James "Saw" Wan's Death Sentence is based on a book by the same guy who wrote Death Wish; Neil "Interview With the Vampire" Jordan's The Brave One turns Jodie Foster into Charles Bronson; and David "The Fly" Cronenberg busts a move (and some chops) with his answer to Scorsese, in Eastern Promises. (Are you reading this, Edgar "Shaun of the Dead" Wright? There may be a movie for you in here somewhere down the line.)
Death Sentence is already out — and has been summarily slaughtered by Rob Zombie's Halloween — so that leaves two more chances for horror fans to clean their palettes with a different taste of blood before the next major genre release:
Neil Jordan's The Brave One
By the time Foster says 'I want my dog back', you might be saying you want your money back. But by then, it will be too late. You'll have been seduced by Jordan's sexy-mad directing skills, Foster's amazing acting, and Philippe Rousselot's stunning cinematography.
The Brave One is an assured, well-made, and more than competent film. That's why it is hard to fault. But in the end, it's as empty as one of Erica Bain's many shell casings. Foster plays her — a Manhattanite NPR-like talk radio show host of some repute, whose boyfriend (played by Naveen Andrews) gets killed during a brutal attack by random thugs in Central Park. Erica's left in a coma — and dogless, as the bastards stole the couple's beloved pooch in the melee — but once she awakens she is out for blood. You see, the Big Apple is full of rotten ones, and Erica decides its her mission to make some applesauce.
At first, she's just a run-of-the-mill, anonymous vigilante. Think Bernard Goetz as a foxy blonde. But then she starts to find her focus, thereby attracting the attention of a world-weary, jaded detective Sean Mercer (Terrence Howard). The two engage in a friendly game of cat and mouse that's accented by fierce foreshadowing, sappy sentimentality, and lots and lots of gunfire.
Jordan and Foster are two of my all-time faves, so it's easy to forgive them their trespasses here (but shame on you, screenwriters Roderick and Bruce Taylor, and Cynthia Mort!). Jordan does a great job using his very singular visual style, nicely baiting and switching (particularly in an expertly-edited early scene which mirrors the doomed couple's lives and deaths) as the plot holes gape. Foster is, um, doggedly committed to her role, creating a dimensional, wholly believable woman out of an otherwise cardboard cutout character.
David Cronenberg's Eastern Promises
Nikolai Luzhin (Viggo Mortensen), is the ruthless (yet somehow likable, and certainly compelling) driver, fix-it guy, and maniac-minder to one of London's most notorious Russian mob families.
The maniac is Kirill (Vincent Cassel), the unmanageable son of crime boss Semyon (Armin Muller-Stahl) who goes off on bloody sprees of violence, one of which causes Nikolai to cross paths with Anna (Naomi Watts), an innocent midwife who by chance uncovers potentially devastating evidence against the godfather. As a result, Nikolai must indulge in murder, deceit, and… yes, revenge.
A long time fan of Cronenberg's work, I had mixed feelings about his last movie, which also starred Mortensen, A History of Violence. While I ultimately liked the film, I had issues with its cartoony, over-the-top presentation and constant demands for total suspension of disbelief. The gangster milieu just seemed to be inviting more of the same, so when I went into the press screening of Eastern Promises, it was with some trepidation.
Well, the so-called "King of Venereal Horror" has managed to subversively reinvent himself once again — albeit in the form of Martin Scorsese, but I'm not complaining. Eastern Promises is something akin to a skeletal, more nuanced The Departed (the stories are really nothing alike, but you'll feel the parallels, should you see both films). Mortensen is absolutely superb (and yes, naked again: he's the Harvey Keitel of our generation!) as the multilayered mob man, and Naomi Watts (sorry, not naked) brings real gravitas to a role that could otherwise have come off as weak or limp.
Speaking of nuance, even composer Howard Shore reins himself in for this one, and 'History' DP Peter Suschitzky keeps every scene from the cradle to the grave silky smooth, insidious, and textured as if in velvet. The movie is not only one of substance, it's a visual and aural delight with nary a missed detail (Denise Cronenberg's costuming is dead-on, as is Carol Spier's production design).
When all is said and done, Eastern Promises has not one extraneous moment and no self-indulgence. It's a complex, yet straightforward, tale of brutality and morality all wrapped up in a bloody bow. Eastern Promises is easily one of the best movies of 2007: promise you'll see it on the big screen.
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Reviewed by Staci Layne Wilson