FILM REVIEW: THE RUNAWAYS

Hoyts Distribution
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I'd never heard of The Runaways, the all-girl rock group fronted by Cherie Currie and boasting guitarist Joan Jett, before this film. Jett I had heard of: who doesn't know her signature tune I Love Rock and Roll? That was a post-Runaways hit for Jett, once the girls had crashed and burned after indulging in the excesses of the 1970s rock scene.

Those scenes of excess, which include all manner of drug use and some girl-on-girl action in Floria Sigismondi's film, may disturb some who only know Dakota Fanning (who plays Currie) and Kristen Stewart (as Jett) from their more "innocent" film roles; it certainly feels like only yesterday that Fanning was on the farm with Wilbur the pig in Charlotte's Web.

These are two of the most impressive young actresses working today (in spite of their efforts in the Twilight films) and it's fascinating to watch their evolution. Less fascinating is other people's drug-fuelled trips. Like being at a pub and the only one not drinking, watching other people's intoxicated behviour can only sustain one's interest for so long, and so it is here.

But there's always the music of The Runaways (Fanning and Stewart do their own singing) to keep you entertained, and the seemingly authentic portrayal of the '70s music scene. And there's Michael Shannon (an Oscar nominee for Revolutionary Road) who chews scenery in his portrayal of manager Kim Fowley. Fowley is the kind of guy who has the neighbourhood kids throw beer bottles and dog poo at the girls as they rehearse for gigs.

He also sends them out on the road, more or less to fend for themselves; The Runaways are a hit in Japan thanks to the song Cherry Bomb. But it's partly the being left to their own devices which contributes to their downfall. That Currie (who wrote the book which informs Sigismondi's film) and Jett (who executive produced), survived has more to do with good luck than good management.

I don't imagine too many Twi-hards will be drawn to The Runaways, K-Stew or not. But her punkesque demeanor here suggests that she may more than adequately fill the role of Lisbeth Salander - the goth computer hacker heroine of the Millenium trilogy books – when director David Fincher gets round to filming the American version of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.

FILM REVIEW: TWILIGHT: ECLIPSE

Hoyts Distribution
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“If you like this kind of thing, it’s the kind of thing you’ll like”. That’s perhaps a lazy way of responding to someone’s question about a film (or anything, really) that you don’t have a particularly strong feeling for one way or the other. And so at the risk of being lazy, and incurring the wrath of Twi-hards everywhere, if Twilight is the kind of film you’ll like, then you’ll like Eclipse.

Ney, love. For people who devour the Stephenie Myer books, and the films on which they are based, don’t just like Twilgiht, they love it. LOVE IT! I haven’t read the books which may explain some of my detachment (apathy?) towards this vampire teen romance “saga”, but then I shouldn’t have to have read the source material to like the film: Eclipse, and indeed any book-to-film adaptation, should succeed on its own terms as a film. And for me, the Twilight films do not.

Admittedly, I found Eclipse to be slightly more involving than its predecessors, Twilight and New Moon, perhaps because it is not so bogged down in the teen love triangle – between vampire Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson), werewolf Jacob (Taylor ‘ab-master’ Lautner), and mortal Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart) – which fuels the storyline, and the hearts of adolescent girls (of all ages) who have made the books and films such a worldwide phenomenon.

I’m not sure how much of this new focus has to do with director David Slade (the third director in as many films; Bill ‘Dreamgirls’ Condon will direct the final instalment, Breaking Dawn), who’s no stranger to vampire films having directed 30 Days of Night. There’s certainly more action in Eclipse, although you have to wait until the third act for the climactic battle, where the good vampires and the werewolves, forming an uneasy alliance, take on an army (which consists of no more than 20!) of newborn vampires.

These newbies are in the service of Victoria (played here by Bryce Dallas Howard, herself a Twilight newbie), a vamp who has sworn to exact revenge on Bella since film one, something to do with the death of her beloved. None of that much matters for you’ll either know what the hell is going on or you won’t be in the theatre.

FILM REVIEW: PREDATORS

20th Century Fox
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Predators – a sequel of sorts to the Predator films which began in the '80s with Arnie in a South American jungle facing off with an almost invisible foe; an alien designed to hunt and kill – had the potential to be a guilty pleasure, especially given director Robert Rodriguez's involvement.

But any hopes of a rip-snorting action film to match the spine-ripping action of the said aliens is soon dashed. Wit is not the forte of the writers, Alex Litvik and Michael Finch, and nor is character; here a rag tag bunch of soldiers, crims and transgressors, ranging from the US, Chechnya, Mexico, Africa and Japan. Then again, the predator doesn't have much of a personality either, only ever emoting when he's not happy.

These eight have been transported to another planet where they become the prey in an unpleasant game of cat and mouse devised by a group of these aliens. Royce (Adrien Brody), a mercenary for hire, becomes their unofficial leader but Brody, a fine actor who has an Oscar (for The Pianist), and deservedly so, failed to convince me as an action tough guy, he's certainly no Arnie. And his Christian Bale-Dark Knight grumble doesn't help his cause.

Naturally the team of eight are picked off one by one and it's disappointing that even with Rodriguez's involvement, it's the black man and the Mexican who cop it in the neck first (and no surprises who survives).

I'm not sure that the Predator franchise required a reboot; I'd have thought that the Alien V Predator films were the final nail in that coffin. Then again, Ridley Scott is planning two prequels to his classic Alien film, so anything he can do they can do cheaper and faster.

We also seem to be experiencing, for better or worse (worse in my opinion), a return to 1980s TV and film as a source of “inspriration” for studio films. Predators, like most of these other reboots, in not inspired.

FILM REVIEW: THE KARATE KID

Sony Pictures
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Going in, The Karate Kid already had two strikes against it: it’s a remake (or ‘homage’ as the producers would have us believe) and it has a running time of 140 minutes (e-gads!). As I’ve not seen the original Karate Kid (I’ve seen bits and pieces here and there), my dislike for a remake stems from a disapproval of Hollywood’s increasing lack of originality rather than any nostalgic attachment to the 1984 film, which saw Ralph Macchio take on some local bullies with the help of an old Japanese sensei, Mr Miyagi (an Oscar-nominated Pat Morita).

If you didn’t already know, the 2010 ‘homage’ takes place not in the US but China which accounts for the film’s unnecessary length: if the producers had dispensed with the ‘Travel China’ montages (see the Great Wall, see the Bird’s Nest Stadium, see Tiananmen Square; well, maybe not) they could have brought it in under two hours.

Those producers include Will Smith and wife, Jada Pinkett Smith, so it’s no surprise their son, Jaden, plays the titular role. Dre (Smith) arrives in Beijing when his mother (Taraji P. Henson, Benjamin Button’s mum in a previous incarnation) accepts a job in a car manufacturing plant, although what she does exactly we’re never told: is she on the production line? Within hours of his arrival he’s met a whiter than white kid (who then goes AWOL for most of the movie), become smitten with an aspiring musician, and become the focus of the local bullies who are proficient in the art of karate . . . I mean, kung fu. Karate is Japanese, this is China, the film’s not a remake but they borrowed the name however misleading . . .

Anyway, Dre needs help in defending himself and as luck would have it, the handy man in his apartment complex, Mr Han (Jackie Chan), knows a thing or two about kung fu (hey, it’s China, everyone does!). Cue the training montages (and Travel China promos) as Dre and Mr Han prepare themselves for a tournament that will either make or literally break the young Amercian.

Ok, I’ll admit I’m being glib for the fun of it, for much to my surprise The Karate Kid isn’t an entirely bad film, in fact it’s quite serviceable and even enjoyable. Young Smith is likeable enough and Chan gets one of his better English speaking roles; it’s no secret Hollywood has been unkind to the Hong Kong kung fu maestro over the last decade or so.

Fans of the original, however, may not be as pleased with the results. Some local parenting groups certainly aren’t; they’ve got themselves in a flap over the film’s original M rating being downgraded to PG. For them the violence is apparently too much: won’t somebody think of the children! My guess is the only problem your children will have with The Karate Kid is sitting still for 140 minutes. Ritalin, anyone?