In Theaters: May 1, 2009

Reviews of X-Men Origins: Wolverine and The Limits of Control

X-Men Origins: Wolverine
Directed by Gavin Hood
Starring Hugh Jackman, Liev Schreiber, Taylor Kitsch, Ryan Reynolds
*

I wanted to like X-Men Origins: Wolverine, really I did.  For one thing, I’ve been craving a great comic book movie ever since that disappointing Watchmen flick slunk in and out of theaters in March.  More importantly though, I was hoping to offer the film some positive words of encouragement after its tortured production process, during which numerous reports of on-set and editing room tension between director Gavin Hood and the studio trickled out into the press.  Wolverine also suffered a major body blow when an almost completed print (sans special effects) leaked online a month before its release.  And as if that’s not enough, the film arrives in theaters during the current swine flu scare, which could cause millions of potential moviegoers to stay at home catching up on their DVDs.  I know Wolverine is supposed to be a bad-ass and all, but c’mon—enduring a series of unfortunate events like this could cause even the steeliest superhero to start weeping like a girlyman.

Like Watchmen, the first ten minutes of Wolverine had me alternately concerned and optimistic.  Although the first scene—which provides a brief glimpse at the title character’s childhood in 1840s Canada—lands with a thud thanks to tone-deaf dialogue and amateur-hour performances, it’s followed by a well-executed opening credits sequence that depicts the now-grown James Logan (played once again by Hugh Jackman) and his brother Victor Creed a.k.a. Sabertooth (Liev Schreiber) fighting side-by-side and over the decades in a series of major American conflicts, from the Civil War to Vietnam.  It’s a clever way of covering the characters’ century-spanning histories and reminding moviegoers of their respective powers—specifically bony claws for Wolvie, ultra sharp fingernails for Sabertooth and invulnerability for both.

But then the movie actually starts and that cleverness vanishes, never to be seen again.  Filmed from a script that doesn’t feel so much written as cut-and-pasted together out of a number of rough drafts, Wolverine is a complete and utter mess, one that makes the third X-Men flick look like The Dark Knight in comparison.  Where to begin with the film’s list of offenses?  Let’s start with the story, which attempts to shed light on Wolverine’s past but instead winds up making his origin murkier.  After more than a century as a soldier-for-hire, James walks away from war—and his increasingly unhinged sibling—to pursue a solitary existence as a lumberjack somewhere high in the Canadian Rockies.

But when Victor shows up and murders his lady love, Kayla (Lynn Collins), he allows himself to be talked into participating in a top-secret military experiment by his old army boss William Stryker (Danny Huston) that gives him those famous metal claws.  Seconds after creating the perfect weapon though, Stryker inexplicably decides he has to be killed, forcing the newly-named Wolverine to go on the run.  While pursuing Victor—and avoiding Stryker—he crosses paths with a bunch of new mutants, including Gambit (Taylor Kitsch), John Wraith (will.i.am) and The Blob (Kevin Durand).  Nonsensical and downright dumb story points abound, from the revelation of how Wolverine got that famous jacket (some old guy on a farm gave it to him) to the explanation for his amnesia in the original X-Men trilogy (it’s because…sorry, that plot point is just too idiotic for me to reveal).

The film’s relentless stupidity might be easier to forgive—or at least ignore—if it offered well-executed battles or lively performances.  But Hood appears to have little sense of how to choreograph a coherent action sequence and the sub-par special effects don’t help matters.  Despite a budget that’s reportedly in the neighborhood of $150 million, Wolverine all too often resembles a cheaply made direct-to-DVD movie, with distractingly bad CGI and digital backgrounds that are so poorly rendered, you can almost see the greenscreen.  The cast brings nothing to the table either; will.i.am delivers the worst performance by a rapper-turned-actor since Ludacris in Max Payne, while Kitsch mangles Gambit’s Cajun accent so badly, he should probably make a point of avoiding New Orleans for a couple of years.  Even Jackman seems to have lost the effortless cool that he brought to the character nine years ago in the first X-Men adventure.  That Wolverine was someone we wanted to see more of–this guy is a total drag.  The movie’s one redeeming factor is Schreiber, who has such a good time being the bad guy he merits his own spin-off adventure.  Just think about it: X-Men Origins: Sabertooth, in which Wolverine’s older, cooler brother kills such lame so-called heroes as Jubilee, Dazzler and Iceman.

Verdict: Skip It

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Also in Theaters:

The Limits of Control
Directed by Jim Jarmusch
Starring Isaach De Bankolé, Paz de la Huerta, Tilda Swinton, Gael García Bernal
****
Like blank verse poetry or atonal jazz, Jim Jarmusch films are an acquired taste.  Either you dig the fiercely independent director’s offbeat vibe or you find his movies about as appealing as invasive surgery.  Personally, I’ve liked almost every Jarmusch film I’ve seen—his last film, 2005’s Broken Flowers, was my second-favorite movie of that year, behind Terrence Malick’s The New World—but I have a special place in my heart for his more experimental pieces like the trippy western Dead Man.  The director’s latest feature, The Limits of Control, may be his most abstract yet—a virtually plot-free “thriller” that follows the adventures of the so-called Lone Man (played by African-born actor Isaach De Bankolé, making his fourth appearance in a Jarmusch film) on his journey across Spain to complete an unspecified mission.  Along the way, he encounters a series of strange associates—played by an all-star supporting cast that includes Tilda Swinton, John Hurt and Gael García Bernal—who may or may not be figments of his imagination.  Working with the great cinematographer Christopher Doyle, Jarmusch crafts what may be his best-looking film to date.  The compositions are so beautiful, the lighting so exquisite, any frame of this movie could be snipped out of the film print and hung in a gallery.  Jarmusch’s eclectic taste in music continues to impress as well; the score consists entirely of compositions by cult Japanese rock outfit Boris and homegrown metal act Sunn O))).  Their wailing guitars and otherworldly rhythms perfectly complement the film’s dreamlike atmosphere.  (If you’re interested in hearing more from these bands after seeing the movie, check out the two tie-in albums now available on iTunes, an official soundtrack as well as a companion record with music from Jarmusch’s own group, Bad Rabbit.)  All in all, The Limits of Control casts a hypnotic spell that will entrance some viewers—myself included—while leaving others searching for the nearest exit.
Verdict: See It

Jazz in the Diamond District
Directed by Lindsey Christian
Starring Wood Harris, Clifton Powell, Monique Cameron, Erica Chamblee
**
The Washington D.C.-setting is the only novel part of this cliché-ridden indie melodrama about a pair of sisters who experience a variety of personal and professional problems after their mother succumbs to cancer.  Leah is a promising dancer who has put her college plans on hold to care for Mom, while her older sibling Jasmine went off to pursue her music career.  Now back in D.C., Jazz hooks up with a local hip-hop crew and suddenly finds herself on the path to stardom…until she crosses paths with a shady music producer.  Preachy and unnecessarily cruel in its treatment of its title character—whose sole sin seems to be her starry-eyed ambition—Jazz in the Diamond District has little to offer beyond shots of D.C. neighborhoods that are rarely glimpsed in mainstream narrative films.
Verdict: Skip It