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A Belated romance between two aging budgerigars, “Elsa & Fred” is predictable fare that only from time to time fulfils its aim of being at the same time heartrending and cheering. Pic’s appealingly guiltless air, two full-bodied cardinal perfs, and the odd moment of reliable emotion don’t correct for a general clunkiness in the charge, with concern levels plumping if the two vets, China Zorrilla and Manuel Alexandre are apart. Pic did accidentally solid B.O. in Argentina abiding by its August, 2005 release, but response in Spain has been more hushed for a project that seems bespoke for elders.
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A marriage of appliance in Hamburg between 2 troubled Turks alters both their lives in the fine, farinaceous, contempo romance “Head-On.” More contiguous and passionate than helmer Fatih Akin’s former pic, “Solino,” this challenging, convinced 4th feature, which won the Berlin fest’s Golden Bear, will bait a high-profile fete career into cheerful game in major arthouse commercialises and later hold its head high in accessory.
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At last loosed from a much-publicized rights altercate between Fox and Warner Bros., “Watchmen” is less a fully actualised comicbook epos than a hardy feat of striking compaction. Fans of Alan Moore’s watershed graphical novel, concerning a ring of Gotham superheroes brought out of retreat by an imminent atomic threat, will thrill to every pulpy line of dialog and bloody act of payback continued in manager Zack Snyder’s slavishly faithful adjustment.
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Thesp became helmer-scenarist Clark Gregg sets himself a redoubtable task for his first boast attempt: adjusting the manic, ludicrous, agitating world of lit cult idol Chuck Palahniuk. That acted (artistically if not commercially) for David Fincher in “Fight Club” about a decade ago; “Choke,” a much less ostentatious effort, does not suffer so much from downscaled product appraises as from charge and promotion that just don’t match Palahniuk’s inventive brio in cinematic terms.
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After unforgettably teaming up in “Unfaithful” (and a long time before that in “The Cotton Club”), Diane Lane and Richard Gere are less unforgettably reunified in this bare but effectual telling of a novel by Nicholas Sparks, he of “The Notebook” fame. It’s the kind of movie, candidly, one either utterly buckles under to or cussedly balks, and those choosing for the former class shouldn’t be discomfited. Lane has practically trapped the market on amatory biddy flicks for a slenderly aged audience, and this one should find a low sweet spot in histrionics release before inevitable immortality in eternal airings on Lifetime.
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