Sour Lemons Have Sour Kids

Remember how I justified my recommending The Crush for its one scene featuring Cary Elwes punching a 14-year-old Alicia Silverstone with all the might of Thor? I'm giong to spoil my review of the very mediocre Case 39 with the one reason worth watching it:

The little girl calls Renee Zellwegger Pumpkinhead.

True, it would have been more appropriate if sour lemons were also involved, but it was still enough to make me spit out my pumpkinhead latte.

Quick Plot: Emily (not me) is a dedicated social worker who becomes especially obsessed with her latest case, a 10 year old girl named Lily whose family seems...off. Not sexually abusive or alcoholic, just creepy and foreboding and oh yeah, the kind of people who decide to end parenting woes by stuffing their weird kid inside a lit oven.

CPS doesn’t generally let that one slip through the cracks.

As Lily’s folks head to the nuthouse, Emily decides to do what any responsible social worker would do and foster the little burn victim herself. All is peachy until another one of Emily’s cases--and a fellow member of Lily’s group therapy sessions--commits a horrendous crime after receiving a phone call...from Emily’s landline!

Case 39 was filmed way back in 2006. For the young ones in the audience, 2006 was apparently a time when every working professional relied on a home phone and answering machine, the latter of which is super useful for establishing character and plot exposition. 

Sort of like how having your lead pick up an alarm clock is really useful for the director to then throw in the jump scare of having the alarm clock RING!

Or having Ian McShane (playing Emily’s detective pal) lean against a window at a crime scene while describing the grisly deed, only for a vicious doberman to leap at said window and snarl, just because...um...he heard Ian McShane tell a grisly tale and wanted to add an effective punch?

See, Case 39 is THAT kind of film, one where a slipping A-list actress is charged with looking worried while computer generated effects pixelate around her. Despite what many a horror fan may have said, it’s not really awful...just kind of dull. Zellwegger commits to looking confused and helpless with decent skill, while Bradley Cooper and the infinitely more interesting Ian McShane are good enough in supporting roles with (SPOILER ALERT) hilarious death scenes. But the film on a whole iszzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Underwhelming. Not bad enough to sit on a shelf for three years, but ultimately the kind of forgettable material that might better suit late night cable surfing. 

High Points

For the first half hour or so, Case 39 is fairly promising as Lily’s creepy homelife and its effects unravel in front of us. Had the film sustained that strangeness, it may have actually been decent rather than relying on deep-voiced demon talk from a child actor with none of the grand intensity as Orphan’s Isabelle Furhman

Low Points

Let’s face it: Case 39 doesn’t really care about the actual mythology located within itself. We have no real idea why Lily is what she is, how she came to exist in this particular time or place, why she targets who she does, or you know, anything. I don’t need an overly complicated backstory or flashback or extraneous character narrating the tale, but you know, give your own villain something of worth

Lessons Learned

Best way to know that your child is evil? She cuts peas in half with a knife. Even Jerry Seinfeld would find that offensive

In case countless genre films haven’t taught you well enough, let me remind you that when a suspicious character asks you what your biggest fear is, answering truthfully will most likely lead to hornets buzzing out of your orifices

Deep demon voice: Does. Not. Work. Ever.

Rent/Bury/Buy

Eh, Case 39 isn’t the worst thing to come out of a movie theater but there’s little reason to tell you to watch it. As an instant watch, it’s an okay enough time killer that you’ll probably forget ever happened soon after viewing. In terms of its vertically challenged caliber, you’re far better off checking out that OTHER adoption-gone-wrong mainstream hit Orphan, which has far more zest than the tepid and timid Case 39. But hey, somewhere out there, I’m sure there’s someone with a thing for sour-faced blondes, contrived jump scares, and synthesized demon voices just waiting to love this movie. I am no one to judge.

Trash of the Titans

Okay, one last review before I hit the road for a week. I dedicate this post to my broken iPod, whose inability to work led me to busy my 70 minute train ride with another activity.


Onward we go:


Sometimes, there’s truly nothing like big dumb action movie drunk on excess violence to get you through a busy day. Knowing that stress was slowly building up on me last week, I bumped the recent remake of Death Race 2000 (minus the 2000 and set in 2012) up on my queue hoping for a mindless helping of carsplosions and Statham scowling.


I should preface this writeup with two confessions:


1. I have yet to see the original (as it currently isn’t available through Netflix)
2. This was my first experience seeing the much loved by genre fans Statham actually act, as opposed to glaring sexily from movie theater posters


Quick Plot:
In the near future, America is wallowing in some economic lows (imagine that!) and hard-working Statham is trying his bloodiest to provide for his sweet and filmically understanding wife and newborn daughter. Like all movies involving Sweet & Understanding Wives with husbands that insist themselves to be unworthy of such Sweet & Understanding love, Sweet & Understanding Wife is soon murdered in the middle of a stir fry.


Statham is framed and sent to prison, where TV exec/warden Joan Allen (yes, three time Oscar nominee Joan Allen) runs a successful reality competition pitting lifers against one another in a Nascar-esque race watched by millions via pay-per-Internet. Having seen our share of this plot in everything from Series 7: The Contenders to The Condemned, it’s not that Anderson & Co. bring anything new but it seems that even they are aware of that. Little time is wasted on explaining what went wrong in society or just who it is that watches the Death Race. Frankenstein, the Hulk Hogan of the series has perished, but rather than lose a few viewers and admit defeat, Allen recruits her newest inmate to don the previous Frankenstein’s mask and drive his car to freedom...providing he wins the upcoming race.

There’s not a whole lot to say about Death Race. It’s loud, slick, and peppered with some fine moments (usually provided by the fire crackling voice of Ian McShane or the simply unbelievable carving of Statham’s torso) but ultimately, Death Race is a video game for people with arthritis or bad eye-finger coordination. There are some decent deaths and a few explosions. Characters die and others live, but none drudge up any real interest or sympathy between the blaring score and hasty plotting. Anderson takes a few stylizing chances at making Death Race a tad meta and aware, but he never crosses that line to real innovation. The film is what you would expect, for better and worse.


High Points
Considering this is made by Paul W. Anderson, the minimal use of annoying jump cutted editing during the races was far less severe than I was expecting


Ian McShane. Nothing to really say about him; just Fucking Ian McShane


Statham, it would seem, has indeed inherited the title of Best Action Hero currently working. His physicality is quite believable, but more importantly, his acting is good enough to make us root for his character, whether we really care about the film or not

Low Points
While Allen’s icy villainess is entertaining in the ridiculous way only an A-list actress can pull off, a film like this needs a few more colorful baddies with Running Manish personalities. Most of the prisoners here feel like extras on Oz answering a casting call with little flavor to make a real impression


Granted I’m not the target audience here, but do we really need blaring “She’s So Sexy” rap scoring during the extremely slow-motioned scenes introducing female characters to inform us that the these women are hot? Their hair is blowing, midriffs are exposed, and short shorts are worn: we get it

The final plot twist is a decision made by our characters offscreen in a secret conversation. Nothing irks me more than a film that simply cheats its viewers by taking them on one character’s journey, only to then hide key details for an “exciting” surprise. Such a plot can occasionally work if the film never actually lies (think of the hints in Inside Man or The Sixth Sense), but merely holding back information that breaks the flow of the film for the surprise factor is a cheap, dishonest trick.


Good thing I didn’t really care about the movie that much. I may have been angry.

Lessons Learned
In the near future, salaries will crash, but a blue collar worker can still afford a lovely two-level house


All mugshots should involve a topless reel, particularly if the subject is Jason Statham

Declaring “You can’t kill me!” will instantly get you, indeed, quite killed


If you fuck with Joan Allen, you will finally answer the age-old question of just who it is that shits on the sidewalk

Addendum: What the hell does that actually mean?


Rent/Bury/Buy
Eh. You won’t get much out of Death Race that you couldn’t find in other R-Rated action fare. My lack of enthusiasm is probably in some part due to my low interest in car chase films (give me Point Break to any Fast &Furious incarnation), so if you what horsepower rating a '67 Mustang has or leave Ronin on TiVo for months solely to catch a few speed scenes whenever a commercial comes on (as my own Pacer owning father is prone to do), then this may be worthy of a rental with a few beers. Otherwise, tune in when it airs on cable or just stare at this for two hours:

Or for a week, as I head to Dollywood and try to survive car sickness, country music, and not watching movies without turning into a Redneck Zombie. Although, the possibilities of that could make for some reaaaaaaal horror commentary.