Five. That’s the number of fights in the movie that is, in fact, called Fighting. Shawn MacArther (Channing Tatum) went from selling rip-off copies of Harry Potter on the street to the top of New York City’s underground fighting circuit in five fights. He sucker punches a guy (1) half-accidentally knocks a guy out (2) is saved from a tap out by a guy in his crew (3) actually throws some punches and beats a guy up for once (4) and then fights against the top underground fighter in NYC. There’s not even a fight montage! Rocky, the king of all boxing movies, was built on the montage.

Rather than call this film Fighting, I would call it Undeveloped Plot and the Furious Fists of Frustration. Harvey Boarden (Terrence Howard) is a con man with ties to gamblers who like to host bare knuckle fighting. Harvey sees promise in Shawn and inserts him into these fights. Shawn manages to defeat or dissuade his three opponents to earn the right to fight against Evan Hailey (Brian J. White), a high school rival who has been antagonizing him the whole time. And what would a Channing Tatum movie be without the requisite love story? Shawn sees Zulay Valez (Zulay Henao) one time (one time!) in a club and two weeks later he is using his winnings to help pay her rent. I’m sorry, but anybody who is that much of a pussy for a girl wouldn’t be able to beat up anybody.

The movie rushed through every scene and seemed more anxious to move on to the next act rather than establish the characters. A contrived love story was jammed down the viewers throat rather than explore the character’s histories. Each part of this movie where there was an opportunity to add depth to a character the movie avoided it as if it didn’t want to distract from the ridiculously predictable main plot. Which makes the end of the movie like a slap to the fleshy patch where your balls used to be, you know you should feel something but there’s no balls so you don’t care.

Howard was surprisingly impressive in his role as the street hustler, although he’s beginning to make a career of standing out amongst a cast of nobodies. However, this movie missed the mark on so many levels I don’t even think middle school girls will enjoy this movie. I mean, Tatum only takes his shirt off in one scene. In a formula movie like this, that’s practically worse than having no fighting in a movie called Fighting. Might as well call the movie Channing Tatum Wears A Shirt.

--Mark Collins

Watching Crank: High Voltage is like watching an experienced video gamer play a souped-up, extra-violent edition of Grand Theft Auto at an incredibly high level. Consider the similarities: Our beloved Chev Chelios (Jason Statham) is as indestructible as ever, only needing to recharge his artificial heart at occasional intervals, much the same way players pick up health. When charged, Chelios reacts with improved stamina and strength, as if he had just used a power up. He marches through the movie/game completing various side tasks and fighting easily defeated cronies while working towards the main goal of getting his heart back. Even the stylized transitions throughout the film can be seen as loading screens that pop up while the viewers wait for the next mission to roll out. When Chelios finally corners the man with is heart (aka the last boss), an epic battle ensues and the audience is treated to the requisite, story-satisfying cut scene that wraps up all the loose ends of the flimsy story. That said, I would buy this video game in an instant if I could. 


High Voltage begins with Chelios falling out of the helicopter from the original Crank. After crashing down, he isn’t on the pavement for more than two minutes before Chinese mobsters scrape him off with snow shovels so they can steal Chelios’ famous heart. Johnny Vang (Art Hsu) makes off with the heart and Chelios must track him down, which involves a lot of ass kicking, car chases and general intimidation, as well as phone calls to Doc Miles (Dwight Yoakam) for advice. Chelios meets up with his former girlfriend Eve (Amy Smart) and takes her on his escapades, using her to save his life in the same fashion he did in Crank (hint: it involves sex in a public place). More desperate for revenge than to save his own life, Chelios has no problem stooping so low as to stick a shotgun up a man’s butt to get the answers he needs. 

High Voltage is completely and unapologetically gratuitous. Writer/Directors Mark Neveldine and and Brian Taylor, who wrote and directed the first Crank, showed their expertise in recognizing what people liked from Crank and magnifying it. The result is a bevy of boobs and butts, curse words used in new and fashionable ways, crass, beautifully-cheesy jokes and unnecessary violence.  I’ve walked away from pornography feeling less filthy about what I’ve just witnessed.

Crank: High Voltage is not a good movie in any way shape or form — it is an awesomely bad movie. Fans headed to the theater know what they’re getting themselves into, and they will get far more than they bargained for. And as if you didn’t already know this, they left it open for another sequel.

--Mark Collins

Observe and Report writer Jody Hill loves bad guys. I don’t say that because Kenny Powers let Stevie Janowski take the fall for his car wreck in Eastbound and Down or because Fred Simmons was an ass-kicking yet inept karate instructor in The Foot Fist Way. "I like to write about bad guys more because they’re cool," he shrugged at the South by Southwest screening of his newest flick, Observe and Report. "They’re a lot more interesting, so I take bad guys and make them good guys.”

Hill spared no evil or endearing quality when he created the occasionally insane group of characters in Observe and Report. Mall cop Ronnie Barnhardt (Seth Rogen) has lost touch with reality--a major character flaw that Hill loves to instill in his main characters. You’ll spend most of the movie incredulous to what Ronnie is doing and saying, but you can’t help but hope he figures out and gets his act together. It’s how impossibly close Hill’s characters come to nearly redeeming themselves before collapsing in a glorious, hilarious fashion that makes us keep watching.  

However, that tale can only be told so many times in a given seating, which is where Observe misses its mark. The characters are well-developed, and the actors obviously grabbed their roles and ran with them, but there just wasn’t enough to keep the story moving. It was a series of side plots lumped together that happened to cluster around a central tale, which is quite flimsy when the final payoff is revealed. The movie is uproariously funny at certain points and held my interest, but I had trouble grasping what was the point of the movie. Twice I had to look at my watch because I wasn’t sure if there were 20 minutes left or a whole 'nother hour.  

The story starts with Ronnie wanting to prove himself to those who doubted him by catching a flasher who keeps returning to his mall. Surly Detective Harrison (Ray Liotta) is called in to assist in the investigation, much to the chagrin of Ronnie, who rallies his crack security squad of the Yuan twins and Michael Pena to help him solve the case. Meanwhile Ronnie lusts after mall makeup clerk Brandi (Anna Farris), who wants nothing to do with him, and ignores the girl who gives him coffee everyday, (Collette Wolfe) who would do anything for him. Ronnie struggles with being bipolar and the lack of respect he commands before the film comes to a head with the loss of his job. 

Contrary to this review, I really enjoyed this movie. The characters are incredibly engaging, and after spending time working in a mall myself, I started to see some frightening similarities to people I was friends with. Michael Pena delivers the performance of a lifetime as the lisping sidekick. Unlike past roles where she tried desperately to win the audience over, Anna Farris was allowed to be mean and dirty because there was no caring for Brandi. Look her most hilarious scene, which is spoiled in the red band trailer, where she and Ronnie have drunken (albeit it not wild and crazy) sex.

I expect this film to find a second life on DVD, when people who were unwilling to pay $10 to see it in theaters get their hands on it, but this isn’t your typical frat boy comedy so don’t expect the cheap laughs — this is a thinking man’s comedy.

--Mark Collins

In its U.S. premiere, Favela on Blast filled every seat in the house. Granted, there can't be more than 150 seats at The Hideout Theatre and Coffeehouse in downtown Austin, but extra chairs and benches that were brought in were immediately filled. Unfortunately, quite a few of those seats were empty before the film ended, as viewers chose not to sit through the mind-numbing two hours of interviews that was passed off as a documentary. 

Favela is the product of hip-hop deejay Diplo (aka Wesley Pentz) who has played a large role in taking the Brazilian funk culture worldwide. With an infectious beat and animated subject matter, I was sure this film would be very pleasing to the senses; I never guessed I’d be fighting to stay awake. With no narration the film struggled to find a direction. Interviews with emcees and deejays were linked back-to-back throughout the film with no real connection between each one. They had great stories to tell, but they were lost in the meandering thoughts of the artists. 

This film is in desperate need of an editor and a central story based around one or more of the characters. Instead of seeing how much this culture was a part of life in the Favela we just heard about it. Viewers never understood why we were supposed to care about what these people were saying.

--Mark Collins

The concept of male camaraderie is not a novel one. Guys have been openly discussing the finer points of music, masturbation and life in general since they could effectively communicate; they’ve just been bashful in admitting their unabated love for one another. I Love You, Man effectively and hilariously knocks down that barrier, as Paul Rudd and Jason Segel will inspire buddies in man caves across the nation to chug beers, slap some bass and tell each other, “I love you, Tico Brohan.” 

The film tells the story of Peter Klaven (Rudd), who has just gotten engaged to his girlfriend, Zooey (Rashida Jones), only to realize he doesn’t have anyone to be his best man. After a series of “mandates,” Klaven meets Sydney Fife (Segel), and the two bond over drinks and a love for playing Rush songs. At the height of their bromance, Zooey gets jealous and Peter must decide where his loyalties lie.  

There isn’t much of a plot here--it's pretty much just a ruse to get Segel and Rudd hanging out on screen for 90 minutes--but the jokes are so consistent there doesn’t really need to be a story. While none of the jokes are particularly memorable, they rarely miss the mark so you’ll be laughing throughout. The script is smart and not as crass as you would think—there are only two barf scenes and no nut sacks. It was far from just taking your basic romantic comedy formula and applying it to two dudes, and that was refreshing. I was especially pleased that the film never got too sappy; the two friends simply admitted their love and moved on, just like two men really would.

With this role, Rudd secures himself a seat at the table of bankable comedy stars. The Judd Apatow veteran combined Michael Scott’s cluelessness with Rudd’s own cuddly personality that provided exactly what this movie needed—a guy that both dudes and chicks could relate to and laugh at. Segel was his typical self, and although it works for these films, I just don’t know how far it is going to get him. Jon Favreau and Jaime Pressly were a nice complement, and Jones was surprisingly natural in her role (and devilishly beautiful at the screening.) 

To all the guys out there, you no longer have to be afraid to admit how much fun you have with you pals, Peter and Sydney have knocked down the barriers and it is now okay to admit, I Love You, Man.

--Mark Collins

I must admit that I am a huge Disney fan. So as the fireworks went off over Cinderella’s castle and the Disney logo flashed across the bottom of the screen, I caught myself thinking, ‘Maybe this will turn out alright. Sure, its Dwayne Johnson, but these are the same folks that made Finding Nemo. It’s a classic film, why not?’ 

Unfortunately what you’ll find in Race to Witch Mountain is exactly what you’d expect to see in a movie made for the Disney channel, not a major motion picture release. I never saw the original so I can’t speak to the nostalgia effect, but the plot seemed clunky and outdated. There was a massive hole in the script — if these alien children can move things with their mind and block bullets, why do they need ‘The Rock’ to protect them? Not to mention that the presence of extra terrestrials is no longer a novel idea, but Disney did nothing to reinvent these aliens so it ended up looking like a couple conspiracy theorist’s making a YouTube video on the weekend. 

Since I was in the minority as a mid-20s male amongst a sea of parents and giddy young children, I thought perhaps this movie just wasn’t for me; maybe the young people in the theater were enamored with all the talk of spaceships and alien life. But the theater was lifeless throughout the show; kids weren’t excitedly asking their parents questions, they were trying not to doze off like I did for a few minutes. I heard more than a few parents comment on how much violence was in the movie, as Johnson solved nearly every conflict with his fists. 

Bottom line it was a Disney movie through and through. Johnson plays a Las Vegas taxi driver who begrudgingly accepts the responsibility of watching out for alien children Seth and Sara (Alexander Ludwig and Anna Sophia Robb) before getting roped into the conflict of saving Earth. Extraterrestrial life theorist Dr. Alex Friedman (Carla Gugino) gets involved and before she and Johnson can save the day they (naturally) fall in love. Everyone makes a pithy comment at some point, several of which are good for a laugh, and there is the requisite haphazard, self-depreciating character that everyone laughs at but feels sorry for. Nobody draws outside the lines of a children’s movie and everyone ends up happy. 

I want to know when “The Rock” became the Nickelodeon poster boy. When he made his transition to film in 2002 as the Scorpion King I thought he was destined to be an action star in the same vain of Sylvester Stallone — somebody who wasn’t talented but looked good kicking ass and could deliver one liners — but since then he has starred in such films as The Game Plan and is slated to appear in Tooth Fairy in 2009. 

Who would have thought his big money contract would be holding Race to With Mountain back from being a successful Disney Channel movie.

--Mark Collins

When I go see a movie like Friday the 13th I judge it based on two criterion: unnecessary violence and unnecessary nudity. With that it mind I give Friday the 13th a solid: meh. 

There was plenty of unnecessary violence throughout, but I felt the kill scenes were too uninventive. Screwdriver to the neck? Heck, I’ve seen that in real life. Axe to the head? Yawn. However, I will say Jason channeling his inner Robin Hood and driving an arrow through the center of a guy’s moving head from 200 feet away impressed me quite a bit. 

In the nudity department, you wouldn’t even have to turn off safesearch on google to see these sets of fake boobs. Although, the biggest surprise (and disappointment) was when one heroine was murdered despite never showing her chest. In hindsight she was pretty flat, I totally should have seen it coming. 

The film begins on a camping trip to Crystal Lake with five beautiful, six-packed, skinny-waisted heroes and heroines – who are all dead within the first 20 minutes. The intense intro was perhaps the most exciting part of the film and could stand alone as a short. Unfortunately the film goes on for another 70 minutes, as quintessential douchebag Trent (Travis Van Winkle) leads a group of  friends (Aaron Yoo, Amanda Righetti and more) to his parent’s lake house that just so happens to be at Crystal Lake, which is where Jason drowned years and years ago. The characters bumble their way through a vague plot, make poor decisions and it should come as no surprise that most of these characters end up dead. 

Solid acting is about the last thing you’d expect in a slasher movie, but I was pleasantly surprised by the work Van Winkle did representing your typical bro dude. Yoo was also solid and may have found his niche as the quirky sidekick, good for a few laughs and a horrific death. I’ve already forgotten about the rest of the cast. I almost feel bad for these girls who think this is their big break, so naïve.  

As for comparing the 1980 cult classic to the 2009 redux, Producer Michael Bay certainly didn’t reinvent the wheel by any means. I’m sure Hollywood execs consider this franchise officially rebooted, and they should. After all, somebody in Hollywood has got to kill all these gorgeous 20-somethings; it might as well be Jason.

--Mark Collins

Sometimes I wonder if Hollywood is even trying anymore, especially when the glut of horror films comes out right around Valentine’s Day. Are audiences not tired of a scantily clad heroine who squeals her way through supernatural dreams and can’t get people to believe her until its too late? Do moviegoers still get startled by gimmicky moments when creepy things jump out at them? Has the story of the evil stepmother not been told a million different times since Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs? 

Apparently people still go see these movies, because The Uninvited is like a homeless man’s What Lies Beneath, which is just a poor man’s The People Beneath the Stairs. The film starts with Anna (Emily Browning) returning home from an insane asylum following the tragic death of her mother. After reuniting with her sister (Arielle Kebbel), the duo bands together against their father’s girlfriend (Elizabeth Banks) who they suspect of having devious plans. The first hour of the movie follows a simple formula: Anna feels hope, then her potential stepmother is a bitch, then she hears a bell followed by some creepy ghosts that reveal a tiny plot snippet. By the fifth time this cycle repeats, you practically hear the bell ring before our heroine does. 

There is no room for interpretation here, the story knows exactly what it wants you to believe and insists you know nothing more than it is willing to share. Leaving the theater you will know EXACTLY what you just witnessed, there aren’t many nuances to debate with friends. Characters talk vaguely about topics that obviously aren’t so vague, only to get cut-off by convenient distractions and later die before being able to divulge their secrets.  

The build up to the plot twist is so painful because the film spends so much time driving home who the bad guy is that the audience knows there’s either no way she’s really the killer, or it’s the most unimaginative script ever. While it might still be the most unimaginative script of all time, I was pleasantly surprised when the twist was revealed. It’s like suffering through a horribly cooked meal so you can eat the delicious desert — only by the time you get to the desert you’re so full of crap you’ve lost your appetite. 

Browning turned in a solid performance despite the role requiring a short range of emotions from ‘scared’ to ‘terrified’ with bouts of heavy panting thrown in. Her eyes were intoxicatingly innocent, and after her turn in Lemony Snickets, she could be this generation’s Helena Bonham Carter. Kebbel was forgettable as the classic ditzy horror movie girl and Banks should stick to tub scenes from The 40 Year Old Virgin. The films was directed by the mysterious “Guard brothers” who don’t have much a resume, and I doubt we’ll be seeing much else from them. 

I’d like to hope that these films are a thing of the past, but just as I wrapped up writing this review a gchat window popped up: 

“WhitD: So Caroline talked me into going to see that movie The Uninvited with her even though you said it wasn’t that good.” 

Ugh. Only you can prevent terrible horror films.

--Mark Collins