3 Days To Kill

Director: McG
Starring: Kevin Costner, Amber Heard, Hailee Steinfeld, Connie Nielsen, Richard Sammel, Tómas Lemarquis, Eriq Ebouaney, Raymond J. Barry
Running Time: 117 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

The best thing about the otherwise unambitious but fairly enjoyable McG action thriller 3 Days to Kill is Kevin Costner's performance. It continues what has to be considered somewhat of a late-career resurgence for the actor who's as good as he's ever been lately, this time as a veteran CIA agent dying of cancer. The set-up is both more and less interesting than it sounds, with a script that sometimes cleverly blends the main character's professional and personal lives, while delivering few surprises. That means it's all up to Costner to carry this, which he does, playing a two-sided character that isn't completely unlike the one we saw him portray in 2007's overlooked Mr. Brooks, with the key difference being that this murderous character is a legally contracted one. And yet the two movies are nothing alike and his work impressively not even the slightest bit similar. But even that's not enough to save what ends up being a fairly routine action outing well disguised as something more substantial.

CIA agent Ethan Renner (Costner) probably won't live to see Christmas, having been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer that's already spread to his lungs. When he returns home to Paris from his latest assignment, he sees the diagnosis as the final chance to repair his damaged relationship with estranged teenage daughter Zooey (Hailee Steinfeld) and ex-wife, Christine (Connie Nielsen). Instead, he's greeted with a proposition from CIA assassin, Vivi Delay (Amber Heard) to find and kill a dangerous arms trafficker known simply as the Wolf  (Richard Sammel). In exchange he'll receive an experimental drug that could possibly prolong his life, giving him extra time to reconnect with his family. But its hallucinatory side effects cause him to wonder if it's worth the trouble, while also making it extremely difficult to complete the task at hand. Hardly in top form but with nothing left to lose, Ethan's in a race against the clock, but the bigger challenge might be figuring out how to be a dad to a rebellious teen.     

To its credit, this is actually a pretty compelling premise, muddled by some of the usual cliches found in hitman movies. That's tempered slightly by Costner's work as a dying man trying to do right by his daughter. He makes it clear that Ethan is weakened and on his last legs, but doesn't overplay it either, showing shades of an agent you'd imagine as a force when he was at the top of his game. His best scenes are opposite Steinfeld, whose Zooey is not only at the age where she's mortified to even be seen with her father, but actually has a good reason since he's been selfish and absent most of her life. It's not groundbreaking material and I'm still on the fence about an actress of Steinfeld's caliber being burdened with having to flesh out a whiny teen in an action thriller, but if it has to be played by anyone, it may as well be someone talented.

How their relationship develops beats anything having to do with the actual assassination plot or whatever tasks Ethan must complete to extend his life. Their arc may be predictable, but in the hands of these two actors it manages to at least feel somewhat fresh. As entertaining as it is watching the action jump back and forth between Ethan's bumbling attempts to connect with Zooey and his assigned kills, the two never really merge in a satisfying way. The lone plus on the professional end of the narrative is Amber Heard at her most seductive as Vivi, injecting a decent dose of deadpan humor and energy into each of her appearances opposite Costner, even as Ethan injects the drug that could potentially extend his life.

The action sequences are excitingly filmed by McG, with everything eventually coming to a head in a bullet-heavy finale that concludes exactly as you'd expect. If anything, you'd figure the added drama of having a dying protagonist working against the clock would organically inject the script with an urgency, at least leaving the door open for possible surprises. Instead, it seems the filmmakers were content just letting this predictably unfold. That it was co-written and produced by Taken director Luc Besson should have been a hint to expect something a little meatier than a run-of-the-mill thriller but both installments of that franchise were considerably more suspenseful and exciting than 3 Days to Kill, despite having seemingly less to work with. Trying to turn Costner into the next Liam Neeson isn't the worst idea in the world, but he's going to need a much better project to fully pull it off.

The Rum Diary

Director: Bruce Robinson
Starring: Johnny Depp, Aaron Eckhart, Michael Rispoli, Amber Heard, Richard Jenkins, Giovanni Ribisi
Running Time: 120 min.

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

What sticks out most in the mind after watching Bruce Robinson's run-of-the-mill adaptation of Hunter S. Thompson's The Rum Diary is its insignificance. That would be fine if it were fun, but instead it plays as if a studio executive just got a memo that Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas became a cult classic that needs to capitalized on as soon as Johnny Depp's available, but failed to take notes on what made that movie so crazy and special. This seems to want to be that crazy, and even comes close a few times, but a conventional, uninspired treatment of the material ties it down. And if there's anything a Thompson adaptation shouldn't be, it's conventional. But even taken on its own terms it doesn't quite work like it should, oddly mixing romance and adventure while managing to supply only a few laughs. There was definite potential for greatness and some moments really work, but not consistently enough to amount to a worthwhile experience. And that's a shame, because my expectations were reasonably high, if you can forgive the pun.

Depp plays unsuccessful novelist Paul Kemp who on a whim gets a job as a journalist with the struggling San Juan Star newspaper in Puerto Rico, edited by the grumpy, toupee wearing Lotterman (Richard Jenkins) who immediately resents his excessive drinking and partying. Soon after his arrival he befriends the paper's photographer, Sala (Michael Rispoli) as well as the perpetually stoned and drunk Moberg (Giovanni Ribisi), a freelance reporter who can't be fired. Kemp's exploits soon catches the eye of sleazy local real estate developer Hal Sanderson (Aaron Eckhart), who offers him an ad writing job for his latest land venture. The only problem is Kemp's fascination with Sanderson's sexy, mysterious girlfriend Chenault (Amber Heard) who he was immediately taken by after a memorable ocean encounter at a party. Torn between business and pleasure, Kemp is warmly welcomed into Sanderson's fold initially, but his new friendship comes at a personal price.

There's little plot in the film but what plot there is still seems like too much. Nearly everything involving Sanderson's land deal plays as a half-hearted attempt to shoehorn all these eccentric characters into a cohesive narrative. They're all entertaining and it's easy to imagine a film where they'd all be let out of their cages to run wild instead of merely going through the motions of a partially developed romantic triangle and an awkward crusading newsmen sub-plot that takes center stage in the final act. By the end of the first hour, the story already seems to be running on fumes. That's there's still something addictive about all this is a credit to the talent of the actors involved and the fact that Robinson's mesmerizing evocation of 1960's Puerto Rico is absorbing enough to distract from the fact that the film barely connects on a dramatic or comedic level.

The biggest laughs come from the feud between Jenkins' old school editor and and Ribisi's druggie character. Always a strange type of talent who's tough to cast in anything, this might the first time Ribisi outright steals a movie from his co-stars with his unhinged craziness. His part has no aim or direction, but that's actually a relief compared to how restrained and ordinary everything else seems, especially the love triangle. While this is the most interesting Depp has been onscreen in a while, I just never got the relationship that was supposed to be developing between Paul and Chenault, probably because there just doesn't seem to be much of one. Or at least as strong of one as there should be to justify all the silly developments that occur. The risk-taking Amber Heard (who beat out her lookalike Scarlett Johansson for this part) continues to prove herself as the real deal in an underwritten role, with the movie feeling most alive when she's sharing the screen with Depp. Aaron Eckhart plays yet another expert sleazebag with duplicitous motives, reminding us that few do it better.

The movie's saving grace is Depp, who's always excelled most when not playing freaks, but somewhat normal people with off-kilter quirks. What's fun is how you can see more subdued, less cynical glimpses of Depp's Raoul Duke from Fear and Loathing taking shape in the performance. That Paul Kemp qualifies as a somewhat "normal" character for him these days is kind of scary. Unfortunately, these semi-human performances seem to only come around once a decade so even if the results are a lot less spectacular this time around, it's a relief to just see him in Thompson's universe again instead of mugging it in kabuki face paint for Tim Burton. I wish Depp would take more projects like this, only with slightly better results.  Emblematic of the movie's main problem is a single scene in which Kemp and Sala go on a hallucinogenic drug trip. It's so tame, so visually uninteresting you'd think they only took an extra teaspoon of cough medicine. The whole film needed to contain the reckless abandon of two key scenes heavily advertised in the trailers and commercials. One in a convertible on the road. The other in a nightclub. They carry the promise of what this should have been.

That The Rum Diary was written by Thompson in 1961 but didn't see publication until 1998 is ironic considering it's the same year the big screen adaptation of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas undeservedly flopped in theaters before re-emerging later as a classic. One of those feels like a true adaptation while the other barely seems to have come from the same author's pen. Or typewriter. As much as I love good films about crazy writers, this one could have stood to have actually been more of a mess, truer in spirit to its source. So while I appreciated The Rum Diary for what it was, I was more disappointed in what it wasn't. The potential still exists to adapt it into a great movie. But as this attempt proves, that's far easier said than done.

Drive Angry

Director: Patrick Lussier
Starring: Nicholas Cage, Amber Heard, William Fichtner, Katy Mixon, David Morse, Billy Burke, Charlotte Ross, Tom Atkins
Running Time: 105 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

It must be nice being Nicolas Cage. Getting paid millions of dollars to star in any mindless action movie of your choosing with crazy hair opposite women half your age isn't such a bad deal. Regardless of whether you call it Drive Angry, Drive Angry 3D, or Tarantino's missing third feature from Grindhouse, the actor's latest is more Nic Cage being Nic Cage. But at least say this for him: He always "sells out" in an entertaining and hilarious way, crafting an insane onscreen persona that works for him. No matter how awful his choices in material sometimes are, even his worst performances are still strangely fascinating. Against your better judgment, you find you just can't turn away and anxiously anticipate what crazy thing he'll do next. I can get on board when the filmmakers at least extend us the courtesy of going along with the joke. Patrick Lussier's Crank-style homage joins the actor's recent Kick-Ass and Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans in really "getting it." And if you like scuzzy, violent B-level grindhouse flicks doubling as gothic horror action-comedies, then this is your thing. You also get performances better than you'd think a movie of this ilk deserves, which makes sense looking at the credits. With actors like crazy Cage, Amber Heard, David Morse and an incomparable William Fichtner sharing the screen together, I'm wondering whether it even stood a chance of not working despite how ridiculous it all is.

Cage plays John Milton, a lone drifter and felon who saves a hot, young waitress named Piper (Heard) from her abusive boyfriend, taking her along on his manhunt to track down Satantic cult leader Jonah King (Billy Burke). He's in possession of Milton's granddaughter and is planning to offer her up as a sacrifice unless he can somehow find a way to stop him. Following Milton is a mysterious stranger with paranormal powers known as The Accountant (Fichtner) who clearly wants something from him, even though we're not exactly sure what right away or even whose side he's on. All we know is that he's creepy, hilarious and comes armed with plenty of sarcastic one-liners, which is more than enough since he's easily the best thing in the film and deserving of a sequel of his own. The plot ends up being even more over-the-top and silly than could have been expected from the honest previews and just gets even sillier once all the crazy details of Milton's bizarre situation start to surface. That info starts clarifying things a little, but it's not like that makes much of a difference since the balls-to-the-wall action scenes carry the most interest, and a lot of them are real keepers, namely Milton shooting at intruders while he's busy getting it on with a waitress. We also get to watch what must be the most fatalistic gun shot to not kill anybody, even though we know exactly why not.

For better or worse, you get what you pay for each time out with Cage regardless of the trashy material he often onto and this is no exception, except for the fact that it knows how ludicrous it is. As usual Cage is just having a silly, dumb time imitating himself imitating Clint Eastwood and not taking anything seriously, which in this case works perfectly fine. We get to see him shoot people, listen to him talk in his goofy Cage voice and have a good laugh at his latest hair disaster so all is well. The always busy Amber Heard, whose star continues to burn brighter with each performance, stretches to play trailer trash perfectly while surprisingly never falling into the thankless love interest trap. She's as much an ass-kicker as he is, which should come as a relief for anyone who thought she was only cast so Cage could add to his laundry list of age inappropriate female co-stars. Billy Burke gets the job done as the crazed Koresh-like cult leader (even if he more closely resembles Rick Springfield) but the film belongs to well-traveled character actor William Fichtner, who gets a chance to show those unfamiliar with his work what they've been missing and blows Cage off the screen. Best known on the big screen as the bank manager who stands up to Heath Ledger's Joker in The Dark Knight and on the small screen with appearances on Invasion, Prison Break and Entourage, this is the first time he's really been cut loose in a senseless big budget action movie. And of course Fichtner makes the most maniacal thing about his maniac character the fact that he doesn't act maniacal at all. Few can play cool, calm and creepy better, and not nearly with as much dry wit. The entire movie ends up being a well-deserved showcase for him, as he approaches scene-stealing levels of eccentricity that should make Christopher Walken proud.  Unfortunately, David Morse isn't given nearly as much to do as a grizzled mechanic and must slog through a role so insignificant there isn't even much an actor of his talents can do with it. 

It's easy to see why this died a quick death at the box office since it's only getting more difficult to convince moviegoers to spend their money watching Cage mock himself again, especially in 3D where the stakes for mind-blowing entertainment are raised. But like last year's Piranha remake this is the kind of cheesy, B-level grindhouse movie that feels defensible for that format. Still, even only at 105 minutes, the plot stretches thin, so it comes as somewhat of a relief that it's an unimportant element. This makes it the perfect rental or guilty pleasure purchase if you're in the mood for movie junk food, or just feel like rewarding yourself for avoiding the shattered expectations that would have likely accompanied a theatrical viewing. At home those expectations are hovering at a more manageable level and the performances of Fichtner and Heard alone should be enough to seal the deal for anyone straddling the fence about checking it out. Thankfully recalling well-made, fun garbage like Con-Air rather than The Wicker Man, Next or Bangkok Dangerous, Drive Angry not only knows it's supposed to be a bad Nic Cage movie, but proudly wears that badge on its sleeve, making no apologies for reveling in its own awesome awfulness.

The Joneses

Director: Derrick Borte
Starring: Demi Moore, David Duchovny, Amber Heard, Ben Hollingsworth, Gary Cole, Lauren Hutton, Glenne Headly
Running Time: 96 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

The Joneses is the most frustrating kind of good movie to review because it brushes so closely with greatness, only to fall short due to a couple of dumb, easily correctable problems. Calling its central premise inspired or original is an understatement. So much so that the execution could have been completely squandered and the finished product would have still probably turned out okay. It isn't squandered, but there's that feeling that all the potential wasn't realized and there was something really special in there struggling to break through. With a concept like this I question how any film could fully deliver on it without at least some degree of disappointment. For the first hour it looks like it will, but writer/director Derrick Borte sets the bar a little too high for himself and struggles at times to find the right tone before unloading a rushed ending completely inappropriate for the film.

Some movies can get away with a lackluster ending but this can't since all the themes and ideas seem to build toward the story's resolution.  But in all fairness to Borte, it's no easy task getting a high concept like this exactly where it needs to go and he does a serviceable job.  If nothing else, the film deserved more attention than it got during its brief, invisible run in theaters and should be wildly applauded for actually introducing an original idea we haven't seen on screen before. But as impressive as certain ideas can look on paper, following through with them all the way is a different matter altogether.

It helps to know as little as possible about the premise going in but the trailers and commercials give it away because they didn't really have a choice. Without coming clean with its concept, there's nothing to sell the movie on other than its stars, a cruel irony considering this is all about selling. But for the first fifteen minutes we are cleverly left in the dark when Steve Jones (David Duchovny) and his youthful looking wife, Kate (Demi Moore) move into an upper-middle class (i.e. rich) suburban neighborhood with their two high school aged kids, Jennifer (Amber Heard) and Mick (Ben Hollingsworth). They look like one of those impossibly perfect, great looking families that stepped out of a fancy home magazine, with a residence to match. And for good reason. That's basically what they are. The big secret is that they're a fake family being paid by a stealth marketing company to push new products in the neighborhood. Logically, if they're liked, everyone will want to to own what they have. They're selling themselves as much as they are the products with their manager, KC (Lauren Hutton) tracking the progress. On her sixth husband, the driven Kate is the veteran of the "unit" and on her first "head of household" assignment is supervising Steve, a green as grass rookie learning the ropes, but it gets complicated when their working arrangement evolves into something more and their "kids" begin to emotionally unravel from pretending to be what they're not. The Joneses also have to deal with the consequences of the bonds they've formed with those in the neighborhood, real or fake as they may be.

The expression "Keeping up with the Joneses" could seem dated to some, but the idea behind it definitely isn't. Hearing the title of the movie I couldn't help but laugh at the fact that one of my favorite sayings was being adapted into a feature film as I've been known to use it every time it seems applicable, which is a lot more often than you'd think.  Knowing the premise going in I was still impressed with how it was slowly and mysteriously introduced so that like the neighbors we're not initially sure what to make of these Joneses or what their deal is. When we do is when the movie really comes alive in its first sixty minutes, fully exploiting all the possibilities and implications of their deception. An important touch is that the Joneses are actually good salespeople because they don't overdo it and the film already has a built-in excuse for product placement, which Borte's script doesn't abuse by shoving it down our throats. In this sense the film, while completely original in conceit, does have definite thematic shadings of The Truman Show and Pleasantville in its critique of American materialism and consumerism.

The casting is so spot-on it's scary, with the choices in actors serving the themes exceptionally well. Who wouldn't buy a golf club David Duchovny recommended? Who could have possibly been a better choice to play Kate than Demi Moore, an actress who's basically sold to us as an anti-aging commodity? And is there a high school girl who wouldn't want look, dress like and BE Amber Heard? Moore gives her best performance in ages as the ambitious sales leader, in addition to looking as young as she has in years, which isn't an entirely irrelevant point when you consider the nature of her role. Duchovny brings the sly charm in what's kind of a watered down version of his Hank Moody character on Californication, making his best case so far for big screen leading man status.  In smaller but still suitably developed roles, the increasingly prolific Heard continues her streak of nailing (literally in this case) any supporting part she's given and newcomer Hollingsworth effectively sketches out the teen poser harboring a secret of his own. And since they're both supposed to be adults playing teenagers, we now finally have a movie with a suitable excuse for casting adults as teenagers.

The movie attempts to go to dark places the second act requires even if it feels a little out of step with the sitcom-style feel that's present throughout. The darkest center around married couple, Summer and Larry (Glenne Headly and Gary Cole), next-door neighbors struggling to keep up with Joneses. Headley and Cole are two of the more underrated character actors working today so it's no surprise they turn mere sketches into real people worth caring about and fill in the blanks of their slightly underwritten roles, alternating seamlessly between the comedy and drama. When the wheels start to fly off the Joneses perfect fake life Borte seems to want to turn this into a scathing commentary carrying an impact similar to more dramatic entries in suburban dysfunction like American Beauty or the more recent Revolutionary Road. That's when he starts losing his way and grasp on tone before wimping out with an abrupt, unsatisfying finish that damages the film's overall credibility. The worst thing he could have done with a premise this strong was attempt to spell everything out for us, which he does with an embarrassing soapbox-style speech that comes abruptly out of left field to wrap things up in a conventional Hollywood way. He also does the second worst thing in giving far too much emphasis to the romantic angle between the two leads. The idea that this sales team family are co-workers under the same roof is intriguing and Moore and Duchovny have chemistry, but her character is such a humorless ice queen it's difficult to grasp what Steve sees in her (well, at least from a personality standpoint). This sub-plot that should be downplayed in favor of the darker elements of the script instead takes center stage at the worst possible time, making the film feel almost like a fluffy romantic comedy.

I'll concede to some bias here since dark, suburban social commentaries are among my favorite types of pictures but Borte at least had the concept for a real winner in his hands, only to let it slip through his fingers. With a firm command over the look of sprawling, sunny suburbia he's a better director than writer, which isn't to say he's a bad writer because it takes a lot of talent to even come up with an idea like this, much less push it as far as he does. But the last thing that should be accompanying this film this ambitious at its conclusion is a forgettable feeling. With a final act that reeks of studio interference, I wouldn't mind seeing a hidden director's cut or even a full-blown remake that follows its dark path to the ending its premise promises. Despite an admirable effort to do something different, The Joneses tries to please everybody, and ironically becomes guilty of engaging in some of the same tactics it's sending up.

The Informers

Director: Gregor Jordan
Starring: Billy Bob Thornton, Kim Basinger, Winona Ryder, Mickey Rourke, Jon Foster, Amber Heard, Brad Renfro, Lou Taylor Pucci, Chris Isaak, Austin Nichols
Running Time: 98 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

"You can't make it in this town unless you're willing to do some awful things. And I'm willing."

There are good reasons why the literary works of Bret Easton Ellis are so infrequently adapted to the screen. Most of them can be found in The Informers, the latest attempt to make cinematic sense of the depraved worldview of an author whose self-absorbed, narcissistic characters reside in the shallow end of the moral cesspool. Just mentioning the writer's name is bound to evoke a wide variety of passionate responses, none of them all too favorable. It's a testament to his controversial material that producers only had the guts to adapt him three other times (Less Than Zero, American Psycho and The Rules of Attraction) and to exactly the kind of angry, polarizing reactions you'd expect.

Of the aforementioned titles, only American Psycho came closest to achieving what could barely be considered widespread acclaim, but even that has  many vocal detractors. If I ever decide to go through with a list of the decade's best films, Roger Avary's misunderstood and unfairly maligned adaptation of The Rules of Attraction would have to be considered a serious contender for it. A lot of that depth can be found in the similarly insane The Informers, which somehow manages to be a worthy successor and fascinating companion piece that didn't disappoint me in the slightest despite its almost intentionally blatant awfulness.

That Ellis is supposedly unhappy with director Gregor Jordan's treatment of his material (from a script the author co-wrote himself no less) is hilarious, considering that, for better or worse, this adaptation couldn't have more faithfully captured his world. It's almost as hilarious is the actual film, which is a trashy guilty pleasure that requires numerous showers to cleanse yourself of when it's over. Full of cheap thrills, it feels strange even referring to it as that since it's basically pointless to apologize for recommending any movie that features a pre-Wrestler Mickey Rourke kidnapping and selling children. And that's the least bizarre story thread in the picture.

If there were any justice Informers viewing parties and drinking games would be going on right now across the country. It's just that kind of movie. But there's no way you'll get me to admit that it's "so bad it's good" because a large part of me doesn't think it's bad at all, mostly because it isn't. There were scenes so funny I couldn't forget them even if I tried, yet also some really powerful performances, the best of which comes from an actor who's sadly no longer with us. Whether you view it as a comedy or a drama makes little difference because by not taking itself too seriously, but still knowing to take itself just seriously enough, it becomes both. You'll hate it. Hence, it's the quintessential Ellis adaptation.

The action opens in Los Angeles, 1983 and boy is it ever 1983. That's clear from the get-go with a decadent party that's part Miami Vice, part stylish music video. At it, Graham Sloane (Jon Foster) watches in horror as his friend Bruce is struck by a car and killed. His friends grieve at a hilariously inappropriate hotel funeral complete with a sushi bar and a Pat Benetar musical dedication. By "grieve" I mean that no one gives a shit except for Raymond (Aaron Himmelstein) who can't stop crying even though he hadn't a clue Bruce hated him.

Graham quickly returns to his regular routine of doing drugs and sleeping around with his hot, seemingly vacuous girlfriend Christie (Amber Heard) and best friend Martin (One Tree Hill's Austin Nichols, sporting maybe the most ridiculous hairstyle in cinematic history). Martin's secretly having an affair with Graham's pill-popping mother, Laura (Kim Basinger), who recently let her philandering movie producer husband William (Billy Bob Thornton) move back into the house after he was caught cheating on her with television news anchor Cheryl Laine (a wide-eyed Winona Ryder--- dressed like Nancy Reagan!).

The fourth friend, Tim (Lou Taylor Pucci) is off to Hawaii with his sleazeball of a father, Les (singer Chris Isaak) who besides suspecting his son is gay, is trying to put the moves on Tim's "date," Rachel (90210's Jessica Stroup). Then there's strung-out junkie Bryan Metro (Mel Raido), the lead singer of a new wave band called "The Informers," who can't remember whether or not he's ever lived in L.A. and is addicted to sex with minors. In a highlight scene, he punches a groupie in the face because...SHE'S FROM NEBRASKA. Sadly, that's as good a reason as any in a film this weird. Jackson (Brad Renfro in his final performance), a doorman in Graham's building, is a failed actor now on the outside looking in. He's faced with a huge moral dilemma when his creepy uncle, Peter (Mickey Rourke) re-enters his life and selfishly drags him into his criminal dealings. Of the deplorable characters, only Jackson and Tim have anything that resembles a conscience and Graham is just starting to realize he may be getting one. But it may be too late. Unfamiliar feelings of jealousy now overcome him every time he sees Christie with Martin as a deadly new disease called AIDS is waiting in the wings.

Vague comparisons have been made to Short Cuts, Magnolia, and even Boogie Nights in terms of narrative approach but the stories here don't interlock and most offer no easy resolution, which will frustrate many. The 1994 novel was a collection of short stories and that's just what this is. But as strange as it sounds considering this is being adapted from one of American fiction's most popular novelists, the actual story is almost beside the point. Ellis' work has always been more dependent on capturing a specific mood or feeling. This is a far different '80's than the warm, nostalgia-filled one presented in Adventureland earlier in the year, or the alternate version of the decade we saw in Watchmen. It's much more lived in.

The fashions (Ray-Bans), and the music (Flock of Seagulls, Wang Chung, Simple Minds) are all there but they exist only as part of this cold, desolate landscape of greed and excess. As frighteningly accurate as it's portrayed, it's even scarier that you rarely stop to notice. It just is. More than simply watching a movie, you've committed to taking a disturbing, time travel trip from which it seems there's no recovery. You're not just watching a re-creation of the decade, but you're there. For everyone who hates the film on an initial viewing I'd like to offer up a suggestion: Watch it again, but the second time as a comedy MADE DURING THE 80's. It shouldn't be difficult considering that's pretty much what it is. I'm convinced even the bad green screen effects and inserted stock footage of '80's L.A. was done intentionally to capture that retro feeling.

Ellis' writing always skirted the line between satire and tragedy and this one may be giving us our largest helping of both. What lifts (or maybe lowers) his stories to the tragic level is not the fact the characters are detestable human beings who hurt one another, but that they truly can't comprehend that they are. They just don't get it. That quote you see above was probably spoken by every member of this all-star cast to their agents when they received the script, but it was eventually delivered onscreen by Brad Renfro, who passed away from a drug overdose a week after filming wrapped.

Pudgy, sweaty, and overweight, the unrecognizable Renfro pours everything he has into the failed child actor turned doorman, as many lines he's given (and even the very essence of the character itself) eerily foreshadow his own death. One in particular that he delivers in the hotel lobby sent chills down my spine. You'd swear he had to know what was coming, which makes it impossible to separate the performance from the tragic circumstances surrounding it.

The parallels between his path and Jackson's is flat-out scary and unbearably disturbing. Just witness his jittery, nerve-ridden panic in the scene when his uncle's "business associate" comes to collect. Digging as deep as he did it's almost no wonder he died right after shooting wrapped. He literally gives  all there is of himself in a touching, heartbreaking final turn that he fittingly shares with Rourke, who brings a cocky, laid-back sleaze to this small-time crook and provides the perfect counterpoint to Renfro's wild bundle of nerves. Anyone looking for clues that Rourke would go on to deliver the performance he did in The Wrestler will find them even in this small role.

If there's a lead it's Jon Foster, whose Graham would be classified in the same category as other morally corrupt Ellis protagonists like Christian Bale's Patrick Bateman in American Psycho or his womanizing younger brother Sean in The Rules of Attraction if not for the fact that he's actually starting to develop real feelings for another person. That's a first in Ellis land. But the heart and soul of the movie belongs to Amber Heard as Christie in a performance as memorable for what she bravely doesn't show as what she does. Despite going topless in nearly every one of her scenes, Heard transcends what should be a superficial gimmick to cut to the core of the film's meaning.

Is Christie even aware that she's hurting Graham? Does she care? Does she know she's killing herself with her reckless behavior? There are moments where we think she does and others where we think she doesn't have the slightest clue. But Heard never lets us judge her, and in a film full of self-centered characters to hate, it's difficult to despise this one. With very little dialogue she chooses play her as lost, not a slut. Through her eyes we see the story and its message is clear: The party's about to end.
Amongst a cast comprised of various Oscar winning and nominated actors, the young blood of Renfro, Heard and Foster are the backbone of the picture, but that's not to say the veteran performers are phoning it in at all. Billy Bob Thornton intriguingly turns a philandering husband into a creepy psychopath while Kim Basinger is effectively cold as ice as his unloved and emotionally abused wife. Even in spite of all her fame Winona Ryder's news anchor is just as lonely, and a disturbing restaurant scene with some heckling "fans" is so uncomfortable because Jordan drags it on, refusing to give us the big, easy payoff. But my favorite sub-plot was the Hawaiian vacation as Chris Isaak and his priceless facial expressions perfectly capture the pathetic desperation of a man so obsessed with clinging to his youth that he's wrecked his relationship with his own son.

Supposedly there's 40 extra minutes of cut footage floating around somewhere and I'm not sure whether it would help the film or not because at just over an hour and a half it feels just right the way it is. A sub-plot involving Brandon Routh as a vampire was excised, and despite part of me thinking this movie is so insane it could have possibly fit, that was a wise decision. Supernatural elements may have worked on the page, but given the tone of this film, there's simply no place for it (as if we didn't have enough vampires in pop culture already). But much more troubling is the fact that Ashley Olsen was originally considered to be cast in Amber Heard's role. Talk about dodging a bullet.

I can't understand how how anyone could say the actors in this film are "misused" or "underutilized" which seems to be the general consensus even though some are handed the craziest parts of their careers. Nor do I understand the complaints that the film is too bleak or lacks humor. If anything, critics and audiences, not the movie, are taking themselves too seriously. Much of the dark humor takes multiple viewings to fully absorb (three and counting for me, one with the commentary). Plus, how many movies out there actually hold up equally well as both comedy and drama? What I can understand is that Ellis is unhappy with how his work was translated to the screen. Not because I agree, but because every author is.

If The Informers has any problem it's that it should have been released 26 years earlier. Today, no one wants to see rich people with problems because it doesn't make us feel better. And we're definitely not used to a movie so willing to fully surrender itself to the era in which it's set. With The Informers, Gregor Jordan proves that great trash can be lifted to an art form. I'd have a tough time convincing anyone it's one of the best films of 2009, which is fine since it's actually the best film of 1983.