141 - Dreamgirls review

From time to time, I’m asked what I think about musicals as a genre. My answer always sounds the same; they’re long, boring, ostentatious films where the plot comes to a grinding halt every 10 minutes so the characters can dance and sing about their plight. Popular musicals such as "West Side Story" and "Moulin Rouge" that energize millions only manage to put me to sleep, at best.

There are exceptions. "Dreamgirls" isn’t one of them. In fact, I was amazed at how closely it embodied my analysis of the genre. The film constantly throws the breaks its plot so the actors can start whining via scream. It is a bad sign when the audience has to await the end of the musical number simply to see what happens to the story.

Bill Condon wrote and directed this adaptation of the 1981 Broadway musical, one of those prestigious shows that I’d have to write 10 of these reviews just to buy a single ticket for. It follows The Dreams, a black girl group from Detroit, throughout the sixties and seventies. The group, consisting of lead singer Effie White (Jennifer Hudson), Deena Jones (Beyoncé Knowles), and Lorrell Robinson (Anika Noni Rose), finds its way to the top of the charts through a combination of talent and shrewdly underhanded management by Curtis Taylor Jr. (Jamie Foxx), a car salesman who knows a meal ticket when he sees it. Curtis relentlessly pursues pop-stardom for The Dreams and Jimmy "Thunder" Early (Eddie Murphy), at the cost of the "soul" of the music, or some such complaint, though none of the singers have anything bad to say about the decadent lifestyle that mainstream success pays for.

The story mirrors that of The Supremes, the real-life Motown group. Just as Diana Ross replaced the group’s lead singer for the sake of marketability, Deena takes over Effie’s position as the group’s front woman, where the displaced diva promptly goes from the high life to the welfare office. Other references to actual figures are plentiful, the most obvious being a five member family act with a pre-teen lead singer. But the era in which the story was originally conceived passed years before I was born, so these parallels hold virtually no contemporary appeal to those without a vested interest in that period of American music.

Although real-life pop star Beyoncé has been marketed as the film’s star, she actually comes in second to Hudson, an "American Idol" reject that landed this career-making role. The ridiculous buzz around their performances, particularly Hudson’s, fails to account for the near total lack of acting ability between the two. Without professional actresses to portray them, Deena seems flighty and Effie comes across as childishly pouty. Note to the filmmakers: It is much easier to find an actor who can sing than a singer who can act.

The supporting cast fares different shades of better. After Jamie Foxx’s Oscar winning performance as Ray Charles in 2004’s "Ray," his decision to mumble his way through the role of a sleazy music manager seems borderline bizarre. Eddie Murphy, giving by far the film’s best performace, shouldn’t be a relevation to anyone familiar with his work. The likeable energy he uses to bring Jimmy Early to life has been present since his Saturday Night Live days. And poor Danny Glover, playing a concerned old-time manager, has nothing useful to do.

But the failure of "Dreamgirls" to be anything more than a mediocre musical doesn’t rest primarily with the cast. Condon unimaginative and bland direction never injects the film with the grand aesthetic and sound that it needs to really thrive. The sterile glamour pales in comparison to the gritty sparkle of 2002’s "Chicago," (one of those exceptions I mentioned) which Condon also adapted to screen. The scenery in "Dreamgirls" looks clean enough to eat off of, characters look the exact same at the end as they did in the beginning although a decade has supposedly past, and the musical numbers not only fail to advance the story, but to dazzle or even seriously interest.

Without taking advantage of the medium, "Dreamgirls" ultimately has the feel of an elaborately shot concert documentary. At one point, Jimmy remarks "Anything I sing needs soul." Not a bad piece of advice for a song. Or a movie musical.

2 out of 5

140 - 24 Day 6 Premier review

First, a notice. If you haven't seen 24's fifth season yet, there are some spoilers as to how it ends in this review. The review is virtually spoiler-free concerning the premier. So to those who haven't caught up on the series thus far and want to be surprised, you've been warned.











During the second hour of 24’s sixth day, we see something that the previous 121 episodes never hinted at. Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland), the vicious superagent who specializes in saving the world through brutal and violent means, plunges a knife into the open wound of an Islamic terrorist, watches the man scream, and walks away. Looking listlessly out the window, he simply remarks "I don’t know how to do this anymore."

For the 24 hardcore, this is as shocking of a statement as any fictional terrorist attack. Jack has escaped death and endured colossal amounts of pain time and time again, but pop culture’s most textured killing machine has reached his limit. But it’s this kind of character progression that makes 24 the best, easily most gripping series on television.

Six seasons is beyond middle age in TV years, and much of the 24 territory is now familiar. Terrorists plan and launch strikes against America, Jack tries to stop them, CTU dispenses tech support and stormtroopers, bureaucrats all the way up to the White House debate the pros and cons. Yet 24 manages to keep a fresh feel on most of the proceedings, through cast changes and sharp writing.

These first four episodes are particularly political, dealing with Islamic terrorism and the possible erosion of civil rights in the name of security. Yet, the infamously right-leaning series shrewdly balances arguments of each side, never definitively throwing support behind either position. Muslims are shown as both the unfortunate victims of mass paranoia and as bloodthirsty murderers. The newly elected President Wayne Palmer (DB Woodside) is advised by neo-conservative Thomas Lennox (Peter MacNicol) and pragmatic liberal Karen Hayes (Jayne Atkinson), neither of whom is consistently right or wrong. 24’s portrayal of real-life issues as difficult without a clear answer resonates more closely to actual events than the series has since its second day.

Many familiar faces are there, including CTU head Bill Buchanan (James Morrison), pouty computer genius Chloe O’Brian (Mary Lynn Rajskub), tactical team leader Curtis Manning (Roger Cross), and even Milo Pressman (Eric Balfour), who seemed to drop off the face of the 24 earth siz seasons ago. These old favorites lend much weight to familiar scenes, a fact highlighted by the thus-far uninteresting additions. 24 has the unfortunate habit of running at least one dull subplot at once, and this time it belongs to Sandra Palmer (Regina King), a whiny lawyer who just so happens to be the sister of the current and ex-president. Only towards the end of the fourth episode does her subplot get interesting, and we can only hope it builds momentum from there.

Ultimately, the series belongs to Sutherland and his alter-ego, and that’s where the screen truly sizzles. Freshly sprung from a Chinese prison and laden with scar tissue, Jack finds himself traded to a terrorist in exchange for the whereabouts of an even bigger fish. Fayed, the terrorist in question, wants to kill Jack in the same way that Jack killed his brother (hint: it wasn’t a quick death). Of course a little torture is nothing Jack can’t handle, and before the first hour is up he is back on the streets, getting to the bottom of things.

His heroics are more instinct driven than ever before, his eyes suggesting a man who quite literally wants to lay down and die. But we know that he won’t, not just because the audience demands it, but because the character so many adrenaline-junkies have fallen in love with has yet to quit when American lives are at stake. The fourth episode doles out not one but two absolutely stunning surprises that are sure to shape the mood for the remaining 20 hours. We can rest assured that whatever dastardly new scenario occurs, Jack will be on it, and that simultaneous offering of a terrifying new thrill and watching an old master at work still makes for a compelling, unbeatable thrill ride.

4.5 out of 5