USA, 2004
Director: Keenan Ivory Wayans
Score: **

Two disgraced FBI agents, Marcus (Marlon Wayans) and Kevin (Shawn Wayans) go way undercover as WHITE CHICKS in an effort to protect the high profile hotel heiresses Tiffany (Anne Dudek) and Brittany (Maitland Ward) Wilson Sisters from a kidnapping plot.  The story, simple as it appears, provides ample opportunity for comedic set pieces as well as a showcase for the talent (or non-talent) of the three Wayans Brothers.

Like Keenan Ivory Wayans’ (the eldest brother) I’M GONNA GIT YOU SUCKA and SCARY MOVIE, WHITE CHICKS contains plenty of gross-out humour (the lactose intolerant toilet and hangnail segments) and spoofs, this time of the MTV lifestyles.  Whether these are successful or not, depends of course, on the mood and age of the viewer.  But many of the jokes, like the puking dog and the squashed face of Marcus on the rear window of the hatchback solicit few, if any laughs.  Still, the Wayans do not seem to care but churn out more, in the hope that enough will work.  One cannot blame them at least for trying their damndest best.  Yet, there are whole, lengthy segments, like a wife jealous over a suspected lover and the shoot-out climax that do not work at all.

One wonders about the studios toning down the grossness.  In the film’s trailer, Marcus flicks the hangnail at his/her date’s face.  In the actual film, it lands in his glass of beer.  Upon careful observation of the next scene, however, that glass of beer is missing from the table. The filmmakers obviously do not think too much of the audience’s mentality to observe a film’s continuity.

Incredible, however is the make-up job.  Not only do the Brothers look white and alike the Wilson Sisters, but they have got the rich socialite mannerisms – face twitches and girly giggles - down pat.  The supporting cast is not bad either, particularly Terry Crews (FRIDAY AFTER NEXT) as the poor beefy basketball player who wants to bed Marcus, in drag make-up.

The phrases ‘guilty pleasures’ and ‘better than expected’ will be penned by most critics of WHITE CHICKS.  But is it too much to ask a bit more from the Wayans Brothers in terms of maturity and tact?  WHITE CHICKS is both as fun and annoying as the Wilson sisters can be.

Review by Gilbert Seah.

USA, 2004
Director: Guy McConnell
Starring: Erika Stone, Jason Kulas, Kevin Cirone
Website: Aisle 5 Entertainment

Director Guy McConnell first drew attention in low-budget filmmaking circles with his feature length slasher flick DEATHLIST. That film has been mocked by many people, while at the same time developing a small but rabid cult following. DEATHLIST was an ambitious first effort by a young filmmaker. It had some very noticeable flaws, but there was a spark that is missing in a lot of microcinema efforts. After the harsh reception, McConnell took a little time off to regroup and make a few short films before returning with his second feature.

OLD MAN is the story of a young couple who find a really great deal on a new house. It turns out that the house has a sinister reputation. The previous owner was a serial killer who murdered at least 12 people in the house before hanging himself. Now the house is believed to be haunted by the old man.

Instead of going for the gross-out, McConnell has clearly learned a lesson or two from filmmakers like M. Night Shyamalan who build up a good deal of suspense without actually showing anything. The film does a good job at setting up a genuine air of mystery. Until the final 15 minutes of the film, we only catch glimpses of the Old Man which greatly increases the effectiveness of the character.

On a technical level, the movie is quite solid. The camerawork, editing, sound and acting are all solid. However, the movie is very slow-paced. I realize that this is partially intentional, but some of the sequences linger on for so long that it’s tempting to hit the fast forward button. And when we finally do get to the pay-off, it just doesn’t seem quite big enough. Adding to this problem is the fact that the characters are not very fleshed out at all. If we knew more about what made these characters tick, we could invest a lot more emotionally in what happens to them.

Despite its flaws, OLD MAN is clearly the work of a filmmaker who is learning from his mistakes and honing his craft. But some of this newfound polish comes at the expense of the raw spark that made McConnell’s early work interesting. I will definitely look forward to his future projects in the hopes that he can combine his solid technical skills with a more personal and unique creative vision. 

Review by Christopher Sharpe

Canada, 2004
Director: John Palmer
Score: ****

Definitely the best movie screened at the Toronto Inside Out Lesbian and Gay Video and Film Festival and most likely the best gay film so far this year, SUGAR delivers back the edgy kind of gay cinema missed since gay themes first appeared on celluloid.  The film begins with the protagonist masturbating in public, followed by a drag ***censored*** fight and an orgy in a limousine. SUGAR contains hardly any plot. It does trace, however, the coming-of-age story of 18-year old Cliff (Andre Noble) who discovers first love in the form of best friend and drug addicted hustler, Butch (Brendan Fehr from TV’s ROSWELL). SUGAR, which is based on short stories by Toronto’s own hardcore filmmaker bad ***censored*** Bruce LaBruce (SUPER 8 1/2 and NO SKIN OFF MY ***censored***), shares identical traits with LaBruce’s films. The relationship between one innocent and one hustler is similar in tone to that of the punk skinhead and LaBruce in his two above mentioned movies.  When Cliff is asked in one scene what he is doing among the male hustlers, he replies: “I don’t know!” These words echo so true to many young teens as well. 

SUGAR is irrelevant in parts, casual in its depiction of the sexual trade, hardcore completely and extremely erotic. The cornflakes breakfast scene with Butch and Cliff jacking off in front of each other and the one with two older males arguing over a sickly looking hustler’s merchandise are hilariously priceless. Palmer lets his actors a free reign to play with the material and improvise.  The results are rewarding. Even Maury Chaykin, Michael Riley and Sarah Polley deliver their cameos with spunk. And when you think things are getting heavy with a death and funeral at the film’s end, Palmer will have you laughing out loud within the next minute when young Cliff picks up again in the toilet. I laughed out louder than the water flushing down the toilet.

SUGAR will no doubt be hard to take for straight audiences. But it takes a film like SUGAR to jolt complacent filmgoers out of watching all the current commercial crap. The Canadian film opens in Toronto just in time for the Pride weekend.

Review by Gilbert Seah.

The 1975 original film adaptation of THE STEPFORD WIVES was a feminist horror film, with an intriguing story, palatable suspense and a jolt of an ending. The new remake, however, is allegedly a comedy—a broad, Broadway-camp goof shot with the same color palette as a bag of Skittles, just as disposable and with about as much nutritional value. Katherine Ross’ sympathetic photographer Joanna has morphed into Nicole Kidman’s bitchy and cutthroat TV network executive, whose five-year reign at the top comes to an immediate end when an embittered participant from one of her reality shows tries to kill her. Fearing bad press, the net lets her go.

One nervous breakdown later, Joanna and husband (Matthew Broderick, about as convincing as Kidman’s significant other as Tom Cruise) uproot their two rarely seen kids and move to the gated town of Stepford, Conn. The suburb is quiet, the homes are magnificent and the wives are robotic, subservient hotties in floral dresses from the ‘50s. As a snooping Joanna discovers—along with her nosy pal Bette Midler and, because Paul Rudnick wrote the script, a gay man—the Stepford Men’s Club, headed by Christopher Walken, is behind the transformation of the city’s women into large-breasted, no-questions-asked automatons.

And the movie itself is about as brainless. There are a few good one-liners, but the tone is all wrong, the editing awkward and the whole production looks cheap and rushed. I felt not like I was watching a STEPFORD remake, but rather a MAD TV parody of STEPFORD. And not a particularly good one.

Script problems aside, much of the blame has to fall on Kidman. She’s no comedienne. Hell, she’s hardly even a “she,” looking like death in a dress. I know she’s supposed to not be pretty early in the movie, but even following her Stepford makeover, the woman looks unhealthy, emaciated and decidedly un-Stepford-sexy.

All in all, this glorified sitcom is a miscast failure. It’s not quite a train wreck, although it is an insult to Ira Levin’s still-great novel. STEPFORD WIVES, I want a divorce.

Review by Rod Lott.

Canada, 2004
Director: Nathaniel Geary
Score: ***1/2

Downtown eastside - Vancouver’s urban ghetto.  This is the setting for native director Nathaniel Geary’s debut feature about one family’s downward spiral into hell.  Angel (Alex Rice) has fled the reserve from Prince Rupert 5 years back and is currently in the ghetto supporting her heroin habit with prostitution.  The film begins with the newly arrived little brother, Randy (Simon Baker), just escaped from his foster home and looking for a place to stay while searching the truth about his father.  The two help each other out, but not without him too, getting into trouble with the hard drugs like crack and heroin.

The street lingo and drug scenes are harrowingly real and well portrayed.  Not only are the physical (the preparation of an injectable heroin dose or cocaine) but the psychological effects of drugs well depicted.  The characters – brother, sister, aunt, pimp, friend, user – all have their place in this sordid world.  Director Geary shows that these people are human, though not necessary likeable.  Often they are victims of their own personalities.

The young talented cast has held their own in other features.  Rice was in THE WAR BRIDE and in the miniseries SOPRANOS while Baker was in THE SWEET HEREAFTER and SMOKE SIGNALS.  But the star of the piece is Downtown eastside, with the Portland hotel at its centre where most of the action is set.  Geary takes his time to get his film to speed with the introduction of the characters, story and situations.  But once all this is place, the film packs quite the punch.  The interaction among the principles is the film’s strength.  The fight in the seedy hotel’s corridor, the arguments over drugs and the climatic stabbing in the public toilet are all the more compelling to watch.

Nathaniel Geary has created an admirable and assured first piece, with a straight and simple story-telling style often using hand held cameras, that compliments the complex layered relationships resulting from a family’s deterioration.  There are no compromises here.  Redemption is not a viable option in an often cruel unforgiving world.  Sometimes an individual’s courage to better oneself to lead back a normal life is all that matters.  And it is Geary’s (courage) to tell the story of what is truly going on in the ugly downtown eastside of Vancouver that finally pays off when ON THE CORNER was voted the best Canadian film by the critics at last year’s Toronto International Film Festival.

Review by Gilbert Seah.