Movie Review: Fred Claus

“Stress testing.”

As much as Christmas isn’t Christmas without some talk of the man in a red suit, Fred Claus shouldn’t be something on anyone’s wish list. Why believe the heartwarming legend of Santa when you can watch him struggling with family and business trouble? There’s no better way of destroying your faith in the big jolly character we’ve come to associate with free gifts than a screening of Fred Claus.

Sure, Fred Claus tries to be the heartwarming tale of forgiveness and love and holiday spirit, but with Vince Vaughn at the helm of it all as Santa’s bitterly jealous brother, it shouldn’t come as a shock to say that every hope of sincerity has been emptied through the actor’s resume. There’s nothing like having a typecast womanizer play the role of a forgiving brother. I’d even go as far as say there’s nothing quite as absurd as watching Vaughn (Starsky and Hutch, The Wedding Crashers!) dishing out ‘I love you’s that don’t automatically translate to ‘I’d like to sleep with you’s. The only believable parts of the movie are those where Vaughn gets into character as the jealous sibling of Santa, during which we see the jerk in all his obnoxious glory. But no, the problem isn’t the actor – it’s the horribly mismatched casting. Simply put, Vaughn is someone you shouldn’t consider putting in a movie meant for children, because nothing comes as close to a disaster than having someone on screen struggling not to inject the kind of charm suitable for more R-rated films.

And then there’s the dramatic crisis of the movie – with some business gobbledygook about Santa’s toy factory not meeting the demands of spoilt children all over the world (why exactly are children considered “good” when they send letters demanding new toys each year is still beyond me), the factory, run by elves, now faces the danger of being shut down. Quite the irony here is the subtlety that says, “Look, Santa doesn’t exist, he’s just a large business corporation facing everyday issues like spot-checks on employee misconduct and national output. Oh, and it’s all your fault because you greedy brats are demanding too many toys per year.”

Don’t be fooled by the star-studded cast (Vince Vaughn, Miranda Richardson, Rachael Weisz, Kathy Bates, Kevin Spacey). Disappointing on so many levels that it makes regurgitated plotlines look like gold, I suggest spending the ticket price on a real Christmas present instead.

(First published at InCinemas)

Movie Review: Your Name Is Justine

Just as Snakes On A Plane taps into the human fear of snakes and flight (or the mere thought of being trapped in a confined space thousands of feet off the ground), Your Name Is Justine similarly addresses the inherent fear in women of being sexually violated. And why women? Probably because as sexist the view seems, they really do come across more vulnerable and less capable of fighting back with brute force – as the film would lead you to believe.

Your Name Is Justine begins with a simple love story that quickly turns into a nightmare of sorts. The well-loved ‘princess’ of her grandmother and secret boyfriend, Mariola (Anna Cieslak) seems to be someone the average girl would envy – at least until the apparently sweet boyfriend turns into a two-faced, greedy jerk who, with promises of eternal love and a better life in another country, tricks and trades her to a pimp for a stack of notes without any remorse whatsoever. Nastily reminded of the empty promises one usually makes to curb the influx of naggy warnings, Mariola’s assurance to her grandmother that she can “take care of herself” quickly becomes the haunting reminder of the life she is forced to give up. If anything, she is coerced into submission with threats to her unwitting grandmother. Locked in an abandoned apartment in the middle of a deserted countryside, she is given ten days to learn the tricks of prostitution.

Cue escape attempts. If it weren’t for the brutal reality and rawness of the occurring events, the film might even be a thrilling adventure if you’ve the wild imagination; imagine sneaking about the unguarded but locked apartment building, searching for an escape route! But unlike superheroines who, with the help of spectacular CGI and stunt doubles, Mariola’s escape plans fall short of successful. In a fit of desperation, she slowly slips into a world of her own to deal with the trauma of being a rape victim. The film, parallel to her emotions, take on bipolaric highs and lows, before she finally accepts her fate and comes to terms with it. There is a perfect balance of psychological and emotional elements in the film that takes it a step further than just storytelling; questions of “what ifs” start popping up, if only to be quelled by an unspoken assurance that one isn’t as foolishly naive as Mariola. What’s true in the saying “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” becomes like a moral of story to the film.

Why watch it, though? If there is ever a need for a reminder not to take things for granted, Your Name Is Justine is it. Compellingly told and engaging, this is one refreshing movie with a dare-to-do approach that captures the horrors of forced prostitution.

Movie Review: December Boys

“Sexy boyband pose.”

It’s hard to concentrate on a movie when the only thought swimming around in your head is “Why is Daniel Radcliffe an orphan again?” You’d think with five done and two more to go as Harry Potter, he’d pick a role that doesn’t go along the lines of “poor abandoned child”. Daniel Radcliffe stars as one of four orphan friends competing to be adopted after they are whisked away from their orphanage for a holiday on the South Australian coast. After all, where better to live than on a beach with limestone outcrops and see-through shallows?

There are only two remotely good reasons to catch December Boys: the wonder of Daniel Radcliffe being in a film other than Harry Potter, and the film’s location and cinematography. In fact, December Boys is not a lot different from an average travel ad, stringed together by a flimsy plot and a an even more unimpressionable script. It’s also a tad inconsistent when a near-drowning situation morphs into a wondrous vision of all things saintly, so you don’t know if you’re supposed to feel terrified, or awed, or maybe even tickled by the turn of events. Crawling along at snail pace, the drowning is perhaps the film’s most recognizable climax.

The increasing friction between the four boys is believable but a little overboard, though Maps’ (Daniel Radcliffe) transition from boy to man is rather well-portrayed. With little chance of being adopted at such a great age as compared to the others, he instead spends his time navigating the bridge between boyhood and manhood, from canoodling with members of the opposite sex to the pleasures of alcohol consumption (which go against the values taught in the Catholic orphanage). The conclusion of the film is pretty much a corny turn-off, one in which friendship falls above all else, so you’d be better off watching something like The Cider House Rules if you were expecting a caterpillar-to-butterfly transformation of orphans finally getting out in the real world. December Boys is frustratingly bland, and feels like a film destined yet falling short of a good performance.