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B RUCE ALMIGHTY (Universal Pictures, Rated PG-13)
If you had a chance to play God, what would you do? Cure the world’s evils? Seek revenge on those who wronged you in the past? Make wondrous things happen with the opposite sex? Such are the challenges faced by Bruce Nolan (Jim Carrey) in the new Universal Pictures release Bruce Almighty.
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Nolan is a local TV news reporter in Buffalo,, where he’s known for doing folksy, funny human interest stories, like one about the world’s largest cookie. The job is unfulfilling, and Nolan dreams of becoming a real news anchor, an opportunity that may be within his grasp when a co-anchor retires. But then it all seems to slip away on what appears to be the worst day of Bruce’s life. Despite the patience and support of his girlfriend, Grace (Jennifer Aniston), Bruce has an emotional meltdown after being late for an important meeting, missing out on the co-anchor job, getting fired, getting beaten up by some toughs, wrecking his car, and various other lesser indignities. He rails against God for his rotten luck, wondering why the Almighty has forsaken him. Summoned to an address where a mysterious job prospect awaits, Bruce encounters a grizzled old janitor (Morgan Freeman), who Bruce takes to be a practical joker of some sort. But this is no mere trickster; it’s the Lord God himself.
God’s a little tired of Bruce’s continual whining and challenges him to see if he can do a better job as the creator. There are only two restrictions, one of them being Bruce can’t interfere with free will (a dilemma that will haunt him later, when his relationship takes a downward turn). Naturally, Bruce is skeptical at first, but when he tries out his newly bestowed powers
Morgan Freeman hands the power over to Jim Carrey in Bruce Almighty. Photo courtesy Universal Pictures.
(parting the “sea” in a bowl of tomato soup, dramatically upgrading the car he’s driving), he soon realizes that yes, indeed, he’s “got the power.” His first move is to prepare an evening of mind-blowing carnal ecstasy with Grace. Then, how about a little payback? He demands apologies from the toughs who pummeled him, prompting one to declare, “Sure, I’ll apologize…when a monkey flies outta my butt.” Easy to guess what’s gonna happen there. And in one of the film’s funniest scenes, Bruce causes his rival at the news station (Steve Carell) to start babbling idiotically during a live newscast, a sequence that only the most humorless viewer will fail to be tickled by.
The thrust of the movie is Bruce’s struggle to find his true self in his new circumstances and to learn the lessons about life and love that God really intended for him. It doesn’t come easy, and when Bruce seems to have lost Grace, he finds that all those incredible powers mean nothing to him. It’s an archetypal Hollywood scenario, one with which Carrey and director Tom Shadyac do reasonably well.
One thing should be said: Jim Carrey gets a lot of flack for being his rubbery-faced self. Critics have rarely praised him, except perhaps for The Truman Show and, to a lesser extent, for his portrayal of Andy Kaufman in Man on the Moon. But not just anybody can contort his face and body the way Carrey can and still create a character you feel for. We need our visceral comic actors, and Carrey at his best is pretty damned entertaining, using every part of his body to work a scene. He’s in full-bore funnyguy mode here, and although I thought Liar, Liar (a previous Carrey-Shadyac collaboration) was a bit more balanced character-wise between the goofy and the serious, Carrey has a great time with the premise here, and audiences should as well. Jennifer Aniston can truly nail “the girlfriend” roles by now, and though Grace doesn’t challenge her abilities the way The Good Girl did (except perhaps in one brief scene that nods to Meg Ryan’s classic fake orgasm in When Harry Met Sally), being consistently believable is deserving of respect, even when the role is a bit thin. As for Morgan Freeman, this man can do no wrong. He’s an actor with remarkable authority, and after his nutcase role in the recent Dreamcatcher, it’s a pleasure to see him back doing what he does best—acting with wit, charisma, and, in this case, the kind of ultimate authority the role of God demands. It’s almost enough to make me start praying more often, thinking that maybe Freeman could be the guy on the other end.
If there’s a problem with Bruce Almighty, it’s that it’s not quite the transcendent character study it would like to be. The idea of an egotistical whiner who must learn to be a better, more unselfish person was handled with more depth in Groundhog Day. And the openly sentimental streak this movie displays is often at odds with Carrey’s stylized physical comedy, which here and there grows a tad monotonous. But the positives ultimately outweigh the negatives, as the number of well-staged scenes and big laughs keep the energy going almost to the end. And in these horrendously violent times, the theme of this movie is one that audiences should be reminded of as often as possible. Bruce Almighty isn’t quite a classic, but it’s often hilarious and touching both, and in the idea-starved conference rooms of Hollywood, that’s a minor miracle unto itself. —Kevin Renick
Marlin, Dory, and Bruce the Shark in a scene from Pixar’s Finding Nemo.
FINDING NEMO (Walt Disney/Pixar, Rated G)
Although the films of Pixar have always been deeply rooted in the human experience (as well they have to be, to keep most kids’ interests), the bulk of them have created a very distinct universe for their characters to live in outside of that which we as humans reside. To put them in the context of their parent company Disney’s films, one could say that the films of Pixar are much more Dumbo than they are Sleeping Beauty. Pixar has gotten so dependable in creating the alternate existence of our world for nonhumans that they might as well name their films for whatever critter the film focuses on: i.e., we had A Bug’s Life, so Toy Story might as well have been A Toy’s Life and Monsters, Inc. could have been A Monster’s Life... The newest installment in Pixar’s oeuvre is Finding Nemo, the franchise’s A Fish’s Life.
As the title suggests, the bulk of the film concerns a clown fish named Marlin who is searching for his son Nemo, stolen by a dentist while Nemo was disobeying his father. At this point, the film branches off into two stories: Nemo’s getting stuck in a dentist’s aquarium and his subsequent attempts to escape with the aid of a host of quirky fish, and Marlin’s quest to save Nemo, with help from a Leonard Shelbyish companion named Dory, irritatingly voiced by Ellen DeGeneres.
While the story is engaging enough and the humor is plentiful (which is another thing at which Pixar never seems to fail), the majority of the enjoyment that comes from Finding Nemois viewing the world that the animators create for their heroic fish. Most of the sprawling grandeur and massive palette of beautiful colors of the underwater landscape resembles a Discovery Channel show on the Great Barrier Reef, which was likely the direct reference point for the animators when they were creating it (the film is set off the coast of Sydney, Australia). In addition to the pretty colors and hordes of fish, the underwater world is nicely thought out and given many throwaway details, the most memorable of which finds Marlin swimming up to the surface of the ocean to better see which direction a boat is speeding away to, and after spending a few seconds partially out of the water, he dives back into the water, takes a deep breath, and returns to the surface to continue looking for the boat.
When the time comes, the obligatory moral of Finding Nemo is aimed more at adults than it is at children, which is borderline incredible coming from a film that is as mainstream as animated films can get. You see, the dentist caught Nemo only because he was disobeying Marlin, and Nemo was only disobeying him because he was being way too overprotective (the first act of the film establishes why Marlin is this way), so the fact that Nemo disobeyed and got himself into trouble is shown as falling, in large part, on the head of Marlin. Hence, the moral of the story is for parents to not be overprotective of their children, a footnote to which is for kids to not be too offended and act out if their parents are being overprotective. It is interesting that Pixar and its writers can match the revolutionary quality of their trademark animation with such bold moves as to have a strong lesson for the adults who bring their kids to see the film, rather than doing the same for the kids themselves. —Pete Timmermann
L’ AUBERGE ESPAGNOLE (Fox Searchlight, Rated R)
It doesn’t help the inherent pretentiousness of foreign films when the distributors decide to hold onto the original, foreign-language title; it makes for some awkward moments at the box office for those of us who don’t speak the language. Maybe this is why ordering tickets online is getting to be so popular. Meanwhile, snotty rich kids who can pronounce the title without difficulty will bring dates that they want to impress with how cultured they are. It’s a big mess.
Anyway, L’Auberge Espagnole proved to be quite a success in its home country of France when it was released there last year, and it is easy to see why. It is one of a handful of films that successfully finds itself in that elusive category of motion pictures that successfully simulate the feeling of hanging out with a bunch of people that you like for the duration of the film’s running time (previous examples include Dazed & Confused and The Breakfast Club). It went on to be nominated for six Cesars, the French Oscar equivalent, including “Best Picture.”
What will likely draw the first group of people to the theater to see Espagnole is the presence of international treasure Audrey “ Amelie” Tautou, even though people who come to see her will probably be disappointed with her decidedly uncute and relatively small supporting role (might I take this opportunity to add that Tautou is proving to be the French Cameron Diaz, what with her constantly switching back and forth between entertaining mainstream fare and edgy roles in weird films that show her range; a national treasure indeed). This clump of Amelie hounds should be enough to get the word of mouth cycle going at least to a small degree, which will eventually lead to people going to see Espagnole because it is supposed to be good Romain Duris and Audrey Tautou learn about human nature in L’Auberge Espagnole. Photo courtesy Fox Searchlight.
(how novel), as opposed to seeing it for Tautou or to demonstrate foreign dialect proficiency.
The loose plot of Espagnole concerns a Frenchman named Xavier (Romain Duris) who moves to Spain with the Erasmus program, which allows its pupils to study abroad with a mixed bag of students from all over Europe to enhance both their education and their pleasure; this program really does exist and gained much popularity after the success of the film. Xavier intends to learn about Spanish economics, but winds up in a house with a fluctuating number of soon-to-be really good friends. Much learning about human nature and falling in love with one another ensues, and the rest of the film is spent dreading the impending day when all the fun will end and they all have to go back to their home country.
There isn’t a great deal to be learned from any of the goings-on in L’Auberge Espagnole, but that’s okay, as the fact that it is like a mainstream film in an art house theater will help counteract the pretentiousness of the fuckers who go and see it. This way, those who frequent art houses as well as multiplexes will get the best of both worlds, which is exactly what the film is all about. —Pete Timmermann
Play by Play
depths…said depths of poverty, depression, loss.
Kneiser is ably backed by a fantastic band featuring Bingham Barnes (bass), Greg Jacks (guitar, vocals), Kelly Smith (vocas, percussion), Todd Beene (guitar, piano), and J.D. Reager (drums). The standout effect on this album, though, is Kneiser’s voice. Like Neil Young (whom they covered in an appearance at Frederick’s last winter), Kneiser uses his voice to ably communicate and give his words a stark dignity and a weight that is shattering in many places. He delivers lyrics like knives, whether they are meant to hurt or defend. On several songs, he is balanced nicely by Smith. “Lonesome Stray” paints Kneiser as a vagabond searching for love, and Smith, with honey-sweet vocals, offers a home, even if it requires some compromise.
Glossary is southern rock at its best—a hybrid that holds fast to the attributes of classic country music while not so much celebrating the southern lifestyle as pointing out the holes that are there. They do so with a poetry that is not seen as often as it should be in music. How We Handle Our Midnights offers the warm southern breezes of lazy back roads and the allure of escape. It is a world etched in love and despair. —Jim Dunn
ED HARCOURT: FROM EVERY SPHERE (Astralwerks)
It is alleged that Ed Harcourt has a backlog of over 300 songs. It is this sort of work attitude that sets him apart from other singer-songwriters. For some musicians, the creative muse can be something that has its ups and downs. For others, it is just a way of staying alive and communicating with the little voices that dance around in your head. Ed Harcourt belongs to the second group. His music is a combination of Jeff Buckley and Sparklehorse. He is a serious songwriter in the vein of Buckley and is an experimenter of sonic landscapes and odd uses of instruments, as is Mark Linkous of Sparklehorse. This unique blend of lyrics and music works to create lush, atmospheric, sonic meditations on love, solitude,
and other esoteric topics.
When listening to the new songs on From Every Sphere, you get the feeling that Harcourt lives in a dreamy and literate world filled with dark moments and flashes of blinding light. This is not the world of a tormented soul; instead, it is the world of someone who finds the best way to express his feelings is through his words and music. One of the shortcomings that plagues the work of Harcourt is that he seems to let his ego override his artistic visions. At times, his lyrics border on being almost simplistic, to the point of being cheesy. At such a young age, he has many more years to work and perfect his vision, From Every Sphere is a step in the right direction from his first release, Here Be Monsters. —Rick Eubanks
THE HONEYSHAKERS: THE HONEYSHAKERS (self-released)
I was tired after I listened to the debut album by local folk/pop trio the Honeyshakers. But then, I was tired before I played the album, so I’m not holding the gals in this group—Heidi Dean (who sings lead, plays guitar, and wrote all but one of the 11 songs here), Danielle Lindsley (vocals), and Mary Ann Russum (vocals)— responsible for my exhausted state. I was just feeling tired of life’s continuing struggle: relationships that are needlessly complex, past regrets that keep surfacing, too damned many cars on the road, and not enough time to get things done and go where I wanna go.
Dean sounds tired of all this stuff, too—most of these songs are clear expressions of weary sadness that alternate between a tear and a shrug. In “Finished,” one of Dean’s more distinctive tunes, she addresses an apparently soon-tobe ex-partner: “You with your very quiet mind/Me with my kinda loud life/Didn’t know that these things would add up/To a sum
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between zero/And not quite enough.” The lyrics are generally thoughtful and compelling; there’s a degree of care and craftsmanship that invites closer listening. Dean tends to avoid the simplistic and allow the listener to wonder a bit. Take “Inside,” one of the album’s standout tracks. Over lovely three-part harmonies and a simple melancholy chord progression, Dean’s words talk about the struggle to contain one’s emotions: “Inside is where I keep my love safe/Inside is where I know what you’re thinking/Inside is where everything happens/Along with that, something more…” The “something more” is repeated several times, and an unexpectedly poignant cello comes in, telling the listener everything the lyrics don’t need to spell out. “Chicago” is also nicely ambiguous; the effectively concise lyrics let us know that the windy city holds some great significance for the narrator; it’s either a place to hurry and get to on a road trip or a place to leave behind (or both). A sense of real sorrow not quite shared is palpable.
On the lighter side, the opening “Breakup Dress” wryly recites a litany of objects needed to put a relationship out of its misery: “I need a breakup dress, breakup shoes/Breakup makeup and of course/Some breakup lingerie…6 breakup CDs/A breakup leather jacket…” It’s a comparatively spry little tune that is probably a real rouser in concert. Stylistically, Dean, Lindsley, and Russum are mining Indigo Girls territory, although without that outfit’s tendency to meander (and their apparent inability to end a tune in three minutes). They also reminded me at times of a less ethereal Hank Dogs (Scottish folk trio). The music is pretty sparse, though, in that folkie way; beyond Dean’s acoustic sixstring, there is little instrumental adornment other than the minimal accompaniment provided
on the aforementioned songs. And some songs, such as “You Make Me” and “Somewhere Across Town,” sound like little more than wellrecorded demos; the former cries out for some sort of musical detail in the arrangement that simply isn’t there. These songs rise or fall on the strength of the harmonies (pleasant but not necessarily stellar, except on “Inside”) and Dean’s songwriting (solid and sometimes remarkably poignant).
The Honeyshakers have the ingredients necessary to refine the raw craft they display here; they already have promising musical instincts, and their voices blend nicely. Most significantly, though, Dean seems very thoughtful in her selfexpression; songs may reflect weariness or cynicism at times, but nothing sounds lazy or tossed off. As Dean sings in “Cars on Sunday,” “I don’t need any help with my melancholia/It’s doing fine…” I’d bet on even better things for this outfit in the future, especially if they add a little more variety to their repertoire and maybe plug in once in a while. As for me, I’m gonna take a nap. All this contemplatin’ and stuff can sure wear a body down… —Kevin Renick
I DLEWILD: THE REMOTE PART (Capitol)
I thought Idlewild’s last release, 2000’s 100 Broken Windows (Capitol), was amazing, with not a bad song. For that reason, I approached The Remote Part with something resembling trepidation. Surely they couldn’t put out anything as catchy and dreamy as Windows, could they? Surely they would let me down.
Well, I was wrong. “You Held the World in Your Arms” kicks off the new disc with just as much heart. Interestingly, Roddy Woomble’s Scottish accent is audible on this track, especially as he sings one of his trademark thought-provoking lines, “Is consideration more like an exception of consideration?” Behind his words, a string arrangement builds on melodic guitars (Bob Fairfoull, bass, and Rod Jones, guitars) and a solid drumbeat (Colin Newton). The heavy guitar intro to the next track, “A Modern Letting Go,” tells you right off that this isn’t a wimpy Idlewild, contrary to what you’ve read in NME; in another Woomble-ism, he gives us, “If I know what I know, losing isn’t learning to be lost/It’s learning to know when you’re lost.”
“American English” sounds more European than American and is lyrically an anthem against selling out to the American Dream. As he chastises a friend for losing his values, Woomble jabs, “The good songs weren’t written for you, Idlewild photo courtesy Parlophone/Capitol.
they’ll never be about you.” On “(I Am) What I Am Not,” the intentionally contradictory poet opens by saying, “Calling places, collecting careless/Sentences I write them down/So I ignore them, and you should too, you should ignore every word.” The rocking melody and catchy refrain may well take this song to radio.
Already a single, “Live in a Hiding Place” sounds as if it could have been an outtake from Windows. It’s a simple, scaled-down modern rock song with a backing chorus and a swelling bridge: “And you’re full of facts but not things that could add up to words/Think about meaning more as an after word/As in afterward.” “Century After Century” has an epic feel. Musical swells are met with more of Woomble’s wisdom as he sings, “Isn’t it romantic, to be romantic/When you don’t understand what you love/Or if a word like that could ever mean anything.”
The simple, straightforward “Tell Me Ten Words” is a gem as Woomble pleads, “Can you tell me ten words that you’d use to describe the world/To people, though people never seem to know.” Closing the album is the grandly scaled dual track, “In Remote Part/Scottish Fiction.” The first half begins with Woomble singing against a single guitar accompaniment; the latter half swells musically as poet Edwin Morgan reads the words to his poem “Scottish Fiction.”
Maybe I like Idlewild because Woomble’s singing style still reminds me of Morrissey with the Smiths. Maybe it’s the Scottish accent that still slips through, a lá Stuart Adamson of Big Country. Or maybe it’s the fact that they continue to put out albums that are poetically written and musically well-crafted. —Laura Hamlett
ILYA: POISE IS THE GREATER ARCHITECT (Second Nature)
When doing a large jigsaw puzzle, each person involved usually brings something different to the table. One may hold a piece of the sky, the land, the people, or the scenery, but each person’s individual part is just as important to the whole. This is the mentality that San Diegan continued on page 27
