Rating: 1.5 out of 5 stars

On December 31st, 1989, I was twelve years old.   So I can’t really claim to know much about the ’80s; the decade when I really became aware of pop culture, and culture in general, was the next one.   Most of what I know is from vague memories– I remember Oliver North and ALF,  though I certainly didn’t understand the signficance of either– and from the movies.   Films like “The Breakfast Club” and “Top Gun” tell me what the ’80s were like, while films like “The Wedding Singer” and “Napoleon Dynamite” show me how the people who lived through them – and were older than 12– choose to remember them.   “Hot Tub Time Machine” falls into that latter category, with one significant twist;  there’s in addition to the bittersweet, whimsical nostalgia is the harsh observation that in many ways, the ’80s really sucked.   Reagan and AIDS,  hedonism and materialism,  cocaine and Motley Crue — in fact, it may be that the reason why so many 40-somethings are so miserable in 2010 is because they came of age, their values and character were formed, in the miserable ’80s.

John Cusack is the most recognizable cast member in “Hot Tub Time Machine,”  and he’s playing a older version of Lloyd Dobler, an ’80s icon in his own right.   To my recollection, Cusack has never really played anything but an older version of Lloyd Dobler -  always trying to avoid buying anything, selling anything, or processing anything as a career, always looking for a girl to listen to records with.  Funny thing is, it never gets old.

His friends are Craig Robinson, a mostly happily married man who used to be a soul singer but now works at a dog grooming service named “‘Sup Dawg,”  and Rob Corddry, who may well be both the most miserable man on the planet and the biggest jerk.   Corrddy plays his character like he’s dragging his nails across a chalkboard;  there’s no effort to make this man lovable, or pitiable, or enjoyable.  This is on purpose.   He is the embodiment of all the worst of the ’80s, gone to seed, fermented, and actively decaying in the new millenium.    Along to provide a counterpoint – or perhaps to show that nothing much has changed– is Clark Duke, who wasn’t even born in the ’80s.  He spends his time living in his uncle’s basement, playing Second Life.   His Second Life character is in prison.  Weep for our youth.

Following a botched suicide attempt by Corddry (really, wouldn’t everyone have been happier?)  the trio of friends plus one travel to a ski lodge where they once — in the ’80s — had epic times.   As the title suggests, they get into a hot tub and travel back in time, to 1986.   Back in the era of prodigious cocaine and ski resort sexcapades, their primary concern is to get back to their miserable, empty lives in 2010, so they make a plan to do everything exactly the way they did it in 1986, lest they invoke “the butterfly effect” and change something about their miserable, empty future lives.   This means Cusack has to break up with his girlfriend–the girl, 25 years later,  he wishes he had never broken up with– Corddry has to get beaten up by the ski patrol guy who thinks he’s the bad guy in “Karate Kid,”  and Robinson has to have sex with a groupie.   Suprisingly, Robinson is the most reluctant, because he’s a happily married man, and doesn’t want to cheat on his wife – who is nine years old in 1986.   He cries his way through coitus.   This is not your typical stupid spring comedy.

And yet, in so many ways, this is your typical stupid spring comedy.  “Hot Tub Time Machine” is nothing if not raunchy, tasteless, gross, and outrageous.   There’s an overload of F-bombs,  boobs, and at least two sequences that are just too gross to be funny.   The plot is manic, ridiculous, all over the place, and insane.   The one nice thing I can say about it is that it’s not formulaic;  the screenwriters of “HTTM” achieve their inanity without any help from anyone.   I can’t call this a good movie; it’s light years away from good.   The only thing that saves it from the trash heap of typical stupid spring comedies is the feeling of melancholy – and yes, disgust and regret– it brings to the game of nostalgia and recall.   Maybe the past wasn’t as great as we remember it.  And maybe who we are now has something to do with the ways we lived then.   That’s a sobering sentiment buried in a movie abounding in sex and poop jokes.

Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

By Willie Krischke — March 19, 2010

In the early 1930s, when synchronized sound was introduced to cinema and the movies were no longer silent, the general quality of films coming out of Hollywood took a dive. The problem? The “talking pictures’ talked too much. A generation of directors who had learned how to effectively tell stories without words didn’t really know what to do now that their characters could talk. So that’s all they did: talk, talk, talk. The storytelling got sloppy, shoddy, formulaic and fuzzy. Great stars and talented actors like Buster Keaton faded into the distance, because most people preferred to watch a low quality talking picture over a masterfully made silent. It took a few years for the movie industry to find the right amount of words to go with the right kinds of images and learn how to tell stories again.

After watching “Alice in Wonderland” in 3D,  I’m convinced we’re heading into that same kind of creative struggle. 3D movies 3D too much. Producers and directors have become so obsessed with stunning visuals that they’re forgetting to tell compelling stories. These movies amaze us now, because we’ve never seen anything like them. But I predict that in about ten years’ time, when 3D’s the standard, and the storytelling’s recovered again, we’ll look back at films like “Avatar” and “Alice in Wonderland” and wonder how we managed to sit through them.

“Alice in Wonderland” is visually wondrous, as one would expect any film from Tim Burton to be, no matter how many Ds are involved. There is not a frame in the movie that doesn’t offer something amazing to look at. The screen is crammed with pretty stuff, crammed to overflowing. But take away the 3D visuals, and what, really, have you got? Alan Rickman calling people stupid. Johnny Depp doing a crazy little dance. Helena Bonham Carter’s enormous forehead. And a plot device straight from every Screenwriter’s Workshop correspondence course available on the Web for 10 easy payments. Nothing here–nothing but the wonderful 3D images–is the least bit new, interesting, original, creative or clever. It’s a rehash of stuff we’ve seen before, except now it’s in three dimensions. Does that make it better or more interesting? You’ll have to decide for yourself.

Johnny Depp is reliably bizarre and entertaining as the Mad Hatter. I used to think Johnny Depp was a great actor;  I’ve come to realize he’s great in a funny hat. His performance–indeed, most of his career–is better described as clowning than acting, and that’s not intended as an insult. Good clowns are hard to come by (see how Buster Keaton keeps sneaking into this review.)  Helena Bonham Carter is clearly having fun playing the Red Queen, chewing up scenery, spewing “off with his head!” at every possible opportunity, and resting her feet on pig bellies. I wonder how the courtiers in Underland get the pigs to cooperate?   Crispin Glover (remember him as McFly in “Back to the Future”?) plays the Red Knight, the Queen’s champion and love interest, though there’s something wrong with him that I could never quite put my finger on;  he seems to be walking on stilts, or with a limp, or something. His strides and the distance he covers never seem to quite match up. Maybe it’s a problem with the 3-D, or maybe it’s just Glover. He is one of the oddest ducks in the Hollywood pond. Anne Hathaway is suitably beautiful and ethereal as the White Queen, making me think she might be the next Nicole Kidman: a little too beautiful to be human. And of course there’s Alice, played by Mia Wasikowska;  she goes through so many growing and/or shrinking potions that it seems her most challenging job as an actress it to keep her clothes about her. This is a PG film, after all.

I was never a huge fan of the original “Alice” stories by Lewis Carroll. They always felt to me like fantasies created by a mathematician (which is exactly what they are, by the way) but I definitely preferred them to this new twist, provided by Burton and screenwriter Linda Woolverton. This time around, Alice is going back to Wonderland, which is really Underland, where she is thrust into the middle of an epic struggle between the tyrannical Red Queen and the pacifist White Queen. The Red Queen is currently dominating because she controls the ferocious, dragon-like Jabberwocky, a power unmatched in Underland. But a prophetic scroll foretells the Second Coming of Alice, who will slay the Jabberwocky and restore the White Queen to her rightful throne. Of course, when Alice shows up, she doesn’t remember ever being there before, many residents of Underland question whether she’s really the One, and someone close to her must put themselves in danger in order to spur her into action and fulfillment of prophecy.  (Wait, we’re talking about “Alice in Wonderland,” right?   I have this funny feeling I’m writing a plot summary of “The Matrix” all of a sudden.)

I suppose I am revealing my preference for story over spectacle. It’s true, and I’ll own up to it. I would rather watch an ugly movie with an creative, ingenious, or emotionally powerful story instead of an beautiful, empty, predictable piece of entertainment. I know that not everyone shares this preference. I took my wife to see “Alice,”  and she said it was exactly what she wants a move to be;  fun to watch, and she knew from the beginning that the good guys would win and nobody important would die. “Alice in Wonderland” set a box office record for movies that open in March; plenty of you are just like my wife, and just love to see pretty, predictable pictures. That’s what “Alice” is. Don’t expect anything more, and you won’t be disappointed.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars

by Willie Krischke – October 28, 2009

“9″ began life as an award-winning short film in 2005.  It probably should’ve stayed that way. Instead, it feels like a good short film stretched like an old rubber band so that it could be released in theaters and make more money.   Someday we need to stop and ask ourselves why films have to be 70-150 minutes long in order to be considered “feature-length,”  but perhaps today is not that day.

“9″ takes place in a gorgeously visualized, post-apocalyptic world, where the only survivors are 8 inches tall and seem to be made of burlap and clock parts.  The film has a lot of fun with the dilemmas of living in a world that’s 20 sizes too big – a lot of its best bits reminded me of “The Littles” and “The Borrowers,” books I read as a kid. Director Shane Acker clearly loves following these creatures around and seeing how they survive in a pretty terrifying world.  And who can blame him.  It’s pretty fun.

But eventually it becomes necessary to impose a plot structure upon Acker’s beloved creatures, and that’s when the problems start.   Whoever is responsible for the script wrote it in about five minutes, borrowing liberally from the Matrix sequels, Indiana Jones, and any other post-apocalyptic and/or adventure movie that was handy.  The main character is called 9, and guess what, there are 8 others, each with a big number on its back, and more caricature than personality.  There’s a glowing talisman, and a gibberish-spouting prophet, and an evil cat-monster.    People need to be rescued, the source needs to be returned to, authoritarian leaders must be defied, etc.   None of it feels at all fresh or original, which is disconcerting, because everything looks so fresh and original.

I guess “9″ is a kids’ movie, and really, kids probably won’t care about hackneyed plot structure, cardboard characters, etc.   I wouldn’t take little children to see “9,” unless they’re exceptionally brave – it’s likely to give them terrible nightmares about cat-monsters– but older kids might enjoy it.   It’s a great-looking movie, but in a year filled with great-looking kid’s movies, it comes up short.