Bovie Movie

The pairing of Robert De Niro and Eddie Murphy probably looked rather better on paper than it proves to be on screen in this so-so action comedy. The two leads mix and match their contrasting styles fairly well: De Niro is typically tough and taciturn as a serious undercover cop while Murphy’s motor-mouthed persona suits his ambitious patrolman with thespian aspirations. The comedy kicks in when the chalk-and-cheese duo are teamed up by a TV producer (an underused Rene Russo) for a new reality cop show — an action subplot, involving the hunt for an illegal supergun, serves simply to bridge the funny bits — and William Shatner contributes a spot-on cameo, coaching the screen debutants on how to be TV policemen. Overall, this is an adequate popcorn movie. 

Even though Jim Carrey has as many detractors as supporters, there’s no denying his breakthrough hit Ace Ventura: Pet Detective exuded a barmy charm, but this silly sequel is often just plain irritating. For this adventure, Ace is off to Africa where he gets mixed up with warring tribes and the hunt for a rare bat. The slim plot is just the flimsiest of excuses for Carrey’s wacky grimaces and elasticity, while the slapstick is relentlessly juvenile and director Steve Oedekerk’s direction lacks the surreal inspiration of the original. Visiting Britons Ian McNeice and Simon Callow struggle to bring a little dignity to the proceedings. 

Scott McGinnis and Jeff Osterhage try valiantly to drum up some knockabout bonhomie here as Wild West outlaws enrolled in a British fighter squadron during the First World War, but everything from the stereotypical characters to the risible banter is against them. Bearing in mind the technical expertise of director Zoran Perisic (who worked on the special effects for Superman) and experienced cinematographer David Watkin, this adventure should at least have looked good. However, the aerial action is so inept that it only emphasises the shortcomings of a buddy movie that compounds its crimes by wasting such a promising premise. 

The School of Rock is that rare thing: a kid’s film that doesn’t patronise or pander to its target audience and has enough wit to also entertain adults. Jack Black is outstanding as Dewey Finn, an unemployed rock guitarist who passes himself off as a supply teacher and enlightens the sheltered pupils of a posh private school with the joys of rock ‘n’ roll. Joan Cusack provides excellent comic support as the school’s headmistress who is twitchily uptight but by no means unsympathetic. Director Richard Linklater (the indie darling best known for Slacker and Dazed and Confused) deftly avoids the saccharine schmaltz and pre-programmed plot lines that can easily ruin these kind of films. He miraculously manages to extract not one, but more than half a dozen enjoyable, natural performances from his precocious young cast. Rock ‘n’ roll purists may lament the inevitable absence of the sex ‘n’ drugs components, but this is expertly crafted escapism and a near perfect family movie. 

Screenwriter Don Mancini, who created killer doll Chucky, makes his directorial feature debut with this, the fifth entry in the franchise. Here, Chucky (voiced, as always, by Brad Dourif) and his bride, Tiffany (breathlessly vocalised by Jennifer Tilly), are brought back to life by their gender-bending offspring Glen/Glenda (Lord of the Rings’s Billy Boyd) on the set of the Hollywood film chronicling their murderous exploits. The terrible toys then attempt to transfer their souls into the movie’s director (real-life rapper Redman) and Tiffany’s favourite star, Jennifer Tilly (playing herself), who generates the film’s biggest laughs with a go-for-broke send-up of her own ditzy persona. Genuinely sick and fitfully funny, this technically terrific horror spoof plays exclusively to the gore gallery with some insane parodies and in-jokes, and also revs up the bad taste quotient with a cameo appearance from Pink Flamingos director John Waters, who pops up as a sleazy paparazzo. 

Director Lasse Hallström and screenwriter William Wheeler’s smart and playful account of one of the greatest literary scams of all time benefits from a brace of great performances in the shape of Richard Gere and Alfred Molina. In 1971, failing author Clifford Irving persuaded publishers McGraw-Hill that he was working on an authorised biography of eccentric recluse Howard Hughes, and thus banked a gargantuan advance. Gere is well cast as the charismatic Irving, conveying the slightly seedy charm he employed in Amerian Gigolo, and the always watchable Molina plays his nervy best friend and collaborator, Dick Suskind. The fabrications soon mount up, and what results is a desperate race to fake the necessary evidence, with Irving betting that Hughes won’t come out of hiding to reveal the truth. The film is pacey, funny and often enjoyably tense. The real Irving was less impressed, though — cheekily objecting to the movie playing fast and loose with the facts. He described it as “a hoax about a hoax”. 

“My Big Fat Independent Movie” is a spoof along the lines of “Scary Movie” and “Not Another Teen Movie.” It includes parodies of some of the indie film world’s most renowned movies such as “Memento,” “Pulp Fiction,” “Magnolia,” “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” “Amelie,” “Run Lola Run,” “El Mariachi,” “The Good Girl,” “Pi,” “Swingers” and many others.

Rod Kimble (Andy Samberg) is the self-proclaimed Evel Knievel of suburban America, performing Jackass-style stunts on his moped. He’s an incompetent daredevil, but when his macho stepdad Frank (Ian McShane) needs a life-saving heart operation, Rod dons his cape and fake moustache and attempts to earn $50,000 by jumping over 15 buses. Samberg, director Akiva Schaffer and Jorma Taccone (who plays Rod’s stepbrother) are Saturday Night Live alumni who gained internet fame with a fake rap video, so it’s fitting that Rod’s painful, amateur stunts wouldn’t look out of place on YouTube. The rest of Samberg’s humour is rather more patchy — lots of mirthless interludes only occasionally enlivened by spoofs of 1980s pop videos and childishly surreal asides on who would win a fight between a grilled cheese sandwich and a taco. 

Martin Lawrence embraces his feminine side once again in this uninspired sequel to the smash-hit comedy. When a deadly computer “worm” threatens national security, FBI agent Malcolm Turner (Lawrence) disguises himself as chubby grandma Hattie Mae Pierce and poses as a nanny to infiltrate the home of suspect Tom Fuller (Mark Moses). Unsurprisingly, chaos ensues as Big Momma tries to juggle law enforcement and “her”own unconventional take on domestic perfection. With its tired plot and weak dialogue, the film is forced to focus on cheap, visual gags, getting extensive comic mileage from the idiosyncrasies of Momma and her three dysfunctional charges. Director John Whitesell (Malibu’s Most Wanted) works hard to keep the humour flowing, but despite occasional moments of crude hilarity, there’s just not enough substance here to justify this lazy cash-in. 

Director Sue Heel’s debut movie comes across as a sort of distaff version of The Full Monty, as a beautiful Italian woman fetches up in Newcastle upon Tyne and, through her own brand of sex education, tries to help some local ladies put the heat back in their cooling relationships. In her first starring role, former TV presenter Kelly Brook is certainly alluring enough to play a voluptuous bombshell, although her ability to sustain an air of mystery recedes pretty rapidly. On the other hand, supporting players Emily Woof, Dervla Kirwan and, especially, Margi Clarke are exceptionally good as the women who learn how to live through Brook’s sensual instruction. Unsurprisingly, Brook’s plans go a bit pear-shaped, but at least Heel manages to move matters along to a cosy if sentimental conclusion.