Underworld: Rise of the Lycan

Underworld: Rise of the Lycans Unless they start with the words “Lord of the Rings” we should avoid, as a general rule, seeing third-movies-in-a-series like the plague. This is no exception. (There is an interesting story behind how I ended up seeing this one, but it isn’t pertinent to our review. Suffice it to say that Garth Reber was the inspiration behind it.)
I freely admit, however, that my son and I sat through it. After about ten minutes, we began doing our own version of Mystery Science Theater 2000, making snide comments (very quietly—the guy with the candy wrapper three chairs over was making a lot more noise) to one another, offering appropriate quotes from Monty Python, and generally doing a “roast-as-you-go” critique.
Obviously, any movie with both vampires and werewolves has a compelling draw, almost like Mélange, the worm-spice from Dune, and it is likely that I will see it. But that doesn’t mean it will be good. Only Zombies can top the allure of Vampires and werewolves. Oh, and cheerleaders. And dragons, obviously. And anything supernatural. And westerns. Plus anything with a starship in it. (Is it any wonder I loved Serenity so much? It’s a western with space ships, and it has Reavers in it, which are a kind of cross between Zombies and Michael Myers. No, the other Michael Myers.)
The reality created for Underworld is one happily devoid of either internal logic or consistency. The original draw, for most of us, was Kate Beckinsale in skin-tight patent leather, but even that is absent in this prequel. It’s interesting how many movies like this come out, do okay at the box office, and then someone starts to feel guilty and decides to put out a prequel or a sequel to explain the whole thing. Like The Matrix. (The next Terminator movie will be doing that as well.) In this one, Rhona Mitra plays Sonja, daughter of the head-cheese vampire, Viktor. She is stubborn, has a mind of her own, and never listens to daddy. And why should she? He’s only been around a few thousand years . . . what can he know? Plus, she has huge, sultry lips. (I suspect a guest appearance on Nip-Tuck). They have a pet, which is a human child that is part Lycan(werewolf for the terminally un-hip) who can alter its form at will—until the tension reaches a critical level and then its only under a full moon. (Up till this point all Lycans are mindless beasts, having been bitten by another of their kind, and they cannot change back. I’ve never heard of that before, but then I’m not a crypto-zoologist. Oh, wait, yes I am.)
So anyway, the writers try to convince us in five-hundred words or less that the vampires have built a complex society based on all-night parties, collecting tribute from surrounding fiefdoms, and walking around all the time in full armor or black lingerie. Hey—it could happen. We aren’t convinced, not for a minute, but we give them the benefit of the doubt. But then they try to convince us that vampires and werewolves are people too, are still human inside and have feelings and stuff like that. C’mon, really? Vampires are the undead, remember. No way are they people anymore. (Zombies on the other hand are the walking-dead. Aren’t you glad you have me around to explain all this?) And if werewolves have any emotions left they are those of a wolf, not a human. It just won’t fly.
The main problem with this movie (and there are enough to require a complete outline—you know, I, A-B-C, II, A-B-C-D, a-b-c-d-e-f-g-h, etc.) is the inconsistency of the use of powers traditionally attributed to these creatures of the night. Sometimes the Lycan are able to change at will, but other times we are clearly led to believe they can only do so with a full moon. Vampires can do all sorts of cool tricks but hardly ever do in this one, preferring instead to let themselves be slaughtered by the wolves while using swords and axes and stuff. In the minds of the writers and director this is necessary however, because if the vampires were using things like preternatural strength, speed, inner-senses, and their well-known hypnotic powers, there would be no contest. And the movie would be fifteen minutes long.
Oh and the, uh . . . plot. A word about the plot. There is none. Not a hint. What there is, is a pathetic and transparent attempt at a plot by people who should really know better.
On the other hand, there is a great deal of gratuitous blood, violence, lobbing off of body-parts, screaming and roaring and general mayhem. And, as if that’s not enough, there is a love scene! Did I mention that Sonja, Viktor’s daughter, and Lucian, the hybrid werewolf, fall in love and have what amounts to an incestuous relationship? Viktor raised them both as his children, more or less. So we have to sit through like, twenty seconds of all this fancy camera work while two naked people pretend to have sex, with all kinds of fade-out shots offering heavy-handed innuendo as to what they might be doing off-camera. Nice. Real nice. A vampire and a werewolf? Not in this universe.
In the end . . . well, who cares? She dies in a fit of sunlight, killed by her father’s edict. Lucien frees the Lycan slaves and destroys the vampire culture, (but don’t worry, they’ll be back) and Viktor tricks everybody into thinking he’s dead. But we know he’s not because he’s in the first movie which takes place in our own time. Then they all get baptized by an itinerant priest and go live together in a monastery.
This was rated R for ridiculous. The best part of the entire experience was that my son paid for it. Thanks, Grah.

Seven Pounds

Seven Pounds Once in a while a movie comes along that surprises, enlightens, and bridges the gap between life and artifice. This is one of those movies. It seems innocuous at the beginning, almost generic, as if it could go anywhere, be about anything . . . or nothing. It crosses timelines and uses flashbacks to better effect than anything I have seen since Memento. On the surface, it is about a man who carries a terrible burden and wants desperately to be rid of it, knows he can’t, and is willing to settle for some kind of redemption. It is about atonement.
The screenplay is exceptional in its authentic simplicity, the direction is superb, and the acting in every case is chillingly effective. But the surpassing phenomenon in this film is Will Smith. I cannot remember seeing anyone do more with facial expressions alone—ever. And that includes Diane Lane, who I consider a genius of expressive emotion. His ability to communicate what he is feeling is the only organizing layer in a film that bounces around like a three-year old on sugar, and he makes it enough.
I can’t tell you much about it and not give it away. But it is about a man who is trying, in a flawed and desperate attempt, to help seven people he does not know. He wants to change their lives, using limited resources. He does what he can to ensure that they are good people, regular people, who, with a little help have a good chance of making a difference in the world. It is emotionally charged, because Smith fills his character with passion, desperation, anxiety, guilt and love, all at once, and all on the surface as it is occurring, where we can see it. Not once does he allow himself to be relaxed, to forget whatever it is that haunts him. This is undoubtedly Smiths strongest role and deserves at the very least a nomination for best actor. He is good. Very good. Everyone else in the film is superlative as well.
The story is powerful and unfolds with uncanny and clever clarity. We are given glimpses only, but each one is enough to compel us to keep watching, almost forgetting to even guess where it might be going. In the end, Smith’s character allows us to ask hard questions about life and death, and the meaning and worth of each. It topples long-held beliefs and assumptions about issues close to us all. It tells us there are many ways to make a life meaningful, to say you’re sorry, and that not all of them are as obvious or straight forward as we might hope.
Nita and I both give this our highest recommendation. It is rated PG-13. We cannot remember any profanity at all, and there is one brief love scene with some skin but even Nita didn’t object, and she is famously irrational when it comes to skin on the big screen. It is a complex movie. You may not find it uplifting, but I guarantee you will leave the theater thinking. Oh, and bring a box of tissues. You’ll need them.