One of the hardest things about being a film critic is not letting a bad day interfere with a film review. I mean, after a friend says he’s going to meet you there and you wait thirty minutes and he never shows, it hurts, but you try to put it behind you and watch the movie. Never mind that I’ve been depressed as all Hell lately and the actual human contact would have been nice, but losers can’t be choosers, and I my friends, am most definitely a loser.

So about 7:30, I trudged inside, trying to find one seat and not look like a pervert or something (c’mon—you know whenever you see a guy by himself at a screening like that that you think he’s some sort of pedophile). I found one towards the front and slumped down in my seat, ready to slash my wrists and slowly die as the blood paints the silver screen crimson, on comes a trailer for the new Will Ferrell movie Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy — one of the funniest trailers I’ve seen so far this year, and it will probably be one of the (if not, the most) funniest movie of the year.

That put me in better spirits.

Euro-Trip is an amusing, if not formulaic, cookie-cutter teen sex comedy that has more hits than misses, but not more tits than penises. It’s the typical story with many of the stereotypical characters we’ve become accustomed to in recent years: the mild-mannered every-teen whose girlfriend just broke up with him in the most embarrassing manner possible; his horny buddy; their nerdy, over-prepped friend and his tom-boy who’s really a hot girl sister that no one noticed before. After the mild-mannered guy accidentally tells his German e-mail pal to ***censored*** off, it’s a mad-cap dash across Europe to find her and tell her he loves her.

Along the way, they meet soccer hooligans in England, led by the scary Vinnie Jones. Then, after a montage in France (the music they play is Plastic Bertrand—very reminiscent of the same scene in National Lampoon’s European Vacation), the guys visit a male nude beach (where the directors show some guts and show over 100 penises on screen—I haven’t seen that much penis at once in my life, and I once watched a gay gang-bang porn!).

Then it’s off to Amsterdam where the horny buddy goes to a sex-club in Amsterdam and is anally raped (for laughs).  A creepy kid who idolizes Hitler is in the background in Germany and in the funniest part of all their travels, end up in a slum in Slovenia (the dog with the severed hand was priceless), which has to be the most depressing place on Earth. It all ends up in Vatican City, where a predictable set-up for wacky mishaps leads to a predictable set-up for the reconciliation for mild-mannered guy and German girl.

And oh yeah, I forgot—the brother and sister make out in a bar in a scene that is both hot and disturbing.

The main cast is basically a bunch of dumb kids I haven’t seen before, with the exception sister Michelle Tractenberg. If you don’t remember her, she was the little girl from Harriet the Spy. As much as they try to play her off as sexy, it’s pointless because she still has the same body she did in that movie. There are cameos galore, including a pointlessly unfunny one by Matt Damon, while SNLer Fred Armisen provides the most laughs with his face-licking “scuze” Italian. But the funniest one involves sex and an unwitting cameo by David Hasselhoff.

If you liked Road Trip or National Lampoon’s European Vacation but have very low expectations that this film would even come close to those cinematic highs, then you’ll enjoy Euro-Trip immensely. For me, it was a passably enjoyable lark--it has its moments, but in the end, there’s nothing to write home about.

Stay after the credits and watch a disturbing outtake from the Slovenia scene, where a little girl urinates on the street. It shows it.

Review by Louis Fowler.

USA, 2003
Director: Nathaniel Kahn
Score: ***

The discovery of a strange man found dead at a train station with the address crossed out on his identification would trigger a reactionary interest in anyone, even more so when this person turns out to be famed American architect Louis Kahn.  The mysterious death, Kahn’s influence in the architectural field and the need to know more of his secretive personal life are some of the impetus that drives his son, director Nathaniel Kahn to render this well-conceived 2003 Oscar nominated best documentary feature.  My Architect, made 30 years after Louis’s death is his son’s personal journey of discovery.

There is much material for director Nathaniel Kahn to work with. For one, his father, Louis had three families, kept apart and unknown from each other.  His accomplishments combined art and architecture resulting in works from the Yale Art Gallery to the monumental capital complex in Bangladesh.  Documentaries generally fascinate as much as the subject is of interest.  It is here that director Kahn succeeds in gradually building up momentum culminating with Louis being praised as a God for his last work in Bangladesh – the openings of his structures compared to communication with the Deity.  Kahn takes his camera crew over the world to film his accomplishments.  Fortunately, a lot of footage were originally available from the New York Foundation For the Arts.

It is difficult to fault Kahn’s film.  He exhaustively covers his father’s life from childhood to his emigration from Estonia, to his encounters with the three women of his life to his achievement in his work, despite being broke at the time of his death.  He introduces humor in his father’s impractical ideas and sustains drama during interviews with his half-sisters and mother.  His respect for his father gets a bit overblown at times, especially during the half hour of the film, with the film sliding a bit towards sentimentality.

Louis Kahn’s work is described by an admirer as rigorous, principled and exhilarating.  Though director Kahn’s film resolves most of what he set out to do, he fails to bring all his points to a satisfying closure.  If he only did, his film might be described by those same three words.

Review by Gilbert Seah

Well, Adam Sandler has finally done it.

He’s finally really as bad as everyone always said he was.

For years, I have always been one to defend Sandler—from the hilarious highs of Billy Madison and the Wedding Singer to the laborious lows of Bulletproof and Little Nicky. But after the dreck that was Anger Management and now this cold-sore of a film, unless it’s a P.T. Anderson film, I think I’ll take my next Sandler vehicle on video.

I hate to say this because I find Sandler to be a true comedic genius. He was one of the most influential artists growing up, when I first saw him on SNL when I was about 10 or 11.  No one cracked my brother and me up harder—from Canteen Boy to the DIY Halloween costumes, along with Farley, Spade and Rock, Sandler created a Holy Quadrangle of comedy that I still laugh at heartily today. And when I first saw Billy Madison, Happy Gilmore and the Wedding Singer, I was as equally enthralled by his work. And you know, I kinda liked Big Daddy. The Waterboy was OK. And then what’s this? Little Nicky? Um… not so good.  Mr. Deeds, yeah I laughed once or twice…

Then came the aforementioned Anger Management. It wasn’t funny, it wasn’t entertaining—it was barely a film. Sandler was clearly losing any credibility he had (I am not really counting Punch Drunk Love, as it’s not a true Sandler film—sorry) and his next film was going to make of break him. So when I heard news his next film was going to reunite him with Drew Barrymore (who as much as I don’t like, will admit she really made The Wedding Singer work), so I was pretty excited. Then I saw the trailer.

“What the Hell is this ***censored***?” I thought, watching it.

But, trailers can lie right? I’m still gonna give it a chance. I will still watch it on opening day. And I did.

And it sucked.

No, “sucked” doesn’t even do it justice. “Sucks” is too nice. This movie is pure, uninspired, retreaded ***censored***. Sandler obviously doesn’t give a ***censored*** anymore—he just cruises from one goofably likable love-lorn character to the next, with little change in plot or ideas. And somehow poor li’l Rob Schneider always ends up in the mess.

In 50 First Dates, Sandler is Henry Roth, a player (who’s also very sweet, per the Sandler usual) who beds women non-stop on vacation in beautiful Hawaii. One day, he meets Lucy (our little Drew!) and they hit it off immediately and agree to meet the next day. So they do, but there’s one problem: Lucy has no short term memory and remembers nothing after she goes to sleep. Enter various comedic fracases.

While this could have been played for meaner laughs (as Sandler would of done about ten years ago), Sandler, preying on the sensibilities of the Valentine’s holiday crowd who loved his sweet Wedding Singer character (the one he pretty much plays all the time now), tries even harder than before to make you fall in love with him. That means cutting the dick jokes to the minimum and making the thing practically a drama towards the middle. I only wish I could tell you the unsatisfying, horrible ending that will lead you shaking your head in disbelief, saying to yourself “How does she live like that? And they got… and there’s a …that’s makes no ***censored*** sense!”

The cast is passable—Drew Barrymore (who I know most of you hate, but, while I find her personality in real life to be ***censored*** and fake as all Hell, I think she’s still super cute.) is even more annoying than usual. She wants you to love her more than you love Adam—it’s like they’re locked in an eternal struggle for your heart. The girl can’t act, sorry.  Rob Schneider does his contractually-obligated “sidekick who talks in a funny accent” shtick and Ring-er Sean Astin is a ***censored***-erotic steroid juicer. I don’t even want to get started on Dan Aykroyd—let me just say that Sandler better take a good look at Aykroyd hard, because that’s where his career is headed. Adam’s career is in critical condition and it’s time to perform some resuscitation, stat, because pretty soon it’ll be him starring alongside Britney Spears in Crossroads 2 (Yeah Dan—you know I saw you!)

I tried, but there is absolutely nothing to recommend in this movie. As a matter of fact, if someone you love recommends seeing 50 First Dates, punch them. 50 times, if necessary.

Review by Louis Fowler.

1997, Japan
Director: Kiyoshi Kurosawa
Starring: Koji Yakusho, Tsuyoshi Ujiki, Masato Hagiwara,

Detective Takabe (Koji Yakusho) is investigating some mysterious murders with the assistance of his psychologist friend. There is no link or motive for the suspects, and the suspects don’t know or remember what they have done. The only link between the murders is an X mark on each victim’s neck. As they continue deeper into their investigation, they discover a horrific and sinister element behind the murders.

I believe there are two kinds of films. The kind of film that makes you feel and the kind of film that makes you think. Cure fits in latter category. It is a strange but good psychological thriller. The story and characters, especially the main bad guy, are very strange. It does puzzle your mind throughout the film. The film focuses on Takada and his investigation of the murders. There are many characters involved in the story and while some are very essential, most are really just signs on the side of the road. Just like his other films, Cure really requires you to think. And yes, it is filled with an eerie atmosphere throughout. One thing that I don’t like about his films is that they all begin with a very engaging story but at midpoint they turn into social commentaries.

This film should perhaps be viewed twice to have a better understanding. It is very subtle and atmospheric, but it may not be for everyone.

Review by Shogo.

Hong Kong, 2002
Directors: Andy Lau and Alan Mak
Cast: Andy Lau, Tony Leung
Score: ****

Infernal Affairs is the biggest Hong Kong hit in decades, drawing a record HK$7 million when it opened during the Christmas of 2002. Not only does the film boast two of the city’s hottest stars (Andy Lau and the more recognizable Tony Leung of Happy Together, In the Mood for Love and other Wong Kar Wai films) but it has a multi-layered plot skillfully executed by its two directors in a film that is as entertaining as it is handsome to look at – a rarity in Hong Kong films.  (Infernal Affairs has already spawned a prequel and a sequel.

Lau and Leung play moles, one planted in the police force and the other in a gangster triad.  The film begins with the two young men training in the force.  Leung is expelled but secretly hired to infiltrate the triad while Lau clandestinely reports to his triad boss while serving in police uniform.  The rest of the film interweaves the action of the two culminating in a confrontation as both discover each other’s identity.

Directors Lau and Mak develop a compelling tale by focusing on twin parallels - reflected in the nature of the two bosses – the chief inspector and drug king-pin; in the similarities encountered in the tasks performed by the two moles and again in the emotional trauma resulting in the prolonged playing of an uncomfortable role.  It is clear that the play in the cops and robbers game is interchangeable as it is ambiguous.  The loyalties that the moles develop as a result are as disturbing as it is real in life.  The action sequences (car crashes, chases on-foot and gangland executions) are sufficiently exciting, complementing the moody nature of the crime drama.

As a bonus, there are some magnificent looking shots, for example, in the shoot-out sequence in the covered car park - the floor scattered with puddles of dark water reflecting the action taking place.  Master cinematographer Chris Doyle (mentioned in the opening credits) clearly must have left in his imprint here.  On the other hand, cheap theatrics like the elevator doors opening and closing on a slain body look too staged.

But it is the darkness and moodiness of the film that finally captivates.  There are no heroes in this story – just survivors.  The Chinese title, which translates to Wujian Path tells it all.  Wujian is the name of an ancient form of hell – a continuous hell, the one in Buddhist mythology of the worst kind.  It also reflects the torment particularly faced by Leung as the traitor in the triad.  Only two high ranking officers in the police force know of his undercover.  When one is killed and the pressure mounts, he has to seek psychiatric help to retain his sanity.

Lau and Leung are charismatic in their leads, portraying both a vulnerability and strength in their characterizations.  Their mentors (triad boss and police chief) are also brilliantly played by Eric Tsang and Anthony Wong.  Pity the female roles are under-written.  The psychiatrist (Kelly Chen) helping Leung through his trauma appears to be just going through the motions and Lau’s fiancée (Sammi Cheng) is more irritating, whining and complaining most of the time.

For all the praise that can be bestowed on Infernal Affairs, one can only wish the film will reach local screens.  Miramax has bought the North American rights.  This might not be a good thing as their other Asian films notably Shaolin Soccer and Hero are still idling on the shelves. Still, Infernal Affairs is definitely worth viewing and it is available on DVD at present.

Review by Gilbert Seah.