What Happens in Vegas is a comedy waiting to happen. It takes an old premise (drunk strangers regretting their decision to get married in Las Vegas) and adds in a dilemma (a $3 million slot machine win) that could’ve been easily resolved. But then again, there would’ve been no movie if the unhappily wedded couple figured out that splitting the money in half and getting their marriage annulled would’ve been quick and effective. Cameron Diaz plays uptight clean-freak Joy, who has just been dumped by her fiance. Ashton Kutcher is Jack, a slacker furniture maker who has been fired–by his own dad. Each goes to Vegas to let off some steam. And while they have nothing in common (except being exceptionally good looking) they make out, get married, and fight over the money Jack wins with Joy’s quarter. Instead of letting the couple get divorced, a judge sentences the odd couple to half a year of marriage. What happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas, but extends into New York where Jack and Joy live. Both actors have fared well in comedies, especially Diaz in My Best Friend’s Wedding. And while Kutcher still has to live down Dude, Where’s My Car?, he showed a lot of comedic flair and charm in A Lot Like Love. But the two face an uphill battle here with inane dialogue and a premise that not only is unbelievable, but unlikeable. The two are so incompatible (and immature) they can’t even control bathroom time and, in Jack’s case, his bladder. –Jae-Ha Kim
As a pleasant dose of holiday cheer, The Holiday is a lovable love story with all the Christmas trimmings. In the capable hands of writer-director Nancy Meyers (making her first romantic comedy since Something’s Gotta Give), it all begins when two successful yet unhappy women connect through a home-swapping website, and decide to trade houses for the Christmas holiday in a mutual effort to forget their man troubles. Iris (Kate Winslet) is a London-based journalist who lives in a picture-postcard cottage in Surrey, and Amanda (Cameron Diaz) owns a movie-trailer production company (leading her to cutely imagine most of her life as a “coming attraction”) and lives in a posh mansion in Beverly Hills. Iris is heartbroken from unrequited love with a cad of a colleague (Rufus Sewell), and Amanda has just broken up with her cheating boyfriend (Edward Burns), so their home-swapping offers mutual downtime to reassess their love lives. This being a Nancy Meyers movie (where everything is fabulously decorated and romantic wish-fulfillment is virtually guaranteed), Amanda hooks up with Iris’s charming brother Graham (Jude Law), and Iris is unexpectedly smitten with Miles (Jack Black), a super-nice film composer on the downside of a failing relationship. –Jeff Shannon
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In Her Shoes just gets better and better as it goes along. As adapted by Erin Brockovich screenwriter Susannah Grant, this is one of those rare movies that actually improves on its source material (Jennifer Weiner’s “chick lit” bestseller), with thoughtful direction by Curtis Hanson, the L.A. Confidential Oscar®-winner who approaches any chosen genre with Hawksian versatility. At first it seems like Weiner’s novel might yield a standard melodrama of sibling rivalry, but the polar opposition of smart, plain-looking Philadelphia lawyer Rose (the always-excellent Toni Collette) and her sexy, illiterate, irresponsible sister Maggie (Cameron Diaz) is just the starting point. In Her Shoes becomes a moving, richly developed character study that deals with painful loss, long-term guilt, negative self-image, and the discovery of a heretofore unknown grandmother named Ella (played with delicate nuance by Shirley MacLaine), whose re-entry into the sisters’ lives sets the stage for the well-earned emotions of a satisfying reconciliation. As Maggie takes stock of her dismal life while staying with Ella at a Florida “retirement home for active seniors,” Hanson never condescends to these likable characters, and never goes for the easy laughs in a setting that could have devolved into Cocoon-like comedy. The movie’s all the more endearing for treating its male characters (played by Mark Feuerstein, Ken Howard, and Richard Burgi) with equal depth and sympathy, further enhancing a classy tearjerker that viewers of both genders can thoroughly enjoy. –Jeff Shannon
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Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle is a big, fun, bubble-brained mess of a movie, and that’s exactly as it should be. Its popular 2000 predecessor got the formula right: gorgeous babes, throwaway plots, and as many current pop-cultural trends as you could stuff into a candy-coated dollop of Hollywood mayhem. This sequel goes one “better”: The plot’s even more disposable (if that’s possible), the babes, cars, and fashions even more outlandish, and the stuntwork (heavily digital, heavily absurd) reaches astonishing heights of cartoon silliness. Reprising their titular (and shamelessly titillating) roles, Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore, and Lucy Liu are having the time of their lives, especially when sparring with ultra-buff rogue angel Demi Moore (looking better at 40 than most women half her age) and Justin Theroux as a sleazy Irish mobster. Bernie Mac replaces Bill Murray as angel-sidekick Bosley (they’re step-brothers, don’cha know), which is one more indication of McG’s intentionally reckless stewardship of an intentionally reckless franchise. Our advice: sit back, relax, and get jiggly with it. –Jeff Shannon
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Gangs of New York may achieve greatness with the passage of time. Mixed reviews were inevitable for a production this grand (and this troubled behind the scenes), but it’s as distinguished as any of director Martin Scorsese’s more celebrated New York stories. From its astonishing 1846 prologue to the city’s infernal draft riots of 1863, the film aspires to erase the decorum of textbooks and chronicle 19th-century New York as a cauldron of street warfare. The hostility is embodied in a tale of primal vengeance between Irish American son Amsterdam Vallon (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his father’s ruthless killer and “Nativist” gang leader Bill “the Butcher” Cutting (Daniel Day-Lewis, brutally inspired), so named for his lethal talent with knives. Vallon’s vengeance is only marginally compelling; DiCaprio is arguably miscast, and Cameron Diaz (as Vallon’s pickpocket lover) is adrift in a film with little use for women. Despite these weaknesses, Scorsese’s mastery blossoms in his expert melding of personal and political trajectories; this is American history written in blood, unflinching, authentic, and utterly spectacular. –Jeff Shannon
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Prudes, beware! Despite its tendency to take the comedic low road, The Sweetest Thing is a near-perfect product of the new-millennial Hollywood. That’s a backhanded compliment, but as a fun-loving Yankee girl’s answer to Bridget Jones’s Diary, the mainstream pandering of Nancy Pimental’s lucrative screenplay is undeniably effective. On the opening soundtrack, Macy Gray’s “Sexual Revolution” is a perfect accompaniment to gyrating guy-dumper Christina (Cameron Diaz), whose fear of commitment is tested when she meets Peter (Thomas Jane) and knows he’s Mr. Right. With supportive gal-pals Courtney (Christina Applegate) and Jane (Selma Blair), she plots to snag the guy, and the movie’s road-trip detour mines gut-busting gold from gags involving incriminating dress stains, oral sex, rotting food, garish clothing, and the simple joys of old-fashioned romance. Perfectly cast, raucously ribald, and conventionally charming, The Sweetest Thing is a schizophrenic comedy, but its dual personalities are irresistibly in synch. –Jeff Shannon
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An affecting movie about ghosts and illusions, The Invisible Circus follows Phoebe (Jordana Brewster), an American girl who’s retracing the path of her sister Faith (Cameron Diaz), hoping to discover what led to Faith’s mysterious death. Using the postcards that Faith sent her from Europe as a map, Phoebe travels from Amsterdam to Paris to Portugal, learning from Faith’s ex-boyfriend Wolf (Christopher Eccleston) about a side of Faith that Phoebe knew nothing about–a side that overturns all of Phoebe’s cherished beliefs about her sister and herself. The performances in The Invisible Circus are uneven, and yet the culmination of the movie captures something piercingly sad, something acute and evocative about how survivors create myths about the lost, myths that can both help and hinder their lives. Blythe Danner plays the mother of the two girls in a brief but subtly powerful performance. –Bret Fetzer
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Touching compelling and original Things You Can Tell Just by Looking at Her spins a brilliant tapestry of interwoven vignettes. Starring Oscar® winner* Holly Hunter five-time Oscar® nominee** Glenn Close Golden Globe® Winner Calista Flockhart (”Ally McBeal”) and Golden Globe® nominees Cameron Diaz (Charlie’s Angels) Amy Brenneman (”Judging Amy”) and Kathy Baker (”Picket Fences”) this “really special film” (”Ebert & Roeper and the Movies”) is an absolute “triumph” (Mirabella).In the heart of L.A. six extraordinary women have come to an emotional crossroads: a talented young detective (Brenneman) struggles with loneliness an ambitious bank manager (Hunter) contemplates motherhood and a successful doctor (Close) confronts her spiritual emptiness. At the same time a blind teacher (Diaz) searches for love a middle-aged writer (Baker) grapples with prejudice and a gifted fortune-teller (Flockhart) grieves for her dying lover. Poised between fear and hope each woman must weigh the choices she’s made in order to meet the future unfolding before her.Format: DVD MOVIE
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Any Given Sunday, Oliver Stone’s salute-cum-exposé of pro football, belabors some pretty obvious points for nigh onto three hours; but between the frenetic editing, the pounding rap-music beats, and several flashy performances, it’s certainly never dull. Al Pacino, coach of the fictional Miami Sharks (the NFL declined involvement in this production), struggles with the most time-honored of sports movie dilemmas: what to do with the old friend who’s past his prime and the young hotshot who could save the franchise but first has to learn what being a team player is all about. Comedian Jamie Foxx does a marvelous dramatic turn as the rookie quarterback whose ego and talent are equally impressive, while Pacino seems more at ease in Oliver Stone Land than any actor since regular James Woods (on hand as well as a sleazy team doctor). Prowling the sidelines, shouting spittle-flecked orders, seizing up in almost physical pain when a play goes the wrong way, Pacino is as unashamedly–and entertainingly–hyperbolic as Stone’s whirling montages of boiling storm clouds, bloodthirsty fans, and players smashed into the mud. (Once again football, perhaps the most sophisticated of team sports, is viewed cinematically as a bunch of guys hitting each other in slow motion.) Unfortunately, all the self-conscious mythologizing and pumped-up macho posturing that Stone can muster doesn’t conceal a clichéd, slapped-together script, whose few good ideas (mostly about race in America) jostle about with several hoary, terrible ones–including a too-literal analogy of football players as modern gladiators. (To drive the point home, Stone includes Charlton Heston–the aging Ben-Hur–in one of many star-powered cameos.) All in all, Any Given Sunday is never dull, but never very enjoyable, either. –Bruce Reid
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While too many movies suffer the fate of creative bankruptcy, Being John Malkovich is a refreshing study in contrast, so bracingly original that you’ll want to send director Spike Jonze and screenwriter Charlie Kaufman a thank-you note for restoring your faith in the enchantment of film. Even if it ultimately serves little purpose beyond the thrill of comedic invention, this demented romance is gloriously entertaining, spilling over with ideas that tickle the brain and even touch the heart. That’s to be expected in a movie that dares to ponder the existential dilemma of a forlorn puppeteer (John Cusack) who discovers a metaphysical portal into the brain of actor John Malkovich. The puppeteer’s working as a file clerk on the seventh-and-a-half floor of a Manhattan office building; this idea alone might serve as the comedic basis for an entire film, but Jonze and Kaufman are just getting started. Add a devious coworker (Catherine Keener), Cusack’s dowdy wife (a barely recognizable Cameron Diaz), and a business scheme to capitalize on the thrill of being John Malkovich, and you’ve got a movie that just gets crazier as it plays by its own outrageous rules. Malkovich himself is the film’s pièce de résistance, riffing on his own persona with obvious delight and–when he enters his own brain via the portal–appearing with multiple versions of himself in a tour-de-force use of digital trickery. Does it add up to much? Not really. But for 112 liberating minutes, Being John Malkovich is a wild place to visit. –Jeff Shannon
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Peter Berg’s dark comedy about a bachelor party gone horribly awry is highly ambitious in its attempts to satirize suburbia, male bonding, and self-help philosophy, and for the most part it does succeed in hitting its targets with a malicious, misanthropic glee. When five buddies arrive in Las Vegas for some pre-wedding shenanigans, things quickly spiral out of control when the requisite prostitute falls victim to a grisly accident, igniting a spark in an already unstable powder keg of personalities. Following the lead of real estate agent and self-help guy Robert (Christian Slater), the men warily agree on a cover-up and covert desert burial. A couple hours and another corpse later, however, they’re already at each other’s throats, and their escalating breakdowns threaten to disrupt the highly prized wedding of hard-as-nails bride Laura (a stunning Cameron Diaz). Berg, like most actor-turned-directors (this is The Last Seduction star’s filmmaking debut) helms the film with a wildly sliding tone and tends to weigh its strengths heavily on its performers. Slater’s psycho turn is by far his most inventive yet (he’s more in control than ever before), Diaz effectively mixes sunshine with poison, and Jon Favreau is effective and understated as the hapless bridegroom; the rest of the cast, however, tends to play up the histrionics. Be warned, though: Those expecting a sunny-style There’s Something About Mary gross-out comedy will probably be shocked by Berg’s take-no-prisoners agenda; this is comedy at its absolute blackest, and no one is spared. –Mark Englehart
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There’s Something About Mary is one of the funniest movies in years, recalling the days of the Zucker-Abraham-Zucker movies, in which (often tasteless) gags were piled on at a fierce rate. The difference is that cowriters and codirectors Bobby and Peter Farrelly have also crafted a credible story line and even tossed in some genuine emotional content. The Farrelly brothers’ first two movies, Dumb and Dumber and Kingpin, had some moments of uproarious raunch, but were uneven. With Mary, they’ve created a consistently hilarious romantic comedy, made all the funnier by the fact that you know that they know that some of their gags go way over the line. Cameron Diaz stars as Mary, every guy’s ideal. Ben Stiller plays a high-school suitor still hung up on Mary years later; the obstacles standing between him and her include a number of psychotic suitors, a miserable little pooch, and, oh yeah, a murder charge. The Farrellys’ admittedly simplistic camera work, which adapts easily to a TV screen, and the fact that you’ll likely laugh yourself so silly over certain scenes you’ll want to replay them to see what you were missing while you were busy convulsing, make this a perfect video movie. –David Kronke
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A Life Less Ordinary is a surprising disappointment, considering it is the third film from director Danny Boyle, writer John Hodge, and actor Ewan McGregor. This disjointed and strained romantic comedy is not even near the same league as Trainspotting and Shallow Grave. Cameron Diaz is a spoiled heiress and McGregor an aimless janitor brought together by two angels (Holly Hunter and Delroy Lindo) hoping to hang onto their wings. McGregor kidnaps Diaz, the boss’s daughter, after being fired from his crummy job. She is not all that averse to being snatched. Most of the laughs are lost to a scattershot story that feels preposterous instead of magical. –Rochelle O’Gorman
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Beautiful Cameron Diaz, the new wife of judge Harvey Keitel, is looking forward to a vacation on the coast of Maine with her husband, but when ex-beau Billy Zane shows up while Keitel’s away one night and winds up dying in their bed, a series of darkly funny calamities follows. Craig Sheffer also stars.
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One of the best romantic comedies of the 1990s, My Best Friend’s Wedding not only gave Julia Roberts a delightful vehicle for her crowd-pleasing comeback, but it further distinguished itself by avoiding the conventional plotting of the genre. Julia plays a prominent Chicago restaurant critic whose best friend (Dermot Mulroney) is a former lover from her college days with whom she’d made a binding pact: if neither of them were married by the age of 28, they’d marry each other. Just when they’re about to reach the deadline of their agreement, Mulroney arrives in Chicago to introduce Roberts to his seemingly perfect fiancée (Cameron Diaz) and announce their wedding in just three days. That leaves the shocked Julia with just three short days to sabotage the wedding and marry the man she now realizes she’s loved all along. With potential heartbreak waiting in the wings, she’ll either get what she wants or pay the price for her selfish behavior, and Ronald Bass’s cleverly constructed screenplay keeps us guessing to the very end. Rupert Everett scored rave reviews for his scene-stealing performance as Robert’s gay friend who goes along with her scheming (but only so far), and even as she makes her character’s needy desperation disarmingly appealing, Roberts wisely allows Diaz to capitalize on her charming time in the spotlight. As the romantic outcome remains uncertain, the viewer is held in a state of giddy suspense, and director P.J. Hogan pulls off some hilarious scenes (like a restaurant full of people singing the Dionne Warwick hit “I Say a Little Prayer”) that could easily have fallen flat in the hands of a less talented filmmaker. It’s no surprise that this was one of the box-office smashes of 1997. –Jeff Shannon
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Largely a puffed-up display of attitude, Keys to Tulsa stars Eric Stoltz as the black-sheep son of a wealthy Oklahoma family who appears out of nowhere and immediately gets involved with a blackmail scheme, an old girlfriend, guns, and a stripper. There isn’t much compelling narrative to back any of this outré stuff up; it’s indie-film posturing, though not without some attractive reasons to watch. Mary Tyler Moore’s and James Coburn’s presence certainly bring freshness to the otherwise overly-familiar indie cast. –Tom Keogh
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In his debut effort, director/writer Steven Baigleman put together an interesting premise and collected a talented cast to execute it. Unfortunately, he never sets the tone, so we are caught between a wildly black comedy and an emotionally brutal drama. A firmer footing in either genre would have better defined our reactions to it. Keanu Reeves plays Jjaks, a man so badly trod upon by fate that his very name is the result of a typo. He arrives back at his mother’s house in a lower working-class Minnesota neighborhood to witness the marriage of his older brother (Vincent D’Onofrio) to an obviously reluctant bride (Cameron Diaz). By the time Jjaks is on his way, he’s stolen a car, a dog, and his brother’s wife. You have to give Baigleman credit for serving up intriguing characters. Unfortunately, he spins the story in circles instead of moving it along. Reeves and Diaz attempt to leave Minnesota, but never quite make it. Reeves repeatedly returns to a boyhood home he hates, always stumbling into his brother’s angry clutches. What does work are the performances. Diaz is both sad and strong as the tough cookie who happens to be the smartest character in the movie. D’Onofrio’s stupid nastiness is offset by his crushing love for her and an uncontrollable jealousy of Jjaks. Most surprising is Reeves, who makes us feel for his angry, unhappy loser by revealing flashes of decency under a toughened exterior. –Rochelle O’Gorman
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Following the success of his spunky, 1995 directorial debut, The Brothers McMullen, Edward Burns suffers a little sophomore slump with this comedy about a pair of rivalrous brothers who get into bizarre relationships with women in a fierce but immature pursuit of happiness. When they find they both have a complicated interest in the same woman (Cameron Diaz), things come to a head. The film is a little overwritten, undershot, bulky, slow, and static, but it is also funny and inventive–further proof that Burns knows his New York City beat as well as Woody Allen does. With Jennifer Aniston, Maxine Bahns, and John Mahoney. –Tom Keogh
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Painted in mile-wide strokes of black satirical comedy, The Last Supper turns intolerance into a parlor trick, then repeats it ad nauseam in case we missed the joke. Still, redundancy can be fun when applied to the premeditated murder of right-wing extremists by self-righteous left-wing zealots; director Stacy Title is an equal-opportunity offender, never taking sides. The grisly high jinks commence when a truck-driving, child-molesting, Hitler-loving ex-Marine (Bill Paxton, acing the role) is accidentally killed while dining with a clutch of snobby liberal grad students, played with uniform excellence by Cameron Diaz (showing early promise), Ron Eldard, Courtney B. Vance, Annabeth Gish, and coproducer Jonathan Penner. Having acquired a taste for blood, the wine-poisoning liberals stage “last suppers” with hand-picked targets (Charles Durning, Mark Harmon, Jason Alexander, and ultimately Ron Perlman), eventually attracting a suspicious sheriff (fine work by SNL alumnus Nora Dunn). It’s got all the subtlety of a pile-driver, but The Last Supper craftily defends free speech by exposing its most vicious violations. –Jeff Shannon
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Sometimes it’s hard to tell if The Mask (or Jim Carrey’s in-your-face mugging in general) is actually funny, or just bizarre and grotesque. And sometimes it just doesn’t matter. Carrey plays a shy, Jerry Lewis-like nerd who discovers an ancient mask that magically transforms him into a green-faced, zoot-suited Tex Avery cartoon character with no inhibitions. As Roger Ebert said of Carrey in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, the actor performs “as if he’s being clocked on an Energy-O-Meter, and paid by the calorie expended.” If that’s your kind of humor, you’ll love The Mask; if not, you may need a valium or two to sit through this one. Digital video disc extras include two deleted scenes and a commentary track from director Charles Russell. –Jim Emerson
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