Bob's Cinema Diary: 'Hokum' and 'One Spoon of Chocolate'

 Hokum 

Director Damian McCarthy tries to turn familiar ingredients into something unexpected in Hokum, a horror movie about an embittered novelist (Adam Scott) who visits the Irish hotel where his late parents spent their honeymoon and where Scott's Ohm Bauman plans to scatter their ashes. Oddly, the story begins with a deceptive prologue about a lost conquistador and the boy who's traveling with him; it's soon revealed that we've been watching the concluding scene of Bauman's latest novel, which McCarthy will re-introduce in the final going to add another  twist. The hotel's staff generates suspicion: there's an overly solicitous bellhop (Will O'Connell) and the hotel's clerk (Peter Coonan) happens to be the owner's son-in-law. Michael Patric plays a handyman who, early on, makes it clear that he's skilled with a crossbow. Florence Ordesh appears as Finona, the hotel's bartender; her disappearance motivates Bauman to search for her. Could Jerry (David Wilmot), a loner who lives in the woods where he concocts a drink powered by hallucinogenic mushrooms, have murdered the barmaid? Of course, there's a honeymoon suite no one's allowed to enter, and the hotel is so old-fashioned, you almost can smell the must.  McCarthy raises interesting questions: Does it really matter whether terrifying events are real or imagined? How does one exorcise the persistent demons of a troubled past? McCarthy also deserves credit for avoiding a flood of gore and for adding bits of Irish folklore involving a witch. But this overdose of atmospherics never quite lives up to its ambitions, a flaw that we suspect might also characterize Bauman's novels. Hokum, which offers a few effective jump scares, capitalizes on Scott's willingness to play a guilt-ridden character who generates little sympathy, but the movie  doesn't generate the kind of haunting fear that might have turned it into a small triumph.

One Spoon of Chocolate 

In One Spoon of Chocolate,  a Black veteran reacts angrily when confronted with injustice in a small Ohio town that's loaded with racists. The movie opens with a grisly prologue in which a young Black man (Isaiah R. Hill) is lured into a trap by a racist cabal that harvests organs for profit. Director RZA has lots in mind as the story settles into a tale involving Randy "Unique" Jackson (Shameik Moore). Newly released from prison, the ex-soldier wants to get on with his life, but the town of Karensville (fictional) stands in his way. Humiliations and troubles mount, and at least one member of Unique's family falls prey to the racists. All of this builds toward a Rambo-like outburst that turns the movie into a mediocre genre exercise culminating with mayhem delivered by a righteous warrior. The dialogue tips toward the obvious, and RZA's attempts to expose racist horrors wind up drowning in the blood of cliched violence.

Snared in the Spider-verse web

    Just when Oscar season has diverted attention from the ever-accumulating mountain of superhero movies, we get Madame Web. Like other entries in this highly variable genre, Madame Web seems designed to expand the list of characters who, in this instance, spin their way through other movies.

   Dakota Johnson joins Sony's version of the Marvel-verse as Cassandra Webb, the daughter of an arachnologist who, in the movie’s Peruvian prologue, discovers a rare breed of spider and dies during child birth.

    Leaping ahead, the story charts Cassandra's development from a career as a New York City EMT to her belated emergence as Madame Web.

     It doesn't take long for Cassandra -- better know as  Cassie -- to discover that she has the power to see into the future, a capacity depicted in abrupt flashes that hit the screen with the force of pumpkins smashed against walls.

     Plot twists lead Cassie to take charge of three teen-agers (Sydney Sweeney, Celeste O'Connor, and Isabela Merced) who are destined to play roles in the spider-verse's unfolding future.

     Responsible for the death of Cassie's Mom and some awkward early picture exposition, the movie's villain (Tahar Rahim) gains spider powers. He's able to walk on ceilings, for example.

     So where were we? Does it matter?  

     Not really, but for the record, Cassie becomes the girls' protector, forming a familial group dedicated to ... what? ... maybe future movies.

      At least in the early going, director S.J. Clarkson tries to ground the movie in recognizable reality. Cassie and her EMT partner (Adam Scott) deal with big-city perils, but the movie eventually forgets about Scott's Ben Parker, a name that provides a clue about the interconnected spider-verse Clarkson weaves.

     Only box office indifference will end the Marvel onslaught. Meanwhile, lame dialogue, a pervasive lack of wit, and an inability to overcome Marvel fatigue keep this one from going anywhere. 

A romcom that tries to be trendy

Jason Sudeikis and Alison Brie star in Sleeping With Other People.

Predictability in romantic comedy isn't necessarily a bad thing. We've all experienced the pleasures that result from knowing that two characters are destined to be together -- even if they don't yet realize it.

But the success of such movies depends a lot on how we react to the characters who are working their way toward a shared destiny.

In the case of Sleeping With Other People, I was less-than-charmed by Jason Sudeikis and Alison Brie, who are cast as a couple of sex addicts dedicated to protecting themselves from emotional involvement.

Reminiscent of When Harry Met Sally -- a signature contemporary rom-com -- Sleeping With Other People tries (strains?) not to get too starry-eyed about love.

Sudeikis' Jake sleeps with just about any woman who crosses his path. Larson's Lainey clings to her "love" for a gynecologist played by Adam Scott.

The sex in doc's office is great, but he's engaged to someone else.

When Jake and Lainey, who had a brief fling in college, become friends as adults, they listen to each other's sexual tales while insisting that their relationship remain platonic.

At one point, Jake becomes involved with his boss, a woman of preternatural understanding played by Amanda Peet.

Jason Mantzoukas and Andrea Savage turn up as the family folks in Jake's bachelor life.

Sudeikis and Brie aren't helped by glib dialogue that sounds so written, you can almost hear the clatter of typewriter keys.

When Harry Met Sally probably remains best known for its feigned orgasm scene. Perhaps by way of competition, Sleeping With Other People features a scene in which Jake offers Lainey advice about how she can more effectively masturbate.

He conducts a demonstration with a bottle that I won't describe in any detail, but know that, at minimum, it's indicative of a movie that feels as if it wants to be both shockingly frank and romantic.

As in life, those may not be complementary ambitions.

A worthless dip in a hot tub

I don't regard the original Hot Tub Time Machine (2010) as a comedy classic, but I did laugh at some of the movie's gross-out humor and its ridiculous time-travel conceit.

Now comes Hot Tub Time Machine 2, a witless sequel that traffics in blatant sexism and homophobia without creating enough laughs to justify its knee-jerk assault on propriety.

Absent John Cusack from the original, the movie staggers through a time-travel journey made by three characters from the last installment: Nick Webber (Craig Robinson); Jacob (Clark Duke); and Lou (Rob Corddry).

As the massively insensitive Lou, Cordrry dominates the proceedings, but his character's offensiveness quickly proves tiresome.

We're asked to believe that Lou capitalized on the time-travel advantage he gained in the last movie, and became the founder of a high-tech company called Lougle. He's a rich, crude and mean.

Duke's Jacob is Lou's nerdy but rebellious son. Jacob is abused by his father, aside from moments when this ungainly reprise (with director Steve Pink again at the helm) indulges in sickening sentiment.

Robinson's Nick has become a soul singer in the Barry White mode. Robinson comes closer than any of his fellow cast members to doing anything that might be called funny.

This edition's twist: The trio of time travelers winds up in the future rather than in the past.

Transported to the year 2025, the trio meets the son of the character Cusack played in the last installment, a cheerfully sincere fellow portrayed by Adam Scott.

The movie's comic high point involves a TV show called Choosy Doozy, which features a segment in which male participants are forced to have sex with one another.

I neglected to mention an early picture moment when Lou is shot in the groin, and loses his ...

You get the idea, I'm sure. This is one hopeless mess of a movie. How hopeless? Let me put it this way: I got more laughs out of Fifty Shades of Grey.

With friends like these ....

A trendy sitcom of a movie substitutes banter for real depth.

Call me old-fashioned, but I still cling to the expectation that movies should to be richer, bigger and more emotionally savvy than anything that's available on TV. While watching Friends With Kids, a rom-com from director Jennifer Westfeldt, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had tuned into a sitcom made by a writer/director who was well-versed in the distressingly insular language of contemporary relationships.

Westfeldt's movie feels smart in the way that sit-coms sometimes feel smart; it's almost as if issues are being referenced rather than explored.

Like most rom-coms, Friends With Kids springs from a contrivance. Two friends (Westfeldt and Adam Scott) are wary of the pitfalls that can sabotage sustained relationships, but want to become parents anyway. So, they decide to avoid the problems faced by their friends with children and have a kid without the burden of also having a romantic relationship. Because they're not sexually attracted to each other, they think it should be easy to have a kid, share parenting chores and otherwise get with their lives. It helps that they live in the same Manhattan apartment building.

For the most part, the movie's more traditional couples are accessories that support the main endeavor. Maya Rudolph and Chris O’Dowd play a husband and wife who fight all the time because they're both constantly frazzled about the demands of child-rearing. Jon Hamm and Kristen Wiig play another couple. Their marriage buckles because of the strains placed on it by his womanizing.

Not surprisingly, the married couples think that Westfeldt’s Julie and Scott’s Jason have lost their minds. They think it's a mistake to have kids without a formal relationship, but at least in the beginning, Julie and Jason seem to have made a wise choice. They're super-tolerant of each other’s dating lives, and they split the demanding chores of caring for an infant.

Westfeldt (co-writer and star of Kissing Jessica Stein) keeps the tone reasonably light, as she examines the dating lives of Julie and Jason. A beefy looking Ed Burns shows up as a a possible beau for Julie; he’s a generally nice guy who’s divorced and has kids of his own. Jason falls for a sexy dancer (Megan Fox) who’s very clear about having no interest in a traditional relationship or in having kids.

About three-quarters of the way through, Westfeldt shifts the movie's tone. At a dinner on a Vermont ski trip the friends take together, Ham’s character has too much to drink and launches into a sneering tirade about Julie and Jason, predicting that their arrangement ultimately will crumble.

True to form, it does, and the movie stops being a trendy look at contemporary lives and love, and becomes a traditional rom-com that poses a distressingly predictable question: Will Julie and Jason become a couple?

I watched Friends With Kids without being bored or totally put off, but things never really deepen in ways that feel emotionally right.

One footnote: I won't give anything away, but the last line of the movie is needlessly coarse, a turn-off just at the moment when Friends With Kids could have used a little glow.