Jerry Weintraub

It's been nearly 30 years since the last live-action Tarzan movie, and yet it still feels too soon for another remake. Thankfully, this is actually a sequel (perhaps it should have been titled Tarzan Returns), and along with a first-rate cast, this movie has a surprisingly beefy script that hints at a much more high-brow adventure epic. But clearly the studio preferred to make a mindless bit of blockbuster action.

After leaving the jungle, Tarzan (Alexander Skarsgard) has settled into life in damp 1880s England as the Earl of Greystoke with his American wife Jane (Margot Robbie). Meanwhile, deep in the Congo, Belgian diplomat Leon Rom (Christoph Waltz) has made a deal with Chief Mbonga (Djimon Hounsou), who has a personal grudge against Tarzan. Planning to hand over Tarzan in exchange for diamonds, Leon lures Tarzan back to Africa, accompanied by Jane and the American explorer George Washington Williams (Samuel L. Jackson), who suspects that the slave trade hasn't ended. On arrival, Leon pounces, and Tarzan must revert to the instincts he learned from the gorillas who raised him, while calling on help from old friends.

The plot is actually quite compelling, sparking lots of whooshing action (including plenty of vine-swinging) while grappling with some bigger themes involving colonialism and racism, plus more personal issues of identity and responsibility. The actors pack their scenes with textures that touch on these ideas, while also providing a spark of wit. With his impossibly sculpted physique, Skarsgard looks rather too gym-fit for the role, but he gives Tarzan a soulfulness that makes him likeable. He also develops some steamy chemistry with Robbie, who shines in her role as a feisty woman happy to return to the village where she was raised. The best scene in the film is when she has dinner with Waltz' sneering villain, gleefully swapping innuendo. And even with the action and gunplay, this is Jackson's deepest role in years.

Continue reading: The Legend Of Tarzan Review

This biopic about the pianist-showman Liberace may look almost painfully camp, and sometimes it is, but it's also a remarkably honest depiction of an intimate relationship. In the hands of Steven Soderbergh, the flaming excess is never made the butt of the joke; instead we get a strong dose of gritty humour, dark emotion and even a revealing look into the smoke and mirrors of show business. And the astute performances from both Douglas and Damon continually catch us off guard with their resonance.

It was 1977 when the 57-year-old entertainer (Douglas) met 17-year-old Scott Thorson (Damon). There was an instant spark as Liberace, known to his friends as Lee, offered Scott a job as a companion: on the stage, in his bed and running his household. But their relationship wasn't easy. Lee coaxed Scott into joining him under the knife of a plastic surgeon (Lowe) who reshaped Scott's face to look like a younger Liberace. Afterwards, Scott became addicted to a variety of drugs, which strained their romance to the breaking point. And it didn't help that Lee had an eye for ever-younger boys, all while insisting to the world that he was straight. "People see what they want to see," he said.

While the production design overflows with Liberace's "palatial kitsch" design sensibility, Soderbergh keeps the story and characters grounded, finding humour in unexpected places (Lowe's over-lifted face is hilarious). And despite the outrageous costumes and hair, the actors never camp up their performances, which cleverly holds the story in a delicate balance between sharp comedy and involving drama. In this sense, LaGravenese's script is particularly clever, peppering the dialog with telling details that gives us a remarkably well-rounded picture of the interaction between these men. And it continually resists becoming another stereotypical gay romance, celebrity biopic or drugs odyssey.

Continue reading: Behind The Candelabra Review

Dre (Smith) is annoyed when his mother (Henson) moves from Detroit to Beijing, where he's mercilessly bullied by a gang of schoolboy thugs led by Cheng (Wang Zhenwei). Sure, there's the cute violinist (Han) to distract him, but things don't really start looking up until the maintenance man (Chan) agrees to teach him kung fu. Now Dre has three goals: learn skills to defend himself, compete in an upcoming tournament against Cheng and his evil mentor (Yu), and of course get the girl.

Continue reading: The Karate Kid Review

But Andrew Fleming's take on Nancy Drew turns out to be a snappy charmer. Though the film takes place in the present, Nancy's life could still be described by the MPAA tags on a trailer for a PG movie: mild peril, brief teen partying; she hasn't been glammed into 2007. But the film uses this mildness to its advantage, starting with the decision not to play Nancy's old-fashioned virtues -- lawful curiosity, modest fashions, and an unfailing politeness even in the face of peril -- for satire. That is not to say that Nancy (Emma Roberts, niece of Julia, son of Eric) isn't oblivious to modern life; she knows about iPods and laptops. She's just old-fashioned (she prefers vinyl and books), which makes her dedication to old-timey detecting (or "sleuthing," as she calls it) all the more individualistic, even touching, as well as sweetly funny.

Continue reading: Nancy Drew Review