'Wrinkle' neither folds nor soars

Visually abundant adaptation of popular novel falls short on wonder..

A New York Times article about the 90th edition of the Academy Awards referred to director Ava DuVernay (13th, Selma) as “one of Hollywood’s most aggressive advocates for diversity.” It only takes a few minutes of the big-screen adaptation of A Wrinkle in Time to know that DuVernay has no qualms about putting her convictions on screen.

A somewhat scattered, effects-laden adaptation of a popular novel by Madeleine L’Engle, A Wrinkle in Time stands as both an adventure fantasy and an overdue helping of diverse casting. Its story sends the child of an interracial couple into alternate universes along with her adopted brother and a white teenage boy.

That’s not to say that A Wrinkle in Time takes diversity as its theme. Like many of the Disney movies that precede it, Wrinkle is an ode to the importance of family, as well as a recasting of a typical hero’s journey.

The movie’s main character — a brainy 13-year-old named Meg (Storm Reid) — faces many tests as she tries to establish herself as a warrior for the light; i.e., all that is good in the universe.

DuVernay has said that her movie primarily aims at 12-year-olds and those able to get into a 12-year-old state of mind. As someone for whom 12 barely exists as a memory, I found the movie to be an elaborate helping of children’s theater that proved wanting at the point when it's supposed to reach its emotional crescendo and a little too vague about what constitutes evil in the movie’s visually abundant universe.

I also found the cosmology depicted in A Wrinkle in Time a bit confusing but that may not matter to young audiences willing to go with flow in order to enjoy the movie's various odd sights: a beach where a character who embodies evil (Michael Pena) turns up or a strange cave-like place that's home to Happy Medium (Zach Galifianakis), a character whose name explains his outlook.

Though it brims with varied settings and costumes, the core of A Wrinkle in Time hinges on a simplistic binary battle between the light and the dark, evil being represented by a spidery looking creation that resembles an ink blot.

Three other-worldly beings serve as guides for young Meg’s journey, which involves something called a “tesseract.” As best as I could discern — and with help from Wikipedia — the tesseract is a phenomenon that creates folds in the fabric of space and time, allowing Meg and her companions to travel through the fifth dimension.

These guides are women with (what else?) special powers. Mrs. Whatsit (Reese Witherspoon) can turn herself into what looks like a giant green leaf that carries the movie’s adventurers like a magic carpet. Mrs. Who (Mindy Kaling) is a walking Bartlett’s book of quotations; she dispenses the wisdom of others. Mrs. Which (Oprah Winfrey) seems to materialize out of nothing.

When we first meet Mrs. Which, she’s clad in silver and as tall as one of those balloons in a holiday parade, looming large over everyone else, a visual choice that mirrors Winfrey’s status in the real-life world of media.

Meg’s interplanetary journey is motivated by a devastating loss. Her father (Chris Pine) has been missing for four years as the result of a quest to explore the furthest reaches of the galaxy. Meg was left to make do with her mom (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) and her brother Charles Wallace (Deric McCabe).

Meg journeys into other worlds to locate her scientist father and bring him home because, as we long ago learned from the The Wizard of Oz, no matter how intoxicating alternate realities can be, there’s no place like home.

Levi Miller portrays Calvin O’Keefe, a popular teenager who joins outcast Meg on her trippy pursuits, but his character doesn't seem to have much of a role beyond adding someone with whom younger boys may identify.

First seen in Twelve Years A Slave, Reid provides the movie with a solid center. Initially annoying, McCabe’s Charles Wallace grew on me, particularly when his body was taken over by the IT, a disembodied evil that turns him from a brainiac into a painiac.

The movie’s production team does a good job creating wavy wrinkles in time as Meg travels in the fifth dimension, and the movie certainly doesn't lack for other forms of visual invention. My favorite: a rigidly conformist suburban community where every kid stands in a driveway bouncing a beach ball in unison, a twisted idea of playtime.

I suppose the best fantasies create a sense of wonder that Wrinkle in Time can't quite achieve. It's probably not the keenest of critical insights or the heartiest of endorsements, but after a preview screening and a little reflection, I'd say the movie qualifies as "OK." I'd be lying if I didn't say I was hoping for more.

'Hangover III': Big finale or big fizzle?

It's difficult for me to call the latest Hangover movie anything but a major disappointment.
Two big-screen money machines are set to invade the nation's multiplexes this week -- the third movie in the Hangover series and the sixth Fast and Furious movie. We begin with the Hangover Part 3, which opens a day earlier than Fast and Furious 6 -- and which is considerably more disappointing than its speed-obsessed competition.

As just about everyone now knows, the first Hangover movie became one of 2009's monster hits, a surprise attack of blatantly crude humor that boosted two careers, those belonging to Bradley Cooper and Zach Galifianakis.

Cooper, of course, went on to earn an Academy Award nomination for his work in Silver Linings Playbook, and Galifianakis has become an indispensable addition to a long line of taste-defying comics who'll step across almost any line.

The series' third -- and apparently final installment -- probably won't hurt either actor, even though The Hangover Part III a half-serious (and none too exciting) thriller plot hijacks most of the laughs.

The movie's first joke (already spoiled by its trailer) involves the decapitation of a giraffe. This bit of animal carnage arrives courtesy of Alan, the proudly stupid character played by Galifianakis. Obviously, the filmmakers did not behead a real animal, but the off-putting joke (one of many) was enough to make me consider becoming a card-carrying PETA member.

The familiar crew (Cooper, Ed Helms and Justin Bartha) returns under the guidance of director Todd Phillips, whose slick approach seems at odds with the ragged spirit of the best Hangover jokes. Putting this kind of production value into a Hangover movie seems as misguided as hiring James Levine to conduct an all-kazoo orchestra -- not that Phillips qualifies as a maestro of movies.

This episode adds a couple of new wrinkles. John Goodman portrays a gangster who's upset about the fact that the sexually dubious Chow (an over-exposed Ken Jeong) has stolen millions in gold from him. Melissa McCarthy appears as the operator of a Las Vegas pawn shop where Chow unloads the purloined gold.

A scene in which McCarthy confronts her cinematic soul mate (Galifianakis) teeters on the edge of being funny without quite tumbling into the expected hilarity.

The story eventually sends our heroes back to Las Vegas, perhaps in hopes of recapturing some of the brazenness of the hard-partying first movie. The strategy produces an insufficient number of laughs while Phillips plays around with thriller tropes and the actors await their obligatory doses of humiliation.

Oddly, there's hardly any drinking in this installment, and the only real hangover stems from whatever residual affection audiences can muster for characters whose unashamed pursuit of pleasure has led them into many drastically compromising situations. Put another way, Hangover Part 3 runs on whatever comic vapors linger from the first installment.

I've never been a big fan of the Hangover movies, but I certainly understood the appeal of the first movie, which pushed the envelope of grossness to what approached genre-breaking limits. I was unimpressed by the overproduced waste of the second and entirely dismayed by a third edition that stops in Tijuana before heading to Vegas.

A sequence following the end credits pays homage to the outrageous spirit of the movie's 2009 predecessor -- but it's a classic case of arriving too late to make much difference. Hard-core Hangover fans who stick around for this epilogue -- which boasts the movie's wildest sight gag -- may think that this is precisely where Hangover Part III should have started.

A movie that campaigns for laughs

For Will Ferrell and Zach Galifianakis, politics is a laughing matter -- at least for a while..

Right up until it develops a conscience, The Campaign is a very funny comedy about a congressional election that pits a slick, empty-headed congressman named Cam Brady (Will Ferell) against an unlikely opponent (Zach Galifianakis).

Under the guidance of director Jay Roach, The Campaign is at its best when its being preposterous, lewd and blatantly outrageous.

Cam's has had a lock on his North Carolina seat in the House for years. But Cam's re-election bid (for a fifth term) hits the skids when he's caught making an obscene phone call to one of his mistresses. Cam's speeches emphasize America, Jesus and freedom, but even such default cheerleading may not save him this time around.

Sensing vulnerability, a couple of kingmakers -- the billionaire Motch brothers (Dan Aykroyd and John Lithgow) -- handpick Galifianakis's Marty Huggins as the GOP challenger to Cam, a Democrat whose years in Congress have turned him into a cipher.

Jokes trump party affiliations with Galifianakis playing his character as a mincing, effeminate man who's tutored in the rough side of politics by his ruthless campaign manager (Dylan McDermott). Marty's married with children, but seems more devoted to his two pet pugs than to his family.

Best not to reveal too many of the jokes, but the movie plays with a variety of stereotypes, most hilariously with a maid who works for Marty's dad (Brian Cox). And there's humor and bite in a debate scene in which Marty challenges a bumbling Cam to a task that stymies him: reciting the Lord's Prayer.

All well and funny, but the screenplay becomes significantly less amusing when it tries to sharpen its satirical edge, making obvious points about the injection of big money into politics. The Motch brothers, of course, evoke the real-life Koch brothers.

Not content to stop there, the script takes a misguided Capraesque turn in its third act, again proving that sincerity and comedy don't necessarily make good bedfellows.

Clocking in at a mercifully fleet 85 minutes, The Campaign fizzles before it's done, but when it's funny, it's a lot funnier than most of this summer's comedies. Is it possible to cast a positive vote for half a movie?

Another 'Hangover' hits the screen

The Hangover Part II shifts to Bangkok for a few laughs and a whole lot of desperation.

How many hangovers are too many? In this case, the answer has nothing to do with alcohol consumption and everything to do with what happens over the weekend when moviegoers cast their votes on The Hangover Part II, a prime example of what might be called “big-screen comedy coasting.” Comedy coasting occurs when filmmakers rely on the same basic gags as the first time -- only with bits of novelty added.

To make Part II, the writers seem to have accepted the oft-recited mantra about what creates real estate value: Location. Location. Location. In pursuit of freshness, the wanton debauchery of the original has shifted from Las Vegas to Thailand, a move that gives the second helping a different flavor, although it's one that's not entirely welcome.

In his return engagement, director Todd Phillips allows the comedy to absorb the pungent and often seamy atmosphere of Bangkok at its unsavory worst, a decision that ups the sleaze quotient of a comedy that’s already steeped in desperation. And this time, the desperation can seem as vivid than the humor.

If you’ve seen the first movie, you know the plot, as well as where to look for most of the laughs. Stu (Ed Helms) is slated to be married to a beautiful Thai woman (Jamie Chung). He invites his pals (Bradley Cooper, Zach Galifianakis and Justin Bartha) to the Thai-based nuptials.

The boys vow to behave themselves, but a pre-wedding gathering on a Thai beach – for just one beer – escalates into a wild night. Of course, no one can remember what happened when the crew (minus Bartha’s character) awakens in Bangkok hotel room that's so squalid a better class of insect might refuse to check in. p> Once restored to consciousnesses, Cooper, Helms and Galifianakis set out to find Teddy (newcomer Mason Lee), the 16-year-old brother of the bride, a boy genius who's already excelling at Stanford. It seems Teddy disappeared during the previous night’s frolic.

Along the way, our hapless heroes also renew their contact with Mr. Chow (Ken Jeong), the mincing gangster from the first installment. Paul Giamatti turns up in a small role as another gangster.

The screenwriters (Phillips, Craig Mazin and Scot Armstrong) spend a lot of time trying out variations on the original gags. In the 2009 movie, Helms’ character woke up without a tooth. This time, he wakes up with the same facial tattoo as Mike Tyson, the former heavyweight champ who made a cameo appearance in the first installment and who also appears in the second.

For those who need warnings about the kind of humor under discussion, it’s worth pointing out that Part II involves transgender sex, a severed finger, nudity, a cigarette-smoking monkey and a variety of other impolite gags that seem to have been tailored for an audience that may care more about reliable repetition than about expressions of originality or imagination.

I was not a big fan of the first movie, and this one turns out have roughly the same impact – only with a grunge quotient that’s not likely to do much for delicate sensibilities or for Bangkok’s already battered reputation.

Road trip or road kill? A bit of both

Some laughs, but on a road trip from hell.

They say if you can survive a long car trip with someone, you're probably well suited to have that person as a real friend. The new comedy Due Date asks us to take a cross-country drive with two actors who should have been great comic company: Robert Downey Jr. and Zach Galifianakis.

But after awhile, it's clear that a road trip augmented by gags, gross-outs, drugs and overproduced car carnage can wear you down. I kept wishing that Downey and Galifianakis could dig themselves out from under the movie's mountain of humor - much of it built around wildly inappropriate behavior - and find a rest stop.

Although there are chuckles along the way, this highly anticipated road-trip comedy proves a hit-and-miss affair, probably as the result of second-rate material that goes for easy laughs and exaggerated weirdness. To those who love director Todd Phillips' work -- namely The Hangover - some of the movie's odd- couple pairing may hit the spot, particular if you like masturbation jokes and other behavior that's supposed to be funny because it's so obviously beyond the pale: Downey's character punching a kid in the stomach, for example.

Say this: Phillips gets the contrivances out of the way quickly, pushing Downey's Peter Highman, an architect, into a cross-country car trip with a total stranger, Galifianakis' Ethan Tremblay. Ethan, an aspiring actor who shows no evidence of talent, is headed for Hollywood. Peter's eager to arrive in Los Angeles where his wife (Michelle Monaghan) is about to give birth to their first child.

It's supposed to be a classic pairing of opposites. Peter is quick to lose patience with Ethan, who's transporting his father's ashes in a coffee can and whose marijuana habit forces him to stop at the out-of-the-way home of a dope dealer (Juliette Lewis). Circumstances also prompt a visit with a guy who once dated Peter's wife, an underutilized Jamie Foxx

Downey, whose character takes a pretty bad beating during the course of the film, can't always save this material, nor can Galifianakis, who sports a perm and who - as he usually does - appears frighteningly sincere and totally off-the-wall at the same time. Galifianakis gives his character a strangely effeminate walk, and seldom is seen without his pet bulldog, a critter that provides the filmmakers with a reliable laugh prop. Ethan isn't just an oddball character, he seems to be in need of institutionalization.

There's only so much you can do with an odd-couple formula. Maybe that's why Phillips attempts to pump up the proceedings with car crashes and chases involving Mexican border patrolmen, portrayed in annoyingly stereotypical fashion.

And how clichéd is this? At one point, Galifianakis' character says, "I'm not an accountant. I'm not even Jewish."

Not exactly inspired writing.

It's a safe bet that most comedy fans will note that Due Date sometimes plays like an updated version of Planes, Trains & Automobiles, but it's a misshapen offspring that doesn't always do the lineage proud. Considering the combined talents of the movie's principal actors, Due Date should have delivered a whole lot more than it does. I got a few laughs to be sure, but I was ready to shed these two sorry travel companions long before the movie ended.