Dakota Fanning plays lead singer Cherrie Currie in The Runaways, a biopic about the troubled career of the all-girl rock band.

Credit: supplied

MOVIE REVIEWS (Week of Mar. 18)

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THE RUNAWAYS

Starring Dakota Fanning, Kristen Stewart
Directed by Floria Sigismondi
Attempting to cop a punk attitude, The Runaways kicks off with a shot of cherry-red menstrual blood hitting the pavement — a snotty opening salvo that’s little more than desperate posturing.

Based on the true story of the titular band, The Runaways opens in 1975, when Cherie Currie (Dakota Fanning, out of her depth here) is recruited by Svengali producer Kim Fowley (a perfectly repulsive Michael Shannon) to front his latest pet project, a teenage all-girl group. Taken under the wing of guitarist Joan Jett (Kristen Stewart, swaggering and scowling with a semblance of conviction), Cherie quickly ascends to rock-goddess status. Of course, the laws of music-biopic physics ensure a downward spiral is soon to follow.

Taking her cues from Currie’s autobiography, Neon Angel, writer-director Floria Sigismondi devotes the majority of the narrative to Currie’s troubled (but never once interesting) home life, and her by-the-numbers battle with addiction. Consequently, the Jett-centric scenes feel clumsily shoehorned in, and occasionally extraneous. Sigismondi’s inability to establish distinct characters (or pen any dialogue) for the remaining band members eventually comes back to haunt her: When lead guitarist Lita Ford (Scout Taylor-Compton) finally breaks her silence in order to stage a supposedly pivotal confrontation with Currie, you almost expect Currie to respond, “I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve met.”

Failing to hit any raw nerves with her film’s dramatic elements, Sigismondi similarly struggles to add rough edges to her Hollywood starlets. Handling their own vocals, Fanning and Stewart simply hit their marks, lacking any semblance of brashness in glossy, carefully choreographed music videos. Simultaneously exploited and empowered, the original Runaways were dangerous, dirty, and groundbreaking. Here, they’ve been reduced to something safe, sanitized, and inconsequential. ★★—Curtis Woloschuk

THE BOUNTY HUNTER

Starring Jennifer Aniston, Gerard Butler
Directed by Andy Tennant
Milo (Gerard Butler), a burly ex-cop turned bounty hunter, gets a chance at sweet justice when a judge tasks him with hauling in his ex-wife, Nicole (Jennifer Aniston), an ace reporter who blew off a court hearing in order to follow a potential scoop. In addition to the satisfaction of putting her in cuffs, Milo stands to pocket a handsome payday for the delivery. But his short-lived euphoria is shattered by his and Nicole’s constant bickering, a loan shark looking to collect, crooked cops, and old desires that start bubbling to the surface.

Any grade-schooler can tell you that, as the genre’s name implies, a romantic comedy should contain two key elements: romance (usually between the two leads, who intensely dislike one another before coming around) and laughs. And yet, Hollywood’s perpetual rom-com dyslexia continues. The Bounty Hunter is a prime case in point. 

Writer Sarah Thorp squanders the promising premise here with an avalanche of genre clichés: the plodding story features lengthy, listless sections strung together with boring banter; a flat cast; failed gags; and predictable “twists.” Director Andy Tennant’s (Fool’s Gold) attempts to goose the pacing with random action sequences and “dramatic” elements feel forced and uninspired.  

Aniston, everyone’s favourite Friend, still looks hot, but despite her efforts — which include being perpetually clad in cleavage-baring microskirts and heels (like all serious reporters) — she’s saddled with dreadful dialogue, and a character so one-dimensional you expect a breeze to carry her away. Gerard Butler, meanwhile, plays Milo as a gormless, sad-sack moron. Complicating matters is the lack of chemistry between these two leads.

Calling The Bounty Hunter an exercise in mediocrity would be a compliment for this unfunny, meandering mess. Give me Dog and Beth any day. ★—Greg Ursic

COOKING WITH STELLA

Starring Don McKellar, Lisa Ray Seema Biswas
Directed by Dilip Mehta
A maple-leaf luggage tag still affords a measure of bonhomie and forgiveness when travelling abroad. But some, like Stella (Seema Biswas), see it as a sign of an easy mark.

The live-in cook for the Canadian High Commission in New Dehli, Stella treats the diplomatic pantry as her own personal Costco. The arrival of new diplomat Maya (Lisa Ray) and her culinarily-inclined house-husband, Michael (Don McKellar), interrupt her thriving business. Stella thinks she’s hit the proverbial jackpot when Michael asks her to be his cooking guru, but her lucratively larcenous ways only serve up a bland, distasteful comedy.

Cooking with Stella is writer-director Dilip Mehta’s first fiction feature — and it shows. The story’s comedic elements, thin as they are, don’t jell with his feeble attempts at social commentary. He does prove adept as an equal-opportunity offender, though, mocking both Christianity and Hinduism, and portraying India as a nation of con artists and Canadians as insipid do-gooders. (Okay, maybe he’s not too far off on the latter.) With the exception of a trip to a vibrant open-air market and the all-too-brief cooking scenes, the movie looks flat and uninspired, which is surprising given Mehta’s photography background and the wealth of scenery at his disposal.

Equally lacklustre is the cast. Ray is a stunning beauty, but she comes across as merely stunned, delivering her lines in virtual monotone. McKellar’s razor-sharp wit is dulled, barely getting a chance to shine through. Much to the film’s detriment, Biswas gets a lot of screen time, allowing the audience to dislike her character more with each passing minute. ★—Greg Ursic

REPO MEN

Starring Jude Law, Forrest Whitaker, Alice Braga, Liev Schreiber
Directed by Miguel Sapochnik
Fittingly for a movie about the repossession trade, Repo Men is comfortable borrowing ideas. Anyone who’s seen Repo! The Genetic Opera, Logan’s Run, and Blade Runner will already be familiar with Repo Men’s basic premise, main character arc, and visual aesthetic.
The movie depicts a dystopian society (naturally) wherein terminally ill patients can, quite literally, get a new lease on life by purchasing obscenely expensive bionic organ implants. Predatory salesmen offer to set clients up with payment plans that suit their lifestyle. “After all, you owe it to your family,” goes their sales pitch. “You owe it to yourself.” But they don't advertise the fine print on the foreclosure policy. Failure to pay for three months results in a visit by Remy (Jude Law), Jake (Forest Whitaker), or any other company thug armed with a taser, a scalpel, and a plastic baggy.
Calling Remy and Jake anti-heroes would be far too kind — both hunt down and effectively murder impoverished clients with the zeal of hungry lions. That is, until a sudden on-the-job injury forces Remy to undergo some long-overdue introspection.
With the global economy still in recovery and millions of families struggling to maintain their mortgages, there’s an opportunity for timely satire in Repo Men’s premise that’s inexplicably unmined. First-time director Miguel Sapochnick focuses so much energy on the brainless action, the countless graphic depictions of hasty, on-the-spot surgery and the film’s jet-black gallows humour that he never manages to form a coherent or interesting message.
Law and Whitaker both give it their best, as does Liev Schreiber as the duo’s bloodthirsty boss, but there’s no saving this shallow, derivative misfire from utter pointlessness. ★—Andrew Weichel

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