"The International": Clive Owen's revenge?

Watching Tom Twyker's "The International" methodically unfold, I couldn't help but wonder if he pitched it to Clive Owen as the chance to show the James Bond producers just what they missed out on when they passed over Owen and went with Daniel Craig instead (a close call, but I'd have to now say the right one.)

Indeed, Twyker's flick, while not in the same league as "Casino Royale" or any of the best Bond flicks, is a darn sight better than "A Quantum of Solace" and - in my book (and quite possibly mine only) - a more satisfying thriller than any of the Bourne flicks except for maybe the first.

Beyond its natural charms, I think a big part of what made this one so surprisingly entertaining was that it's also much better than its trailer, one of the worst I've seen in years. Thankfully, Tykwer and crew avoid anything as obvious as that shot of the ATM with "murder" as one of the choices, and instead of seeking to make a much-too-broad (but surely well-deserved) indictment of the current state of the banking industry just focus on the rather shady dealings of one in particular.

That bank here is the IBCC (I can't remember exactly what that stands for, but you can probably guess), which is apparently modeled on a real, crooked bank with the same initials. Rather predictably, the IBCC is involved in arms dealing and other unsavory operations, and are being doggedly pursued by Interpol agent Louis Salinger (Owen, at his grizzled best) and a Manhattan assistant D.A. played by Naomi Watts. Actually, I should say pursued by Salinger, because Watts' character - in the movie's biggest flaw - is truly given just about nothing to do here.

But on the much bigger upside, it really stands as a litmus test for thrillers. If you like pulse-pounding action (which I'm really not putting down, though it may seem like it, since I have plenty of love for that kind of thing too), stay away from this one. Tykwer instead lets his flick unspool naturally, at a pace and with a style much closer to the '70s thrillers that clearly inspired it than many of the pretenders that have come since.

Also in its favor is that Tykwer and screenwriter Eric Singer have made their flick smarter than the average thriller, but only by a matter of degrees, never biting off more than it should (unlike, say, "Syriana," which tried to say so much but ended up amounting to not much at all.)

The signature scene of "The International," however, is clearly the one instance in which Tykwer amps up the action, a beautiful bullet ballet that takes place inside the Guggenheim museum (how in the world did they get the permission for that?) It's a marvel to behold, in large part thanks to cinematographer Frank Griebe, who here and elsewhere thankfully manages to hold his camera steady among all the chaos (I hope Paul Greengrass was watching this and taking notes!) He also allows the flick to take full advantage of its many scenic locales (which Christy LeMire of the AP rather unfortunately labeled "architecture porn" - what the hell does that mean?)

A final word (since this has clearly gone on long enough) about that seemingly climactic shot in the trailer of Clive Owen holding bank boss Jonas Skarssen (Ulrich Thomsen) at gunpoint. Even here, in what seemed to be (and in large part was) an unfortunate giveaway, the movie takes a twist (which you won't hear about from me) that steers it back to its biggest theme - futility.

In short, if you're in the mood for an old-fashioned thriller that's just smart enough to thoroughly entertain, take a chance on "The International." Peace out.

Bland, James Bland: The full report

Before anyone points out just how quixotic it is to rail against a movie that's already raked in more than $70 million domestic or call me some kind of elitist, don't bother. I love Bond movies and especially "Casino Royale," but this one simply didn't measure up on almost any front.

Since the movie clearly did, let's start with the theme song, which would be instantly forgettable if it weren't simply so awful. As someone who has just about every minute of "Icky Thump" seared onto my brain, I just can't imagine how Jack White, with vocals from Alicia Keys, could manage to come up with something so generic. Given the worldly appeal of the Bond franchise, I have to wonder if they even gave consideration to someone like M.I.A., a little rough for sure but much more interesting.

And after that, from the outset, you know there's gonna be problems with the action in "Quantum of Solace." I'm OK with the grand introductory set pieces being a thing of the past, especially since this one picks up immediately where "Casino Royale" left off and starts with a nifty enough car chase. But from there it just gets muddier and muddier, and giving full credit to my friend Chris Stanford for this line, I sure wish it hadn't delivered its camera work "shaken, not stirred."

Worst of all, it's just Bond imitating Bourne, and more specifically director Marc Forster imitating the apparently seizure-ridden camera antics of Paul Greengrass, and for such an iconic franchise that's just sad. Before I let this rant go, a challenge to anyone who liked this more than me (and I'm sure there a lot of you out there): Name one action sequence in "Solace" that sticks in your mind two days later (the opera house take was indeed pretty cool, but not enough to satisfy.)

All of which could be forgiven if the story from Paul Haggis and two others or the direction of Mr. Forster gave this latest Bond tale much urgency at all. I mean, we all know that Bond is out for revenge this time for the death of Vesper Lynd (the sorely missed Eva Green), but by the second (and not last) time we see Daniel Craig's Bond drop a body for no productive reason and Dame Judi Dench's M. chide him for it, it quickly gets little but old.

Much worse, the sinister plot being hatched by billionaire Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric) is as ludicrous as anything ever cooked up in a Bond flick, but with all the fun drained out it's also just extremely monotonous. I don't want to give anything away, but like just about every story nowadays it's "green." I'm all for saving the planet, but is putting eco-plots in movies (and on NBC all week, apparently just to annoy me as I try to watch my new favorite spy "Chuck") really gonna make any difference?

And the by-the-numbers approach of this Bond installment is hardly helped by director Forster, who has the distinction of making easily one of my least favorite movies ever in "Monster's Ball" but also one I really like quite a bit in "Stranger than Fiction." Here, however, he's clearly overmatched, and not just in the action scenes. At least twice early on - I guess in an effort to move the story along - he has M. simply mention a new lead, and the immediate next image is that new cityscape, with it name plastered on it in case we viewers are, like Robert Downey Jr. explained in "Tropic Thunder," "full retard."

OK, I've certainly gone on long enough about what's wrong with "Quantum of Solace," so was there anything good? Of course. Daniel Craig clearly has the soul to pull off the new Bond we saw unveiled in "Casino Royale," even if his character here is almost completely devoid of it. And what little wit there is in "Solace" - formerly a very welcome attribute of Bond himself - comes almost exclusively from Dench, who can just be wickedly funny in any circumstance (watch "Notes on a Scandal" if you're somehow still not convinced.)

Finally, what about the babes, a key component of any Bond movie? Well, Olga Kurlyenko is certainly leggy and pouty enough to make me at least consider destroying the world. But what she isn't, and I fault the rather poor excuse for a story here again, is particularly sultry, removing almost all the potential sparks from her encounter with Bond. And the secondary babe would have been much more memorable had she been played by Christina Hendricks of "Mad Men" - as I mistakenly thought when I saw the first pics of "Quantum of Solace" - instead of the rather forgettable Gemma Arterton.

So, almost a complete miss for me, but with more than $70 million in the U.S. vault alone, Daniel Craig and James Bond will certainly live (not "die," as that awful theme song says; sorry to harp on it, but it's really just tremendously bad) to see a 22nd (I think I have that right) installment, and I'll certainly give him another chance. Peace out.

Tidbits: Wes Anderson news, a flashy new Bond trailer and, yes, a poll!

Though I've never bothered to put a poll on here before now, it's not because I don't care about the opinions of the few people who are kind enough to stop by here from time to time. I simply don't like to mess with the template too much because I'm most likely to just screw it up!

However, with the Fall season upon us, I've finally broken down and bowed to my lame duck president's command to spread democracy around the world and do my little part. It's not the most scientific poll, since you can vote for more than one movie, but I hope it provides a few seconds of diversion.

As I made clear in my Fall preview, the three movies that get me the most geeked up would be, probably in this order, "Slumdog Millionaire," "The Brothers Bloom" and "Miracle at St. Anna." I can't wait to see what everyone else thinks.

In other news that's not about, well, me, it seems that Wes Anderson is jumping on the French remake train. Before I slag the man at all, and since I haven't talked about him for quite a while, let me state that I just about unequivocally love Mr. Anderson's first three flicks, with "Rushmore" being just about a perfect comedy and "The Royal Tenenbaums" being even better. (The Criterion edition of "Tenenbaums," by the way, is one of the very best in the collection, and well worth a rental to sift through the extras about how Anderson and his crew concocted the Tenenbaums' weird little world.

His last two flicks, however, "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou" and "Darjeeling Limited," just left me pretty cold (though that collection of David Bowie songs in Portuguese by Seu Jorge is still in fairly heavy rotation on my car CD player.) He's listed as being in "post-production" on Roald Dahl's "Fantastic Mr. Fox" because, well, apparently every director in the world gets to make at least one animated movie, and now (in a rather severe case of burying the lead) comes news about a "new project" he's writing and possibly directing for Universal.

And if you're gonna pilfer from the French, I suppose you could do a whole lot worse than Patrice LeConte. I haven't seen the work Anderson is set to take on, "Mon Meilleur Ami," but that will change in a few days when it comes from Netflix (last night I watched "In Bruges," and I can attest that while it's often entertaining in its wordplay, it's just one of the strangest little flicks I've ever seen.)

In LeConte's 2006 film, French everyman Daniel Auteuil plays "a cranky antiques dealer who learns at a dinner with his closest acquaintances that none of them really like him because of his harsh manner and selfishness. When his business partner bets him a valuable vase that he can’t produce a best friend, the dealer tries to get an amiable cab driver to pose as his buddy," according to Variety.

As someone who finds himself fairly cranky as I get older, that sounds like it could be a lot of fun to me, and just might give Anderson the boost he needs to get back in my good graces (because I'm certain he's lost a lot of sleep about that!)

And now, since this has clearly has gone on long enough, I'll close with the promised "Quantum of Solace" trailer, which at a full two-and-a-half minutes is just a lot of fun. It looks like it starts out as a pretty straightforward revenge flick about the death of Vesper (the mesmerizing Eva Green), but of course spirals into a lot more than that, and like "Casino Royale" just looks like an old-fashioned Bond flick in all the best ways. Enjoy, and have a perfectly bearable Thursday.



P.S.: There's also a spot of sad news out there in that writer Gregory MacDonald has died at age 71.

MacDonald, a prolific mystery writer, was best know for his "Fletch" novels, two of which I read and four of which were made into flicks. I love the novels and movies for their goofy spirit and because Fletch, the journalist-turned-globetrotting author, is just a great character (and the last time Chevy Chase was truly funny.)

Before he died, MacDonald apparently collaborated with Harry Stein on the script for another "Fletch" flick, "Fletch Won." Since that one, if it ever were to happen, is rumored to possibly star Joshua Jackson in the role of our hero, it's perhaps best if it just stays dormant (though you'd have me interested with John Krasinski from "The Office".) Rest in peace, Mr. MacDonald.