Archives for posts with tag: Jamie Foxx

For most of “Sleepless” (2017), I was on the edge of my seat. Partially because of the tense action surrounding crooked cops and a Vegas drug deal gone bad. Mostly because I couldn’t hear the clenched-jaw mumblings of Jamie Foxx and his cast of mush-mouthed costars. It wasn’t me. I’m old, but I don’t listen to Fox News all day with the sound turned up to 11. This was the worst dialogue sound of any movie I’ve seen recently. There are also way too many plot elements straight out of “How to Write a Modern Hollywood Action Script, Vol. I.”

Movies with poker-playing con artists are always kinda fun. Thus, “Shade” (2003) is kinda fun. The film also sets a world record for the number of cigarettes lit in a single movie (I counted 10 bazillion). But like a chain-smoking teen, it’s trying too hard to be cool. The silly graphics, the cheesy techno music, the one-too-many double-crosses. It’s so unsophisticatedly noir, it ends up blanc. Pronounced, blah. Which is too bad, because like I said, there’s some fun. Jamie Foxx appears, then disappears. And Sylvester Stallone plays a veteran card sharp trading Bogart and Bacall lines with Melanie Griffiths.

You know, I would just love to take a dump all over “Horrible Bosses 2” (2014). (I’m only speaking metaphorically. Jennifer Aniston’s character might be inside my head a little bit.) But dang it, I just can’t. I mean, it made me laugh out loud a couple of times. My expectations were low. (It’s a sequel to a ridiculous 2011 film in which three wimpy everymen plot revenge and hijinks ensue.) It met them. It’s another disposable Jason Bateman comedy. Jamie Foxx’s character is understatedly funny and “How You Like Me Now” by The Heavy is a great theme song.

Muhammad Ali was the first great sports figure created by the television age. Everybody knows his story. So instead of trying to retell that story via a conventional biopic, “Ali” (2001) just kind of does its own thing. It’s a cross between an art film and a faux documentary. It’s fascinating, because, I mean, you know the real story, but you never know when the movie is going to stick to reality or just start freelancing a non-linear rearrangement of somewhat actual events. Best of all, Will Smith’s supporting cast is an awesome combination of minimalist and scenery chewing performances.

People enjoy looking at Channing Tatum. That’s good, because his picture’s in the dictionary next to “derivative.” Want to see Tatum, big ass explosions and helicopters on a big screen? By all means, go and see “White House Down” (2013). Otherwise, save your money and wait for Netflix. It’s not a bad action movie (yes, I’m damning it with faint praise). But it has no original ideas. It steals its plot (and Bruce Willis’ dirty old shirt) from “Die Hard,” sprinkles in a little “True Lies” and gives you a knockoff 98 days after the release of “Olympus Has Fallen.”