A new term at high school is even more of a trauma for Cady (Lindsay Lohan) than it is for everybody else, since she is not just an out-of-towner but an out-of-Africa, her parents having raised her as a bush baby. Now she is confronted with the complexity of school loyalties and fads, which-as we are reminded by innumerable slo-mo sequences with an added roartrack-are twice as bloodlusty as the lives of African fauna.
Pile together a blue-ribbon cast, a screenplay high in quirkiness, and the Sundance stamp of approval, and you've got yourself a crossover indie hit. That formula worked for Little Miss Sunshine, a frequently hilarious study of family dysfunction. Meet the Hoovers, an Albuquerque clan riddled with depression, hostility, and the tattered remnants of the American Dream; despite their flakiness, they manage to pile into a VW van for a weekend trek to L.A. in order to get moppet daughter Olive (Abigail Breslin) into the Little Miss Sunshine beauty pageant.
Unwanted pregnancy might sound like a risky subject for slapstick comedy, but Knocked Up is from writer-director Judd Apatow--so we are in the hands of a man who likes to push things. And like Apatow's predecessor, The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Knocked Up is a shaggy crowd-pleaser, a comedy strewn with vulgarity but with a sweet heart at its center. A one-night stand between the utterly mismatched Ben (Seth Rogen, his first starring role) and Alison (Katherine Heigl) results in said pregnancy, and the two people reunite for mutual support--even though they barely know each other.
After the tight plotting and quirky intensity of Fargo, this casually amusing follow-up from the prolifically inventive Coen (Ethan and Joel) brothers seems like a bit of a lark, and the result was a box-office disappointment. The good news is, The Big Lebowski is every bit a Coen movie, and its lazy plot is part of its laidback charm. After all, how many movies can claim as their hero a pot-bellied, pot-smoking loser named Jeff "The Dude" Lebowski (Jeff Bridges) who spends most of his time bowling and getting stoned?
As the saying goes, Aaron Eckhart was born to play Nick Naylor, the 30-something "voice of Big Tobacco" in this brazen satire of corporate profits and what lobbyists will do to protect them. Right from the opening, Eckhart is in spin mode, turning the tables on a popular talk show when he states health officials want a young teen stricken by cancer to die more than big tobacco does, since the boy would be a martyr to them, but only a single lost customer to the industry. Audiences gasp, panelists guffaw, and the kid happily shakes Nick's hand.
Jonathan Demme's last idiosyncratic film before he went all mainstream and "serious" with The Silence of the Lambs and Philadelphia is a wacky, energetic comedy that looks at mob life with affection, and established Michelle Pfeiffer as both a stunning leading lady and a consummate character actress. When Angela DeMarco (Pfeiffer), fed up with a house filled with furniture and appliances that "fell off a truck," asks her husband, hit man Frank "the Cucumber" (Alec Baldwin), for a divorce, he laughs at her and tells her she'll never escape the mob's clutches.
When the Devil (Peter Cook) offers suicidal short-order cook Stanley (Dudley Moore) seven wishes, Stanley easily surrenders his soul. All of his wishes are granted, to the letter. Unfortunately, as each wish comes to life, the Devil--cheeky sod!--manages to slip some unexpected problem into the mix, ruining everything in a deliciously funny way. Bedazzled was made long before 10 and Arthur made Dudley Moore an unlikely movie star.
Click is a high-concept, low-brow variation on It's a Wonderful Life that will have Adam Sandler fans laughing even as it leaves Frank Capra spinning in his grave. In their third collaboration (after The Wedding Singer and The Waterboy, Sandler and director Frank Coraci aim at the lowest common denominator and consistently hit their target, from scary casting (David Hasselhoff as Sandler's shallow, sexist boss; Sean Astin in a tight red Speedo) to a rancid menu of fart jokes, fat jokes, oversexed dogs, and other attempts at humor that rarely rise above the level of grade-school pranks.
Much was written about Will Ferrell's first "dramatic role" as Harold Crick, an IRS auditor who begins hearing a voice narrating his life. But Stranger Than Fiction is hardly a drama. However, what Ferrell does--like Jim Carrey before him in The Truman Show--is handle a toned-down character with genuineness and affection: you believe he is this guy. Crick leads a lonely life filled with numbers and routines.
British actress Pauline Collins repeats her stage success as the character Shirley Valentine, a married woman who decides in her middle years that she wants more out of life. Leaving her spouse behind, she heads to Greece, where she grows close to a low-key, local bloke (Tom Conti). Collins and director Lewis Gilbert (Educating Rita) choose to let the character, as she did in the play, speak directly to the audience at times, and the gamble works in terms of creating a gentle, intimate atmosphere. Conti is a bonus, a warm presence and funny to boot.
