Dell's Good, Bad & Ugly Movie Reviews

[dell71]

Cat People
Directed by Paul Schrader.
1982. Rated R, 119 minutes.
Cast:
Nastassja Kinski
Malcolm McDowell
John Heard
Annette O’Toole
Ruby Dee
Ed Begley Jr.
Frankie Faison
John Larroquette
Scott Paulin

As a teenage boy I loved this movie. Even then, I watched as many flicks as I could get my eyeballs on. Summer trips from my native Queens to visit my grandparents in North Carolina meant an escape from the confines of VHF and UHF viewing (google it, young’uns) and a couple months with the infant known as cable television. This included HBO. During the hottest months of either 1983 and/or ’84, I forget which, they ran Cat People at least three late nights a week. I watched it as often as possible. It’s lack of explosions, somber mood and exotic looking leading lady made it seem artsy, to me. Watching it made me feel sophisticated as if this were somehow too snooty for my friends. Still, it has heavy doses of what budding bags of he-hormones crave: blood and boobs. I thought I discovered truly high caliber cinema.

Thirty years later, I realize I have no idea what I was watching, yet I love it just the same. I must say that today my reasoning is much different. What I took for bold artistic choics is simply misguided filmmaking. The storytelling is strongly of the “maybe no one will notice this plot hole” variety. Malcolm McDowell gives a typically unhinged performance while John Heard resides at the wooden end of the spectrum. Leading lady Natassja Kinski is still an exotic beauty, but her acting is more in line with Heard’s than McDowell’s. Superman’s mom and girlfriend (figure that one out) Annette O’Toole is somewhere in the middle but is more than reason enough to watch if you’re into redheads and maybe even if you’re not. The great Ruby Dee gets her Miss Cleo on while my boy Dan from Night Court (John Larroquette) has a small role. And I haven’t even mentioned how bizarre it all is. Unintentional humor, WTF moments and some surprisingly still effective special fx abound.

If you don’t believe that this is one strange trip, let me fill you in on our plot. It seems that some tribal people in the most backwards part of some third world country have sacrificed so many of their own children to the local black leopards over the centuries that the cats have evolved into a human/feline hybrid. They’re usually in human form. However, when they become sexually aroused they transform into black leopards. The only way they can turn back human is to kill. Nice. There’s a kicker. Paul (McDowell) has been living with this curse for quite a while. His sister Irena (Kinski) doesn’t yet know either of them have this affliction. She’s has just flown out to New Orleans to stay with her brother whom she hasn’t seen since she was four. Paul knows something else Irena doesn’t: the only way to get your groove on and not turn into a big black cat is by doing the oochie-coochie with a sibling. Ewww. Imagine Irena’s dismay and disgust when her big bro starts puttin’ the moves on her. I don’t mean the smooth player moves, either. I mean the overly forward desperate, sweaty, wide-eyed, screaming ‘I really need to get in your pants right now’ type of moves. Double ewww. Since sis won’t give him any, Paul continues dining on the local population of loose women. Meanwhile, Irena slowly comes to the realization of what she is and simultaneously falls for Oliver (Heard), the zoo curator. Yup.

By the way, this is a remake of a 1942 movie which I haven’t worked up the courage to watch. Somehow, I’m doubting the 1942 version is quite this bonkers. There were codes and restrictions and whatnot. This newer version dispenses with any notion of restraint and just goes for the full-on ridiculous. It’s saving grace, if it wants to be taken seriously are the special fx. Cat People isn’t loaded with them, but they’re effective. In particular, Nastassja Kinski’s transformation scene is among the best I’ve ever seen considering the era in which it was made. It even blows away stuff I’ve only seen recently. Unfortunately, nothing else here is nearly on that level. If you’ve seen this movie, you’re probably nodding your head in agreement right now. If not, you must understand the big lesson the movie teaches us. Suffice it to say, it shuns incest by extolling the virtues of bondage and bestiality. For that, it’s so bad it’s awesome!

MY SCORE: -10/10

[dell71]

The Car
Directed by Elliot Silverstein.
1977. Rated PG, 96 minutes.
Cast:
James Brolin
Kathleen Lloyd
John Marley
R. G. Armstrong
Ronny Cox
John Rubinstein
Kim Richards
Elizabeth Thompson
Kate Murtagh

The Lincoln Continental Mark III is a marvel of 1970s engineering. Sure, I could wax poetic about its classic look and sturdy construction, but suffice it to say what the people of Santa Ynez say about it: it’s big and black. Heeeeyyyy, that’s what she…nevermind. The most important feature of the particular vehicle we focus on is that it’s driven by Satan, himself. No silly, he’s not actually sitting in the driver’s seat. No one is. The townspeople of Santa Ynez can’t tell this from the outside, however. The windows are tinted an incredibly dense red. Red, Satan, get it? All they know is that this behemoth of a car is mowing down any pedestrians it comes across. Man, there are days I wish I could do this! Does that make me evil? Anyhoo, the race is on to keep The Car from running over the whole town.

Our hero is Captain Wade Parent (Brolin). The responsibility of stopping The Car falls to him after the town sheriff finds himself all killed and stuff. There is a subplot about Wade trying to get his two daughters to accept his girlfriend Lauren (Lloyd), who happens to be their teacher. However, this is about as important to the movie as you are. There is another slightly more relevant one about one of the deputies who is an alcoholic being so shaken he goes back to the bottle. I only mention it because he’s played by Ronny Cox, or as I like to refer to him, Lt. Bogomil from Beverly Hills Cop. Yes, I know he’s done plenty of other stuff. Sue me. Actually, you’re more important than either of those storylines because the movie needs you to watch and not ask silly questions. Why did the devil choose this particular town? Don’t worry about it. Just know that’s he’s there and be glad you’re not. How does ramming a bicycle directly from the back send it and the rider careening over the side of a bridge? Unimportant. How come no one tries any evasive maneuvers aside from waiting until the very last possible second to jump out of the way? Never you mind. How exactly does Lt. Bogomil’s, er – I mean the deputy’s wife get those into that top? Accept that some mysteries will never be solved.

There are some questions you might persist on asking. What can this car do that others can’t? You mean, aside from drive itself? For starters, it can turn sideways, flip itself and/or leap off the ground whenever it wants. Nice. Think you’re safe in your living room? Nope. Here comes the Car flying through your window, somehow landing back on the street despite driving straight through your house. Huh? Yes, that really happens. It can also flick open its doors with enough force to hospitalize a grown man and occasionally gale force winds kick up when it comes around.

Okay, what have we learned today? We’ve learned that Satan likes Lincolns and is pissed off at the (mostly) good people of the fictional desert town of Santa Ynez. We’ve learned that His Lincoln can routinely defy the laws of physics. We’ve also learned that this is a grade Z unintentionally funny, cheesy hunk of 70s horror. Believe me, I mean this in the most endearing terms possible. In other words, it’s so bad it’s awesome!

MY SCORE: -10/10

[dell71]

Dr. Giggles
Directed by Manny Coto.
1992. Rated R, 95 minutes.
Cast:
Larry Drake
Holly Marie Combs
Cliff De Young
Glenn Quinn
Keith Diamond
Richard Bradford
Michelle Johnson
Doug E. Doug
Deborah Tucker

Evan Rendell, Jr. (Drake) doesn’t just escape from the mental institution, he leaves a pile of dead and mutilated bodies in his wake. He fancies himself a physician and the nuthouse has been keeping him from the patients he so desperately wants to see. They don’t want to see him, but that’s beside the point. After so many years away, the doctor is in.

‘In’ means he’s made it back to his hometown of Moorehigh to settle the score with the good citizens who joined forces and killed his dad, naturally named Evan Sr., who was actually a real doctor. Unfortunately, dad snapped when his wife came down with severe heart problems. To find her a new one, he started taking the hearts out of patients who not only weren’t donors, they weren’t even dead yet. Judging by the town folks’ reaction, this practice was highly frowned upon. Junior trying to kill everyone in Moorehigh ensues.

Not only is the story typical slasher fare, it absolutely rips off both Halloween and A Nightmare on Elm Street (this includes having the local children sing a disturbing song about the doc). Dr. Giggles simply combines the plots of those movies and repurposes them to fit its villain. This was particularly problematic in 1992 since both movies were fresh in our collective mind as the brilliant originals of still-going franchises. Dr. Giggles neatly sidesteps this short-coming with a heaping dollop of morbid humor.

To call it a twisted comedy doesn’t quite do it justice. In fact, Dr. Giggles uses it’s jaded funny bone to do the impossible. It takes a string of doctor-speak clichés, uses them as blatantly corny one-liners and it’s somehow hilarious. For instance, take the scene in which he bludgeons someone to death. After they go flying across the room, he quips “Average reflexes.” Reading it here, you’re probably rolling your eyes at how bad that is. When you see it, you’ll be cracking up. The killer is (ha, I’m punny) Larry Drake delivers each line with a perfectly straight face, not even a hint of knowing how silly the words are coming from his mouth. At other times, his warped giggle causes our own uneasy chuckles. He’s simultaneously menacing and ridiculous, no easy feat.

Dr. Giggles is an underappreciated gem of a slasher flick that anyone not a fan of the genre might immediately dismiss. The rest of us won’t be able to contain our laughter even as bodies are sliced open. Speaking of bodies being sliced open, I haven’t even mentioned the morgue scene. That alone makes this worthy of a portion of the time you’ve allotted for watching DTMs (dead teenager movies), if you’re into that sort of thing.

MY SCORE: 7/10

[dell71]

The Cabin in the Woods
Directed by Drew Goddard.
2011. Rated R, 95 minutes.
Cast:
Kristen Connolly
Chris Hemsworth
Anna Hutchison
Fran Kranz
Jesse Williams
Richard Jenkins
Bradley Whitford
Brian White
Amy Acker
Tim De Zarn
Jodelle Ferland

What if the hunting and one by one killing of teenagers we see in slasher flicks serves a greater purpose than placating the sadism of their viewers? What might that purpose be? These are the questions pulsing through every frame of The Cabin in the Woods. Also evident is some interesting commentary presented in the most grotesque and/or humorous manner.

The story seems fairly typical. Five college students who are more types than actual people decide to spend their break at a secluded cabin, owned by a cousin of one of them, for some fornicating and inebriating. There’s the alpha male Curt (none other than “Thor” himself, Chris Hemsworth), his blonde and ditzy girlfriend Jules (Hutchison), the wise pothead Marty (Kranz), intellectual but hunky guy Holden (Williams) and of course, (not quite) virginal Dana (Connolly).

On their way to the cabin, they meet the prerequisite scary old man at the also prerequisite creepy, barely operational gas station and he gives the prerequisite ominous warning. Once there, they do slasher movie stuff: take a dip in the nearby lake, play “Truth or Dare” while getting high and find an old book in the cellar containing some gruesome passages in English and more passages in Latin, all read aloud. If you know anything about horror flicks, you know reading Latin aloud is never a good idea. With that, zombies come bursting through the grounds surrounding the cabin and the killin’ starts.

Unlike thousands of other movies, kids getting dead is only half the story. Co-writers Joss Whedon (The Avengers) and Drew Goddard (Lost) take us behind the scenes to see that, unfortunately for the victims, this is actually a somewhat controlled situation. Some super-secret organization is steering the group towards their own destruction and watching the whole thing from a remote location via cameras they have all over the woods. They even cheer, jeer and take bets on what’s going to happen next. They’re a bunch even more twisted than we are. Many seem to consider this aspect a spoiler however, I do not. This is something we find out really early on and there is oh so much more to it than this.

Assessing the perversion of the people in charge leads us to another interesting question. I won’t spoil the movie by specifying the literal reason they do what they do. I will say that it’s a metaphor for we, the target audience. The majority of profitable movies in any genre stick to a certain formula. Horror is no exception. With that being the case, who is really in control? Is it the studios who keep recycling the same material knowing that a certain segment of the population will flock to the theaters? Or are we in control, making them stick to the formula knowing that we will not fork over our hard-earned dollars should they stray too far from what’s expected?

Given the questions it poses during its runtime it’s fitting The Cabin in the Woods features strong special fx and countless references to other movies (mostly horror). For the first two acts, we get efficient, if unspectacular, slasher flick fare. The blood soaked third is an explosion of those visuals and references that will have you on the edge of your seat. All the excitement may make it hard to realize there is something deeper at work, here. It may be difficult to realize what answers the ending provides about those questions, assuming one is aware of them in the first place. In other words, it works on multiple levels. Its layers don’t merely cover, but enhance one another. This works so well that despite all the wicked cutlery and pointed or jagged fangs on display, the movie’s wit is sharpest of them all.

MY SCORE: 9/10

[Fox1994]

That was a really high rating for The Cabin in the Woods. I may have to check that out. I mostly know the Car from a parody Futurama did of it. Your endorsement means a lot, so maybe I'll see it.

[LiquidLarry2GhostWF]

I'm shocked you didn't like The Woman In Black...

I thought it was a good, straight traditional ghost story. No frills or anything...just a regular ol, base hit kind of ghost story...that isn't a bad thing. I thought it told a good story. However, only a one time watcher. I can not imagine this film holding up for repeat viewings...as...you said, it can drag and be stagnant. But, for an original viewing...I dug it. Just a straight ghost story.

On the flip side...I thought The Cabin In The Woods was shit.

[dell71]

"The Woman in Black" bored me to tears. I thought "The Cabin in the Woods" was an extremely creative take on the slasher genre and very fun. It is a love it/hate it kind of movie, though.

[dell71]

The Artist
Directed by Michel Hazanavicius.
2011. Rated PG-13, 100 minutes.
Cast:
Jean Dujardin
Bérénice Bejo
John Goodman
James Cromwell
Missi Pyle
Penelope Ann Miller
Malcolm McDowell
Bitsie Tulloch
Uggie

Before we get to the whos and whats of The Artist there is something you should know going in: this is a silent movie presented in black and white. I imagine legions of readers instantly closing this page, resuming their incessant clicking on the never ending quest to find something more interesting. If you’ve managed to keep your trigger finger in check, congratulations on at least temporarily overcoming the same untreated form of ADHD that is laying waste to our country, particularly the youth. Congrats again if you read and understood that last sentence in less time than it took for me to think it up. We are making progress.

Progress, though heavily mixed with nostalgia, is what The Artist is about. We’re not talking progress simply for the sake of it. We’re talking about that which is brought on by evolving technology and our insatiable hunger for what’s next.

We’re also talking about what happens to those who fail to adapt. The one stuck in his ways here is George Valentin (Dujardin). Heavily borrowing of the storyline from Singin’ in the Rain, he’s a silent movie star at the height of his powers in the late 1920s and blessed with all the trappings of success: mansion, fancy cars, adoring public, etc. Mere association with him pays dividends. Young and vibrant Peppy Miller (Bejo, incidentally the real director’s wife) gets her start in show business by accidentally bumping into him at a red carpet event, an instance caught by paparazzi. Things are going so swimmingly he scoffs at the notion of making “talkies”, movie with sound. He dismisses them as if a passing fad. When his boss Al Zimmer (Goodman) warns him that this is the future, he laughs even harder. A surprise only to him, talkies become the norm and his career nosedives. Things get so bad he’s reduced to a studio apartment he can’t really afford and spends most days inside of a bottle trying to drown his sorrows.

That surface story works well. We develop more than enough empathy for George as he goes through his trials and tribulations. If that doesn’t quite do it for you, as always, there’s the love story angle. What’s better though, is that The Artist is rich in symbolism and technique. These elements give the picture the needed depth to stay with us beyond its runtime. The symbols snowball into a collection of things we miss from the films of yesteryear and of the power movies have over most of us. The technique reinforces the symbols by creating a magic all their own.

Ironically, sound is a prominent technique used. Only the dialogue is truly silent. The score appropriately sets the tone every step of the way. Another irony is the most important and symbolic moment comes when the music stops for a few breaths. During this time, a nightmare sequence for our hero, things in the room with him actually make sounds. For instance, George hearing a glass as it is set down on the table is a shock for the both the character and the audience. It’s something we take for granted in most movies. Here, it’s downright startling.

It’s little things like knowing when to use conventional sound that make The Artist a delight. One huge thing makes it beautiful to gaze upon: the cinematography. Often, when we think of that polysyllabic word we’re picturing wide open vistas of beautifully framed nature. Here, it’s a key component in maintaining the illusion that we’re truly watching something from the era in which it is set. Additionally, everything we need to focus on is perfectly emphasized by the camera.

Alas, as much as I like it, The Artist isn’t for everyone. This isn’t something you whip out on movie night. Like I said right at the beginning: this is a silent movie presented in black and white. If you can get past the idea of not hearing people talk (or you’re already past it), you’ll be rewarded with a fun experience that has as much in common with recent flicks Hugo and Super8 as it does the film’s it emulates. Like those, it’s a love letter to the movies of our collective past.

MY SCORE: 8.5/10

[red33]

cabin in the woods thought

 

for cabin in the woods, besides the metaphor you pointed out about them and us, I felt like the reason all went to hell was because they got the virgin and nerd wrong. The girl wasnt the virgin, she fucked her professor. Also shes a nerd, she wanted to bring her study books to the cabin. the stoner was the virgin and nothing about him says nerd besides his glasses and clothes.

[Maynard]

i saw the car when i was like 8 years old and scared the shit out of me. tried to watch it again a few years ago and couldnt believe how bad it was

[dell71]

cabin in the woods thought

 

for cabin in the woods, besides the metaphor you pointed out about them and us, I felt like the reason all went to hell was because they got the virgin and nerd wrong. The girl wasnt the virgin, she fucked her professor. Also shes a nerd, she wanted to bring her study books to the cabin. the stoner was the virgin and nothing about him says nerd besides his glasses and clothes.

 

Agree with you about the nerd. As for the virgin, there was a scene addressing just that very thing. Even she had an incredulous look on her face when she found out she was supposed to be the virginal one to which she was told "you work with what you got," meaning she was clearly closer to that role than the other girl.

[nflman2033]

I am glad you liked Cabin in the Woods as much as I did. but then again I am a huge Joss Whedon fan. Also loved you watched Psycho one of my favorite movies of all time.

however still waiting on Bergman and the Skin I live In.. :D

[dell71]

Safe House
Directed by Daniel Espinosa.
2012. Rated R, 115 minutes.
Cast:
Denzel Washington
Ryan Reynolds
Vera Farmiga
Brendan Gleeson
Fares Fares
Liam Cunningham
Nora Arnezeder
Rubén Blades
Sam Shepard
Robert Patrick
Joel Kinnaman
Tracie Thoms

Since he is an FBI agent you wouldn’t think Matt Weston (Reynolds) has a boring job, but he does. He spends all day, every day as a housekeeper. No, he’s not the kind you rich folks employ. He is the sole agent posted at a “safe house,” a temporary holding facility for bad guys collared by the agency. This one is in Cape Town, South Africa. There is rarely anyone to watch. Suddenly, there is when former agent and suspected traitor Tobin Frost (Washington) turns himself in after a rather tense set of events has him staring death in the face. He’s brought to the safe house by a whole team of agents. Of course, things don’t go so smoothly. Some very bad people are after Mr. Frost and shoot their way in. After a narrow escape, Matt must not only stay alive but somehow get Frost safely to the higher-ups. His task is made even more difficult by the fact that Frost doesn’t really want to be in custody. The two men playing cat and mouse with both the bad guys and each other ensues.

Speedy pacing is this movie’s best friend. Though it doesn’t really break any new ground in the action/espionage genre, it does keep its foot fastened to the gas pedal. The next action sequence is never far off. For the most part, they don’t disappoint. They’re tense and just enough over the top to remain exciting. They’re helped by a narrative that functions enough to keep us somewhat interested in the fates of these two guys. Many of the twists and turns we can see coming pretty far off. However, in this instance they’re still pulled off nicely. So while it is predictable, it still works.

Lots of credit for clichés working well is due to our leads. Denzel does the thing where he’s constantly trying to pull jedi mind tricks on the other guy. Pure Denzel. Like Pacino, Nicholson and DeNiro, he’s in that rarified air where he’s always enjoyable even though he’s basically playing the same character he always does, just with different occupations.

By contrast, Denzel’s co-star Ryan Reynolds mostly forgoes his usual wiseass routine, giving us more of a straight-laced action hero. Even without his normal one-liners, the banter between he and Denzel is fun and he becomes easy to root for. For me, it’s his best performance in a non-comedy except possibly the underrated remake of The Amityville Horror. Yeah, I’m the one person that likes that movie.

If you’re just looking for an action flick to pass time, you could certainly do worse than Safe House. Despite the fact it offer little or nothing in the way of originality, it’s still an enjoyable ride. It gives us what we came for the way we like. Is it a masterpiece? No. However, for a popcorn flick it works fine. It goes down smoothly. Perhaps it’s a tad too smooth as there are no real surprises, but smooth nonetheless.

MY SCORE: 6.5/10

[dell71]

Sparkle
Directed by Sam O’Steen.
1976. Rated PG, 98 minutes.
Cast:
Irene Cara
Philip Michael Thomas
Lonette McKee
Dwan Smith
Dorian Harewood
Mary Alice
Tony King
Beatrice Winde
Paul Lambert
DeWayne Jessie

In 1958 Harlem, local guy Stix (Thomas) dreams of making it big in the music biz. To this end, he’s a singer/songwriter/manager/promoter. Shortly, it becomes apparent the best vehicle to make his fantasy become reality is being in a group with his best friend, his girlfriend and her two sisters. It’s chauvinistic of me to start from the male perspective since this really is about the girlfriend and her sisters so we’ll get back to Stix later.

Stix’s girl gets top billing. Her name, of course, is Sparkle (Cara). She’s the youngest of the three sisters and the quiet one. Middle child Delores (Smith) is a budding militant so she’s a bit more mouthy, no boyfriend. The real star of the show is the eldest sister named…um…Sister (McKee). She’s obviously a lot more worldly than the others: chain-smoking, getting it on in the back of her boyfriend’s car and dispensing sage advice about birth control. By the way, her boyfriend is Stix best friend Levi (Harewood). And yes, the girls all live with their mom Effie (Alice).

Inspired after attending an all-night music revue, the gang decides to go full steam ahead at this music thing. They win a local talent show and become a popular act around town. Predictably, success proves to be problematic. So, too, is the cost of taking the next step on their road to stardom.

Sparkle functions simultaneously as a cautionary tale and a love story. It intertwines tragedy and triumph in a way that feels organic, for the most part. Age has only served to enhance this aspect. There’s a grittiness that gives off a vibe of authenticity. Even our villains help in this regard. There’s Satin Struthers (King), a local Harlem gangster and Max Gerber (Lambert), a mobster we meet in the latter portions of the film. Neither is the flamboyant, cartoonish type often depicted in black movies of the era. They seem a realistic threat to what our heroes are trying to accomplish.

Despite the title, the movie doesn’t become about Sparkle until the third act. Until then, this is really about Sister. A riveting performance by Lonette McKee carries this part of the picture. Every word she says and movement she makes feels exactly right. It is she, not Sparkle, that keeps us vested. Even during that final act, our title character doesn’t really take over. From this point on, we’re rendered powerless by the charisma and megawatt smile of Philip Michael Thomas. Folks my age will know he went on to greater fame as Det. Tubbs on the legendary Miami Vice TV series. On that show, he mostly played second fiddle to Don Johnson. Here, he’s pure charm, swagger and “good hair”.

If you couldn’t already tell, Sparkle herself is not as important to the proceedings as one would think. She’s written as meek, unsure of herself and seeking the approval of others as a real 15 year old might. This is a good thing. The problem is she never really breaks out of her shell. There is no evidence she ever has an original thought in her head. She isn’t so much heroine as she is beneficiary and blank slate onto which we can project our own feelings about what’s going on with the characters around her, feel happy or sad for their successes and failures. From this standpoint, she remains the perfect conduit for the audience over 30 years since. On the other hand, she also helps mark the movie as a relic. Her relationship with Stix is out of whack with our 21st century sensibilities. True, it was even questionable then, but not quite condemned as the act of sexual predators the way it is now. As mentioned, she’s 15. Stix most certainly has 15 well behind him and it is explicitly noted they’ve done much more than hold hands.

The other characters and the portrayals of them vary in importance, but aren’t earth-moving. Of these we get two very good performances, one from Dorian Harewood as Levi and the other from Mary Alice as mom, Effie. There is also a very bad one. Dwan Smith plays Delores with the vocal inflections and body language of a small child stomping away from her parents after being sent to her room, no matter what the situation. It gets to be an annoyance rather quickly.

Last, but certainly not least, is the music. It’s a mashup of two eras that’s far more effective than it has any right to be thanks to the late great genius Curtis Mayfield. Sonically, the songs are crafted to sound like the time in which the movie is set. The instrumentation is something you’d expect from the 1950s. Lyrically they’re pure 70s, loaded with ultra-thinly veiled dirty talk. This works brilliantly with what’s going on in the movie. Sister serves as lead singer and is constantly pushing the envelope on stage and off. It helps tremendously that they simply sound good. Many of the numbers have become R & B classics, rightfully so.

Sparkle may be almost 40, but it still holds up pretty well. Both sides of its story still resonate. It doesn’t feel sugar-coated or overblown. There are a couple loose ends and one miraculous development right at the end but they’re not so troublesome they detract from the rest of the film. That makes this a fun, but flawed rollercoaster. It’s main strength is that it gives us something we can feel.

MY SCORE: 7.5/10

[dell71]

Sparkle
Directed by Salim Akil.
2012. Rated PG-13, 116 minutes.
Cast:
Jordin Sparks
Whitney Houston
Carmen Ejogo
Derek Luke
Mike Epps
Tamela Mann
Tika Sumpter
Omari Hardwick
Brely Evans
Michael Beach
Cee Lo Green
Terrence J

Sparkle (Sparks) is a songwriter with stage fright. Since she still wants her music to be heard, she recruits her oldest and most brazen sister named Sister (Ejogo), no less, to take a bus across town and sing her songs at a nightclub. Eventually, the girls meet up with Stix (Luke), a budding promoter. With dreams of making them into the next Supremes, by the way this is 1968, he recruits their middle sister Delores and transforms the trio into a girl group. He then begins getting them work all over Detroit in hopes of making it big. Even though the girls are grown, Sparkle is the youngest at 19, all of this requires repeatedly sneaking out the house of their tyrannical mother Emma played by Whitney Houston in her final feature film before her death in February of this year. Yes, this is a remake of the 1976 ‘hood classic.

If the title leads you to believe this movie is about Sparkle, you’re only partially right. We don’t focus on her until the final act. Honestly, the original did the same so that, in and of itself, isn’t a major complaint. The difference is the girl’s relationship with their mother takes center stage in this version while it was only occasionally touched upon in its predecessor. This moves our title character down to third on the totem pole. It’s probably just as well. Jordin Sparks isn’t a very good actress so lightening her load makes some sense.

In the older movie, the mother is a supportive sideline player. Here, she’s the complete opposite. To make sure we know who’s in charge, Whitney Houston is in full blown, stark raving mad lunatic warden mode. You get the feeling the girls have to ask permission to use the restroom or risk her wrath. She embodies the role well. Sadly, it’s a role that feels specifically for her. Emma is a woman who has battled drug addiction along with the ups and downs of the music business and now wants to protect her daughters from suffering the same fate, or worse. As she continually rages, it’s difficult to watch her, listen to the sounds come from her obviously shredded voice box and not think of her tumultuous real life and the once flawless pipes with which she serenaded us all. It’s distracting and depressing which makes it a morbidly effective portrayal.

Also of more importance than Sparkle is Sister. She’s clearly the most like her mother. Indeed, much of the film’s fireworks are made up of shouting matches between the two. In the role, Carmen Ejogo gives a powerhouse portrayal rivaling Lonette McKee’s in the same role in the original. Sister’s story also contains another excellent performance, albeit from a surprising source. As comedian Satin Struthers, the movie’s lone unrepentant villain, Mike Epps turns in what is easily his best work. Though playing a comic which is how he started, he really does bring this character to life and not just rehash the old Mike Epps schtick.

People who love this movie, and there will be plenty, will do so on the strengths of the aforementioned performances, the music and prerequisite ups and downs of high octane melodrama. However, there are serious problems. Beginning with the second act, the movie shifts into overdrive, propelling itself forward at breakneck speed. The various strands resolve themselves suddenly and/or predictably, leaving plot holes in their wake. In this regard, it pretty clearly follows the Tyler Perry template of filmmaking: scream, bicker, fuss and fight until an instant moment of clarity, kiss, make up.

In comparison with the original, Sparkle also suffers mightily in the charm department. That one is flawed, but it has a much more genuine feel. The grit and grime of the Harlem setting infused the characters not only with a sense of urgency about changing their station in life but also a naiveté about the temptations even minor success may bring. It also gives us a sense of danger. The same could’ve been achieved for this movie in Civil Rights-era Detroit. However, we’re given what feels like a glamorized version of the city wherever the girls perform. At their nicely sized suburban home they want for nothing tangible and can retreat from one another in a way the girls in the original could not. There is a real sense of unit breaking up as the older movie progresses. Here, each of the sisters wears their individuality proudly on their sleeve, weakening both their bond to one another and ours to them. The glossiness of the sets, flossiness of the outfits and four ladies constantly proclaiming “I am woman, hear me roar!” mark this effort as falling off the assembly line of movies aimed at black females over the last decade. Girl power is great and I generally applaud the movies for the attitude but it misses the point of its predecessor.

MY SCORE: 5/10