John Heard

You couldn't even say this movie is so bad that it's good, because it's seriously terrible, but it's also hilariously entertaining. Sometimes it means to be idiotic, but more often we are laughing because the effects are so appalling, the script is nonsensical and the cast look like they got lost and wandered onto the set by accident. Fans of awful movies won't want to miss it.

The premise is simply ridiculous: Los Angeles is in the grip of a shark infestation, as swimmers in about four inches of water are being gobbled up by Great Whites. Just then, a freak hurricane arrives from Mexico carrying water-spouts packed with sharks that are dropped into the city streets. Our hero is Fin (Ziering), a surfer dude who's worried about his estranged wife April (Reid) and their two grown children (Peeples and Hittinger). So he grabs his best buddy Baz (Simmons), the tough-girl barmaid Nova (Scerbo) and a local drunk (Heard) and they charge to the rescue. After a series of outrageous adventures, they come up with a crazy plan to save the city.

Mashing together every disaster movie cliche imaginable, along with nonstop amusing Jaws references and L.A. in-jokes, the film isn't nearly as stupid as it looks. And it looks really stupid. There isn't a single sequence that makes a bit of logical sense due to the dirt-cheap production values and clunky digital effects. Every now and then, the filmmakers edit in a documentary shot of actual sharks swimming just to remind us what they look like, as opposed to the clumsy rubber and digital variety that fills the screen.

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Clearly something went horribly wrong as this thriller was being made, because despite a solid cast, gorgeous locations and an intriguing premise, the film is an incoherent mess. Sure, it looks achingly cool, but there isn't a single moment when the characters' motivations make any sense. And there's never a hint of suspense or danger.

It doesn't help that the set-up revolves around two of the least cinematic things on earth: finances and computers. Timberlake plays Princeton grad student Richie, who runs a gambling website to pay his tuition but loses his savings when another site cheats him. So he heads to Costa Rica to confront the online casino boss Ivan (Affleck). Impressed with his initiative, Ivan offers him a job, and soon Richie has more cash than he can possibly spend. But for some reason, all he wants is Ivan's colleague-girlfriend Rebecca (Arterton). Then a nosey FBI agent (Mackie) forces Richie to help him take Ivan down.

Director Fuhrman showed considerable promise with another renegade loner in The Lincoln Lawyer, but this film simply refuses to fill in enough of the gaps. Nothing that happens here is remotely convincing, as the characters are continually thrust into half-developed scenarios. Perhaps there's a more coherent longer version out there, because this one feels like it was edited with a machete. Even as a cautionary tale about the dangers of greed, this story has nothing relevant to say.

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Watching the 1989 movie today, it's not just an unabashed chick flick, it's also revealed as a plain-old Bad Movie. For starters, it's not really about anything, instead preferring to work (or not) as a collection of loose scenes that illustrate the ups and downs of two friends (Midler and Barbara Hershey) from their pre-teens to the grave. Things happen, but not much. The film's only real plot point comes in the last act (spoilers ahead if you care), when Hershey's character croaks on us, sticking Midler with her daughter.

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By the end, Paul is on the run from an angry mob who thinks he's a burglar, fleeing in fear for his life. Will he escape? Well, rest assured that After Hours is actually a comedy. It's also one of my favorite Martin Scorsese movies (and a massive departure from his grittier fare), fresh every time you see it and full of little touches that you catch more of with each subsequent viewing. Check out the rows of Aqua Net in Garr's apartment. Or the "tie" she's wearing.

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A good example: Pollock was suicidal, maniacal and violent throughout his 44-year life. The first sentence of Naifeh's and Smith's book -- the very first sentence -- is this quote from Pollock: "I'm going to kill myself." Explains a lot, but for some odd reason, Harris only hints at Pollock's suicidal tendencies in his long-anticipated film.

Continue reading: Pollock Review

As an actor portraying the inner turmoil of Jackson Pollock -- the revolutionary abstractionist known for his splatter-and-drip painting style -- Ed Harris gives a commanding, potent performance in "Pollock" that is a torrential mix of the artist's chaotic talent and his more chaotic psyche.

As a director depicting Jackson Pollock's world, Ed Harris (yes, he did double-duty on this film) captures with vivid, lively authenticity both the astute yet pretentious buzz of the 1940s Manhattan art scene and his subject's tumultuous personal life, marked by hard drinking and a stormy long-term affair with fellow painter Lee Krasner (Marcia Gay Harden).

Together Ed Harris the actor and Ed Harris the director create an imposing, invigorating cinematic biography fueled by its subject's stubborn, manic energy and his strangely uncommunicative charisma.

Continue reading: Pollock Review