‘Mulholland Dr.’ takes us through shiny dreams and devastating nightmares

September 28, 2011 by

Mulholland Dr./2001/Universal, Studio Canal/145 min.

Let’s face it, reality sucks. So, on second thought, let’s not face it.

David Lynch

Instead, pluck an image from your fantasy du jour, then jump into your limousine, Lamborghini roadster or sedan chair and head to “Mulholland Dr.” for poolside cocktails with your dear chum writer/director David Lynch.

Or just put your feet up and watch the movie. This terrific neo-noir mystery is a story within a story within a story within a story about Hollywood, its shimmering promise and dark secrets, its cut-throat power and caustic pain, and its huge cast of heroes, hopefuls, heavies and hangers-on. The film is also a visual poem and Lynch’s highly personal, surrealistic imagery resonates long after you see it.

Lynch’s Tinseltown reminds me of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s valley of ashes in “The Great Gatsby,” the famous Hollywood sign, like the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg, set amid wild delight and staggering decadence.

Lynch’s detractors complain that his motifs – portals and shadowy rooms, lurking danger beneath an innocent exterior, secret languages, nightclub singers and stages, for example – are shallow gimmicks that Lynch leans on from film to film. (His other work includes: “Eraserhead” 1977, “Blue Velvet” 1986, “Wild at Heart” 1990, the TV series “Twin Peaks” 1990-91, “Lost Highway” 1997, “Inland Empire” 2006).

Nevertheless, in each film, Lynch creates a unique cinematic world that takes your breath away with its striking beauty, sly humor, intense characters and uncommon depth. In “Mulholland Dr.” Lynch invites us into a shiny dream as well as a devastating nightmare. Though it’s a contemporary setting, there are so many retro references that the story almost feels like a period piece.

In part one, we meet golden girl Betty Elms (Naomi Watts), a young actress who’s just arrived in Hollywood. Sweet, perky and hopeful, Betty has a retro-chic apartment to live in and an audition set up for a role in a major movie. Just in case she needs to borrow a cup of sugar, her charming landlady Coco (Ann Miller, in her last movie role) is ready and waiting to help.

Laura Elena Harring

Ann Miller

Nothing throws this girl, not even finding a stranger using her shower. This particular mystery woman calls herself Rita (Laura Elena Harring) because she can’t remember her own name or anything else about her life. Arrestingly beautiful, with raven hair and ravishing features, Rita appears to be on the run from some nefarious mobsters but she doesn’t know why, natch.

Nor does she have any idea why she has a key and $50,000 in her handbag, which the girls hide in a hatbox. (Well done! If you’ve picked the right frock and got your lipstick on straight, why bother to carry cash?)

Betty decides that Rita needs to retrace her steps in order to regain her identity. But first Betty must prepare for her audition. Rita helps her rehearse and the next day Betty wows everyone in the room, including her debonair co-star Jimmy Katz (Chad Everett). Afterward, Betty is whisked away to meet edgy young director Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux), who’s casting a flick called “The Sylvia North Story.”

Later, over coffee at a diner (Lynch always loves a diner), Rita remembers the name Diane Selwyn; this leads them to an apartment where they make an unsettling discovery. That night, Rita has a few tricks up her sleeve for Betty – first a seduction, then a visit to a strange, nearly empty dive bar called Club Silencio, where Rebekah Del Rio, playing herself, performs a stunning a capella rendition of Roy Orbison‘s “Crying.” When they return home, Rita uses her key to open a box and Betty disappears.

Watts, Lynch, Harring and Theroux

There are several subplots involving a fantasy creature in a diner parking lot; a hitman (Mark Pellegrino) who steals an address book, then casually kills three people; and slick-suited heavies (including Dan Hedaya as Vincenzo Castigliane) pressuring Kesher to cast unknown blonde actress Camilla Rhodes (Melissa George) in his movie. Oh, and Kesher’s wife (Lori Heuring) is sleeping with the pool guy (Billy Ray Cyrus).

In part two, Lynch rejiggers this world. The glossy, fun-filled days and Betty’s wholesome aspirations are gone, replaced by pitch-black, sinister nights, acts of betrayal and quests for revenge.

“Mulholland Dr.” – whose abbreviated title may be a tribute to Billy Wilder’s “Sunset Blvd.” – deserves high praise, for its look, its performances, its humor, its risks, its weirdness. Angelo Badalamenti (he has a cameo as gangster Luigi Castigliane, a man who takes espresso extremely seriously) contributes a stellar soundtrack and Peter Deming’s cinematography, with bright light and saturated color, is a treat.

Most of all, though, Lynch’s direction is superb. So is the acting. Watts easily shifts from fluffy and fierce, graceful to gritty. Similarly, Harring makes a fluid transition from lost soul to lady in charge. Though the plot is sometimes thorny, the actors are breezy and believable.

To think that Renée Zellweger received a Best Actress Oscar nom for “Bridget Jones’s Diary” and Watts didn’t make the list is baffling. (Halle Berry won that year for “Monster’s Ball.” The other contenders were Sissy Spacek for “In the Bedroom,” Nicole Kidman for “Moulin Rouge” and Judi Dench for “Iris.”)

Lynch was nominated for a Best Director Oscar. Ron Howard won for “A Beautiful Mind,” which also won Best Picture. At Cannes, however, “Mulholland Dr.” received the Palme d’Or for best direction. (Lynch shared the honor with Joel Coen for “The Man Who Wasn’t There.”)

Don't want to keep Clive waiting ...

Of all that’s been written about “Mulholland Dr.” critic Stephanie Zacharek sums it up best: “‘Mulholland Dr.’ is the most womanly of David Lynch’s movies. … It’s wily and sophisticated, stylized like an art deco nude, and suffused with so much feline glamour and beauty and naked eroticism that its chief aim seems not to be to dazzle us with its typically Lynchian plot twists, but to seduce us into its sway and keep us there. This is a movie with hips.”

Speaking of seducing, I must dash back to my fantasyland. I’m meeting with my agent so I can sign that $3 million book deal. Then, I’m off to dinner and dancing with Clive Owen at the Stork Club. Ta ta!

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‘Mulholland Dr.’ quick hit

September 28, 2011 by

Mulholland Dr./2001/Universal, Studio Canal/145 min.

Two parallel stories and a bizarre tangle of story threads – by turns sumptuous and sinister – courtesy of visual poet David Lynch. A bright young actress (Naomi Watts) comes to Hollywood to pursue her dreams.

With talent, perseverance and a bit of luck, she’ll soon be the toast of the town, right? Think again, doll. Exciting work from an excellent cast, particularly from Watts and co-star Laura Elena Harring.

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‘Drive’ is full of killingly well-executed action scenes, sharp acting, ironic dialogue and ultra-snazzy visuals

September 16, 2011 by

Drive/2011/100 min.

By Michael Wilmington

“Drive” is a gut-twisting LA action movie, stripped to the bone, but also drenched with visual style. It’s about a driver played by Ryan Gosling who falls in love with the woman down the hall in his building, nervous Irene (Carey Mulligan), whose husband Standard (Oscar Isaac) just got out of jail and is being forced into another heist by shady moneymen Nino (Ron Perlman) and Bernie (Albert Brooks).

Albert Brooks

The show is full of killingly well-executed action scenes, sharp acting, ironic dialogue and ultra-snazzy visuals – all of which won Nicolas Winding Refn the Best Director prize at the last Cannes Film Festival. Hossein Amini wrote the script based on James Sallis’ novel.

It’s a movie built largely out of our memories of other movies, but that’s not necessarily bad. We know where this movie is coming from as soon as we know Gosling’s character has no name but The Driver – just like Ryan O’Neal in Walter Hill’s 1978 “The Driver.”

Neo-noir is this picture’s middle name, and its forebears include “The Driver” (of course); John Boorman’s 1968 “Point Blank” with Lee Marvin; Peter Yates’ 1968 “Bullitt” with Steve McQueen; and Michael Mann’s outlaw movies “Thief” (1980) and “Heat” (1995). As you’d expect from a movie with that kind of lineage, “Drive” begins with a great chase and gives us a little dip under Gosling’s opaque exterior by letting us know that he’s a movie stunt driver by day and a getaway driver at night. (He allows his robber/clients only five minutes to get back to his car).

He’s also a prospective race car driver, for whom his auto shop owner/patron Shannon (Bryan Cranston) wants to get sponsorship. Shannon turns to the very same criminal financiers, Nino and Bernie, who want Standard to pull a job for them, for which Standard wants The Driver to drive. And The Driver does, mostly because he’s in love with Standard’s wife, Irene, and his little son Benicio (Kaden Leos).

The movie alternates its always-thrilling action scenes with more emotional character stuff – including a brilliant turn, Oscar-worthy really, by Brooks as the falsely good-natured gangster and ex-movie producer Bernie. (In the ’80s, says Bernie, he did action stuff that some critic called “European.”) The classy cast sometimes seems to be getting paid for holding it all back, especially Gosling, whose minimalism here makes vintage Eastwood or McQueen look like John Barrymore.

As the film goes on, it gets more violent. The violent scenes are short but extremely bloody. Since the movie plays some of its carnage with razor-sharp comic timing (especially Brooks’ scenes), it becomes more and more disturbing as well. There’s something sinister and icily detached about that comic violence. “Drive” suggests a world where brutality is rampant, where greed rules, where immorality thrives.

Though Refn may not have really made a classic neo-noir, it’s a very good effort. A little more Albert Brooks maybe. Not too much. Five minutes or less.

Albert Brooks photo by Jim Spellman/WireImage/The New York Times

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An impeccable noir and an insightful portrait: ‘Love Crime’

September 2, 2011 by

Love Crime/2010/UGC/106 min.

“Love Crime,” a splendidly suspenseful ride, just might be the late Alain Corneau’s best film. A great script, excellent actors, perfect pacing and a terrific final twist make this a must-see movie.

Sleek and savvy Christine (Kristin Scott Thomas), a powerful exec at a multinational company, seems to have a charmed existence – success, style, a glitzy social life and a gorgeous lover, Philippe (Patrick Mille). Reporting to Christine is ambitious, hard-working and eager-to-please Isabelle (Ludivine Sagnier).

Their relationship is subtle and complex – a mix of admiration and affection, rivalry and rude awakenings. Isabelle’s first jolt is when Christine takes credit for Isabelle’s work. (In corporate life, really?) Acting as a pawn in their mind games and manipulation is Philippe, one of their many male colleagues. It’s not long before barbed convo at the water cooler shifts to a malevolent life-and-death battle. (In corporate life, really?) We see that Isabelle’s methodical, meticulous approach applies to every project she tackles, at the workplace and beyond.

Corneau, who died last August at age 67, referred to the film as one of his little Fritz Lang labyrinths. “It can be summed up very simply,” he said. “After you have committed the perfect crime, of which you will definitely be suspected, how can you prove you are innocent by making yourself look guilty?”

“Love Crime” is an impeccable noir with a stark look and restrained palette from director of photography Yves Angelo. It’s also an original, insightful portrait of two characters’ identities. Corneau, aided by co-writer Natalie Carter, explored fresh terrain by focusing on female characters. “I’ve recently discovered how exciting it is to have women in leading roles,” said Corneau. “I thought, without knowing why, that it would be more spectacular if the labyrinthine plot were feminine.”

Spectacular it definitely is; and of course sad that his first foray into the inner lives of women was also his last.

And one more thing. There’s particular attention paid to Isabelle’s blonde hair. She starts out with a mane of slightly messy curls; as she climbs the corporate ladder, she taps her inner Veronica Lake for a peek-a-boo effect that’s smoothly sexy and seductive. Looking good is always key, especially when you’re up to no good.

“Love Crime” opens Sept. 2 in Los Angeles and New York.

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‘Brighton Rock’ is eye candy with an entertaining cast

August 26, 2011 by

Brighton Rock/2010/IFC Films/111 min.

“Brighton Rock” opens with a shot of oil-black ocean waves. Like the moonlit water, the film is beautiful but turgid and at times untamed in the hands of first-time feature film director Rowan Joffe.

Based on a Graham Greene novel, it’s a classic crime story first made into a movie in 1947 with a script by Greene and Terence Rattigan. This time around, Joffe, a scribe whose credits include “The American” and “28 Weeks Later” wrote the screenplay, changing the setting from the 1930s to 1964.

Helen Mirren and John Hurt

Young, ruthless and 100 percent pure psychopath, Pinkie Brown (Sam Riley) has risen to the top ranks of a gang in Brighton, a seaside resort town (the title is a reference to the souvenir sticks of hard candy sold there). Avenging a betrayal to his gang, Pinkie sets out to kill a man named Fred Hale (Sean Harris), who happens to be friendly with a working-class grande dame, Ida Arnold (Helen Mirren).

Knowing his life is in danger, Hale parries along the pier, looking for a way to escape, and gloms onto a stranger – a shy, frumpy teenage waitress named Rose (Andrea Riseborough). But this just delays the inevitable and soon Hale is dead at Pinkie’s hands. The last person to be seen with Hale, however, is Frank Spicer (Philip Davis), a booze-weary senior member of Pinkie’s gang. And, by chance, Hale, Spicer and Rose are captured by a touristy photographer; Rose gets the claim ticket for the photo.

Though Pinkie’s overarching objective is to join forces with a rival gang led by Colleoni (Andy Serkis), his immediate priority is to nab that claim ticket and seduce Rose in order to keep her quiet. While it’s easy to keep Rose under his thumb, keeping the feisty Ida from investigating Hale’s death proves to be a spot of bother. As the moral driver of the story, Ida stands in contrast with the young couple who ironically cling to their identities as Roman Catholics.

Joffe’s film is gorgeous to look at – stunning cinematography by John Mathieson matched with superb art direction by Paul Ghiradani and Kellie Waugh, especially the slightly surreal scenes at the Cosmopolitan Hotel. And for the first two acts, Joffe creates a darkly moody atmosphere and balances the storylines deftly.

But as the plot progresses, Pinkie’s dealings with Colleoni essentially dissolve as the focus shifts entirely to Pinkie, Rose and Ida. The strange couple seems an awkward transplant to the ’60s – how does the time change serve the storytelling? [Read more…]

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Fabulously funny, edgily dark, ‘Big Lebowski’ is out on Blu-ray

August 16, 2011 by

The Big Lebowski/1998/Universal/117 min.

Post a comment on any story this month and you’ll be entered into a draw to win this Blu-ray release from Universal.

By Michael Wilmington

Jeff Bridges is matchless as The Dude.

“The Big Lebowski,” that class-by-itself, goofball masterpiece by Joel and Ethan Coen is a fabulously funny and edgily dark comic movie tribute to the time-wasters, layabouts and oddballs of the world. Especially the ones in Los Angeles, a city that the Coens catch here with devilish bite and angelic wit.

It’s as sharp and dead-on a picture of LA as you’ll see ever: of its rotten upper-crust and its laidback subculture, and especially of its well-lit bowling lanes.

Funny as hell, it’s a goddamn ode to all those guys who are too off-the edge to work out some halfway normal existence – embodied here in star Jeff Bridges, that man among men and dude among dudes Jeff Lebowski – who indeed prefers the name “The Dude.”

The Dude is … well, what can we say? He’s the Dude! He’s Santa Monica Boulevard on a sunny day; he’s the Farmer’s Market at sunrise; he’s Hollywood Boulevard at 10 p.m.

“The Big Lebowski” tells the story of this ’70s guy in a ’90s world. It’s also a great neo noir, a sort of thriller that plunges the Dude into a Raymond Chandler-style detective story, with the Dude as an impromptu detective who can’t really detect much, but gives it a try anyway.

Accompanying the Dude are his two bowling buddies, wired-tight Vietnam vet and Jewish convert Walter Sobchak (John Goodman) and quiet ex-surfin’ Donny Karabatsos (Steve Buscemi). In the tangled plot, The Dude is mistaken for another, much richer Jeff Lebowski (David Huddleston), a phony philanthropist. Phillip Seymour Hoffman is the other Lebowski’s shit-eating grin of a secretary. Julianne Moore is his artsy daughter and a sort of femme fatale, Maude Lebowski.

Julianne Moore

What a show. The writing is razor sharp and so is the filmmaking. Roger Deakins shot it immaculately, and the sound track, supervised by T-Bone Burnett, is fantastic – ranging from Mozart and Korngold to Debbie Reynolds singing “Tammy” to Dean Martin singing “Standing on the Corner” and Nina Simone singing “I Got It Bad and That Ain’t Good,” to Booker T. and the M. G.s to Townes Van Zandt covering that great underperformed Rolling Stones classic “Dead Flowers.”

As for Jeff Bridges … well, Jeff Bridges was born to play the Dude. The other actors are super, sometimes great, especially Goodman. But Bridges is beyond great, beyond wonderful, beyond Mombasa. He‘s the Dude. His Dudeness. Take it easy, man. But take it.

Extras: Documentaries; Featurettes; Jeff Bridges photos.

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Crime comedy ‘30 Minutes or Less’ fails to deliver

August 12, 2011 by

30 Minutes or Less/2011/Columbia Pictures/83 min.

Asking for a refund at a movie theater is an old joke. But it’s funnier than most of the material in “30 Minutes or Less,” by director Ruben Fleischer.

The premise has potential – a feckless pizza delivery guy (Jesse Eisenberg) is coerced into robbing a bank by two yahoos (Danny McBride and Nick Swardson) who need to raise cash to pay a hitman (Michael Peña). Pizza guy ropes his straight-arrow best friend (Aziz Ansari) into helping him.

There’s a smart, pretty girl involved (Dilshad Vadsaria). There’s a deadline and a ticking bomb. Worlds could collide, tension could build, funny lines could pop out of the mouths of authentically drawn characters.

Early on, it’s clear that none of the above is going to happen. Though the cast makes an effort (especially Ansari and Peña), the weak script by Michael Diliberti makes no sense, the flat direction induces yawns and cringes in equal measure, and the increasingly desperate hodgepodge of gags in the hopes that something will stick is downright tedious.

Having been a fan of Fleischer’s “Zombieland” from 2009 (written by Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick), I was looking forward to “30 Minutes or Less.” I like Eisenberg and respect his talent. I’m from Michigan (the film is set in Grand Rapids). I wanted to like this movie!

As it turned out, though, I couldn’t shake the feeling that “30 Minutes” was a project by a group of high school kids. Even then, you might get some good laughs appealing to your juvenile side. But my inner child quickly curled up for a nap and the three boys in the next row might as well have been taking an exam, so thick was their silence throughout the flick.

“30 Minutes or Less” was 83 minutes I wish I’d spent some other way.

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Love it or hate it, ‘Bellflower’ is a major achievement

August 6, 2011 by

Michael Wilmington

By Michael Wilmington

Bellflower/2011/Coatwolf Productions/106 min.

“Bellflower” – a Sundance sensation reportedly shot for only $17,000 by first-time writer/director/co-star/co-editor Evan Glodell – introduces us to a couple of Valley dudes, Woodrow (Glodell) and Aiden (Tyler Dawson) who are obsessed with “Mad Max,” the coming apocalypse, muscle cars, WMDs and two women, Milly and Courtney (Jessie Wiseman and Rebekah Brandes). They all meet up at a barroom cricket-eating contest, where Milly wins. They dally awhile. Then “Bellflower” pulls us down into ink-black, psycho-macho, neo-noir pathology.

At first it looks as if it’s going to be a drama about twentysomethings on the fringe, with a lot of bar scenes, four-letter talk and onscreen sex. Then it descends into the same road warrior-ish violent fantasies as those self-absorbed, fantasizing dudes.

I didn’t like it all that much, or as much as a lot of other critics. I thought it was entertaining but a little light on real depth or truth or imagination. But I’ve got to admit, “Bellflower” is an incredible achievement for a Z-budget indie.

Glodell and his cinematographer, Joel Hodge, get a really strong visual style; they shoot their Valley scenes with a custom-built digital camera that makes everything look smeary and hot and dirty. The actors simultaneously play their scenes sort of Cassavetes-real and B-Movie-overblown, and there’s a scary, edgy feel to it all, that makes you genuinely uneasy and uncomfortable.

In the first part of “Bellflower” (the name of a street where the guys live), the main story is a love triangle/quadrangle and a hookup. Woodrow loves Milly, who cheats on him with Mike (co-editor Vincent Grashaw), and so the distraught Woodrow takes up with Courtney, who’s the crush of Aiden. [Read more…]

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New noirs: ‘The Guard,’ ‘Good Neighbors’

July 29, 2011 by

The Guard/2011/Sony Pictures Classics/96 min.

In “The Guard,” Brendan Gleeson is a small-town Irish cop and Don Cheadle a by-the-book FBI agent who comes to the Emerald Isle to bust an international drug-smuggling gang. The two clash at first, then become unlikely allies, then friends, as they get closer to core of the criminal operation.

On the plus side, this black comedy, with a healthy dose of murder, blackmail and corruption, is good for some dark dry laughs, especially from the formidable and funny Gleeson. He knocks back the lines as easily as his character downs a pint. Writer/director John Michael McDonagh is the brother of Martin McDonagh (writer/director of 2008’s “In Bruges”) and, like his brother, he relishes irreverent sarcasm. On the minus side, though, “The Guard” is superficial and derivative; you have seen this movie before.

But if it’s a bit of entertainment you’re after, “The Guard” is your man.

“The Guard” opens July 29.

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Good Neighbors/2010/Magnolia Pictures/96 min.

According to writer/director Jacob Tierney, “Good Neighbors,” based on a novel by Chrystine Brouillet, isn’t so much a whodunit as it is a satirical movie about people uncovering information and then having to decide what to do with it.

The people in this case are residents of a Montreal apartment building in 1995, three young tenants who become friends: charming, sly Spencer (Scott Speedman), brusque and to-the-point cat lover Louise (Emily Hampshire) and cute but geeky Victor (Jay Baruchel). The above-mentioned information relates to the rape and murder of several young women around the city. Safe at home in a cozy apartment? Not so much, especially since the members of the friendly trio turn out to be capable of shocking, searing violence.

There are more holes than surprises in this movie, the compositions are a little dull looking and it’s not particularly suspenseful until the last reel. That said, the last reel delivers some full-on tension, the actors are interesting to watch, especially Hampshire, and the writing’s not bad. Also, cats figure prominently in the plot – reason enough to see it in my book. 😉

“Good Neighbors” opens July 29.

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Totally exciting, wildly preposterous: French police thriller ‘Point Blank’ knocks us out, then keeps right on going

July 29, 2011 by

Point Blank/2010/Magnolia Pictures/90 min.

French police thrillers, especially the classics by Clouzot, Chabrol and Melville, used to be a bit more plausible and psychologically acute than their American counterparts – explosive action shoot-’em-ups that have mostly tried to knock us on our asses. Not so these days. The French cops-and-robbers hit movie “Point Blank” out-Yanks the Yanks by knocking us on our derrieres in the first few minutes — and then keeps it up, racing like hell on wheels for the next 80.

That’s the good news: It’s an exciting movie. The bad news is that, like many of its U.S. counterparts, it doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense. The other good news is that writer/director Fred Cavayé’s movie is so well-gunned and goes by so damned fast, you barely notice the holes as you bounce over them.

Gilles Lellouche as Samuel is caught between the crooks and the cops.

The plot, jam-packed into the movie’s screamingly fast running time, has to do with a hit man named Hugo Sartet (Roschdy Zem, the somberly magnetic actor of “Days of Glory”) who’s been betrayed and nearly killed. He winds up in the hospital in the custody of the police and the care of a low-key male nurse, Samuel Pierret (the amiable and wonderfully nervous Gilles Lellouche).

Samuel saves Hugo from more would-be assassins and then, to his horror, finds himself trapped between the crooks and the cops – and the crooks who are cops (quite a lot of them, as it turns out). Under the evil command of the Teutonic-looking Commandant Patrick Werner (Gerard Lanvin), who’s actually conducting the investigation of his own crimes, those rogue police start chasing Hugo and Samuel all around Paris.

And, for insurance, they kidnap Samuel‘s beautiful wife Nadia (Elena Anaya), who’s eight months pregnant — threatening her death unless Samuel helps them. Soon Samuel and Hugo have become friends, of a sort, and a large section of Paris has become a bloody battleground.

I told you it didn’t make much sense. And, as I said, it doesn’t really matter. Cavayé, an ex-fashion photographer with a good eye and a blistering sense of pace, also made the big French neo-noir hit “Pour Elle,” which was translated and Americanized into the savagely improbable Russell Crowe thriller “The Next Three Days.” (Hollywood copied it so fast that Cavayé’s French original wasn’t imported and may still pop up here.)

Like Luc Besson and his disciples, Cavayé can do certain high-tech American tricks better than a lot of Americans. How does he get any suspension of disbelief, besides pure speed and kinetic rush? The leads, Zem, Lellouche and Anaya, are all excellent actors (Zem has a great glare) and they bring emotional conviction to a story you can barely believe for a minute.

The title “Point Blank,” by the way, has nothing to do with Cavayé’s original title “A Bout Portant” and nothing to do with the 1967 Lee Marvin–John Boorman noir classic “Point Blank,” which in turn was adapted from the 1962 Richard Stark-Donald Westlake novel “The Hunter,” which has nothing to do with the 1980 Steve McQueen crime thriller of the same name.

But whether you call it “Point Blank” or “A Bout Portant” or “The French Reconnection” or “Paris Goes Kaboom,” this is still one totally exciting if often wildly preposterous movie.

— Michael Wilmington

“Point Blank” opens July 29. (In French with English subtitles.)

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