Zodiac

“Zodiac”

USA. 2007. Directed by David Fincher. Screenplay by James Vanderbilt. Based on the novel by Robert Graysmith. Starring: Jake Gyllenhaal, Mark Ruffalo, Anthony Edwards, Robert Downey, Jr., Elias Koteas, Chloe Sevigny, Brian Cox and Dermot Mulroney.

Rating: ★★★½

Whenever a series of murders go unsolved and unpunished, there is an inherent human drive and fascination to find the culprit because we want that person to be brought to justice. That drive is only further infuriating when the suspect takes it upon himself to delude the masses and set his own mystery almost as a challenge to the public. Jack the Ripper, of course, was the infamous, unapprehended killer that haunted Britain in the late 19th Century and early 20th Century and then there was the Zodiac killer for California in the 1960s and 1970s.

David Fincher’s Zodiac chronicles the real-life events of the latter case and focuses not so much on the serial killer himself but more on the paranoia and intrigue it instilled on the people who tried to solve the case. What made it more taunting and exasperating is that the Zodiac killer narcissistically sparked the controversy towards himself. He sent ciphers and encrypted letters to the police and the San Francisco Chronicle and dared everyone in California to crack his identity. If that wasn’t bad enough, he made it a point to pose veiled threats on school children, instilling fear all across the state.

The film opens with a series of rather chilling and bloody killings at the hands of the Zodiac in 1969 (five were confirmed to be done by him though he tried to claim credit for others as well). One would expect the director, David Fincher of Se7en to push further with his gruesome depiction but Fincher wisely chooses to be more tasteful in depicting these real-life murders that spanned across different counties in California. The acts are cold and merciless but the camera does not linger there.

From that point on, Zodiac turns into a straightforward police procedural that spans several decades and one of the most impressive qualities of the screenplay by James Vanderbilt, who adapted from Robert Graysmith’s original novel, is its narrative clarity. There is a labyrinth of clues that the detectives and reporters follow all throughout the film’s 160-minute runtime and we are never confused as to how the characters arrive at their conclusions and theories throughout the investigation. And though the story does provide its own theory of its prime suspect, it does not make the blunder that the recent Jack the Ripper film, From Hell made in providing a pat resolution that gives the illusion that the killer was actually fingered.

We follow several key characters such as the detectives including Dave Toschi (Mark Ruffalo), William Armstrong (Anthony Edwards) and police sergeant Jack Mulanax and the newspapermen like editorial cartoonist, Robert Graysmith (Jake Gyllenhaal) and reporter Paul Avery (Robert Downey, Jr.). They all become singularly invested in catching the killer after both parties receive letters with coded pictograms. The crucial difference between the two groups, however, is that whereas the detectives have a professional obsession to apprehend the suspect, the reporters harbor a more personal one.

Frustration is the emotion that drives the film and the characters’ obsession, which gradually overwhelms and consumes them. DNA testing could be done with the killer’s envelope seal in current day but of course this was beyond the time of investigation. We see the detectives’ aggravation at the mismatch between circumstantial evidence and the physical handwriting evidence, and particularly their inability to properly coordinate their evidence across counties. The latter fact is only further underlined when Avery sets out to track the killer down himself, even purchasing a gun, after he receives a personal death threat from the Zodiac. That obsession is ultimately transferred to Graysmith, who sets it as his personal mission to solve the Zodiac puzzle, to the detriment of his marriage to Melanie (Chloe Sevigny).

The film is thoroughly meticulous in capturing all of this minutiae and giving a real feel of investigative police work, warts and all. It shows that the average day of police work is far from the law-bending, big action scenes featured in Dirty Harry, which Zodiac puts into its widely known cultural context. Rather, an inspector’s job is rooted in patiently and doggedly sifting through a crime scene and somehow piecing enough evidence together just to get a proper search warrant. The scenes inside the offices of the San Francisco Chronicle also feel genuine in showing how a personal fascination with a killer serves almost as an escape to the mundane routine of normal day of journalism.

Fincher is an accomplished visual stylist as seen in his previous features and this is his best and most mature film because he uses it more sparingly here. There are a few of his trademark slightly off-angle shots and other creative visual tricks but he does not let his style overshadow his rich substance this time around, as he did with the vastly overrated Fight Club. He knows he has a sprawling period crime story to tell with tact as well as respect and his directing of suspense is tighter here, as it was with his superior works such as Se7en and Panic Room, because it builds naturally out of circumstance and investigative details rather than simply visual trickery.

When it comes to knowing about a serial killer that was never caught, I’m personally ambivalent towards the wildfire buzz that surrounds the real crimes. It is appropriate that much effort is devoted to nabbing the suspect. But when is it is finally to no avail, there is an unsettling sense of unfairness and sadness that the killer not only got away with committing evil but gained wretched attention for it. That’s an unspoken feeling the people involved in Zodiac will harbor probably for the rest of their lives.

Mr. Bean's Holiday

“Mr. Bean’s Holiday”

UK. 2007. Directed by Steve Bendelack. Story by Simon McBurney. Screenplay by Hamish McColl and Robin Driscoll. Starring: Rowan Atkinson, Max Baldry, Emma de Caunes, Willem Dafoe, Karel Roden and Jean Rochefort.

Rating: ★★½

“Stupid is as stupid does,” the idiot savant, Forrest Gump famously said and no one makes stupid funnier than Rowan Atkinson as Mr. Bean, the bumbling, silent clown from British TV. Ultra-cynical critics may think they have outgrown the era of silent slapstick comedy but attempting to do it at all is harder and riskier than merely coming up with cheap, vulgar jokes to shock audiences. And Atkinson does it as well as anyone can among modern performers and he deserves comparison with the older silent comic geniuses like Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin.

His second feature film, Mr. Bean’s Holiday finds him on vacation in France after a funny opening scene where he initially doesn’t even realize he’s won a trip to Cannes because he reads his raffle number upside down (616, instead of 919). His new toy this time is not a teddy bear, but a small DV camera. Of course, as only Bean can do, he quickly loses his personal belongings and unwittingly becomes responsible for a boy on a train, Stepan (Max Baldry) being separated from his father, Emil (Karel Roden). Thus starts a journey for him to rectify his mistakes and somehow get to his ultimate beach destination.

Though Mr. Bean’s Holiday, his second cinematic outing is not quite successful as a movie, it is certainly a step up from the first film, Bean, which made the mistake of having too much talking about the plot (though not from Bean, of course, except for a few strange word-like noises) and too little of Bean doing his physical comedy. This one adheres closer to the original series by putting Bean in a strange foreign land, thus yielding more opportunities for lone, awkward situations. And Atkinson continuously scores laughs whether doing a street impersonation of an aria or carrying an outhouse to the middle of the road.

Unfortunately, perhaps in an attempt to make it more family-friendly than the first film’s crude humor, the filmmakers have also made it a little bit too cloying. This is a little jarring considering that the Bean character is actually nastier and more self-centered than the other famous silent clowns like the Tramp. There is nothing wrong with trying to give Bean something of a conscience when he is taking care of Stepan but the bonding of the two characters is made too sugar-syrupy.

There are other supporting characters that dot the screen along the way such as Carson Clay (Willem Dafoe), a director premiering his vanity project at the Cannes Film Festival and a French actress, Sabine (Emma De Caunes), who agrees to give Bean and Stepan a ride. Their screen time is appropriately more limited than the supporting roles in the first film because Bean is at the center but they still feel a little too extraneous. There is a nice payoff at the end, however, when Bean inevitably somehow redeems himself at the Cannes Film Festival while even satirically cutting through some of its pretensions.

The film, however, should have ended a beat earlier. I know the grand musical montage at the end was probably meant as something of a parody of a French or Bollywood musical but it feels out of place for a Bean movie. As it is, like some other parts of the film, it feels like a corny conclusion of “Everyone lives happily ever after” with large quotation marks. Or maybe there is an ounce of cynicism in me.

Atkinson has said that this will be his last outing as Bean though he also commented, “Never say never.” If they ever decide to do another Bean film, I say reduce the plot and sound and just have Bean. The recent film version of The Simpsons made the safe choice to just make a funny, extended episode of the original. A feature length of complete silent comedy from Bean would shame all the recent vulgar comedies.

Black Sheep

“Black Sheep”

New Zealand. 2007. Written and directed by Jonathan King. Starring: Nathan Meister, Danielle Mason, Peter Feeney, Tammy Davis, Glenis Levestam, Tandi Wright, Oliver Driver and Matthew Chamberlain.

Rating: ★

“Black Sheep,” is supposed to be a horror spoof, I guess, but it is really like a one-note gimmick told by a lazy and redundant jokester who keeps on repeating his punch line long after it is over and done with. I wonder why no one told writer and director, Jonathan King that his horror gag of killer sheep gets old really, really fast. But then again, even producers can get lost in a high concept premise and fail to see the big forest. Or maybe based on an equally shallow joke in the movie, they relaxed and reassured themselves thinking that they were a tree.

This film from New Zealand basically takes the premise of zombies attacking humans and puts genetically engineered sheep in place of the former. Yes, there is a laugh to be had when the meekest animals on earth become the most fearsome critters after some toxic waste befalls on some sheep and sets off a plague. It comes replete with the idea that getting ravenously bitten by a sheep will turn you into one, leading to a few amusing bits where humans turn into gigantic sheep. But these killer sheep are ultimately no scarier or more interesting villains than the lumbering, attacking zombies are.

That leaves the human characters to do the heavy lifting of character development and this is one of the film’s great shortcomings. We get a hodge-podge of characters including Henry (Nathan Meister), who has an unusual phobia of sheep, Experience (Danielle Mason), an environmental activist against the domestication of sheep, her fellow activist, Grant (Oliver Driver), and a truck driver, Tucker (Tammy Davis). All of them are so thinly sketched though and thus merely become horror fodder to run this way and that.

Even the attempts at character humor feel terribly desperate and limp, no less the fact that a character’s name is Experience for no reason I can fathom. There is some beef (sorry, couldn’t resist) between Henry and his brother, Angus (Peter Feeney), who scared the former as a kid with a bloody sheep skin outfit (a scene the filmmakers think is a lot funnier than we do). But Angus’ eventual villainy representing corporate domestication of sheep is as easy as an on-off switch and the film just runs away from any social commentary it could have explored like George Romero did in his trend starting zombie flicks.

The bigger problem with the entire movie though is that the horror elements of the movie are played way too straight, which is the wrong approach to take considering that killer sheep are not exactly believably scary. Edgar Wright’s horror satire “Shaun of the Dead” had its suspenseful moments but it also had the brilliantly comical aspects apart from the genre elements (the odd romantic comedy and the way the protagonists have a loafing, dead-end existence). This film makes no attempt to put any satirical spin on its horror scenes and just plays them repetitively with typical thriller music, as if the mere sight of vicious sheep attacking the heroes will keep getting the laughs. I could even imagine the Kiwis, who would arguably find this funnier given their thriving sheep herding culture, getting restless after a while.

The influences from Sam Raimi and fellow New Zealander Peter Jackson’s earlier cheesily comic horror works are clear. And like many lesser imitators, writer/director King has studied the words but not the music. Sure, his movie presents its share of tasteless, extremely gruesome slaughter moments to provide morbid laughs for some and turn off others but he is not creative or clever enough to milk more jokes out of his bizarre premise. What made those previous classic zombie movies transcend the traditional horror elements were their constant pounding of over-the-top satirical comedy and, in the case of George Romero’s classic films, some insightful commentary on human nature and society.

So you think the concept of mutant killer sheep is the most absurdly funny thing you’ve heard? Then all you have to do is look at the poster at the top and think “killer sheep” for about ten seconds. There, you’ve had a laugh and watched “Black Sheep,” and it did not cost you anything as valuable as time or money.

Army of Shadows

“Army of Shadows”

France. 1969. Directed by Jean-Pierre Melville. Screenplay by Jean-Pierre Melville. Based on the novel by Joseph Kessel. Starring: Lino Ventura, Paul Meurisse, Jean-Pierre Cassel, Simone Signoret, Claude Mann, Paul Crauchet and Christian Barbier.

Rating: ★★★★

Jean-Pierre Melville’s “Army of Shadows” is one of the most emotionally brutal movies I’ve ever seen. Not physical, but emotional. In a medium that usually communicates through visceral images and sensations, Melville's film from 1969 is a masterpiece of the internal.

The film is set in the world of De Gaulle’s French resistance fighters attempting to overthrow the Nazi occupation of France. But it is not a David vs. Goliath story about war and Melville himself said that he did not want to necessarily make a movie about the resistance. In fact, there is just one astonishing opening shot that solely but firmly establishes the German occupation of France, as we see the troops marching across the Champs-Elysees closer and closer to the screen.

Instead, the movie is really a study of fatalism. The resistance fighters in the film fear that they may easily be captured and tortured by the Nazi regime. The emotional agony comes from watching these people attempt to persevere and stick to their own ideals despite their knowledge of probable doom.

We first meet Philippe Gerbier (Lino Ventura), the commander of the resistance fighters who is initially captured by the French police. He somehow narrowly escapes, however, and he meets with his other fellow members such as Francois (Jean-Pierre Cassel), Le Masque (Claude Mann), Le Bison (Christian Barbier), Felix (Paul Crauchet) and Mathilde (Simone Signoret), all of whom use false names as cover to spy on the Germans. They are led by Luc Jardie (Paul Meurisse), who only communicates through Gerbier and rarely meets any other group member in person.

An early chilling scene sets the theme and tone of the entire film when a traitor is caught after having sold information to the Germans. The team moves into a dilapidated house where they typically carry out their executions but realize that some new neighbors have actually occupied the house next door. Gerbier suggests a gun but Le Masque says it’s too noisy. A young member tries to back out using this as an excuse but Gerbier insists he must be killed. One suggests a knife but they don't have one. Gerbier finally says, “Get the towel in the kitchen," and this execution scene is simultaneously one of the most understated (the act is done just off-camera) and merciless of its kind ever put on film.

The whole movie is like that, shot in atmospheric, chilling blue colors, and Melville avoids every temptation to show anything explicit or rev up the action. There are tortures at the hands of Nazis but we only see the results. When Gerbier escapes, he takes out an officer so swiftly that we can hardly believe it when it happens. And there is no grand ensuing chase but just him running haphazardly, which only adds to our apprehension that he may be captured.

All of these strands lead to two scenes where people make crucial existential life or death decisions. One involves a captured fighter being given the choice by the Nazis to stand and be shot by machine gun or try to make a run for it to climb up a far wall and stay their execution. What crueler hangman is there than one who gives the choice to die or simply stay another day to die?

The other I won’t reveal other than to say that it raises crucial moral and political questions. Should rigid ideals be made so lofty that they supersede all human compassion and empathy? Must resistance against a political regime involve compromising one's own ethical values and principles? We feel excruciating pain for these characters as they decide these questions for the security of their small resistance group within their losing battle against a larger enemy and a government that has essentially surrendered to it.

“Army of Shadows,” which Melville adapted from a novel by Joseph Kessel, marked one of the last movies to come out of the French New Wave movement. The film was lambasted upon its release because it was considered Gaullist at a time where animosity against De Gaulle was at its peak. It is only now that Melville’s works are gradually being ranked as some of the greatest films in world cinema and that he is duly recognized with the likes of Jean-Luc Godard, Francois Truffaut and Louis Malle.

In an age where movies are all about putting money and visual effects on the screen, I would like to think that modern day audiences still have the patience for a resonant movie like “Army of Shadows.” The most brilliant quality of the movie is its ability to wait. Wait and wait with the increasing realization that there may be no rewards to reap within the fighters’ efforts. We the viewers, as powerless witnesses, simply hope that we never face the dire situations the characters face. But sadly there are some who still do.

Breathless

“Breathless”

France. 1960. Directed by Jean-Luc Godard. Screenplay by Jean-Luc Godard. Story by François Truffaut. Starring: Jean-Paul Belmondo, Jean Seberg, Daniel Boulanger, Jean-Pierre Melville, Henri-Jacques Huet and Van Doude.

Rating: ★★★★

Handheld camerawork, long takes, jump cuts, iris in and out shots. These techniques are familiar today but they startled and exhilarated audiences at the time of Jean-Luc Godard’s monumentally influential “Breathless.” And watching a film as this now is like joyfully retracing and rediscovering the ancestry of the beloved ingenuities in modern cinema.

Godard was, of course, famously one of the French New Wave directors alongside François Truffaut, Louis Malle and Jean-Pierre Melville (the latter of whom has a small starring role in this film). Godard is perhaps the most studied of all of them, no less because he said such famous quotes as, “Instead of writing criticism, I now film it” and “Every edit is a lie.”

Both of these concepts are present in this film. The first is in the way its antihero, Michel (Jean-Paul Belmondo) models himself after Humphrey Bogart films. His character is a paradox: a man completely lacking in morals as a thief and murderer (he is seen killing a cop in the very beginning) but utterly clueless and naive about how to act tough and cool to mask his amorality.

The second is even more subtle. It is in the way he uses long takes and jump cuts to have us visually focus on the isolated interplay between Michel and Patricia (Jean Seberg), the American girl he tries to court. All of their dalliances are shot in continuous long takes with a few jump cuts in between. In contrast, the other side characters’ monologues are seen frequently in staccato jump-cuts (which were shot in long takes with frames removed at random to create the mismatch between dialogue and camera shots).

The film's more curious and intriguing character is not Michel, however, but Patricia. Michel is really all surface and mannerisms, as he tries to live a no-holds-barred existence to steal as much as he can and bed various women. Patricia, on the other hand, is a woman who hasn’t found her place in society yet, always keeps somewhat of a poker face and is often silently trying to organize her thoughts. Because she and the movie never spell it out, we wonder what attracts her to him. Is she truly charmed by him or simply exhilarated to be so close to a cheerful crook like him?

Their flirtations continue as the cops are on his trail (seen often in iris in and out shots at the end of a scene). He starts to feel that he may love her. There is one crucial moment during their long dalliance when he says, “I love you but not in the way you think” and she replies, “How do you know what I think?” Her answer to this question of her feelings could be his saving grace or his ultimate downfall.

Much like the other cinematically referential French New Wave pictures, this is a film that loves movies. At one point, the two sneak into the Bogart picture, “The Harder They Fall” to escape the police. They frequently reference other Bogart movies as “High Sierra” as well as some French New Wave pictures. All of this represent a time in France when people were in love with the cultural headline that was the cinema.

And no wonder, as the film was a true revolutionary compared to the more conventional narratives of the stately French movies of yesteryear, which was much criticized by the pioneers of the French New Wave movement. Godard, like the other French New Wave directors, was formerly one of the critics of the famous French magazine, “Cahier du Cinema" who went on to respectively visualize their cinematic opinions. He adapted the innovative style of black-and-white Hollywood crime films that he embraced and deconstructed it through the spectrum of realism (the long takes adding to it and the jump cuts subtracting from it). The rest is, needless to say, in the annals of film history.

All the famous cinematic fugitives from films like “Bonnie and Clyde” and “Badlands” owe something to “Breathless,” as do much of modern cinema. The most important idea it contributed is its object lesson. Abandoning the glamour of the 30s Hollywood crime movies, the wave of realistic crime pictures highlight that under the intoxicating nature of crime lies a great confusion that is ultimately sad and self-defeating.

Little Manhattan

“Little Manhattan”

USA. 2005. Directed by Mark Levin. Written by Jennifer Flackett. Starring: Josh Hutcherson, Charlie Ray, Bradley Whitford, Cynthia Nixon, Willie Garson, Tonye Patano, Josh Pais, John Dossett and Talia Balsam.

Rating: ★★★½

When I was in kindergarten, I remember there was a girl whom I thought had quite a crush on me and my parents would tease me about her. She was skinny, curly, red-haired and, of course, taller than I was. We were playmates from time to time, but I felt a little awkward about all the attention she was giving me because, of course, girls have cooties. As I watched the unusually charming and sweet “Little Manhattan,” I wondered whether I would have thought differently if I had met her again five or six years later.

The movie tells the story of what happens to an 11-year old boy when a girl stops having cooties in his eyes. The boy is Gabe (Josh Hutcherson), who narrates his all too familiar school life. Boys and girls are playmates in kindergarten, and then the iron curtain comes down and guys and girls never mingle.

He certainly thought the same way about Rosemary (Charlie Ray), whom he was playmates with when they were 5. That is, until he sees her again in karate class. Then, she takes him to a nearby store where she needs to pick out a dress to be a flower girl. When he sees her in a pink dress, his heart begins to throb.

The film’s title, “Little Manhattan” makes it sound like it is some lighter version of vintage Woody Allen but this rare, young-hearted New York love story rightly strays far away from the wisecracks. Characters in those witty adult romantic comedies speak clever banter and jokes to dance around their obvious mutual affection. When we are young, all we have are the confusing, awkward emotions of finding first love. The film humorously captures all of that as Gabe wonders whether he should hold Rosemary's hand or maybe kiss her while they walk through Central Park or cruise through the streets in his scooter.

Director Mark Levin and writer Jennifer Flackett are sneaky in the way they weave their spell in the story. We know the ending will more than likely be bittersweet, as the preteens cannot exactly plan for the future and make a real lifetime of commitment. But their story transforms all the familiar modern romantic cliches by intently filtering them through the eyes of 11-year olds (such as their karate sparring fights as kids becoming the equivalent of a pillow fight for adults). And because the movie is so endearing without being cloying, and Hutcherson and Ray have such natural chemistry together with very little dialogue, we can’t help but root for them to stay together. It puts to shame all the other dull adult romantic comedies whose characters play foolish, deceptive games to the point of idiocy.

The screenplay also smartly does not settle for simplistic life lessons within its treatment of Gabe’s less than idealistic family situation. His parents, Adam (Bradley Whitford) and Leslie (Cynthia Nixon) are in the midst of finalizing a divorce, only that he has not moved out yet because he has not yet found an apartment. When Gabe asks his father, “What is it about girls?” the latter does not attempt to give any half-hearted word of wisdom but instead gives an honest answer suggesting that perhaps the father could take a nod from his son to rediscover the novelty of falling in love.

By intersecting these two stories, the film finds subtle insights a romantic novelist would have trouble essaying. Many people often think that idealism is associated with youth and they only grow more cynical as they mature. But acting on idealism requires maturity, too, and is not necessarily mutually exclusive with realism, as this movie suggests. If the young couple had met another five years later, they would better know how to sustain the feelings they share.

Puppy love is a concept that adults and teenagers would brush aside as immature and inconsequential but “Little Manhattan,” like all great family films, lets us reach into our own identifiable feelings from childhood. For Gabe and Rosemary, the most important thing is not that they end up together but that they actually took the chance. That will prepare them for whatever other challenge they may face in life. And a first love, puppy or otherwise, only happens once.

Sunshine

“Sunshine”

UK. 2007. Directed by Danny Boyle. Written by Alex Garland. Starring: Cillian Murphy, Rose Byrne, Chris Evans, Michelle Yeoh, Hiroyuki Sanada, Benedict Wong, Troy Garity and Cliff Curtis.

Rating: ★★

Perhaps I wouldn’t dislike “Sunshine” so much if I hadn’t had such high hopes walking in. But the director is Danny Boyle, who never repeats himself and has fearlessly branched into different genres. When he succeeds, he can really succeed as in "28 Days Later" and "Millions," which renewed the horror and family film genres, respectively. But his and writer Alex Garland's creative imaginations have taken a holiday on this one.

The movie assembles an eclectic, international cast of good actors such as Cillian Murphy, Rose Byrne, Michelle Yeoh, Cliff Curtis, Michelle Yeoh, Hiroyuki Sanada, Benedict Wong, Troy Garity and yes, even Chris Evans (I know he played the human torch in Fantastic Four, but I liked him in “Cellular”). They play astronauts whose mission is to deliver a huge bomb that will give the dying sun an energy boost in order for the planet to survive. The film's opening seems to use all of them well, as it begins to explore how the intense pressure of the mission can break the astronauts of Icarus II mentally and maybe even physically. There is also the looming shadow of the Icarus I mission, which abruptly failed and was never heard from for unknown causes.

This premise at least makes some sense compared to most other sci-fi films. Giving a renewed injection of energy to the sun with a bomb somehow seems logical to me. The film also seems to draw some religious parallels between observing the brightness of the sun and seeing God face to face. And since the best science fiction is all about a sense of wonder, what better spatial object is there to explore than the sun?

Some beautiful visual effects and images abound, particularly the detailed shots of the sun itself. There is also a nice emphasis on the source of oxygen, which is a greenhouse grown by Michelle Yeoh. Yes, there are some obvious steals from other movies like "2010," “Deep Impact,” "Armageddon," and “Event Horizon” but nonetheless the scenes where the astronauts have to make quick decisions under disastrous situations are initially engaging.

But then, with astonishing speed, the bad mishaps keep adding and adding up until the movie starts to feel like an overbaked third act (sorry, couldn’t resist). This is either a most hastily built spaceship for one that is supposed to save the planet or Murphy’s Law is at play in this universe. The filmmakers have not studied that maintaining suspense requires moments of release as well instead of a mere assault to the senses. Soon, we start losing interest in the fate of the mission, as we realize that they are nothing more than pawns for the tragic mistakes that ensue. It doesn’t help that the checklist of rip-offs of other superior films like “Alien” and “2001: A Space Odyssey” only grows.

What becomes most disconcerting though in the second half is that the movie turns its seeming exploration into madness under intense pressure into a mere plot device. Without giving too much away, the story just gives up as it turns into a routine slasher thriller when there is an insane crew member on board. I’m always disappointed to see that the filmmakers have run out of ideas when all of the visual effects and intriguing buildup give way to a climax where people have to run frantically this way and that for their lives. Would it be an insult to say that this actually plays like another bad sci-fi movie called “Hollow Man,” which reduced invisible Kevin Bacon into a nothing more than a homicidal maniac?

Even Boyle’s usual frenetic visual style has no positive bearing this time around. For example, he tries to obscure the view of that insane madman by making it purposefully disorienting and jagged, maybe in hopes of going for a “Jaws” effect where we don’t really see the villain. Of course, Spielberg audaciously kept the shark literally out of sight instead of just plain cheating by not making up its mind about whether it “really” wants to show the villain.

I would like to think that Boyle, along with sci-fi novelist, Garland, had higher aspirations in exploring the genre. But perhaps he didn't, considering that most of the good (and the bad) things turn out to be steals from other films he must have seen before making this one. At least his previous disastrous failures such as “A Life Less Ordinary” and “The Beach” (which was also written by Garland) were ambitious failures. “Sunshine” simply comes up mediocre, which is the last thing you’d anticipate from a Danny Boyle film.

The Bourne Ultimatum

“The Bourne Ultimatum”

USA. 2007. Directed by Paul Greengrass. Screenplay by Tony Gilroy, Scott Z. Burns and George Nolfi. Story by Tony Gilroy. Based on the novel by Robert Ludlum. Starring: Matt Damon, Julia Stiles, Joan Allen, David Strathairn, Scott Glenn, Paddy Considine, Edgar Ramirez and Albert Finney.

Rating: ★★★½

The astonishing thing about the first two films of the Bourne series upon reflection is that they are all setup. Similar to the first two installments of “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy, both movies made riveting thrillers from a plot that did not provide any real closure (after all, Bourne still has not found his identity). We were entertained purely by watching Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) implacably performing his spy craft purely on instinct and one-upping his pursuers at every turn. When the answers finally arrive and Jason furiously strikes back in this third and most thrilling installment, “The Bourne Ultimatum,” the payoff is far from disappointing, even if there is more fury than true resolution.

The movie takes off pretty much where the second film left off when Bourne is on his way back to retrace his steps. Of course, the CIA superiors such as Noah Vosen (David Strathairn) and Ezra Kramer (Scott Glenn) consider him a danger to national intelligence and want to close/kill every single hole of that infamous operation formerly called Treadstone (now called Black Briar). Pamela Landy (Joan Allen), on the other hand, is not all into the ceaseless paranoia her bosses seem to be tangled in.

Because this reportedly final chapter contains many revelations, I must not divulge anymore about the discoveries that Bourne makes. Basically, what these movies, which were inspired by the Robert Ludlum novels, increasingly become is the antithesis to a Kafkaesque vision. In the beginning, Bourne only wanted to clear his name. Now that he realizes the government that trained him won’t leave him alone, the lethal assassin is using all the skills he learned to find its loopholes.

The plot, however, really takes a back seat to nonstop action that shows more of Bourne’s instinctive lighting speed thinking than ever before. The previous two films had exciting chase scenes, on car and on foot, but “Ultimatum” is determined to raise the ante, even if it means sacrificing some of the realism that the first film introduced. This time, Greengrass finds endless variations as he freely checks off locations across the globe as Bourne is chased through Moscow, London, Madrid, Tangier, Turin and finally New York. One of the best is in London where Bourne directs a British reporter (Paddy Considine) his next moves with military precision to avoid being captured or killed by government assassins. It is a tribute to Matt Damon’s silently physical performance that his character remains compellingly dogged in the face of the increasing implausibility of the chase and stunts (many of which he reportedly did himself).

Greengrass and his cinematographer Oliver Wood’s handheld camerawork is ingenious in the way it becomes almost a sneakily active participant in the chase. The most inspired is a tracking shot that follows right behind Bourne’s back as he leaps across the alleyway into a window. The film also responds to complaints towards the second film by at least making the martial arts fights discernible this time.

It’s a credit to him and his writers, Tony Gilroy, Scott Z. Burns and George Nolfi that he makes us care about our hero with minimal dialogue in those few moments where we can catch a breath. I especially like the way the dialogue always sounds as elliptical as people working in espionage probably would (though I obviously wouldn't know for sure). And there is one emotional moment where Bourne expresses his remorse for the people he has had to kill in front of another agent, Nicki Parsons (Julia Stiles).

In the end, of course, there is little real food for thought, as the whole movie is just a superbly entertaining livewire of kinetic energy. The key difference though between superior summer fare like this one and other less brainier action films like “Transformers” is that in "Ultimatum," we’re amazed at the craftsmanship of the constant chase instead of wondering why we have to care about a visual effects barrage of metal clanging or superheroes beating each other silly. And it’s also a heck of a lot more engaging to watch a human think methodically and mechanically like a robot rather than the other way around.