MASQUERADING AS ROBIN HOOD

Russell Crowe teams up with director Ridley Scott for the fifth time with Robin Hood. It’s difficult to forget the massive entertainment these two forces brought audiences with 2000’s Gladiator, and with similar promises of Crowe sporting armor and archery, bloody civil war battle scenes and a love story complete with Cate Blanchett, Robin Hood vows to be a timeless epic adventure.

Right…? Wrong.

The classic tale of Robin Hood brings to mind certain unalienable concepts. 13th century battles won with fiery bows and arrows. Robbing the rich to feed the poor. The dynamic between Marion and Hood. Ridley Scott’s version of the story dangles the Crowe-in-armor carrot in front of unassuming audiences this weekend, only for moviegoers to discover Crowe isn’t even playing Robin Hood.

Here Crowe is actually Robin Longstride, an archer in King Richard’s army who takes fate into his own hands after finding the king and some of his best men dead on the battlefield. Assuming the identity of fallen knight Robert Loxely, Robin and his friends deliver the king’s crown to Queen Eleanor (Eileen Atkins).

The film is more of a poorly guided history lesson than the justice-seeking, triumphant Hood tale audiences are used to. Newly appointed King John (Oscar Isaac) can barely contain his excitement over his brother’s death; now he can publicly blame mom for paying France a hefty ransom to get Richard out of jail that left England in debt. He can also pinky swear to his trusting subjects, led now by Robin “of the hood,” that he’ll sign a charter guaranteeing them certain rights if they all fight for England.

I could be wrong, but I don’t think audiences thought they were paying $10 to learn about the horrors of King John and the Magna Carta when they signed up for the director of Gladiator’s version of Robin Hood.

The film feels similar to Gladiator. Crowe’s scenes with Sir Walter Loxely (Max Von Sydow) are reminiscent of the father-son-like moments between Crowe and Richard Harris in the 2000 film. The following of armor-clad citizens being led by Crowe to possible death is oddly familiar, but ever so much more dull and forcibly didactic with Hood.

Between sub-plots involving English traitors close to the king, Robin uncovering the meaning of his father’s death when he was a child, and a pretend-turned-(surprise!)-real relationship with Marion, it’s possible to actually miss the few Robin Hood-esque moments in Robin Hood.

Doze off for a second (and you might) in the first hour and you’ll miss one of the film’s two master archer follow-Robin’s-arrow-to-the-target moments. And there’s something to be said of the fist-pumping speeches given by this Robin. There are none, really. Only a short lecture the length of a Rhianna ring tone (and probably just as inspiring) describing a country’s need for equality of income to preserve honor. Honor schm-onor.

Whether it’s King John lying to England or Robin impersonating someone he is not, there are few honorable moments or storylines to follow here. Perhaps it’s fitting for modern audiences to watch someone masquerade publicly as a hero, promising citizens things they won’t get. Some might agree that Americans are fairly used to disappointment by now – they just didn’t expect it from Crowe and Scott.

- Hillary Smotherman

WHEN SUPERHEROES BECOME ROCK STARS

A rock star hero with narcissistic tendencies. A revenge-thirsty physicist villain with a special suit equipped with electric lightening whips as weapons. An impossibly sexy assistant for rock star who isn’t who she says she is. A seedy senator and greedy US government eager to get their hands on rock star’s “weapon” suit. A palladium core imbedded in our hero’s chest necessary to keep him alive that is poisoning his blood, slowly killing him. Welcome to the first 45 minutes of Iron Man 2.

More plot will be added in the second half – but don’t expect this second installment of the franchise to be weighed down or tired. Fret not about director Jon Favreau dizzying the film with superfluous shots or shoving story down your throat, because he won’t. Don’t be intimidated by an almost entirely Oscar-recognized cast, most of their best recent work in this film. Iron Man 2 is so entertaining, you’ll forget how well done is.

The release of any sequel following a wildly successful predecessor is nearly impossible to live up to. But Iron Man 2 is a spine-tingling adventure, artful and well-designed enough to take it’s seat with comic book sequels like The Dark Knight and Spider Man 2.

Everything has grown since the first film. Public approval of Iron Man/Tony Stark (played by the always endearing Robert Downey Jr.) has reached new heights - as has Stark’s ego. Claiming the world’s longest peaceful run due to Iron Man, Stark charms a courtroom and walks out of a senate hearing before dismissal, blowing kisses at the cameras.

All of this film’s characters have motives of their own, even some closest to Iron Man. At Stark’s birthday party, buddy Col. James Rhodes (Don Cheadle) steals a superhero suit for the government, after a drunken Stark uses his suit to shoot watermelons into pieces in front of an excited crowd (all this after Stark calling attention to urinating – yes, urinating – in the suit).

Stories oscillate from Ivan building warrior drones for Hammer and the US government to shame Stark at his own expo, to Stark searching for a solution to his palladium health problem. And audiences will embrace Stark’s self-described “sold-ish” relationship with Pepper, watching her squirm with envy as he hires Natalie (a seductive Scarlett Johansson) as secretary after Tony hands Pepper the keys to Stark Enterprises.

The strongest scenes shine with comeback kid Mickey Rourke, who plays villain Ivan Ranko to perfection. Seeking revenge for a dead father who was shamed by Stark Sr., Ivan harnesses electrical energy in a contraption to rival Iron Man’s suit. After Stark’s technology rival Justin Hammer (Sam Rockwell) bails Ivan out of jail in an attempt to join forces against Iron Man, one wonders how long Ivan will play nice with Hammer – especially when he greets Ivan for the first time with a mouthful of food and wearing a napkin as a bib.

Not a beat is missed in this movie. All hail to comedic actors turned-directors (Ben Stiller very much included) who know how to conceptualize a film and work with actors. Favreau’s second Iron Man installment will leave very few people wanting more. More action. More comedy. More pitch-perfect dialogue or back and forth banter. Crucial fight sequences between Iron Man and Ranko will leave audiences cheering.

If moviegoers stick around for the credits, as all gracious and grateful audience members should, they just might get a taste of Iron Man 3 sequel set-up. Fitting for Favreau to tease Iron Man fans with a scene as they’re exiting the theatre. Every rock star leaves the stage at least once before rushing back for a crowd-pleasing encore.

- Hillary Smotherman

DIRECTOR GONE WILD

Music video director Sylvain White must have been thrilled to helm a mainstream comic film, after delivering critical disasters like the straight-to-video horror flick I’ll Always Know What you did Last Summer and the dance-themed, battle-driven movie Stomp the Yard. I didn’t anticipate much from this April action release, and I was still disappointed in almost every way. I expected more from Friday Night Lights screenwriter Peter Berg than amateur banalities like “showtime fellas!” The filmic result of DC Comic’s war series is an utter mess – a one-and-a-half hour wild and exhibitionistic music video with a cast lackluster enough to make one reminisce the good old action movie days of the 90’s – when superstar heroes (Schwarzenegger, Jackie Chan) weren’t given enough successive lines to ruin the film.

I usually love revenge movies because of the sheer simplicity of the story. Someone wronged you. Now you’re willing to put everything on the line for justice. Here we have a CIA special ops team sent in to the Bolivian backwoods to locate and destroy a drug operation. After the team is attacked and presumed dead, they decide to follow the voice on the (inter)”com” which led to their seeming demise. They escape South America through the help of Aisha (played by Avatar’s Zoe Saldana), a mysterious operative with her own plan. Masquerading as a native prostitute (I’m sure there is an ample supply of good-looking-enough-to-be-a-supermodel hookers roaming the backstreet bars in Bolivia), Aisha happens to know where they can find Max, the group’s enigmatic target on the other end of the “com."

The plot was thick enough with revenge, but it congeals like tar as we discover Max (played to uncanny, comic perfection by Jason Patric) intends to purchase “green” weapons of mass destruction. These smart bombs are described as “pure destruction. No pollution.” Terrorists with a conscience and a reverence for the environment? Absurdity.

This film is unbalanced and out of control in so many ways that it becomes comedy to continue watching. We expect Aisha to hook up with Clay (loser leader Jeffrey Dean Morgan), but when she saunters into his room at night, ready for action and holding a bottle of liquor, it’s more confusing than sexy. There’s been no establishment of a connection between them at all.

What’s even more daunting is the devotion the losers have to Clay. Established in the beginning of the film to be in charge of “operational control,” Clay is the officer in command. I get it. But there’s a nonchalant arrogance Morgan gives his character that seems completely unwarranted by any real talents or leadership. He wears a tuxedo shirt and slacks throughout the film for no reason I could decipher other than a futile attempt to channel George Clooney à la Ocean’s Eleven. Clooney was in a casino in that movie. And he’s Clooney.

The only engaging scenes in The Losers are owed to Patric’s cunning Max. Watch for the chemistry between him and his beefy sidekick Wade (Holt McCallany) as an exasperated Max places three orders for a firing squad. With the exception of this duo’s onscreen chemistry, the end of this film could not come quickly enough for me. With ostentatious shots that simultaneously speed up and slow down while zooming in and pulling out, then turn to comic Lichtenstein within five seconds, the speed of White’s movie alone will make the audience want to throw up his/her popcorn. The urge to regurgitate should only continue with lines like “payback’s a bitch,” and a steady bombardment of ridiculousness that does not stop (before a young Bolivian boy catches a helicopter ride to safety, note Morgan’s affected grin as he hands him a stuffed teddy bear and speaks to him in broken Spanish).

If you’d like to watch a good result of a music video director given reign with a feature film, rent David LaChapelle’s Rize. I understand entrusting an acclaimed video director with a documentary chronicling a dance movement. The only result you’ll get from watching The Losers is nausea. If you must see it, go to a matinee - and save the extra four dollars for Dramamine.


- Hillary Smotherman