2006, Warner Brothers/Legendary Pictures, Dir. M. Night Shyamalan – Starring Paul Giamatti, Bryce Dallas Howard, Bob Balaban, Jeffrey Wright, M. Night Shyamalan, Sahrita Choudhury, Freddy Rodriguez, Bill Irwin, Jared Harris, Mary Beth Hurt, Cindy Cheung, June Kyoko Lu

When popular director Shyamalan brought his project ‘Lady in the Water’ to Touchstone execs, they turned him down immediately. Although this wasn’t a completely flawed product that he was exhibiting, I can understand where the execs were coming from. Chances are, like many of the audience members will see in ‘Lady’, they didn’t know what kind of movie this was. Gone is the trademark twist endings, gone is much of the tension from his earlier films. Rather, the tagline ‘A Bedtime Story’ is probably a better indicator – a slow-paced, relatively entertaining film that showcases good performances but reveals a fault in Shyamalan’s direction. Viewers, such as myself, will find ourselves lost among this eclectic group of characters and their quest to help a mystical ‘narf’. But the story unfolds almost too rapidly, introducing elements of this fairy tale at warp speed. Although Shyamalan has a blast toying with the different blend of folks in this story, he never takes time to tie them in properly with the story. For what it’s worth, ‘Lady in the Water’ is still a spellbinding movie of sorts – maintaining respect with its audience (unlike ‘The Village’) and having a great sense of humor. However, if this trend of Shyamalan’s overcontrol and indulgence persists in his future movies, that may spell trouble.

Cleveland Heep (Giamatti) is the depressed super of the Cove Condominiums a walk away from Philadelphia. Despite his awkward appearance and perputual stutter, everybody knows Cleveland and knows him as a caring friend. But it’s Cleveland’s past that still plagues him, as he sits up all night writing in his little black journal about his feelings and life. Woken up by the noise of a splash, Heep walks out to the swimming pool only to catch himself some mystical woman - a “narf” named Story (Howard). The old Chinese tenant Mrs. Choi (Lu) explains a story about the narf world and their magic, which leads Cleveland to believe that he’s stuck smack dab in the middle of an ancient ritual - his stuttering even disappears when he’s around her. Therefore, some of the residents of the Cove begin to help Story to let her return to ‘The Blue World’, and find the man she was supposed to find while on dry land. Some of these include Vic Ran (Shyamalan), an amateur writer with a promising future, Mr. Dury (Wright), a crossword puzzle genius, and the ultra-negative film critic Harry Farber (Balaban) - who always seems to have some cliche to point out.

I’m sure critics and moviegoers alike will find personal problems with ‘Lady in the Water’, but there’s no denying the marvelous job by Paul Giamatti as poor Cleveland Heep. Despite his hokey moniker, Giamatti pumps the protagonist with heart and soul. Gone is the cynicism from ‘Sideways’ and ‘American Splendor’, and now a caring yet troubled figure who’s still trying to figure out his purpose in life. Amidst the bevy of offbeats he takes care of, Cleveland is rational - a friend to all. Giamatti gives the audience a grade-A job for a B-grade movie. Bryce Dallas Howard plays our “Lady”: Story, a mystical “narf” from the “blue world”. To be fair, I blame her weak characterization on Shyamalan. Night composes Story’s life from nothing but vague bits and pieces from a cornball myth - which in turn is executed poorly by Howard. As an actress, she appears as disable and hollow as her role in Night’s ‘Village’. Story is not an interesing, or particularly attractive, character - she’s a hub for the remaining dramatis to spin around. Shyamalan carves several other roles around the main duo, most through his own self-indulgence. A humorous performance by Bob Balaban as pessimistic film critic Harry Farber mirrors Shyamalan’s own distaste of his detractors - an immature move. Most shameful of all, Shyamalan portrays a young writer, whose future is foretold by Story: his work will inspire future world leaders, and will die a martyr for his words. Check, please!

Beyond this cinematic decadence, Shyamalan still has some craft up his sleeve. Visually, ‘Lady in the Water’ is gorgeous. There is less focus on underwater filming (don’t be fooled by TV spots), but more on the quirkiness of the Cove’s tenants. The cinematography and how it interacts with its cast borders on embodying Jared Hess’ style, as much of the humor stems from its spontaneity. For those in expectance for traditional Shyamalan horror and its respective twists, this is not it. The final product is a very surreal piece. So surreal, that Shyamalan has plenty of trouble trying to tell its story - and keeps flubbing around towards the last 30 minutes for progress. ‘Lady’ has roughly a handful of good scares to keep audiences on their toes, but is not sufficient enough to keep them interested in the story. It’s been taglined as a “bedtime story by M. Night Shyamalan”, so how audiences will react are guaranteed - either they’ll stay awake and have patience to understand Story’s purpose, or be lulled quickly to sleep with visions of sugar plums in their heads.

Shyamalan’s control is begin to destroy his films, as he is losing touch with audiences and his luster is slowly disappearing by each movie. Although ‘Lady in the Water’ has its pros, there’s no denying a sense of smugness encased in the celluloid. And why bring Giamatti into this? He’s respectable, sir. Give him a break.

2006, Universal Pictures, Dir. Anthony Russo/Joe Russo - Starring Owen Wilson, Matt Dillon, Kate Hudson, Michael Douglas, Seth Rogen, Amanda Detmer, Ralph Ting, Keo Knight, Todd Stashwick, Bill Hader, Jason Winer, Sidney S. Liufau, Billy Gardell, Eli Vargas

You Me and Dupree is about one best friend overstaying his welcome at his married best friend’s house, and it literally outdoes its premises with the audience. After the incredible success of Wedding Crashers, the Russo Brothers (from some Arrested Development fame) put their faith in the excruciatingly annoying Owen Wilson to carry the debut story from writer Mike LeSieur. Its result is a rushed one-joke, half-funny excuse for a summer comedy - following in the familiar footsteps of June’s Break-Up with Crashers co-star Vince Vaughn. These sophomoric follow-ups are bad news for the newly coined ‘Frat Pack’, leaving viewers wondering whether the movies are going to become increasingly less witty as the years pass. This is a prime example of the Magic Bag Movie: a story so weak that it appears that the characters possess a ‘magic bag’, to pick out coincidences and remedies to save otherwise failing plotlines. If a character is missing, the Russo Bros have the entire city looking for the character - if the world is going to be destructed by a meteorite, send Bruce Willis in a spaceship to blast it. As Dupree’s already loose story threads escalate into aggravation for the other characters, the audience will be driven to madness. This film is neither funny or hip, neither witty or smart, and not interesting in the least.

Carl Peterson (Dillon) and Molly Thompson (Hudson) have just finished their honeymoon, preceeding a lavish wedding on Hawaiian beaches. But those few days afterwards have grown different for Carl. Warned by friend Neil (Rogen) that marriage will have its backfires, he begins to wonder whether he’ll be able to still enjoy life with his unmarried friends. One in particular would be Randolph Dupree (Wilson) – a lively yet perpetually lazy human being with good intentions and bad luck. Dupree has been caught up in some drama after taking off the week to attend Carl’s wedding: he was fired for not telling his boss, and ended up getting booted from his house after rent pay day came around. Since Dupree is one of his best friend, Carl insists that he takes stay at his house until he gets his feet back on the ground. Molly disagrees and complains, but Carl thinks it’ll calm over shortly. However, the annoying blonde-locked Dupree ends up setting his couch on fire, flooding the toilet, and accomplishing many other embarrassing feats. After kicking him out of the house once, the couple finds themselves bringing him back in pity – only for the tension to grow more and more. With Dupree’s not-so-housebroken behavior and Molly’s controlling father (Douglas, also as Carl’s egotistical boss) pressuring him on the job, Carl isn’t sure this “marriage” thing is working out too well…

Although Owen Wilson lacks the panache as Vince Vaughn, he can be appreciated as a character actor. Wilson, as Dupree, begins to build the foundations of an incredibly quirky slacker, with dimensions that aren’t usually hit in comedies. However, writer LeSieur gives up towards the halfway point of the movie, and the charm of Dupree is lost. The writing and wit become so meager, you’d think John Hughes drafted the lousy finale – it’s lost on Wilson, and on the entire cast as well. Matt Dillon, picking up the piece of Crash to film a comedy, plays the one truly interesting character. As Carl, he pulls off much comic relief, especially in the dueling scenes he has with Michael Douglas. He is a troubled, confused newlywed who’s trying to work out the kinks of his job and Molly, alongside the burden of housing Dupree. Dillon is serious and amusing, and pulls of a good performance. Kate Hudson adds nothing to the movie, as she fails to create chemistry between her and Dillon, and the mysterious sexual tension between her and Dupree – she looks fantastic, but contributes little to nothing. Michael Douglas gets a good few hefty laughs as Mr. Thompson, a vicious and cruel father-in-law – and what an understatement that is. Douglas’ abrasive voice and age give him a edge, unlike the dull-knife character he played in this spring’s The Sentinel. He’s still got game.

Almost 75-percent of the jokes and scenarios are disposable excuses for the writer, never escalating the obscenity or sexual innuendo to the point of amusement. These are the same old songs we’ve heard before – a toilet flooding, setting things on fire, throwing a big party while the wife’s out. They appear uninspired, sound uninspired – Dupree is old game. Of many scenes that are mentionable, there is a short chase scene that is guaranteed to entertain. Dupree faces off a heavyweight Samoan security guard for entrance to Carl’s office, and the fight becomes a showdown that is immature, yet necessary. Once the laughs have tampered down, Wilson brings electricity to the screen. It’s Wilson in action, akin to that of Bill Murray’s classic improv sketches from Caddyshack or Stripes – it fits perfectly. But when the finale comes around, you’ll understand what I mean by the ‘Magic Bag’ theory. The writer pulled the happy ending out from nowhere (not to mention the lousy epilogue) to satisfy audiences. Rather, the movie unmasks itself not as a comedy, but as a romantic comedy. The tables are turned, and you will feel just a bit stupider for having paid 7 bucks to see it.

After this and The Break-Up, I could only hope that director Todd Phillips will pick up the pieces for Old School 2. The two productions are signs of bad marketing and bad casting, with little flurries of smart-aleck humor and pop culture references to even out the audience appeal. You Me and Dupree is a surefire annoyance to those expecting a crowdpleaser.

2006, Walt Disney Pictures/Jerry Bruckheimer Films, Dir. Gore Verbinski - Starring Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom, Keira Knightley, Bill Nighy, Jack Davenport, Jonathan Pryce, Lee Arenberg, Mackenzie Crook, Kevin McNally, David Ballie, Naomie Harris, Stellan Skarsgård

There’s a serious problem with the Pirates of the Caribbean sequel. After becoming a smash hit in 2003 with Curse of the Black Pearl, everybody involved believes they are upholding the highest standard in epic film. This is simply not true - the movie is entertaining at times, containing a fair amount of action and wit, but this is also the film’s tone. A film such as Ben-Hur or Gone with the Wind requires the film to keep a constantly serious mood, telling a story that deeply effects its characters and their respective surroundings. But when Dead Man’s Chest compiles a supporting character that repetitively loses his glass eye, a sword fight on a waterwheel, and monsters created solely from the sea’s barnacles, you have to wonder why they hold their story to such precedence. Alright, alright…now I’m sounding a little too pretentious. I didn’t mind Dead Man’s Chest, but even as I rewatched the mediocre Black Pearl two nights ago, I realized that its sequel should’ve amended its past mistakes. The sequel clocks in at a heaving 3 hours, which becomes an exercise in nuttiness and imagination at the hands of producer Jerry Bruckheimer. But lost is a sense of pirate yore, and is replaced by what I could only describe as “Benny Hill and the Seven Seas.”

Will Turner (Bloom) and Elizabeth Swann (Knightley) are to be married, but are swiftly arrested on their special day by the nefarious Lord Beckett (Tom Hollander). Both are to be sent to the gallows, unless they do Beckett’s dirty deeds. He has a deal to make: find the compass of the globetrotting Captain Jack Sparrow (Depp), hand it over, and no more death sentences. Will searches for Jack along with the old crew of the Black Pearl, and they come across the insane captain on an island where he has crowned by a carnivorous tribe. Once escaped, the group sets out to find the key to the chest of Davy Jones (Nighy). Jones is a odious monster of sorts, and terrorizes the seas with an iron fist, er, tentacle. What the crew does not know is that Jack has a blood debt with Jones, which can only be repaid by a certain number of souls that Sparrow must collect. Eventually, every single character is out for the chest, a la a Blake Edwards chase scene that degenerates throughout the film.

On PBS today, there was a special about Pirates that involved an interview with director Gore Verbinski. He described the film as being written without Jack Sparrow, and having him “put into scenes later, because Johnny [Depp] would rub off onto everybody during the production.” If this is so, this is Verbinski’s most destructive gaffe. The multitalented Depp feels like a simple sideshow to the film, rather than a centerpiece. Captain Jack is an underused gimmick, which is a crime to Depp and the story. But when Sparrow is given the spotlight, he shines strong, carrying that same sense of lovable swaggering and dering-do. Orlando Bloom is consistently overshadowed by other characters, even when given the opportunity to upstage. However, his performance is stronger than in Black Pearl, as he has now had the opportunity to adapt with co-stars Depp and Knightley. Keira Knightley, while not having much to do, carries out a decent performance despite her lack of emotion or personality. She’s pretty, taints the story with a bit of jealousy (I won’t reveal) and compromises with the action scenes. Bill Nighy, behind the CGI costume, brings out a new level of evil with the role of Davy Jones - a disgusting, vile being who is hated immediately by his audience. I loved how deliciously cruel this character was - pushing the Geoffrey Rush ‘Barbossa’ character off the maps. There’s a slimy and odiforous air that enters every time Nighy gets a scene.

The first thing I could do after sitting through Dead Man’s Chest was yawn. My friends accompanied me in doing so, but my other friend argued that it was still somewhat entertaining. However, I agreed with all of them. But like any film, action and adventure can not always carry a movie, unless it has something to add - immediately or conversely - to the story. There were a good handful of scenes that Verbinski polished that were easily extractable from the runtime - action scenes needed editing, dialogue needed to be shortened, and characters that had little or nothing to do could have been clipped in an instant. But Disney intentionally wanted to revise its original thrill ride to have double the excitement, so pulling in the entire original cast - whether cameos or characters - would give the film more appeal to die-hard fans. But here I am, in the far back row, dozing and stretching uncomfortably as I wait for the 15-minute sword fight to finish. If I’m not the only one thinking this, director Verbinski should get on the ball - only one more year till Number 3 arrives. But the thrills do come periodically - a lengthy scene on the island as everyone fights for the chest is amusing at times, and some ship battles give the movie a rustic edge.

Dead Man’s Chest is a disappointment, and certainly does not match up to its predecessor. The film is simply too long, and contains too much action, too little good conversation with its characters, too little story, and too little Johnny Depp. Let’s hope for the best on At World’s End, because this installment is as damp as a seawrecked vessel.