2002 / 111 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

For a guy who made a mark on the film world by blowing people away with a .357 Magnum, I am constantly stuck by how low key many of Eastwood’s films are. In a Clint Eastwood film, rarely is the world itself at stake (something that was unique about “Space Cowboys”) or anything so gigantic. Usually, the tales which Eastwood chooses to tell are modest ones. He isn’t out to explode as many buildings as possible and he really never has been. He has always, I think, been more interested in character and story. He has always been more intrigued by the way that people like Harry Callahan think than he has with what they leave smoldering in their wake.

“Blood Work” concerns a serial killer, true, and several murders, but it treats them almost as an afterthought. The real heart of the film is Clint’s heart. As the film opens, we see Clint chasing down the suspect in a rash of killings, and doing so on foot. Just when he has almost caught the fiend, Terry McCaleb suffers a heart attack. The assailant gets away and, two years later, Terry (Clint) is undergoing a checkup to see if his body will accept the new heart. Shortly thereafter, Terry meets the sister of the woman whose heart he has received in a transplant. She informs him that her sister was murdered and that the killer has not yet been brought to justice. Terry begins working on the clues, finding things that the other investigators have either missed or chosen not to worry about, and begins a new investigation that his fragile body may not be in shape for.

The mystery plot is absorbing (though, truthfully, I sorta knew where the film was going from the very start, but I didn’t know who would turn out to be the killer until much later) and the pace of the film never flags. But it is in Eastwood’s portrayal of Terry McCaleb that the film’s real strength lies. I’ve never seen an actor advancing in his years who was willing to take on a role that requires him to be so fragile. Terry is in a precarious state of health and Clint does such a good job with him that we believe it. Every time Clint grasped at his chest or looked a little pale, I was nervous right along with the other characters in the film. It is particularly painful to see that scar of surgery which runs straight down the front of his chest. I winced every time it was shown. Clint has never allowed us to see him this way. He has never allowed us to believe that he might die at any second, and not, necessarily, at the gunpoint of some madman. It’s refreshing to see an actor of Eastwood’s age not pretending to be younger than he is, but using his age and embracing it as a facet of the character he is trying to portray. Perhaps this is why Clint has not had the career problems of guys who aren’t even as old as he (Harrison Ford, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone). It’s because Clint has an unerring knowledge of what he can and cannot get away with. He knows how to find stories that fit his age and his abilities (try to imagine another actor who would have brought the collective audience memory to “Unforgiven” which enhanced that character) and he knows how to direct them with a steady, yet light, touch.

Aside from Clint’s great performance and the steady pace of the film, there are many other elements that make “Blood Work” function so nicely. First off, it’s got an original idea behind it, something to distinguish it from all the other serial killer flicks. Secondly, it doesn’t wallow in the violence and degradation of the killer as so many other films of this kind choose to do. Third, all the performances are pretty much top drawer. I’m not just talking about Wanda DeJesus as the tenacious sister of the murdered woman, or Angelica Huston as Clint’s no-nonsense cardiologist, or even Jeff Daniels who is so wonderful as Clint’s lazy bum of a neighbor. No. Every character is an interesting and memorable one: the old lady who runs the convenience store where the murders have happened, a witness to a crime who was frustrated by the mistakes of the ambulance arriving on the scene, a young widow who seems to exude pain and a sense of loss without even trying. Each of these characters is so nicely shaded in by the actor or actress portraying them, brought to such vivid life that you are riveted by them and can sense that they might be real people rather than puzzle pieces in a larger story.

The only real drawback to this film that I can put forth is Paul Rodriguez. It was nice to see the dude get some work, but he’s just a bit much. He doesn’t quite seem to know when to stop with the jokes, sometimes at the risk of damaging the atmosphere of the rest of the film. Whenever he’s onscreen, you wish he had a bit more subtlety. But that’s about it. Otherwise, this is a riveting thriller that doesn’t need to hammer you over the head with violence or be about something as monumental as the fate of the world or even pure evil, though it does explore the nature of evil and insanity in several great scenes. Our Man Clint is content to get all the characters right and to take care with the story he has to tell, without feeling the need to make it seem more important than it is. His modest, low-key approach to the material is a refreshing one, and it is a vital component of the film’s success.

Though, I must add, watching Clint pull a shotgun out of a trunk and start shooting at a suspect’s car brought an immense smile to my face It just seems so… right. So beautifully natural. And it just serves to remind you that Clint may be getting old, but he sure as hell ain’t dead.

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1995 / 177 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

You can usually tell a good Mel Gibson movie. It usually involves Mel being tortured and thrashed and beaten at some point. Using this criteria: “Braveheart” is the ultimate Mel Gibson movie.

Another thing that most Mel movies involve is the death of a loved one. Well, this one has that too. Mel is a peaceful farmer shortly after the movie begins. His father and brother were killed by English troops when he was but a mere boy and he went to live with his uncle, who taught him different languages and showed him many different parts of the world. He has now returned to Scotland to find that, if anything, the fighting has only gotten worse. But William Wallace (Mel) has no desire to follow in the footsteps of his father.

“I came back to raise crops and, God willing, a family. If I can live in peace, I will.” William soon finds peace and a family in Murron (Catherine McCormack), a beautiful girl he has loved since they were both children. He marries her and experiences happiness…for a time.

This time is all too brief, however. The British, curious to see if William will stir up as much trouble as his father, tempt him into a trap by killing his wife. William then shows that he will not stir up as much trouble as his father. Instead, he stirs up a hell of a lot more. He and some other commoners annihilate the British garrison in a rousing and harrowing sequence. From here, Wallace gains followers. He also gains a much grander mission than plain and simple revenge.

“Braveheart” is an old-fashioned film in all the best senses of the phrase. It deals with grand ideas: freedom, honor, nobility, and makes all of them unbelievably fresh. It also has a broad enough canvas to give these ideas their due. I was not prepared for how refreshing it would be to see thousands of extras in blue face makeup fighting with swords. Or to see a thousand men mooning the opposing side in a battle, for that matter. (Now THAT is a sight to see). The scope of this movie is the main reason I have for recommending it. It’s marvelous, and amazing. I still watch some of the events of this film and wonder how they were done. For example, how do you fake raining arrows into a crowd of troops? I’m still scratching my head over it.

But even the smaller scenes in this movie work in an exhilarating fashion. The relationships in this movie are riveting, particularly the scenes between a young noble (Robert the Bruce, played very well by Angus McFayden) and Wallace. Their relationship, I believe, is the heart of the movie, even though the movie contains two separate (and equally powerful and affecting) romances. Wallace is a man who knows the right thing most of the time and does everything in his power to make sure that it is done. Robert is a man who is still searching his heart for the right thing to do and overcoming great opposition in order to follow his heart. There is a scene on a battlefield between the two of them that is nothing short of heartbreaking.

There are many scenes that are heartbreaking in this film, in fact. Watching this movie again on DVD recently, I was struck again by the sheer power of this film. The battle sequences are filled with an adrenaline and brutality that is unlike anything that has come before it (and since has only been matched by the beginning of “Saving Private Ryan”). There is a rush to the battles here, and also a lack of the confusion that mars such scenes in other such films. But even beyond the battlefield there is a power here. The movie flows effortlessly to its conclusion, bewitching you and spellbinding you so completely that you barely notice you have been watching for three hours until the final credits roll. And Mel is to thank for a great deal of it. His direction is great. He has taken a story that easily could have degenerated into confusion and had a “been here, done that, seen ‘Spartacus’” feel to it and made something new. His acting is awesome. Mel barely even needs to speak during the course of this movie. His face conveys just about everything you need to know. As does the fine work of Angus McFadyen as Robert the Bruce. The music and the editing are also quite noteworthy, adding immensely to the effectiveness of the whole affair. Not to mention the structure of the screenplay. Hell, the costumes and makeup are worth noting. I loved the muddy, lived-in feel this movie has. This is no costume epic where everyone’s costumes look as if they had rented them and were afraid to get them dirty. The clothes here, even those of the nobles, look like they could use a good washing. In short: they look real.

Faults? All I can think of is the fact that the English are portrayed maybe just a little too evilly. But this story is not about them. It’s about the men who fought them. It’s from their viewpoint. The English may very well have been swell dudes in real life. But it’s a bit hard to see that from where the Scots are standing.

“Braveheart” is worthy of every award it was given. It is a towering achievement, especially coming from a second-time director. Powerful, moving, visually stunning and brutal.

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2002 / 109 Minutes / PG-13
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

“Signs” passes the ultimate spooky movie test. The night after I saw it, I was almost asleep when I heard a noise in the dark. I thought of this movie and my eyes popped wide open. A test of a good scary movie is if it shows up in your mind in the middle of the night and robs you of some sleep. “Signs” hasn’t yet cost me as much sleep as “The Exorcist” (I only lost a couple minutes the other night, but it was enough to make getting back to sleep kinda hard) and I doubt that it will. But it got under my skin, nonetheless. Then again, it doesn’t help that I live in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, my room only a few yards from a cornfield.

But there is another reason that I have come to appreciate “Signs”: I don’t just think about it at night. I’ve been thinking about it during the daylight hours as well. “Signs” is a movie with a great premise and a great way of approaching it. I have seen many, many movies about visitors from other planets (I don’t think I’m giving anything away with that one), but I’ve never seen one quite like “Signs”. I’ve never seen a movie that uses the platform of alien invasion to explore matters of faith and spirituality and belief. I’ve never seen one with a main character like that of Graham (Mel Gibson). Graham was once an Episcopalian minister (the sight of Gibson wearing a white collar was almost unintentionally hilarious the first time I saw it) but a tragic accident has cost him a loved one and his faith. He no longer believes in anything he can’t see. Hell, he doesn’t seem to believe in himself. He is a man whose entire belief system has been shattered. So when he sees the crop circles in the middle of his corn field, he assumes there is a rational explanation. He hopes there is a rational explanation, his eyes seem to insist, because if there isn’t, he’s going to have to come head to head with things he’d rather not consider, with things he may have already dismissed and cast aside.

As you can tell from the above paragraph, this is not your average alien movie. It’s not your average movie either, and for that I am quite grateful. This summer has contained more intelligence than most summers of movie fare, but it’s still refreshing to see a movie so thoughtful, one that so respects your intelligence and does not cheat your emotions or settle for cheap thrills. “Signs” never sells out, even when you fear it might go for the traditional and usual payoff. “Signs” goes boldly where no other alien film has gone. It understands that less is more in a horror film (though I would consider it wrong to classify this film entirely as a horror tale) and that what you don’t see is often a hell of a lot creepier than what you do. Even the best special effects don’t quite convince (the ending of this film only proves that point, unfortunately, but even these effects are used with spare elegance) but a claw or a shadow or a blurry shape that is moving behind the bushes at a children’s birthday party tap into some hidden place in our psyches that we often try not to explore.

“Signs”, like “Contact”, explores how conceptions and ideas would change if we suddenly discovered that there was life somewhere out there. And though there are events of a global scale transpiring in “Signs”, director M. Night Shyamalan is more interested in how these events would effect his core group of characters rather than spreading this thing over the entire world and, thus, spreading it too thin. Most of the action takes place in the farmhouse of Gibson’s character and concern him, his children Bo and Morgan (Abigail Breslin and Rory Culkin) and his younger brother Merrill (Joaquin Phoenix). Each of these actors give a remarkable performance. They all seem like a family, like people who have lived together long enough to have the same reactions to the same events and to share the same haunted demeanor of people who’ve suffered a recent tragedy. They look haunted, and not just because of the signs in their cornfield. Mel Gibson gives another amazing performance. He is easily our most underrated actor. He essays sheer despair, loss and frustration better than any performer I can think of. He seems to wither before our very eyes when he is sad. He seems to crumble, and it is always convincing and always disturbing. Why this man doesn’t have a Best Actor Oscar right next to his Best Director trophy is a bigger mystery than any crop circle. Joaquin Phoenix also gives a first-rate performance. Some of the moments his character is called upon to make real are a bit corny and sometimes ham-fisted, but Joaquin lends an ease to each and every one of them that makes them generally believable.

Shyamalan is a rare filmmaker and a born storyteller. Aside from the occasional trick ending (which, thankfully, this film does without) Shyamalan plays it straight and delivers suspense films in an old-fashioned manner. “Unbreakable” was the only realistic comic book movie I have ever seen, making you believe in a superhuman man simply because he seems so normal and identifiable. “The Sixth Sense” was a morose and beautiful little tale that was elegantly acted and put together and was rewarded with an unprecedented pile of cash. Like early Spielberg (back when he still had something to prove) and Stephen King, Shyamalan does an excellent job of establishing believable characters and then putting them in unbelievable situations which, because of the characters, become believable. His films are so damn absorbing that I forget the world outside the margins of the screen until the final credits have rolled. He puts me on the edge of the seat with the ease of Alfred Hitchcock. He knows how to assemble a team of collaborators. He knows, this time, at least, how to use an excellent score (James Newton Howard’s work here is a true revelation, particularly in the opening credits- which are the best in recent memory). He knows the unease generated by a few subtle and sparingly used sound effects (the sound design of this film is almost without peer). He has remarkable command of pacing and atmosphere. He can conjure dread from the most everyday of things and knows the precise reaction to get from each and every actor. His work with child actors, always so excellent, is another reason to compare him to Spielberg. What other working actor could have an asthma attack and a supernatural event transpiring at the same time and have you more concerned about the asthma attack?

Which is not to say that this film is perfect. Some of the film’s jokes are ill placed and not that funny. And there is a double climax in the film which I felt distracted from both climaxes. But these gripes are just nit-picking. I could feel Shyamalan drawing off inspirations as varied as “Field of Dreams”, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” and “Night of the Living Dead”. But rather than feeling like ripoffs of those films (cough, “Independence Day”, cough, cough) they felt like clever riffs and playful homages to those films. He’s seen them, he loves them, he knows we have too. But he takes the events and notions and takes them off in new directions. He’s almost without peer as a director, particularly in his age bracket. Most guys his age are making smug, self-serving, cynical, foul-mouthed films high on their own so-called wit (cough, Kevin Smith, cough, cough). Shyamalan is aiming higher than that. Shyamalan might be cocky (in an interview he said that he wanted “Signs” to be “a movie that connects with people like ‘Jaws’, I want to make a cultural event”) but he has the talent to back it up. He makes subtle, somber, elegant films that genuine actual tension and terror. He creates believable, down-to-earth characters. He even works bigger themes into each of his films and keeps you talking about them for days afterward.

Sure, “Signs” has a couple problems. But its plotting, structure (with a minor lapse or two) and sheer emotional resonance expose ninety percent of modern popcorn films for the flimsy enterprises which they are. That’s more than enough for me to recommend “Signs”, and to respect the man responsible for it.

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1995 / 171 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

You hear about bank robberies every day. Do you ever stop and think about them? Ever wonder what it must be like to make your living as a man on the take? Ever wonder what cost there must be mentally, emotionally, physically? Ever wonder what goes through their mind?

What of a cop? Ever wonder what it takes to take a man like that down? Ever wonder what kind of a toll such a career must take? Ever wonder what must suffer in their personal life?

“Heat” is a film concerned with such questions, such suppositions. It is a film which flows with a fluid grace. It does not cheat. It does not take shortcuts. It does not click (although it still seems to move rather quickly). It takes its time. It flows like a symphony.

It has a tight plot, even though it is three hours long, or close enough to three hours that it counts. It is nearly Dickensian in its width and its number of characters. It allows you into their lives and see what toll the choices of their lives have made. It allows you to see that the cop’s life is no better, no brighter, no less hectic or nerve wracking than those of the “crooks”. He isn’t even really that better of a man. Each of the men in this elaborate cat and mouse have their good points and their points of failure. Each of them, that is, is human.

If it were not for Pacino’s sometime tendency to overact (after seeing him in “The Insider”, well, this is definitely his lesser performance), I would say that the film is flawless. Even Val Kilmer does an admirable job. Then again, he was still in “Tombstone” mode here. He was icy, cool, and very convincing.

But DeNiro. Now he is what makes this movie. He is the noble, tragic heart of this film and he is pretty much excellent. DeNiro is one of those actors who can disappear into a role so far that you don’t even think he is acting. He seems to have emerged from the womb as every character that he plays and it is astounding to watch. At the end, when he makes a very bad mistake, you can see in his eyes that he is wrestling with it but, in the end, he cannot overcome his own nature. You know what he is going to do, and you fear it, and you want him to do something else, but you know that such a thing would be false.

Oh, I could go on and on, and I have gone on a lot more than I expected. I could do more than hint at the scene where Pacino is running surveillance on DeNiro and someone makes a noise at a wrong time. I could do more than hint at the scene where Pacino stands in the middle of an open space and comes to a vital realization. I could tip off the scene with both men exchanging talk in a diner.

But it would be better for you to discover it for yourself. Just as I did.

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2002 / 94 Minutes / PG-13
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

“Austin Powers”, the original, was one of those pleasant little surprises one sometimes encounters if they go to the theater long enough. I was one of those fortunate souls who actually saw that film in the theater. Most discovered it on home video, where the movie became something of a phenomenon. It was a wonderful skewering of mod sensibilites and Bond film conventions that seemed to have a genuine affection for the sort of films it was sending up. It was also one of the most original and unique comedies in many a moon, filled to the brim with delightful little eccentricities and inventions and with enough quirks and laughs for three such movies.

As a result, none of the sequels has managed to live up to the inspired promise (and premise) of that first one. The abysmal “Austin Powers: Spy Who Shagged Me” replaced wit and invention with bodily functions and lame retreads of jokes that worked the first time around. Thankfully, “Austin Powers: Goldmember” uses neither of those devices. The events and plot of this film are fresh and exciting. Sure, the jokes don’t work as well as they did in the first film, but at least I didn’t leave the theater with my head in my hands groaning as I did after “Spy Who Shagged Me”. More jokes work in this one. The second film felt like it was capitalizing on the first one to make a quick buck. This one seems like it actually has a reason for existing and an idea rattling around in its quirky little head.

“Goldmember”’s plot (such as it is) involves Austin Powers’ father Nigel Powers (played with real pep and playfulness by Michael Caine) being kidnapped by the villainous Goldmember and taken back to the year 1975. It also involves a FBI blacksploitation agent by the name of Foxxy Cleopatra (played with winning style by Beyonce Knowles), a meteor made out of Gold, an evil Chinese businessman with the last name Roboto, and a submarine shaped like Dr. Evil himself. Unlike the last time, “Goldmember” seems to have gotten in touch with the same inspirations and sources that were mined so successfully in the original film, and it seems to have re-located its sense of fun and aimed its humor a bit higher than the crotch. Sure, there are still a few jokes involving bodily functions, but they actually made me laugh this time, which puts them ahead of the aptly-named “gags” in the second flick. After all, the first one even had that really long pissing joke and the “Swedish penis enlarger”. Goldmember” actually seems to betrying to establish and deepen its characters, which is an admirable thing. Mini-Me is more than just a midget gag this time out and Verne Troyer actually manages to invest the little dude with emotion despite his lack of dialogue. I won’t go so far as to call it a great performance, but it’s something to see. Something funny and often engaging. I also liked how Mike Myers actually made something out of the character of Fat Bastard. In his first appearance, he seemed only to exist to bear the brunt of many fart and shit jokes. There are a couple of those here, but thankfully, the film actually makes some good use of the character. He’s a lot less annoying here than he was before and he has a couple of great lines.

What works best? The celebrity cameos, for one thing: they’re hilarious. If you don’t know who shows up in this film, I’m not going to ruin it for you by mentioning their names here. But let me tell you that the appearance of one former Oscar winner holding a cat and pressing a finger naughtily to his lips was alone enough to make me glad I paid to see the film. I also enjoyed Micheal Caine as Austin’s father. My God, Michael has an impeccable sense of comic timing here that takes some jokes that might have otherwise lacked spark and makes them truly sing. He’s great here. I also liked the production design and visual gags. Most of them were top drawer. And I liked how the film builds on the character of Scott Evil and adds neat dimensions to him. There were nice little swipes here, not only at the expense of the Bond and mod spy films of the Sixties but also subtitles, “Mission: Impossible 2″, the whole wire-fu movement in film, and a Styx song.

What flops? The “musical number” by Dr. Evil is just a head scratcher. I have no idea what it was supposed to prove. I also thought there was no point to Britney Spears’ cameo, other than to remind you that she has a song on the soundtrack album (Buy it now!). Oh, and there are some jokes about a mole into Dr. Evil’s organization who has a mole on his face. Those got real old real fast. In fact, the Dr. Evil character as a whole is getting sorta tired. And though Mike Myer’s Goldmember character is sometimes embarrassing, he also has some nice, bizarre moments that I liked quite a bit. Though the whole skin-eating thing is just really, REALLY weird.

Nonetheless, it’s a fun film. It doesn’t quite achieve the sense of playful absurdity of “Undercover Brother”, but it was several steps above the lame “Men in Black 2″ and definitely a vast improvement over “The Spy Who Shagged Me”. Not a perfect comedy, but Austin at least seems to regain some of his “mojo”.

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1989 / 94 Minutes / Unrated
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

How can I not recommend a movie that features footage of a puppet frog shooting up? I ask ya! I really can’t. Sure, it’s offensive. Sure, it’s revolting. Yet it’s pretty damn entertaining if you are in the right mood.

The right mood? Well, I’m not sure what exactly is the right mood for this film. You have to be in the mood to see puppets doing things that you never thought you would see them doing, for one thing. For another, you have to be willing to watch puppets doing things that would make you utterly sick if they were being done by humans. This movie is sorta like “Boogie Nights” and “Requiem For a Dream” rolled into one only, you know, with a dash of “The Muppet Movie” thrown in for good measure. If that sounds like something you are in the mood for, then hunt this baby down immediately before the mood passes!

The film is basically the story of the “Feebles”, a group of puppets that have a variety act.

They’re like the Muppets except that they haven’t hit the big time yet. Yet. They have a big television premiere in twelve hours and they are rehearsing their asses off for it. Yet their problems seem to all be hitting at the same time. The Hippo who is the star of the Feebles is depressed about her weight and suspects that her husband (a walrus) may be cheating on her (with a cat). A young hedgehog with a speech impediment has just arrived at “The Feebles” stage for his big break and fallen in love with what I think is a dog(?). The frog knife-thrower is having flashbacks to Nam and needs his fix of heroin. A rat who sounds suspiciously like Peter Lorre is making porn films in the basement involving a cow and an anteater (I think) who has a penchant for panty-sniffing. And on top of all that there is the rabbit who believes he may be dying of AIDS. If you were laughing while reading this statement, then rush out and rent this puppy. In the course of the film we are treated to Nam flashbacks, a botched drug deal, puppet semen, vomiting, at least one homicidal rampage and a musical number entitled “Sodomy”. Again, if this sounds like your cup of tea, what are you waiting for?

It took me a while to warm up to this film. For most of its running length, I was too taken off guard to really enjoy myself. But toward the end, I found myself laughing quite a bit and really enjoying myself. Once you get into this film’s distinctive groove, you may find yourself surrendering to the hilarious, sick power of The Feebles. A great boon to the film is the fact that it actually bothers to develop its characters. It also seems to have some important things to say about show business, especially about the dark side of it. It’s violent, sick, often ugly to look at, and filmed so low budget that it may have been done on VHS-C (whom I once heard a friend in the video industry describe as “looking like it was filmed through a tank of urine”) but it is totally one of a kind and I have a hard time thinking about it without a smile, no matter how unpleasant it sometimes got.

Most of all, after having seen “Meet the Feebles”, you may find yourself hankering for a nice, inoffensive movie like “South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut” to cleanse your pallet. You may also find yourself wondering how the hell this guy got to direct the Lord of the Rings movies. I know that I was. You may also want to check out “Dead Alive” afterward, just to see something in the same vein.

Amazingly enough, both of them can be found at Movie Gallery.

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2002 / 138 Minutes / PG-13
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

There’s just something completely gripping about a good submarine movie. There is a level of suspense most other thrillers cannot attain. Picture it: you are thousands of feet underwater, in a claustrophobic, little space with a nuclear reactor. How is this not a formula for suspense and terror? There are so many possibilities for excitement there; so many things than could go wrong.

“K-19: The Widowmaker”, fortunately, IS a good submarine movie, and pretty much everything that can go wrong does. “K-19″ is based on the true story of the K-19, a Russian submarine launched in 1961. Before it even put to sea, men had died on it. Four men had died working on the reactor. Several others had died during the construction. On the day that it put to sea, the doctor of the ship was run over by a truck. Before it even goes underwater, the crew of the K-19 are saying that the boat is cursed. Not only that, but they have replaced the crew’s regular captain (Liam Neeson) with a man more idealized by the Communist party (Harrison Ford). The old captain, you see, wanted more time to fix the technical problems of the ship. But Moscow has a schedule to keep, and a missile test to conduct before the Americans can.

“K-19″ is nothing if not riveting. There wasn’t a single moment where I wasn’t interested in what was transpiring onscreen. And for most of the film, I was positioned on the edge of my seat, anxiously watching to see what was going to happen or go wrong next. Much goes wrong during the mission and during the course of “K-19″, and all of it is completely absorbing. I can’t recall any other recent films where I gasped once, let alone as many times as I did here. There are moments of “K-19″ where you can feel the crew’s frustration and terror so tangibly that you can almost feel tears bristling against the lids of your eyes (at least I did) and there was much of the run time in which my heart was in my throat. If you don’t like suspense films, then steer clear of this one. If you like a film that gets your blood pumping and keeps you on the edge of your seat, all the while respecting your intelligence and yet, unlike most work based on the writings of Tom Clancy, works on your emotions, then this is definitely a film worth seeing.

I also loved the excellent acting on display here. Neeson gives a commanding and rousing performance as a captain whose first and foremost concern is for the safety of his crew. Harrison Ford is a bit much at times, but he still does an admirable job of playing a man consumed by a desire to accomplish the mission he has been given and to be true to the party he respects. That the party eventually wants his head on a platter lends a lovely irony and bitterness to the film. I’ve heard many complaints about his accent, but I found it to be subtle and appropriate. His acting, on the other hand, was a bit broad at times. But he still does a good job, perhaps the finest work he’s done in years. The rest of the actors portraying the crew also do a fine job. They all essay fear and respect with equal finesse, especially in the harrowing moments after the temperature in the nuclear reactor begins to rise.

Credit Katherine Bigelowe for handling this film with such force and finesse. She and her collaborators create a real environment of claustrophobia and dread that never lets up. Aside from “Panic Room”, I can’t think of a recent film which was this effective at generating palpable suspense. For two hours or maybe a little more, you really have the feeling of being there. You can almost feel the sweat and smell the body odor of men under incredible duress. I also loved how the Russian crew of this boat was allowed to show some patriotism for their country. It was really refreshing to see a movie where a country aside from our own gets to show some pride for itself. It’s also refreshing to see a film that does not demonize the Russians during the Cold War, but instead allows us to respect them for their courage and tenacity and see the reason we saw them as such a threat: they loved their country and respected their leaders and believed in their causes as much as we do ours and were just as willing to sacrifice for them.

In the end, “K-19″ works because of little touches like that. It has some a lot of mechanical jargon in it (but we always know what the men are trying to accomplish, even if we don’t specifically know how) and a lot of submarine action. But it never loses sight of the fact that there are real human beings here, worthy of our attention and sympathy. “K-19″ is the best submarine film since “The Hunt For Red October”, and a real monument to the men of “K-19″ and the effort they put in to save not only face but possibly the world. It is also a testament to all soldiers who fight for a cause they believe in, even if that cause doesn’t always respect them in return. I highly recommend it.

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2002 / 99 Minutes / PG-13
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

Rarely have I seen a film piss away its potential as quickly as “Eight Legged Freaks”. In the first moments of the film, a truck which is conveniently hauling toxic waste swerves to avoid hitting a rabbit. A drum of the toxic sludge rolls down into the river, right next to a scene indicating the whereabouts of an exotic spider farm. The good vibes even extend to the scene where the owner of the exotic spider farm (who has been feeding his pets on tainted grasshoppers) is bit by a now-mutant, toxic spider. He flails about, destroying every spider cage, as he dies.

Now, I’m not saying that these scenes are ingenious or great, but they are witty and seem to know the universe that a film like this should inhabit. They seem to suggest that the filmmakers know their cliches, are toying with them, and are enjoying themselves doing it. This is the sort of trick that the makers of “Tremors” pulled off so successfully so many years ago.

This clever mastery of genre seems to dissipate as soon as David Arquette pulls into town. After this, there are some clever bits. And it is amusing that the town has settled for toxic waste disposal after all other ways to improve their local economy have failed. It has clever moments. And it had a lot of characters that I felt an affinity toward. I liked Kari Wuhrer as the hot lady who is the small town sherriff. I liked Scarlett Johanssen as her daughter. But I think I only liked these two because they brought their own charm to the roles. Otherwise, I wasn’t very hot on any of the other characters. Arquette doesn’t have the necessary charisma or charm to make his role work. He seems natural enough, I guess, but he doesn’t give us any reason why we should really care. Neither does the rest of the movie.

And, still, it has a sort of charm to it. Not a great charm. No. But it does have something going for it. There are moments where the movie knows what it is doing. I liked that the townsfolk actually broke out the guns and started kicking some spider ass eventually. It’s refreshing to see a movie where the people actually fight back. I’m so bloody sick of humans just lining up to be food in these films. It knows all the cliches, though it isn’t quite bold enough to turn them on their ear or play too much with them. After while, it stops being a clever homage and riff on old 50’s monster movies and simply becomes an updated 50’s monster movies. The effects are the 2002 equivalent of bad stock footage and rubber spiders: poorly rendered CGI. I’m not sure if this was intentional. I suspect that it wasn’t. Though the movie might be in the on joke. Arquette doesn’t seem in on the jokes, but that isn’t unusual. Doug E. Doug is the worst member of the cast, bringing the usual outraged brother schtick to the role of a wacko with his own alien-related radio show.

Ah hell. Even though I didn’t like it much, I can’t hate “Eight Legged Freaks”. It’s amusing in spots, which is starting to become a nice change of pace in films, and it at least had the balls to try and revive the giant insect genre (a film that really should be left to rest in peace). But it doesn’t quite hit the mark it’s aiming for, and it’s got some really retarded moments in it. When the abandoned silver mine that never panned out is first mentioned, for example, it don’t take a genius to know how this particular sub-plot is going to play out. And the movie itself seems to forget about the kid on his dirt bike who is trapped in the mines by giant spiders. It does have its moments, but not many of them. It still feels to me like a poor man’s “Tremors”.

A very poor man’s “Tremors”. In fact, a homeless man’s “Tremors”.

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1965 / 108 Minutes / Not Rated
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

I’m not quite sure which “Our Man Flint” and it’s sequel “In Like Flint” are really supposed to be. Are they a spoof of the James Bond films and all the other spy movies of that sort which proliferated in the 1960’s, during the wake of Bond-mania? Or are they sincere action films that wanted to outdo the Bond series and, due to raising everything a notch, just became so ridiculous as to become a sort of parody? It’s a good question, one that I’m not sure even the filmmakers behind the enterprise can answer. But I do know one thing: “Our Man Flint” is one hell of a lot of fun.

One must have an appreciation for the early James Bond films, and any other movie that respects those conventions, in order to truly enjoy “Our Man Flint”. Not only that, but one must put their minds on hold for a little while and be willing to enjoy the ride. You have to be in a certain mood for a movie like “Our Man Flint”. Though defining what that mood might be is rather difficult. I guess I can sum it up this way: if a movie in which an infallible U.S. secret agent foils the designs of a bunch of scientists trying to control the weather sounds like your cup of tea, then hop on board. If not, well, you best try somewhere else.

James Coburn is great as Derek Flint. He seems to suggest a certain ease and perhaps even boredom with even the most seemingly impossible situations. He never looks remotely worried at any point during “Our Man Flint”. He’s too cool for that. He’s also a bit of a Renaissance Man. He enjoys art, has an appreciation for gourmet food and an encyclopedic knowledge of it, he teaches ballet, he knows karate, he can stop his heart for up to three hours and revive himself at will (don’t ask, though it does come in handy), he has a working knowledge of medicine and he can seduce any woman he comes in contact with. And yet Coburn makes all of this seem as natural as can be. I never could have imagined him pulling off a role which requires such style and elegance (he always seems rather gruff in anything I’ve seen him in) but he does so here with great aplomb. He’s almost a surrealistic character, whose confidence in his own abilities and love for the ladies may be his only weaknesses. He’s a swaggering fighter (I think there’s a fight of some sort every five minutes, just to keep you awake) and a smooth operator. He’s tremendous fun to watch. He also makes James Bond look like an inept boor by comparison. (Calm down, I like the Bond character better; he’s an actual human being.)

The plot is as outlandish as the rest of this film. A group of scientists discovers a way to control the world’s weather and decide to use this device to force every nation in the world to destroy its arsenals and get along with one another. Thus, they hope to create a perfect society. So, yeah, I suppose they are trying to control the world, but they’re doing it for our own good. Sort of like when your parents spanked you because you were doing something wrong. This is a novel approach to a situation of this sort, and it did entertain me. Plus, I loved that these scientists were brilliant geniuses, but they also live on an island inhabited by only henchmen and beautiful, bikini-clad women. They even have a room for programming these women into their sex slaves (these guys rule!) and a large go-go dancing parlor (always convenient to have one of those in your hollowed-out volcano lair). Yes, folks, in case you hadn’t noticed, this IS a Sixties movie. They also use a company which manufactures beauty creme as their “front” company. Why? Damned if I know. Maybe so they can lure in the beautiful women they program into their sex slaves. That’s the only reason I can think of.

The film goes to such campy, absurd lengths that it’s hard not to feel a great deal of affection toward it. As you may have already noticed, this film requires an almost Herculean suspension of disbelief, but it manages to pull it off. If you surrender to the strange, erotic and alluring world of “Our Man Flint”, you will be completely enchanted by it. I almost hesitate to pick out the flaws of the film. (I only pick the flaws on the film’s own level, of course. Campy absurdism and an overdose of machismo could, I suppose, in and of themselves be a flaw.) First of all, if they control the weather, why don’t they use that to try and kill Flint? Though I guess it is a little hard to send a tornado after someone. And, uh, well, that’s about it for my flaws. The action comes fast and furious. The women are gorgeous and scantily clad. Flint is completely unlike any other secret agent I’ve seen in a film. Not only that, but there’s more fun to be had in this movie than in about five regular movies.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to watch “In Like Flint”, in which Derek has all the same powers and knowledges but can also speak the secret language of dolphins. Let’s see James Bond do THAT!

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2002 / 119 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

“The Road to Perdition” shares many things in common with many other gangster films. Of course, there are the usual themes of loyalty, betrayal, retribution and the like. And there’s the character of the hotheaded son of the mob boss, which seems to crop up in all these movies, and of the dandified accountant who is muscled at some point. Those are all the major earmarks of the gangster film. In fact, it might not be categorized as a mob movie without them. But what makes “The Road to Perdition” so interesting, and what sets it apart from other films of its ilk, is that this is more of a personal tale. “Perdition” is a film about fathers and sons and the often-strained relationships between them. Even if your father is not a hit man for an Irish mobster, you will probably be able to appreciate the relationship that develops between Michael Sullivan (Tom Hanks, looking stern and gruff) and his son, also named Michael.

Michael is a mysterious man. His kids aren’t sure what he does for a living. They only know that he works for Mr. Rooney (Paul Newman). They don’t know that Rooney is an Irish mobster in the area surrounding Chicago. Not until one night when his son hitches along to see what his father does, only to see his father and Rooney’s own son Conner gun down a man in a warehouse. (This too is another common thread in mafia-related films. Abandoned warehouses seem only to exist for someone to get whacked in.) Michael assures Conner that the boy won’t talk. Conner seems to approve, until he decides to kill young Michael (except he shoots the wrong kid) and his mother (a woefully underused Jennifer Jason Leigh), invoking the bloody wrath of the older Michael. Father and son go on the lam, and dad comes gunning for revenge: simple as that.

It’s a pretty straightforward revenge movie on the surface. But it plays with nice themes about morality and revenge/justice along the way. It also touches upon the distance that can grow in the relationship between father and son, although in this case you can see the reason for such a distance. It’s an interesting approach to this subject matter, one that I had never quite seen before, and I thought it worked quite well.

Though there are moments that don’t work quite so well. Jennifer Jason Leigh is wasted in her extremely limited role (why even hire this great actress if you aren’t going to give her anything to do?). Jude Law is viciously entertaining as the assassin with a penchant for photography assigned to track Michael down, but even he isn’t used as much as he could have been. By the end of the film, his presence is notably missing, which makes the ending a bit easier to guess than it could have been. The film does seem a tad on the long side (just a tad) and the scenes involving the two Michael Sullivans becoming a father and son bank robbing duo are just a little too playful to fit snugly with the rest of the film.

Aside from these minor quibbles, however, this is a pretty great film. Paul Newman is awesome and charismatic as Mr. Rooney. You can see how he could rally men to his shady causes. Every so often, Newman comes out of hiding and shows you the reason why people still talk about him with such reverence. This is one of those roles. It’s not quite like anything else Paul has ever done, but he’s brilliant in it. I only hope he’s not forgotten come Oscar time. And, though it seems redundant, I hope that Tom isn’t forgotten either. He was unfairly denied a trophy for “Cast Away” and, though I have a feeling there will be better performances this year, his work as Michael Sullivan is bold, new territory. He plays this hit man in a way that reminded me of Clint’s work in “Unforgiven”. Namely, he plays Michael as a man who already has a foot in Hell. He is a damned soul and he appears to know it. He’s not an altogether bad guy, but he kills often in cold blood and without any apparent compunction about doing so. He has a haunted look about him that lends a great deal to the proceedings. He is fascinating here.

The film is shot with haunting elegance and drenched in a glorious atmosphere that is pitch perfect for the events transpiring within it. It’s a beautiful film, filled with haunting moments and woven with a hypnotic touch, much like the director, Sam Mendes, first film: “American Beauty”. It’s not quite as good as that one. But it’s still a great piece of work. Though it is not without its flaws, I was still captivated and mesmerized by “The Road to Perdition”. It’s not perfect, but it’s still a grand achievement that never takes the easy road out.

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