verve, adding layers of brute damage to his complexion without uttering a single word.

The film may be called A Single Man, but it does not lie on just a solitary performance. Moore is equally as impressive, as the gin-drinking, anguished Charley – even with just a fraction of Firth’s screen time.

Furthermore, a riveting, thunderous score by Abel Korzeniowski and guest composer Shigeru Umebayashi, grasps the neurotic ticking-clock feeling that haunts Falconer.

Unfortunately, what offsets the film is Ford's overwhelming visual style.

Ford’s expertise in design ensures that each setting is prim, each set of clothing perfectly tailored, each gorgeous character beaming with sweltering yellow hues.

This meticulous focus on the visuals sometimes comes off as crisp, lending to a few strikingly beautiful visuals. Most of the time, however, the image on screen seems too immaculate for the grimness of A Single Man.

On a television series like Mad Men, also set circa 1960, the careful, authentic production design compliments the strong writing and performances. Here, the art direction serves as a distraction.

Ford undermines the substance of his film with style. His debut is beautiful, intoxicating and contains virtuoso performances, but the stylistic flourishes don’t ultimately work for the benefit of the powerful story and vivid characters within.

Eastwood's Latest Doesn't Make My Day

Invictus

*1/2 out of ****

Directed by: Clint Eastwood

Starring: Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon

Running time: 134 minutes

Even the very best sports teams don’t win every game. This statement applies to award-winning director Clint Eastwood, whose latest film, Invictus, doesn’t score.

For a film with such a formidable subject, former South African president Nelson Mandela, Invictus plays it safe. It’s certainly well-acted, but much of it feels false and inauthentic, flat and simplistic, under-written and over-directed.

There’s a compelling film waiting to be made from John Carlin’s enlightening and critically acclaimed book "Playing the Enemy." Invictus is far from it.

The date is February 11, 1990, and Nelson Mandela has just been released from prison. Young Africans boys on a musty soccer field rejoice, hooting and hollering as their future leader's entourage drives through their slum.

White, affluent rugby-playing onlookers stare in silence. Their coach tells them, “This is the day our country went to the dogs.”

Fast-forward four years, and Mandela (Morgan Freeman) has won the national election. Tensions are high, even among officials and secretaries who work for him. In a noble move, the President merges his security team to consist of both black and white bodyguards.

Early in his term, Mandela attends a casual game of rugby, and shakes the hands of the national union team, the Springboks. At the game, he notices that Black Africans cheer against their home team (to them, a symbol of white power and administration).

Mandela imagines an intriguing method to melt the woes of his country, his "family of 42 million." He meets with the Springbok captain, the dedicated Francois Pienaar (Matt Damon), and pledges full support upon the team.

Pienaar soon realizes that the President is bestowing his faith in the Springboks to win the upcoming World Cup, as a means to unify white and black South Africans and inspire the nation.

There’s only one actor capable of portraying leader Nelson Mandela, and it’s Morgan Freeman. I mean, Mandela even said so himself.

The Oscar-winner and narrator extraordinaire has the warmth, grace and dignity that the much-heralded leader is synonymous with. Freeman could play Mandela in his sleep and still win an accolade or four.

Damon is also very good as Pienaar. By very good, I’m referring mainly to his South African accent. That tricky intonation is the essence of his performance, considering the depth screenwriter Anthony Peckham allows for the character. He has a girlfriend and family, is the captain of the rugby team, and is intimidated by the President. That’s about it.

Peckham’s weak script keeps the story flat, characters slight and atmosphere - the racially tense 1990s South Africa - almost entirely free of conflict.

Many of the film’s minor characters, comprised of Mandela’s troupe of security officials and the Springbok athletes, are sorely one-dimensional. They are always exasperated by routinely adjusting to Mandela's “Rainbow Nation" concept.

Invictus portrays South Africa’s Secret Service and their national athletic treasure are sissies, incapable of emotional complexity.

Even much of Mandela’s dialogue is contrived. Just because he’s an inspirational figure should not automatically make his words feel as if they were randomly pasted from a selection of spiritual mantras or Obama-esque speeches.

Still, it’s not only the one-note script that detracts from the film. It’s the condescending, calculated way in which Eastwood attempts to serenade his audience with hope and inspiration.

From the endearing, high-pitched musical score to the bloated, cliché-ridden finale (shot in overbearing slow-motion) to the wildly unnecessary visit by the rugby players to Robben Island, (where Mandela was imprisoned) which results in an overwhelming epiphany to perform with greatness, very few moments register as either authentic or compelling.

At its heart, Invictus is a great film. It has a wonderful message, a fascinating subject and an excellent performance from Morgan Freeman.

Unfortunately, Eastwood and screenwriter Peckham have also orchestrated a history lesson with the depth, detail and perspective of a third grade textbook.

For Eastwood, responsible for 2004’s knockout Million Dollar Baby, to play it so completely safe is a shame. He hopes the film will succeed for its "Why can't we all just get along?" motto. But, devoid of character, vigor or uplift, Invictus solely becomes a lesson in racial tolerance.

Still, can Eastwood return to his A-game after this misfire? I’m feeling lucky, punk.

It's Judgment Day for Cameron and Co.

Avatar

*** out of ****

Directed by: James Cameron

Starring: Sam Worthington, Zoe Saldana, Sigourney Weaver, Stephen Lang, Michelle Rodriguez and Giovanni Ribisi

Running time: 162 minutes

I wonder what it would've been like to experience the original Star Wars in a crowded auditorium during its opening weekend, back in May 1977. Regardless, seeing James Cameron’s newest sci-fi epic may be as close as I ever get.

Avatar is a titanic cinematic achievement, an exhilarating and visually splendid triumph that ricochets the bar of what can be done with computer-generated technology to heights that may not – sorry, that will not – go unsurpassed for years to come.

We are transported to the year 2154, to the planet of Pandora. An indigenous species with sparkling blue skin and tails called the Na’vi populate the lush, mountainous region, living harmoniously. They are not alone.

An American corporation is located many kilometers away, planning to colonize the land, relocate the “savages,” and dig up a precious mineral called “unobtanium” from beneath the Na’vi’s sacred ground in exchange for billions in profit.

Meanwhile, a team of human researchers, led by the snappy Grace Augustine (Sigourney Weaver), have genetically created figures known as Avatars, a blend of human and Na’vi DNA. Her crew hopes to learn about the tribe by interacting with them and having the ability to breathe Pandora's toxic air.

Jake Sully (Sam Worthington), a paraplegic ex-Marine arrives on Pandora to take his dead brother’s spot in the Avatar Program. He is compatible with the program due to sharing his brother’s genome, but has no knowledge of the Na'vi's language, customs or lifestyle.

During his first experience in his Avatar, Jake is chased by a treacherous creature deep into the jungle. Later that night, he is heroically saved from dog-like carnivores by a female Na’vi warrior named Neytiri (Zoe Saldana). Neytiri brings Sully back to Hometree, the central Na'vi base, and introduces him to her people. They decide to integrate him into their tribe.

Meanwhile, the authorities back at the base, such as Col. Miles Quaritch (Stephen Lang), are convinced that Jake’s close involvement with the Na’vi will allow the Americans to gain their trust and make them move from Hometree. Yet, Sully's Avatar develops stronger ties with his Na’vi brethren, especially the beautiful, mysterious Neytiri.

Avatar has been in development for over fifteen years. Cameron held off on making the film until he believed the technology was ready to create synthetic, computer-generated performances. When Peter Jackson revolutionized motion-capture technology through a vicious creepster named Gollum, Cameron believed he was ready to take helm of this ambitious production.

Alas, Cameron, Weta Workshop (responsible for the Lord of the Rings trilogy) and a plethora of other digital-effects collaborators threw everything including the kitchen sink at Avatar, and ended up with a visual feast.

Pandora is a stunning planet featuring cascading waterfalls without end, a mountain range floating in the sky, and gourgeous winged beasts – immersed in a vibrant palette of colours – that soar through the air.

This is fantasy, ladies and gentlemen, in the most imaginative, dazzling and enchanting use of the word.

While the rich, tropical planet is eye-popping, the flat dialogue and hammed-up American mercenary archetypes are better equipped at making eyes roll. It’s a shame that with a reported $250,000,000 budget, Cameron couldn’t fit in a fee to hire a screenwriter who could elevate the oh-so-predictable story and rewrite the corny dialogue.

(Perhaps he should've borrowed a hand from his ex-wife, Kathryn Bigelow, whose 2009 film The Hurt Locker was praised for its authenticity and gripping wartime action sequences.)

The two central antagonists, Stephen Lang’s beefed-up Col. Quaritch and Giovanni Ribisi’s administrative Parker Selfridge, are painfully banal annoyances.

Col. Quaritch promises to annihilate the Na’vi by using “shock and awe” techniques and “fighting terror with terror.” These Iraq War parallels are delivered with such gusto, a class of kindergartners would catch them. Maybe Cameron is desperate for overseas profits, since the Ontario-born filmmaker piles on the brash, war-hungry stereotypes that give Americans a bad name.

Moreover, the love story between Sully and Neytiri seems as artificial as the computer-generated images. Their romance is unconvincing – they can’t stand each other for the majority of the feature – and hugely underdeveloped. At some points, their relationship feels like it was added as a mere afterthought.

Even bashers of Cameron’s Titanic would be hard-pressed to deny the power of that film’s romance; here, there is little emotional resonance at all.

While elements of Avatar are entirely one-dimensional, what is seen in three dimensions is absolutely awe-inspiring.

The film is, by no means, a masterpiece. But as a breathlessly exciting and magnificently rendered achievement from Hollywood’s most revolutionary virtuoso of science-fiction cinema, it’s simply unmissable.

A Streetcar Named Disney

The Princess and the Frog

*** out of ****

Directed by: John Musker and Ron Clements

Featuring the voice talents of: Anika Noni Rose, Bruno Campos, Keith David, Jennifer Cody, Jim Cummings, Michael-Leon Wooley and Oprah Winfrey

Running Time: 97 minutes

The Princess and the Frog, Disney’s long-awaited return to animating the traditional way (re: drawing by hand), is not only notable for crowning the Mouse House’s first African-American princess, but worthy for its celebration of the vibrant French Quarter of New Orleans during the Jazz Age.

Like that city today, the film is bustling with energy and vibrant in colour and character, but also a reminder of better times past. It is a solid and often spectacular installment into the DIsney Vault, even if it doesn’t rank among the classics of their Renaissance Age (circa 1989-1999).

Young Tiana lives in The Big Easy with her parents, but life is anything but simple for these folk. Her mother, Eudora (Oprah Winfrey), is a busy seamstress. Her father, James (Terrence Howard), works an abundant number of jobs, but is still around to cook some of the finest gumbo that side of the Mississippi. He shares a dream with Tiana to open a restaurant someday.

Years later, Tiana (Anika Noni Rose) is an adored waitress, saving every tip to fulfill her late father’s dream (he is a casualty of the First World War). She’s on the brink of grasping the keys to an old riverside warehouse, which she plans on turning into a plush restaurant.

Meanwhile, Prince Naveen of Maldonia (Brunos Campos), a smooth-talking, ukulele-playing bachelor, arrives in town, alongside his butler Lawrence (Peter Bartlett). Cut off from his parents’ funds, the prince has his eye on marrying a young girl and gaining a lavish fortune to top off the royal jambalaya.

That lucky bachelorette happens to be Charlotte La Bouff (Jennifer Cody), a sweet and sublime rich girl, as well as Tiana’s darling friend (albeit no relation to Shia).

Still, a dark man waits with a dark purpose. He is a voodoo magician named Doctor Facilier (Keith David) who – besides looking like a fusion of The Mad Hatter and Jafar – intends on filling his plate with the La Bouff fortune. He transforms Naveen into a frog and uses a talisman to make Lawrence impersonate the rugged prince.

As Tiana, draped in an elegant blue dress, wishes upon a star for a grant to her restaurant, she spots Naveen - but as an amphibian. Believing she's a princess, he persuades her to kiss him to reverse Facilier’s spell. But (huge twist!), Tiana morphs into a frog as well.

It’s been almost six years since Disney’s last 2D offering (2004’s disappointing Home on the Range), but the Mouse House proves that they are light-years ahead of the curve in creating dazzling images through hand-drawn animation. Each scene sparkles with vivacious colour and the sights of 1920s New Orleans are lovingly executed. You can practically smell the gumbo.

While the musical sequences are eye-popping, the lyrics are second-rate, and alas the songs become quite forgettable. Randy Newman and lyricist Glenn Slater compose tunes that sadly lack the beat (think The Lion King) and charm (recall Beauty and the Beast) of past Disney show-stoppers.

What the film lacks lyrically, the screenplay makes up for by steering away from a few archetypes. Tiana does not want a Prince Charming and believes in working hard. Naveen is not just a gregarious suitor, but one who is charmed; that is, by the electrifying Jazz of the French Quarter, and later on, the kindness of strangers.

Furthermore, Louis (Michael-Leon Wooley), a trumpet-playing alligator, and Ray (Jim Cummings), a Cajun firefly who (literally) lights up the bayou, resist the derivative punchline factor of other animated sidekicks. They are lovely, supportive creatures with warm eyes and high spirits.

Nevertheless, certain elements of the film are rehashed from other Disney classics, including Beauty and the Beast, Pinocchio and Cinderella. While some of the characters are refreshing, the film doesn’t reinvent too much story-wise.

Still, the animation is dazzling, the characters are warm-hearted and moralistic (as every Disney movie needs), and New Orleans proves to be a spectacular backdrop. It’s not an instant classic (thanks, Randy Newman) but it’s a serviceable feature that promises more to come from the factory of hand-drawn animation.

And for a company still under fire for stereotyping in their controversial Song of the South, Disney can now “kiss” some racist accusations goodbye.