Movie Box Review

For all the wildly unexpected success of THE LION KING, Disney has limited boxoffice upside, because the new Blu-Ray hits the streets on October 4, and that's not likely to be a date that can be changed.

The Friday number for DRIVE is right on the edge between meeting expectations and disappointing them; its C- Cinemascore suggests the balance is going to tilt the wrong way over the course of the weekend.

Screen Gems seems to have seen STRAW DOGS coming, as it's been sitting on their shelf for quite a few months.  Straw was an ill-advised project in the first place, remaking a film that's both critically esteemed and fairly obscure, and without any appreciable star value.  Scheduling it directly against the similar-appeal Drive was probably the death blow.  

I DON'T KNOW HOW SHE DOES IT was Harvey Weinstein's turn to learn that Sarah Jessica Parker has no boxoffice value outside the Sex and the City franchise.  Combine that with the fact that it's a woeful piece of work, and you have a formula for flopping.  

CONTAGION held on surprisingly well in its second weekend, considering how genuinely disturbing it is to watch.  It wasn't a cheap film to produce, however, so international revenues will still be key.  It's hardly news that THE HELP continues to play like a champion; at this point, the question is how much DreamWorks will push it in awards season with mogul Spielberg's own War Horse on the horizon.  WARRIOR is also having a decent hold in terms of percentage, but its opening was so low that it hardly matters.

In limited release, Sony Classics was unable to parlay the Toronto reception for RESTLESS into any business--the picture is heading for perhaps $4K in each of 6 theatres.  However, THE MILL AND THE CROSS received a rhapsodic NY Times review, and should make $10K in its Film Forum weekend there (don't look for that one to do any crossover business, though).  

Next weekend, the interesting opening is MONEYBALL, which got deservedly excellent buzz out of Toronto and for which Brad Pitt is in the midst of a publicity spree.  Can that make the difference for a movie whose premise is hard to explain in a single sentence, let alone sell?  Also, Taylor Lautner will tackle his first solo starring project with ABDUCTION--will the Twilight fanatics show up in force for what looks like a Shia LaBouef retread?  And to return full circle, is Lion King a 1-weekend wonder, or will it dent the opening of DOLPHIN TALE?  We'll know soon enough.

Gus Van Sant has been making movies for 25 years, but Restless--apart from its technical polish--feels like the work of a Sundance newcomer. And one who's been reading too much Salinger, while meanwhile wearing out his DVD of Harold and Maude.

Restless is way beyond twee; its mega-tweeness is like a Transformers movie compared to a typical Syfy series episode. While certainly heartfelt, Jason Lew's script is nothing but affectation. Its hero, Enoch (!) (played by Henry Hopper, son of Dennis) has, since the untimely car crash death of his parents, treated death like a hobby. He crashes the funerals of strangers, draws chalk outlines around his own body, and has as his only friend the ghost of a Japanese WWII Kamikaze pilot. Clearly he needs to fully recognize and accept the emotional power of death.

Enter Annabel (Mia Wasikowska), who has the kind of magic movie cancer that kills you while causing no physical effect other than a pixie haircut. She and Enoch are made for each other, and once they're sappily in love (she memorizes descriptions of water-fowl) it's just a matter of waiting until Enoch sheds some really sad tears.

Van Sant is a gifted filmmaker even when his material is dross, and he works with a world-class team. (Not to mention a bigger budget than Sundance newbies can hope to have--that's an actual Beatles master playing over the opening credits.) Harris Savides, his customary cinematographer, contributes lovely, romantic-sad images, and Danny Elfman's score is all tinkling sentiment. For their parts, Hopper and Wasikowska are both excellent in their cliche-ridden roles, as is Schuyler Fisk as Annie's sister, the closest person on screen to a recognizable human being.

Van Sant is a hard-to-predict director, who moves from fine commercial product like Good Will Hunting and Milk, to esoteric art projects like Gerry and Paranoid Park, to occasional sorry efforts like Finding Forrester and (although the softhearted may disagree) this. He should be due for a good one next time out.

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