levybob

"The Woman in Cabin 10' asks the viewer to suspend disbelief ..... a lot. If we do, if we simply say, 'Clever', we might just enjoy the film more than I did. Because suspending disbelief was more than I could muster. In fact I found myself shaking my head at the temerity of the film to believe I could so easily be fooled. Though I'll give the director credit for having the chutzpah, the courage, to give it the old college try.

Kiera Knightly plays a journalist aboard a yacht, covering a celebrity cruise organized by the wealthy husband (Guy Pearce) of a dying wife; the husband hoping the wealthy passengers will donate to a charity in his wife's honor. So far, so good. But then a woman is thrown overboard from the stateroom adjacent to Ms. Knightley's, and from then on the yacht's passengers (1) question Ms. Knightley's sanity and (2) if she is sane, ask who was that that was murdered? And it's that, the resolution, the answers to those questions, that sinks the film in its final act.

That said, I found myself engaged in the film, more than I should have. An evening's diversion? Sure. In this world of ten-episode-dramas that go nowhere, here was a ninety-minute-over-and-done-with mystery to watch before going up to bed. So, worth watching? Sure. Just don't expect too much.

I'm old enough to have seen 'Silver Streak' in theaters when it was released in 1976. Though to tell you the truth, I don't believe that I did. Because if I had, I doubt I would have given it a streaming second chance as I just did. Because, oh boy, is this a stinker. Here is a film that simply stays in first gear far too long. It drags. It has you thinking, this is going nowhere, even as the train after whom the film is named, creeps through the American Southwest., In fact, now that I think of it, that train's crawling instead of streaking truly epitomizes this movie. Bad Stuff.

What is good is Jill Clayburgh as the femme fatale. The camera loves her. I assume that the director did as well, so lovely and seductive is her character. The camera lingers on her face, it gives glimpses of her more private areas. So much so that viewers might be tempted to demand a Jill Clayburgh film festival.

Gene Wilder as our hero is a slimy nothing of a man; and I'll bet that wasn't the film's intention. As for Richard Pryer, there's no trace of him until the film's second half, by which time I already had reached for the remote control.

Darren Aronosky's 'Caught Stealing' is a film with no soul. There's some cool camera work, some surprise killings (who gets killed and how and when), a lot of gore, some good chases ..... but little else. There is a crazy-quilt of characters ranging from biker-bar-bangers to Hassidic Jews, to dishonest cops, to Russian Mafioso, mohawk and skin-heads, and Latin drug distributors, all of whom pursue our hero through lower Manhattan. He's a hero totally undeserving of our attention and affection but through whose point of view the film plays out. Is there anyone to like here? Someone to root for, care about? Yes, yes there is. For the short, all too short time, she figures in the story.

Austin Butler as our 'hero' is a face you want to like, despite the fact that he's a character undeserving of that. Regina King, always good, stands out as one of his many pursuers. You'll have to look hard to recognize Vincent and Liev Shreiber as the Hassid Drucker Brothers, and a vintage Carol Kane as their equally pious mother. There are other cameo performances, but they do little or nothing to alter the fact that this just ain't very good story-telling. And that's what this kind of movie is supposed to be. Right?