Then She Found Me

(2007, 100 min) Helen Hunt's feature directorial debut comes dressed in distinctively indie trappings. The cinematography is intentionally drab and action, at least in the beginning, tends to happen off-screen. It is in these opening moments that play out somewhat theatrically that the film finds its strength. But once all of the setup info is established, the film begins to slip into shapelessness and, worse, sentimentality.

Hunt's Hollywood-seasoned cast makes a valiant attempt to play down the caricatures that they've earned their livings playing up. Matthew Broderick's self-centered manchild lacks the smirking and mugging that he generally lends to similar characters. Colin Firth removes approximately one layer of restraint and adds one layer each of jealousy and rage to his Mark Darcy character from the Bridget Jones series. Bette Midler, while the most expressive character in the film, dulls her brass ever so slightly. Finally, Hunt shows up as the life-scarred, beaten-down type that she's made a career out of playing since As Good As It Gets but removes any semblance of pluck or humor. All of these acting tweaks and character modifications are designed to distinguish the film from the typical sunny romantic comedy that is so fearful of becoming. But, in reality, only two elements successfully separate it. One, at its core, the story centers more around Hunt's desire for a baby and, two, it is not remotely funny. In fact, there may be only one moment in the entire film which will cause viewers to even crack a smile.

Hunt is clearly attempting to put together a precious character study and is all restraint and no risk, but this creates a stifled atmosphere in which none of the characters are developed as well as they ought to be which leaves this film only a mood piece. A mood piece is certainly no crime against cinema, but when the mood that permeates is self-pity then viewers will certainly be excused if they want to turn away.

Even more jarring than the lack of full character development is the atrocious musical supervision. The score often resembles the background music of a self-help video and the song choices (Iron and Wine during a sex scene!) are more than a little cliché. These bad choices betray Hunt's noble attempt to keep the film sparse and render it simply maudlin.

The film is not completely unredeemable. It simply lacks any spark or commitment to its vision, but single women in their late 30s experiencing an identity crisis will most likely enjoy it.

– Daniel Reed

© TLA Entertainment Group

Sour Grapes: Appreciating Larry David's essential bridge between "Seinfeld" and "Curb"

(1998, 91 min) Barely released by Warner Brothers in 1998, it's easy to forget that Larry David wrote and directed his lone feature film between his two popular and wildly overrated TV series, "Seinfeld" and "Curb Your Enthusiasm". Yet while tackling many of the same petty gripes about humanity, the expanded format of the feature film allowed him to fully realize his vision for the first (and perhaps only) time.

Larry David's first stroke of genius was to replace Jerry Seinfeld in what is clearly a Seinfeldian role. This has been done before, most successfully by Roberto Benigni replacing the late Peter Sellers in Son of the Pink Panther (Ted Wass is a close second in Curse of the Pink Panther, substituting ace comic timing for Benigni's manic energy). Seinfeld, who didn't win a single acting Emmy, was wisely passed over in favor of Steven Weber, one of very few actors with the chops to fill the big screen... and he had a Saturn Award to prove it. Clearly, Larry David was watching the massive ratings of "Wings" every Thursday night, and knew that it was Weber, and not the "Seinfeld" coattails, that were driving the Nielsens. Pair him with the comic stylings of Craig Bierko, and even a subpar script would have been elevated; but Larry David was aiming much higher.

In Sour Grapes, he tackles nothing less than the greed of ugly Americans, and comparisons to Von Stroheim's bloated silent epic are no doubt intentional. In place of tragedy, however, David sees comedy, in the form of hilarious shouting matches and zippy one-liners like "I don't know. Roberta's out of town. I'll probably just go home and blow myself." Sick of "Seinfeld"'s everyday observational comedy, David places his characters in the unlikely fantasy world of Las Vegas, fighting over a slot machine jackpot – the unlikely events allowing the audience plenty of distance from the characters, allowing laughter to flow forth unabated by emotional connection.

Apparently, these aspirations were too much for the average moviegoer, and David has not directed a feature since. Relegated to the HBO ghetto, where a tiny audience is enough to generate "hit" status, he has continued to churn out uninspired "Curb Your Enthusiasm" episodes. Here's to wishing he decides to challenge himself, and us, again on the big screen.

– David Gorgos

© TLA Entertainment Group

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Dungeon Girl

(2008, 81 min) Ulli Lommel's Dungeon Girl isn't so much a horror film (and definitely not a torture porn) as an exploration of the relationship between captor and captive. Well not so much that as a half-baked student film from one of the worst directors of all time. It's almost as if instead of a script, Lommel puts together three half-developed ideas and then edits them together with all the glee of a sophomore film major playing with After Effects for the first time while tripping balls. Even when it comes to nudity, usually Lommel's saving grace in the other stinking piles of garbage he's hurled at the world, he falls short giving viewers hoping for skin more male nudity than female with one recurring shot of Wendi Jean Linn's buttocks and another recurring image of an anonymous woman tied up on a cross wearing rags which are sliced to reveal her naked breasts and, pehaps, a glimpse at her bush. Linn is certainly an absolutely stunning creature and the exploitative pretense is almost a work of art on its own, but Dungeon Girl fails on almost every conceivable level.

– Rick Stanko

© TLA Entertainment Group

Brain-dead packaging by Paramount

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Get Smart

(2008, 110 min) Given the history of TV-to-Movies adaptations, it would entirely reasonable for discerning viewers to dismiss this big screen remake of Mel Brooks' and Buck Henry's classic spy spoof as yet another unpalatable slice of Hollywood junk heaped onto a pile of unoriginal garbage. It would be reasonable, that is, until one remembers that Steve Carell is currently the most likable comedic actor working. His charm alone lifts Get Smart far above most of its inferior counterparts. Carell's Maxwell Smart is slightly less arrogant and slightly more self-aware than Don Adams' was, but this, if anything, simply establishes the film as its own entity and not a cheap carbon copy knockoff. Carell begins as an analyst for CONTROL who'd recently lost weight and desperately wants to be promoted to agent, a promotion that no one who isn't named Maxwell Smart thinks he is qualified for. However, KAOS strikes and strikes hard and soon enough Max is tagging along with Agent 99 (a competent Anne Hathaway) on a mission to locate the nuclear devices that the villains have stashed in Russia.

The main strength of the film (outside of Carell's unparalleled likability) is its pacing. It never gets bogged down too much in character development or over-the-top action sequences and keeps things moving at a very sharp (but never overly frenetic) clip. Adding to the fun are the consistently funny jokes. None stick out as moments of sheer, side-splitting hilarity, but very few fall flat and most provoke laugh-out-loud (but not too loud) reactions. Additionally, the action sequences, while never overdone, all entertain and few exceed the normal standards of believability expected from a Hollywood action movie. Adding supporting charm to the mix are Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, who has nearly perfected affable, acutely masculine self-mockery, and Alan Arkin who plays the put-upon chief to perfection. Even Bill Murray has an amusing cameo as the always-hiding Agent 13 that will cheer up anyone longing for the days when Murray condescended to do broad comedies.

One notable drawback is the relative lack of romantic chemistry between Carell and Hathaway. They can bicker and banter perfectly adequately, but the deeper connection between them is seldom clear. Another drawback comes when the film inexplicably resorts to using flashbacks to demonstrate what the characters are thinking. This classic cheap trick has almost never worked in any film and this one is no exception. These minor flaws don't, however, cripple what proves to be an immensely likable film that instantly leaps to near the top of Hollywood's TV recycling bin.

– Daniel Reed

© TLA Entertainment Group