Kung Fu kicks its way toward Bollywood

The title alone is enough to make movie marketers nervous. "Chandni Chowk to China" doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, and if the movie's name proves challenging, its Bollywood blend of slapstick and martial arts doesn't always go down easily, either. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy the showy artifice of Bollywood, but at 154 minutes, "Chandni Chowk" represents a challenge. That's a long time to watch what amounts to a massive cultural collision between Bollywood and Hong Kong moviemaking.

The movie centers on a vegetable cutter (Akshay Kumar) who plies his trade in the Chandni Chowk section of Delhi. The story begins when a couple of visitors from a Chinese village mistake Kumar's Sidhu for the reincarnation of a great Chinese warrior. They believe Sidhu can liberate their village from the iron hand of Hojo (Gordon Liu), a tyrannical gangster. Sidhu travels to China with a dubious mentor (Ranvir Shorey) who doesn't believe that his student can save anyone from Hojo, who flings a lethal bowler at his foes. The story adds further complications by introducing a pair of beautiful twins, one of whom grew up in India; the other, in China. And, no, I probably haven't summarized even half the plot.

Kumar, a big-name Indian star, works in a broad comic style that takes a bit of adjustment. Kumar shows no fear of going over the top. In fact, he launches himself in that direction every chance he gets. I suppose this kind of overstatement makes sense because the joys of Bollywood often require sustained displays of infectious energy. "Chandni Chowk" adheres to that and many other Bollywood rules. The colors are lush, the women (Deepika Padukone, Aishwarya Rai and Frieda Pinto) are beautiful and the music has a strong beat. This whole improbable mess of a movie might have been more fun had it not gone on quite so long or been quite so repetitious. A joke involving a potato in which Sidhu believes he sees the face of the Hindi deity Ganesh becomes a running and slightly tiresome gag.

The approach to martial arts may remind you of Jackie Chan; i.e., nothing is taken all that seriously. But Chan is better at this sort of thing than his Indian counterparts. Did I say nothing is taken seriously? Maybe that's not quite true. When Sidhu trains for his final battle with Hojo, the movie puts on a grim, fighting face, and Sidhu stops behaving like a hapless buffoon. A last-minute attempt at a comedy/Kung Fu remix doesn't quite work, but by the time that rolls around, you may have had enough. A little of this kind of Bollywood fare goes a long way; too much of it can make it make you feel as if your head is about to explode.

For a look at the career of Akshay Kumar, you might want to try this New York Times' article.

Oscar's foreign-language short list

Oscar's short list of films qualifying for this year's best foreign-language film has been released, according to Variety. I've seen three of the nine movies. If I had to bet, I'd put my money on director Ari Folman's animated "Waltz With Bashir" to win the Oscar, but the two other films I've had the pleasure of seeing -- "The Class" and "3 Monkeys'' -- are equally worthy. The final five will be announced Jan. 22.

Austria, “Revanche,” Gotz Spielmann, director.
Canada, “The Necessities of Life,” Benoit Pilon, director.
France, “The Class,” Laurent Cantet, director.
Germany, “The Baader Meinhof Complex,” Uli Edel, director.
Israel, “Waltz with Bashir,” Ari Folman, director.
Japan, “Departures,” Yojiro Takita, director.
Mexico, “Tear This Heart Out,” Roberto Sneider, director.
Sweden, “Everlasting Moments,” Jan Troell, director.
Turkey, “3 Monkeys,” Nuri Bilge Ceylan, director.

p.s. Carping about Oscar omissions can become a pastime whose only effect is to add misery to the life of the person doing the carping. Writing on an LA Weekly blog, critic Scot Foundas Tuesday lamented the fact that Italy's "Gomorrah" didn't make Oscar's short list. He's right to complain, but the Oscar for best foreign film doesn't necessarily go to the best picture. I'm not sure that you could find 10 people who could tell you which picture won last year's award for best foreign-language film. It was "The Counterfeiters" (Germany). Two great films -- "4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days" (Romania) and "Persepolis" (France) -- were overlooked in this usually troublesome category. "Persepolis," by the way, received a nomination for best animated feature, but lost to "Ratatouille." I know an Oscar nomination and certainly an award can mean more viewers and, therefore, more money, but it's no determinant of greatness.

The Golden Globe's, 'We're so humbled'

I watched as the Hollywood Foreign Press Association handed out the Golden Globe awards in a long and often boring show that demonstrated at least two things: First, Kate Winslet -- shockingly, I think -- seems to have studied at the Halle Berry school of awards acceptance. An uncontrollably emotional Winslet won best supporting actress ("The Reader") and best actress ("Revolutionary Road"). Second, well who knows what Mickey Rourke's acceptance speech (for best actor) demonstrated? Possibly that he loves his dogs. Rourke managed to provoke Darren Aronofsky, who directed Rourke in "The Wrester," into giving him the finger, a gesture of taunting good will or something like that. The two funniest people in the room: Ricky Gervais and Sacha Baron Cohen. Should we regard the evening as a bellwether for Oscar? I wouldn't think so, and, who knows, the Globe selection of "Slumdog Millionaire" as best dramatic picture may even hurt the movie's Academy Award chances. Oscar voters may not wish to be seen as rubber-stamping the Globes. For the record, it's probably important to point out that Tahiti is represented among the HFPA membership, which has less than 100 members. I don't know why exactly why it's important to know that Tahiti boasts one member, but then I don't know why the Globes are all that important, either, unless it's to provide more fodder for movie advertising. "Winner of (fill the in the blank) Golden Globes." If you missed the show and insist on knowing the winning slate, check the HFPA Web site.

Mickey Rourke wrestles with pain

Is Mickey Rourke still part of the human race? Watching Rourke in "The Wrestler," I wasn't entirely sure. Rourke's head seems too large for his body. His face looks swollen, as if he's gobbled massive doses of steroids or taken one too many punches. His body appears to be in good shape, but in "The Wrestler," Rourke moves in the slow, lumbering way of a man whose joints have gone on strike. And when you think of Rourke, perhaps as you saw him in such early movies as "Body Heat" and "Diner," you can't help but wonder what series of calamities produced the face that looms so large before you now.

I suppose it all makes sense in context. In "The Wrestler," Rourke plays Randy "The Ram" Robinson, a once famous wrestler who can't walk away from his gravely diminished share of the spotlight. With director Darren Aronofsky's at the helm, Rourke gives a performance that's not easily classified. It's both physical and eerily offbeat. Rourke turns Randy into a hunk of meat (his own description) but one with flickers of soul. There's already been Oscar talk. I don't know about that, but I will say that Rourke's work proves oddly effective, and it looks as if he put himself through physical hell to get where he needed to go.

Working from a script by Robert D. Siegel, Aronofsky goes easy on style, an unusual choice for the director of movies such as the propulsive "Requiem for a Dream" or "The Fountain," which was visually dazzling but intellectually slack. If someone told you that "The Wrestler" happened to be a first film, you might believe it. Aronofsky opts for the kind of gritty texture that's sometimes found on the indie circuit, and which makes the most of New jersey strip joints, makeshift wrestling arenas and Ram's disorderly trailer, the home from which he's periodically evicted for non-payment of rent. Ram, who was big during the '80s, survives by working part time at a local supermarket and by wrestling for small purses on the weekends.

The best parts of the movie involve Aronofsky's depiction of wrestling on the cheap. The fights are staged, but the wrestlers take a beating nonetheless. They cut themselves with razors to give the crowd the bloodshed it craves. One wrestler likes to inject staples into his and his opponent's bodies. These wrestlers -- some on the way up and others on the way out -- work hard to please their fans. The banter among the wrestlers feels authentic, and some of the matches are difficult to watch. You can feel the pain that goes into creating the illusion of unrestrained combat.

The story follows a somewhat predictable arc. As events unfold, Randy receives a chance to make amends with his estranged daughter (Evan Rachel Wood) and perhaps to start a genuine relationship with a lap dancer (Marisa Tomei) he's met in a strip club. Tomei has received lots of praise for her work as a woman who has been forced to wall herself off emotionally but still put on a pleasant face for the customers. She's offering a variation of the hooker with a heart of gold, and most of the picture passes before her character takes a chance on her emotions. As a single mom with limited talent, Tomei's Cassidy can't afford to lose focus.

But the main event is Rourke. Ram can't find meaning away from the business that has given him notoriety and destroyed his body. Outside the ring, he's lost. He doesn't know how to talk to his daughter, and he doesn't understand responsibility well enough even to run away from it.

In an attempt to quit the ring after a bypass operation, Ram takes a full-time job at the local supermarket. He's working the deli counter. He approaches employment with humor and style, but he's not really suited for steady work. He's pushed by desires that go beyond egg salad and luncheon meats. He wants to be recognized and he also wants to punish himself. Only one place offers such a potent combination, the wrestling ring, a venue where bold gestures make sense. Rourke wisely plays agains Aronofsky's tendency toward overstatement. He slows his roll, and it works for him. Ram knows that he's close to the bottom of the barrel, but he seems relaxed about it, as if failure were a noble calling.

Rourke may not always look human, but his appearance becomes an indelible part of Ram's bruised humanity. Ram shambles through what remains of his former glory. Lots of movie characters have met with similar fates, and, like them, Ram is pitiable, a man for whom personal fulfillment and physical pain are tied up in the same impossible package. Even when he wins, Ram loses. He's just not a second-chance kind of guy.

The BFCA announces its 2008 winners

The Broadcast Film Critics Association Thursday announced the winners of its 2008 awards. For the record, I vote in this election, and although the outcome doesn't totally reflect my sentiments, I thought I'd share the final results. Note the tie between Meryl Streep ("Doubt") and Anne Hathaway ("Rachel Getting Married") for best actress, and buckle up for the rest of the awards season, which culminates with Oscar night on Sunday, Feb. 22.

BEST PICTURE
Slumdog Millionaire

BEST ACTOR
Sean Penn – Milk

BEST ACTRESS - Tie
Anne Hathaway – Rachel Getting Married
and
Meryl Streep – Doubt

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
Heath Ledger – The Dark Knight

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Kate Winslet – The Reader

BEST ACTING ENSEMBLE
Milk

BEST DIRECTOR
Danny Boyle – Slumdog Millionaire

BEST WRITER (Original or Adapted Screenplay)
Simon Beaufoy – Slumdog Millionaire

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE
Wall-E

BEST YOUNG ACTOR/ACTRESS (Under 21)
Dev Patel – Slumdog Millionaire

BEST ACTION MOVIE
The Dark Knight

BEST COMEDY
Tropic Thunder

BEST PICTURE MADE FOR TELEVISION
“John Adams”

BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM
Waltz With Bashir

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE
Man On Wire

BEST SONG (performer/writer, film)
“The Wrestler” – Bruce Springsteen/Bruce Springsteen – The Wrestler

BEST COMPOSER
A.R. Rahman – Slumdog Millionaire

Wedded to mediocrity

Contrived as it is unconvincing, "Bride Wars" casts Kate Hudson (the aggressive one) against Anne Hathaway (the pliant one) as long-time friends who have a falling out when their weddings accidently are scheduled for the same day. Candice Bergen signs on as a wedding planner and each of the brides has a husband-in-waiting. Forget the supporting players, though: The comedy revolves around Hudson and Hathaway, who spend most of the picture bickering and battling. Nothing needs to be said about this preposterous, bubble-headed comedy, aside from the fact that it's preposterous and bubble-headed. Hathaway has been talked up for an Oscar for her work in Jonathan Demme's "Rachel Getting Married," a wedding picture in which she played a very different kind of character, a recovering druggie with a penchant for self-destruction. Demme liberated something in Hathaway; director Gary Winick ("13 Going on 30") puts Hathaway's genie back in the bottle for this painfully prolonged attempt at comedy.

Something fishy about this list

A reader asked what I thought about a recent blog entry at the New York Times Web site. Here goes: Stanley Fish Sunday listed what he regards as the 10 best American movies ever. According to the Times' biography, the compiler of this particular list serves as the Davidson-Kahn Distinguished University Professor and a professor of law at Florida International University, in Miami. Fish also has taught at other prestigious universities and has authored a book on higher education.

No real qualifications are necessary for making 10-best lists. If you've stumbled upon this entry consider yourself invited to contribute your own. I'm going to refrain from reciprocating, however, and out respect for Mr. Fish's impressive credentials, I won't list my 10 favorite American legal decisions or even 10 ways in which I believe higher education could be improved. OK, I know of only one, awarding me a tenured chair that requires no teaching and only occasional appearances on campus.

Don't get me wrong. There's nothing terribly wrong with Fish's list, aside from its inclusion of "Groundhog Day." I liked "Groundhog Day" a great deal, but remain unconvinced that Harold Ramis could have directed one of the 10 best American films ever. I mean we are talking "ever," as in "everything up until now." An unusually generous critic couldn't even get Ramis in the top 15. I'm a committed Billy Wilder fan, but I wouldn't have included two Wilder movies on my list. Fish opts for both "Sunset Blvd." and "Double Indemnity."

I won't repeat Fish's entire list here, but I will mention some notable omissions. OK, I'm being totally predictable, but for a splendid reason: "Citizen Kane" belongs on such a list. It remains a great movie, possibly the greatest American movie. Other candidates: "The Godfather." "Casablanca." The "Treasure of the Sierra Madre," and "The Searchers." And those are just some suggestions from the classics division. Fish anoints William Wyler's "The Best Years of Our Lives" as his best American movie. It's a fine piece of work, but I'd have a difficult time boosting it into first place.

And, no, I'm not gong to make my own list. Lists give me headaches. Besides, lists never should be taken seriously, unless you happen to be talking about a list of Power Ball winners and then only if your name appears on it -- at the top, of course.

A chance to see an early Truffaut

"Shoot the Piano Player" (1960) was Francois Truffaut's first movie after his groundbreaking "400 Blows," which debuted a year earlier. if you live in Denver, you can see the film in re-release at the Starz Denver Film Center starting Friday (Jan. 2). Although Truffaut made better films, few match "Shoot the Piano Player" for sheer cinematic playfulness and audacity. Cliche has it -- and cliche can sometimes be right -- that Truffaut mixed a variety of genres without fretting too much about whether they matched. IMDb.com classifies the movie in four ways, calling it a drama, a romance, a thriller and a big-screen helping of crime.

As part of the French New Wave, Truffaut was intent on vanquishing genre lines while at the same time paying homage to the kinds of Hollywood fare that inspired so many French filmmakers. His film, based on a novel by David Goodis, is both a self-contained story and a breezy meditation on a wide range of movie strategies.

The story revolves around a pianist played by singer Charles Aznavour. Aznavour begins the movie as Charlie Kohler, a musician working a lowdown Parisian bar. As the tale unfolds, we learn that Charlie once was a world-class concert pianist named Edouard Saroyan. The movie contains a long flashback about Charlie's life as Edouard. It also explores the pianist's ill-fated relationships with women and with a couple of criminal brothers. I haven't even mentioned a younger brother who lives with Charlie and who's looked after by a prostitute, another of Charlie's lovers.

Those are plenty of ingredients for one movie, but Truffaut manages to keep things humming, and some of the better bits are priceless. An example: the unexpected and very funny dialogue in a scene in which two thugs drive Charlie's younger brother, whom they've kidnapped, to the country as part of a plan to retrieve lost loot.

"Shoot the Piano Player" returns us -- at least momentarily -- to a time when directors thought that cinema was alive with possibility. Truffaut, who died in 1984, was 28 when the film was released.

The "Revolutionary Road'' review

Since the previous item was written, my review of "Revolutionary Road" has been published on the Rocky Mountain News Web site. Let's hope for a happier New Year than anything you'll see in Sam Mendes' adaptation of Richard Yates' much-admired 1961 novel.