The Motorcycle Diaries

The Guevara characterized in Walter Salles’ seductive new film The Motorcycle Diaries is a far cry from the iconic figure, sporting beard and beret, found in so many dorm rooms and poetry lounges. This is Ernesto Guevara de la Serna (Gael García Bernal) in his mid-20s, before he was Che. The film picks up Guevara’s life in 1951 as he embarks with his compatriot, Alberto Granado (Rodrigo de la Serna) on his travels—powered, initially, by the namesake motorcycle, of course—bound for the southern tip of South America. He is a far more accessible figure, and his journey radiates a certain lost-soul aura to which even a hardened capitalist could relate. (ZMS)

Primer

Primer, the directorial debut of Shane Carruth, lacks any narrative thread, but essentially is a story about four broke, 30-something engineers who create a mysterious box in their garage that defies scientific rationality and seems to give them inexplicable control over life. Two members of the group, Aaron (Shane Carruth) and Abe (David Sullivan), decide to probe what potential their creation might have: They explore the commercial possibilities of time-travel for a few hours each day, encounter dreadful mishaps in a Scooby Doo-esque fashion and finally, things end quite badly, with the audience, plot and characters in a state of sheer confusion. (KMM)

Ray

There is something like ashy molasses in Ray Charles’ voice: dripping syrupy sweet with southern charm yet charged with gritty, unhewn candor, it resonates with a sense of immediacy and emotional clarity that is nothing short of divine. And yet somehow, even after 17 tedious years of development, Ray, based on Charles’ life, does not muster any semblance of the splendor within his music. The film lacks emotional attachment on any level and fails in every way as a meaningful addition to his life and legacy. With a mix of deceitful, manipulative Hollywood story telling techniques masquerading as artistic strokes and tacky, unfocused, pop-filmmaking, director Taylor Hackford, manages to turn an amazing story of sheer will triumphing over adversity into a two-and-a-half hour mess that will damage Charles’ memory, even with Jamie Foxx’s almost perfect portrayal of Ray Charles. (BJ)

Shall We Dance?

Director Peter Chelsom’s new movie, Shall We Dance?, has a dance card full of big-name actors but leaves its audience with little other than bruised toes. A remake of Japanese director Masayuki Suo’s 1996 film of the same title—from which it imports most scenes and some dialogue—the movie ultimately seems as bungling on its feet as many of the characters it portrays. John Clark (Richard Gere) wants to ballroom dance. In Suo’s Japanese film this is understandably mortifying because, as a voiceover tells us at the outset, “In a country where married couples don’t go out arm in arm…the idea that a husband and wife should embrace and dance in front of others is beyond embarrassing.” Chelsom never explains what makes ballroom dance equally taboo in 21st-century Chicago. He tries to plug this plot hole subliminally instead by making Miss Mitzi’s look a lot like a brothel, but it’s hard to salvage a bungled plot with neon lighting and sweaty-palmed patrons. (NJH)

Sideways

Writer-director Alexander Payne and co-writer Jim Taylor seemed on a winning streak with Election and About Schmidt: both were inventive and quirky, two qualities their newest collaboration, Sideways, unfortunately lacks. The film follows Miles (Paul Giamatti), a burned-out teacher and struggling novelist, and his best friend Jack (Thomas Haden Church) on a road trip through California’s wine country organized to make the most of Jack’s last days of bachelorhood. Despite their somewhat incredible friendship—they have completely opposing interests, outlooks and goals—the acting is exceptional and Giamatti and Church exude a chemistry that makes their friendship believable and oddly charming. But sadly, the movie is ultimately worthwhile only for its fine performances. Sideways’ structure is painfully episodic, never allowing audiences to become fully engrossed in its obnoxious characters. (GRD)

Stage Beauty

The film suffers from a haphazard and disorganized structure; the shaky cinematography is positively migraine-inducing; and the “mood” lighting simply worked to obscure any attempt to discern what was happening. Stage Beauty opens with Maria (Claire Danes) standing wistfully in the wings while watching a performance of Othello’s Desdemona by her employer, London’s “leading lady” Ned Kynston (Billy Crudup). She mouths his lines with practised passion, for despite a ban on female actresses in public theater, Maria—surprise, surprise—harbors ardent aspirations for thespian glory of her own. The filmmakers missed a golden opportunity to exploit the subtle human side of a fascinating historical moment, creating an unconvincing hodgepodge of hackneyed aphorisms. (JHR)

Team America: World Police

The new Trey Parker and Matt Stone production Team America: World Police is a delirious send-up of the international save-the-world action genre spoofing every movie from the Star Wars trilogy to Knightrider and unsympathetically mocks every public figure from Michael Moore to Kim Jong-Il to, curiously enough, Matt Damon. And they do it with puppets. Unlike most politically-motivated comedies these days, there’s no clear slant towards either the left or the right. Team America is a throwback to the kind of movie that casts the establishment as the good guy and everyone who goes against them are either evil or woefully misinformed. While, to many, such a theme may seem ironic, what makes this movie so pertinent and vital is the fact that this unthinking good-vs.-evil mentality may be more widespread than we’d like to believe. On the other hand, this movie also tells me that beating the hell out of puppets is funny. (SNJ)

Vera Drake