In his abbreviated life, science fiction author Philip K. Dick was all too prolific in cranking out a plethora of novels and short stories that could fill several library shelves. A writer with this amount of talent is inevitably tapped as a source for feature films. Dick’s novel “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” was the basis for the hugely successful “Blade Runner,” starring Harrison Ford, which was released in 1982.
Sorry to say, but it has been essentially downhill since then for other film adaptations of the Philip K. Dick catalog. The execrable “Paycheck,” starring the ever-annoying and untalented Ben Affleck, was a debacle.
Now, unfortunately, the capable Nicolas Cage turns in a listless performance of a sad-eyed magician with an extrasensory talent in “Next,” based on Dick’s short story “The Golden Man.”
What’s supposed to be an exciting science fiction thriller in “Next,” a race against the ticking clock on a nuclear bomb set to level Los Angeles into one giant parking lot, is a laughable exercise in sleight of hand one finds in dime store magic tricks.
As a matter of fact, Nicolas Cage’s Cris Johnson is a laconic magician working a seedy Las Vegas nightclub act in front of bored drunks and lost souls. To spice up his languid character, he goes by the stage name of Frank Cadillac. His hidden talent is an ability to see two minutes into the future, something that comes in handy on the job and also picking up extra cash at the blackjack tables.
“Next” gets off to a decent start when Cris is hounded by casino security for working a perceived illegal system, and while discreetly trying to leave the gaming tables the action really kicks into high gear when Cris foils an armed robbery only to become the suspect himself.
Using his visionary powers, Cris executes evasive action from the casino goons, and then steals a car and ends up in a thrilling chase from every squad car within a five mile radius of the Golden Nugget. After a dazzling elusive maneuver involving a speeding train, Cris winds up in a chop-shop run by his buddy Irv (Peter Falk channeling the dark side of Columbo).
Convenient to a plot that starts leaking worse than an old roof in a Midwest thunderstorm, everyone starts noticing that Cris isn’t just performing low-rent parlor tricks. Tough, hard-nosed FBI agent Callie Ferris (Julianne Moore), who could probably put Bruce Willis in a headlock, is eager to tap into Cris’ brain in an effort to thwart a terrorist group’s planned attack on Los Angeles with a suitcase nuke.
Not accustomed to pleasantries, Callie puts a full-court press on the reluctant Cris to join forces with the Feds to back-channel through the right portals to change the present and avert nuclear holocaust. For his part, Cris is not the sort who earned any merit badges with the Boy Scouts, and he would sooner decline an invitation to help his fellow countrymen.
What Cris has on his mind is the constant vision of a beauty that will show up at a magical hour at a rundown Vegas coffee shop. As a result, Cris prefers to hang out at the counter nursing a martini, waiting for the propitious moment.
Fortunately, the vision of loveliness soon appears in Liz (Jessica Biel), a part-time teacher, and Cris uses his powers in the movie’s funniest scene to test out several scenarios for the perfect “meet-cute” scenario. This particular situation may recall Bill Murray’s endless attempts to get it right in “Groundhog Day.”
Acting more like a stalker than a love interest, Cris hooks up with Liz for a drive from Vegas to Flagstaff, Arizona, where they hole up in the Cliffhanger Motel. Room service arrives in the form of the Callie’s squad of feds, and also the terrorists inexplicably show for a preemptive strike.
Now it gets difficult to make logical sense of what is going on. Even more baffling is that the terrorists, in what is apparently misguided political correctness, are mostly speaking French, but they are not Algerian nationals.
More mysterious is the undeveloped motive for the villains. We don’t know if they are holdovers from a French equivalent of the Red Brigades or Eurotrash recruits into the ranks of al Qaeda.
Honestly, my interest in the whole convoluted business waned early on. To be sure, there are some great car chases and collisions. The assault on the hideaway at the Port of Los Angeles is good for some climactic shootouts.
But then more than a few preposterous things occur that serve to undermine whatever remaining shred of credibility might have remotely saved “Next” from sinking into a swamp of absurdity. In the end, the best thing you can say is that Ben Affleck didn’t have the starring role.
Tim Riley writes movie reviews for Lake County News.
LAKEPORT – Watershed Books' Writers Studio will premier this week featuring local author, poet and musician James BlueWolf.
The event will begin at 5 p.m. Friday, April 27, at Watershed Books, 305 N. Main St., Lakeport.
BlueWolf has been a songwriter, recording artist, performer, lecturer, poet, author and storyteller since the early 1970s. He has recorded one record album, "Strike The Drum," five CDs of original music and one CD of traditional native drum and rattle songs.
He is the author of seven books and is an internationally published poet. He was Poet Laureate of Lake County from 2000 through 2003, and his stories and radio productions have been featured on radio stations across the US and Canada.
BlueWolf wrote, narrated and produced a number of video documentaries and has been qualified as a rnedia producer for the Smithsonian, National Museum of the American Indian. He was a nationally elected caucus member for the Wordcraft Circle Of Native Writers and Storytellers and was included in the 2006 edition of "Who's Who Of American Teachers."
His other activities have included 18 years of coaching local sports, working with more than 500 athletes. BlueWolf received three proclamations from the Lake County Board of Supervisors, commending him for his work with local youth.
He is a regular contributor to newspapers and journals and has lectured in colleges nationally on literary development, native history, and social, cultural and political issues. A father of five with 11 grandchildren, he lives in Nice with his wife of 32 years, Bernie.
For more information on the Writers Studio, contact Watershed Books, 263-5787.
Did anyone, besides me, notice the Norwegian Invasion?
Last winter in NYC the heavyweights of the Norwegian rock industry gathered to network with David Fricke from Rolling Stone, Seymour Stein, head of Sire Records, who signed the Ramones and The Talking Heads; and my old running mate from Madison, WI, Jim Bessman of Billboard.
Jim's the wayward son of a Wisconsin judge and I used to trade stories and reviews. I'd do maybe Wazmo Nariz, who always wore two ties, and Jim would do yet another duo piece on his two favorites – the Statler Brothers and The Ramones.
Made for some interesting reading.
Jim also knew Johnny Cash and considered him the epitome of epitomes. He was right, as we are finding out since Johnny joined that Grand Ole Opry in the sky.
But this is about Norwegian rock and roll. There are pictures.
In the copy of "News Of Norway" I found recently all by itself on a table, three of the illuminati of Oslo – which by the way has the exact same latitude as Anchorage, Alaska and some other place I've forgotten – were featured.
They are in no particular order: The boy band, Don Juan Dracula; Low Frequency In Stereo, with its "funky baseline and catchy vocals"; and synth-electro rockers, 120 Days.
I am reminded of the little noticed 80s trends – except I did notice them – of Duck Rock and Vegetarian Rock 'N' Roll.
Duck rockers included Neil Innes (Monty Python, Bonzo Dog Band) and his aptly named "Ducks" and Ducks Deluxe, an English pub rock band fronted by Sean Tyler, who Mike Wilhelm remembers from his Flamin' Groovies tours of English pubs and Manchester.
Oh and lest I forget there was "Quacky Duck and His Barnyard Friends," a San Francisco vegetarian rock band that included, not one, but two of Tony Bennet's sons. The Bennet boys went on to back Iggy Pop, then David Bowie.
The other Friends of Quacky were last seen waddling off. Maybe to the Nordic Music Seminar, held in Volvo Hall at the Scandinavian House in NYC. The Norwegian Consulate and Nordic Music Export, Norway as well as Nordic Music Export, Denmark, co-sponsored the event.
It seems the Swedes weren't invited. Hey, just like back in Wisconsin.
Both my sisters married Norwegians and I took Norwegian language lessons from a Norwegian Professor from Deaf Smith County, Texas. For protection. A svenska poika can't be too careful in "Little Norway" country, where they celebrate not one, but two, Sytende Mai (s). Look it up.
Death Smith, Texas is the site of the memorable monument to one Cleng Peerson, the Norwegian American Sheriff of Deaf Smith County, Texas.
I don't think Deaf Smith was there but it was, reportedly, a loud festival of over 1,000 bands from the lands of the midnight suns.
And the sons (and flickas) of the midnight lands vied with each other far into the New York night as Don Juan Dracula "dressed for success in their trademark white suits," and Low Frequency provided "long instrumental soundscapes," while 120 Days was "hailed by many including the New York Times," according to David Fricke's Norsk counterpart, one Thor Englund.
The fire chief of Mt. Horeb, WI, who used to, at least, play Edvard Greig in that town's annual production of "Song of Norway," would have been right at home had he been there.
However, if I had been there it would only be with a large supply of running water. Those crosses I flashed at the Vampire Rock Ballet Band who do "A Tribute To Ann Rice," or used to, in Sonoma, didn't work.
They had implanted fangs and the one who really made me nervous worked all night at a French bread bakery.
You know what that means. Bring lots of mirrors too, just in case the running water doesn't do it.
E-mail Gary Peterson at
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Slick, snappy 'Fracture' offers up great thrills in court
Written by Tim Riley
Saturday, 21 April 2007
FRACTURE (Rated R)
Playing the cold, calculating and diabolically clever villain is practically journeyman work for talented actor Anthony Hopkins. It’s something he perfected in the character of Hannibal Lecter.
While the courtroom thriller “Fracture” does not require Hopkins to go to such extremes, the ease with which he is cunning and devious in a battle of wills during a trial is nothing less than stunning.
As the defendant in a criminal trial, Hopkins plays to the hilt his role of the chess master who is thinking through every possible move and countermove. It’s a guilty pleasure watching a charming sociopath game his way through the legal system.
“Fracture” begins with Hopkins’ millionaire Ted Crawford tailing his beautiful younger wife Jennifer (Embeth Davidtz) to a hotel in Santa Monica where she’s having an affair. Then he waits for her to return home, and after declaring his love for her, he pulls out a handgun and shoots her point blank in the face.
Calmly and carefully, after tidying up the crime scene, he waits for the police to arrive before making a confession. Most curiously, the officer on the scene is Rob Nunally (Billy Burke), the very same person having the affair with the suspect’s wife.
Of course, the situation gets messy when the officer flies into a rage, and yet Ted is already thinking about three steps ahead. This review does not intend to spoil the surprises, but suffice it to say there are plenty of twists that loom on the horizon.
Though he has confessed to the shooting, Ted is cleverly setting in motion a very twisted plot that could allow him to walk as free as O.J. Simpson. One thing to keep in mind is that Jennifer does not die from the gunshot wound, but she ends up in a coma on life support.
After being arraigned for attempted murder, Ted shifts his plea to not guilty when he gets a chance to have a face-off with young hotshot prosecutor Willy Beachum (Ryan Gosling), who has one foot out the door of the District Attorney’s office on his way to a very lucrative job in a corporate law firm.
The cocky, overeager Willy assures his boss, the District Attorney (David Strathairn), that the case is such a slam-dunk that he can wind it up with a guilty verdict before he even finishes cleaning out his desk drawer.
There’s nothing simple about this case, or even for that matter about how Willy will transition to the private sector, especially since he’s falling into a torrid affair with his sexy new boss Nikki Gardner (Rosamund Pike), which in itself is fraught with peril for his new career.
Meanwhile, Ted quickly sizes up his courtroom adversary and seizes upon Willy’s weak spots, which are easy to exploit when many distractions get in the way. The edge goes to Ted because he is brilliant and fierce, mostly because he made his fortune as an aeronautical engineer specializing in fracture mechanics, analyzing malfunctions and plane crashes with his uncanny ability to spot even the smallest defect or weakness in any system.
In the courtroom, Willy is so sure of himself that he can’t see the oncoming train. Ted pulls out all the stops in his bag of tricks, and the verbal jousting between the cagey old man and the arrogant youngster is a real treat.
“Fracture” is not a film that one should take too seriously, because if you diligently apply some analytical skills the flaws and imperfections may become too easily detectable, much in the same way Ted would perform a study of the fuselage of a downed aircraft.
But one should not quibble over the small matters, because “Fracture” entertains greatly as it allows Ted to taunt Willy in a delicious cat-and-mouse game that enlivens the whole affair. Watching Anthony Hopkins and Ryan Gosling spar with each other in a clever battle of wits is just too much fun to pass up. “Fracture” beckons us to a ringside seat for some dazzling theatrics.
Tim Riley writes film reviews for Lake County News.
LAKEPORT – The 26th Annual Spring Dance Festival is coming, and you don't want to miss it. It will be on the stage of the Marge Alakszay Center in Lakeport for two shows: at 7:30 p.m. Saturday, April 28 and 2 p.m. Sunday, April 29.
This is the first year that the festival will be held in the new, state-of-the-art performance facility a stone's throw from the Clear Lake High School gym where the show has been held for so many years.
The Alakszay Center has been longed for and anticipated by dancers and audience alike, and the festival committee has been knocking itself out to prepare a suitably expansive production for the pleasure of Lake County.
In the long history of the Spring Dance Festival there have been many new beginnings. It could be said that the festival recreates itself every year, bringing new talent and new choreography to the dance floor.
Those who have often attended the annual event have seen young dancers getting better and becoming stunning adults, and choreographers developing new styles in keeping with timely tastes. The festival has traced the changes as dance groups have come and gone, or stayed and evolved, or have burst upon the scene with dynamic determination.
Such would be the Lake Line Dancers, new to the Festival, as are B. I. O. Dance Company, Chemical Reaction Dance Team and Serenity Place Dancing. There is a lot of variety in that one sentence, and I won't try to describe them. If you want to be in the know, you will come to this show.
Returning, fortunately, are the teachers, choreographers and dancers who have given us so much pleasure in the past. If you have seen the work of the Clearlake Clikkers, Antoinette's School of Dance or the Jazz Factory Company, you will be eager to attend. If you have ever seen Kayla Gates, Hailey Yaffee, Rod Rehe or Lavonne Pattee dance (to name only a few, from a distinguished list), you will want to be there to see them again.
Tickets can be purchased at The Main Street Gallery, 325 N. Main St., Lakeport; Catfish Books, Willow Tree Plaza, Lakeport; The Bunk House, Middletown; and Direct Image Printing, Clearlake. A small number of reserved seats are available at the Main Street Gallery only.
For more information, call the Lake County Arts Council at 263-6658.
