Extremely Loud and Incredibly Annoying

NOPE - Somewhere inside the script for Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close lurks a film probably worth watching and subsequently reviewing. Not here.

What’s that, you say? How can I tear down a film with a premise centered around the 9-11 tragedy, starring Tom Hanks, Sandra Bullock, and Max von Sydow?

Easy.

Most directors will tell you that casting is 90% of their challenge. Well, director Stephen Daldry would have been wise to have kept looking for his child protagonist, because young Thomas Horn was extremely shrill and incredibly exasperating.

I had a similar problem with Martin Scorsese’s multi Oscar-winning Hugo. Much to admire in that one, but the orphan kid, Asa Butterfield, was so obnoxious. I’d pay double ticket price to see Butterfield and Horn in the next Hunger Games film, but only if they are eliminated swiftly and with extreme prejudice.

I’m just thankful neither of these dopey kids were around when M. Night Shyamalan made The Sixth Sense.

Here’s a review if you’re still interested in suffering through this misfire. However, I’d strongly suggest a game of scrabble – or maybe a good movie. How about an obscure and overlooked film starring Robert DeNiro and Edward Norton, Stone?

Anonymous, So Sayeth They

YEP YEP – It’s friday night, and, assuming your local “video” store is still in existence, you might be heading out to find something to settle into with a large bowl of the salty stuff.

I have a good rental for you.

I will admit I have a blind spot when it comes to the history of England and its Royal lineage. You could tell me that Henry V was the brother of Elizabeth II, and I’d say “Yeah, that sounds about right.” Or that the Earl of Essex was the illegitimate offspring of Richard III and the half-brother of Prince Horatio Fragbottom of Canterbury Lane, and I’d say “Yep. All true.” I might even add “And wasn’t he the Duke of Yorkshire’s racquetball partner?” Just so I would sound like I know my Royals. See me workin’?

So, when I dive into this genre – and there have been several films over the years that I have thoroughly enjoyed – I do so with a premeditated detachment.

In the case of Anonymous, we are not only dealing with all of these mental gymnastics, we are dealing with the long held rumor that William Shakespeare was nothing more than a front man. A patsy. A pseudonym, if you will.

Blaspheme? Maybe. But we have no Snopes or YouTube to confirm, so…

Produced for a modest budget of $30m, directed by Roland Emmerich (Independence Day, Godzilla), and shot by Anna J. Foerster (Independence Day, Godzilla), with production design by Sebastian Krawinkel (Inglourious Basterds, V for Vendetta, Bourne Supremacy), Anonymous is a very impressive visual film – much of it visual effects, but they are seamless. The script, by John Orloff (wrote two episodes of Band of Brothers), is also well-crafted and insightful.

Amazingly, neither Cate Blanchett nor Dame Judy Dench appear in this movie. But, what film about the Bard would be complete without Derek Jacobi, who bookends the narrative, non-linear structure of the story, by breaking the fourth wall and serving as tour guide for the scandalous shenanigans that may have taken place way back in the middle 1500s.

Rhys Ifans is excellent as ‘Edward de Vere, (a.k.a. the ‘Earl of Oxford’), apparently the man who should get credit for such hits as Romeo & Juliet, Twelfth Night, and Macbeth. But, to quote one of my favorite Monty Python moments. “Let’s not bicker and argue over who killed who.”

Bottom line, if you’re a fan of William Shakespeare, and I’m pretty sure there are a few of us left, this is a must see; if, for no other reason, than the film does transport you believably to the time and place – and the poetic words of the master are on display. Regardless of who may have written them.

That Evening Sun Sets Just Right

The word “closure” is thrown around often and can be applied to so many aspects of life. But what about the actual closure of one’s life? Not the heavy-duty Million Dollar Baby or The Sea Inside euthanasia kind, but the kind that enables a person to forgive and forget and move in to the twilight stage of his or her life with a peace of mind.

That Evening Sun handles this subject with a beautifully delicate touch, and the result is an engaging and memorable film with a truly special performance by the great Hal Holbrook.

Written and directed by newcomer Scott Teems, That Evening Sun tells the story of ‘Abner Meecham’ (Holbrook), an aging farmer who stews away in a convalescence home, unimpressed with his fellow retirees contentment to piece together jigsaw puzzles and sip on low salt soup.

We see ‘Abner’ bolt from the geriatric lock up and head back to the only home he knows – his farm. Once there, he learns that his attorney son, ‘Paul’ (Walton Goggins) has pulled the rug out from under him by orchestrating the sale of his land to a local derelict, ‘Lonzo Choat,’ played with menacing restraint by Ray McKinnon (O Brother, Where Art Thou?). ‘Abner Meecham’ ain’t the kind of guy to take it lying down, so he moves into the rickety wood shack of a guest home in the back of the property and dares the drunken, freeloading bully squatting on his land to kick him off.

But ‘Choat’ and his wife have legal papers, pushing poor old ‘Abner’ to do some squatting of his own – and ‘Choat’ will not have it.

When ‘Abner Meecham’ belittles ‘Choat’ at the end of their first clash, calling him “white trash,” the intensity spikes. And ‘Choat’ is holding all the cards.

“That’s what you work for in this life, Meecham. Land! To have a home. To be a land owner. And I’m the Goddamned landowner now.”

“Yer in over yer head, son,” ‘Abner’ replies.

“Old people,” snorts ‘Choat.’ “Don’t know when their clock’s run out.”

Holbrook, now 86, known for All the President’s Men (1973),  Midway (1973) , The Firm (1993), five seasons of television’s Evening Shade, and his Oscar nominated supporting role in Into the Wild (2007), is one of those rare natural actors who immediately puts his audience at ease.

Even when he has smoke coming out of his ears.

“There’s nothing out there for you anymore, Dad,” says ‘Paul’ in a diner scene that demonstrates the real conflict of the film, the tension and bitterness of the past between father and son. ”Life goes on.”

 ”Life goes on, huh?” ‘Abner’ challenges his righteous offspring. “I’m an 80-year-old man with a bad hip and weak heart, how much life do you think I have to go on with? I’m no fool. The road ahead ain’t long and it aint winding - it’s short and straight as a Goddamned poison arrow. But it’s all I got  – and I deserve to do with it as I please.”

Just one of the many expertly written exchanges in That Evening Sun. Writer-director Teems, working from the William Gay short story “I Hate to See That Evening Sun Go Down,” knows this material and it shows in every camera move (cinematographer Rodney Taylor), musical choice (Michael Penn), and performance nuance.

“I worked really hard to make this script as I tight as I could,” said the director in a recent interview. “So each scene really pushes to the next. For me, if I can be really restrained in how I tell the story, then I’m giving you time and space to enter into it a little more yourself.”

Music to my ears.

There are tender flashback moments where we glimpse ‘Abner’s’ deceased wife (Dixie Carter) that glue the narrative of the material together with a nostalgic sense of regret and loneliness. I was reminded of the heartbreaking 2006 Julie Christie film,  Away From Her.

Films about growing old and the difficult decisions that come with it are not most moviegoers’ idea of escapism entertainment. Kudos to the film companies that foster these thoughtful projects and get them trough development; and kudos to the distribution companies that find them a home. No pun intended.

“I truly appreciate the money that was invested in this film. It was a risk. A ballsy risk.” says the Southern filmmaker on the DVD’s director’s commentary. “They wanted to make art. They certainly weren’t investing in this film because it was gonna be a box office smash. It wasn’t going to be Avatar.”

‘Nuff said.

Barney’s Version a Masterful Tale

Once in a great while a film sneaks up and smacks me right between the eyes. I LOVE IT WHEN THAT HAPPENS. It’s usually a film I know next to nothing about, and it’s almost certainly not a film you will see plastered on bus stop benches or the outfield walls at your local big league ballpark.

Barney’s Version is that divine marriage of performance, script, and direction that is so very rare in film. Directed with absolute sure handedness and care by Richard J. Lewis (best known for tv’s CSI), this is a film that capitalizes not only on an impeccable screenplay adaptation (Robert Lantos) put to pitch perfect use by the amazing Paul Giamatti, but brings back to life the magic of a national treasure named Dustin Hoffman, as well as superb supporting work from the forgotten Minnie Driver (Good Will Hunting), the “who knew he could act?” Jeff Speedman (Underworld), and the exquisitely graceful Rosamund Pike (Pride and Prejudice).

Unlike another film I liked recently (The Lincoln Lawyer) where the gratuitous camera moves kept reminding me the project was in the wrong hands (Brad Furman), every shot in Barney’s Version has a purpose, every transition motivates the story, every performance in harmony.

Thus the difference between “liking” a film and “loving” a film.

I loved this film.

Giamatti plays ‘Barney Panofsky,’ a philandering television producer whose appetite for variety and lack of impulse control gets him in more trouble than he’s probably worth. But we love him anyway, much like the way we loved Giamatti’s self-pitying ‘Miles’ in Alexander Payne’s Sideways (2004).

While ‘Barney’ is an irascible and unsympathetic scoundrel when it comes to women (he ditches his bride on their wedding night to chase a new love), he’s a loyal friend and a thread of the story revolves around the mysterious disappearance of his best bromance bud, ‘Boogie’ (Speedman).

Through flashbacks we see a young and adventurous ‘Barney’ living abroad, lounging about with ‘Boogie’ and a clutch of ex-pats, painters, poets, and cliché wannabe novelists.

The flashback scenes are beautifully layered and intercut between present day moments to give a clear foundation and motivation for the cynical and disenchanted life and career of ‘Barney Panofsky.’ His choices in women have been sloppy, his career unfulfilling (his company Unnecessary Productions), his relationship with his various children hollow, his amusingly candid fellowship with his disgraced ex-cop father (Hoffman) is loving but pathetic. It all adds up to a bleak existence.

Except for his love of the Montreal Canadians – and the one that stole his heart.

“Is she the mother of your children?” asks ‘Izzy’ (Hoffman) when he is being consulted by ‘Barney’ whether or not to divorce his present wife (Driver) and chase his dream (Pike).

With misty eyes and absolute sincerity, ‘Barney’ says “Yes.”

And the result is one of the sweetest on-screen relationships I can recall.

Barney’s Version is a sad film. Alzheimer’s disease dominates much of the third act, so for those of you struggling with aging parents or your own sudden lack of memory sharpness, be warned that this film, while masterfully crafted, does not pander or pull punches.

What it gets right it gets so very right.

When ‘Miriam’ (Pike) asks ‘Barney’ to promise her “one thing” and he responds “anything” she bristles and says “No, don’t answer anything. Because it’s not real – and life is real. It’s made up of little things. Minutes, hours, naps, errands. Routine. And it has to be enough”

My mother used to confide in me that what saddened her most about her divorce from my father was how shortsighted he was in not realizing that by walking away from his family he would no longer be around for the “little things.” The morning breakfasts when everyone is most relaxed. The drives to and from places and the conversations that evolve. The moments between the moments that are supposed to be profoud. Events often don’t live up to expectations. Real life happens more on the margins.

Paul Giamatti and Phillip Seymour Hoffman (Oscar winner Capote, Synecdoche, New York) have taken the term “character actor” and turned it on its ear. In both we have powerhouse performers capable of not only carrying the narrative load of a film, but stealing our hearts, picking our pockets, and even getting the girl.

I did not need further proof after Sideways and the wonderful HBO miniseries Jon Adams to confirm Giamatti’s ability. He is simply an actor at the top of his game. He clearly cares about his work and selects projects that reflect his integrity. 

In Barney’s Version we have been handed a gift from all involved, but especially Giamatti. His earnest attention to detail cannot be ignored.

“To ‘Barney,’” says his struggling painter pal in Rome during the glory days. “Be as great in act, as you have in thought.”

Cheers.

This Stone Went Unturned

“Look at me,” the distraught young wife says to her dismissive and apathetic husband in the opening scene of Stone. “You keep my soul in a dungeon. I’m leaving you.”

The young husband then lurches from his recliner and rushes to the bedroom, scoops up their young daughter and dangles her out the second story window. “If you leave me, I’ll drop her. I swear to God I’ll drop her.”

Fast forward many years later and we now see the man to be parole officer ‘Jack Mabry’ (Robert DeNiro) sitting across from one of his case studies, ‘Stoney Creeson.’ ‘Stone’ (Edward Norton) is a sketchy con artist serving time for burning down his grandparents’ home – with them in it. “You wanna get outta here, you wanna walk through that door? You go through me!” ‘Jack’ barks at the case sitting at his mercy.

“Man looks on the outward appearance, God looks on the heart,” we hear on the car radio as ‘Jack’ drives home from yet another mind numbing and soul smashing day of work.

Waiting for him at home is his wife, ‘Madylyn’ (Frances Conroy from Six Feet Under), the one whose soul has been in a dungeon for all these many years. Their life together is beyond hum drum. It is void of anything real. She reads from the Bible and assembles jigsaw puzzles for comfort, he stares at television and sips whiskey.

Through the course of their protocol meetings designed to determine ‘Stone’s’ rehabilitation and remorse, can he or can he not be safely returned to society, a third-party is introduced into the equation in an attempt to shed a sympathetic light on the criminal and his fate. ‘Stone’ mentions in their conversations that he has a girl waiting for him on the outside. A “dime” played by the versatile and unpredictable Milla Jovovich. The plot thickens when this sultry temptress manages to ingratiate her way into ‘Jack’s’ geriatric domestic “dungeon.” Russian born Jovovich, now 35, just seems to get better and better every year. Equal parts charming and menace.

“How long you get to keep judging a person for one bad thing they done?” ‘Stone’ demands of ‘Jack.’ “I’ve grown a lot. I’m reborn.”

And this ‘rebirth’ is the central theme at the core of ‘Stone.’ Director John Curran laces the religious thread throughout this intense and gripping story with a masterful touch. Norton’s ’Stone’ has a spiritual awakening in prison and discovers on the library shelf a thin book titled The Power of Zukangor. This book provides the convict a process by which he can cleanse his conscience and see his new path, an “ability to transform his surrounding into a perfect pitch – a tuning fork of God.” Heavy stuff. Not all that easy to convey on-screen but Curran interjects this story device with a confidence and understanding that the clash between good and evil is complex and multi-dimensional.

Curran wrote the supremely effective but brutally violent Michael Winterbottom film, The Killer Inside Me (2010), as well directing the uneven but earnest We Don’t Live Here Anymore (2004), a domestic squabbling drama based on a pair of short stories by the late Andre Dubus (In The Bedroom).

“What about answering for the things you’ve done in this life?” ‘Jack’ asks ‘Stone’ to which the reborn ‘Stone’ responds “I know I have…have you?” He hasn’t. ‘Jack’ has buried his demons so deep in denial he is pretty much doomed – and the film takes us down the dark road of his unraveling, all while ‘Stone’ is tuning in his pitch perfect fork and finding enlightenment.

Stone is one of those films that flew so far under the radar it never made it to your local megaplex, let alone your favorite art house screen. Budgeted at a relatively modest $22m, relative considering its star power, Stone is on record having made not even $2m domestically.

I can’t quite put my finger on why this film did not find an audience. I surely do not recall a marketing campaign which means the studio didn’t believe it would gain legs. It is not too far-fetched to assume that the heavy religious themes at the heart of Stone turned off distributors. It surely could not have been the performances. DeNiro gives one of his least sympathetic but strongest performances in years, and Norton delivers yet another thoughtful examination of the duplicity of man’s potential for good and evil.

Stone is a solid thriller with a lot to mull over. Rent it and then make a note of its director. John Curran is currently in development with Edward Norton on an HBO miniseries about Lewis & Clark. Can I get an Amen?

Toy Story 3 Has a Friend In Me

‘Woody’ and ‘Buzz’ are back and they’re exactly as we left them.

John Lasseter and Pixar Animation Studios brought us the original Toy Story in 1995. It seems like only yesterday that we met Tom Hanks’ ‘Woody’ and Tim Allen’s ‘Buzz Lightyear.’ Although, to be honest, those were simpler times. The internet was not omnipresent, cellphones were not yet handed out like lollipops,”‘texting” wasn’t even a word, and tweets were cute sounds you would hear at the pet store. Even the second installment, Toy Story 2 (1999), arrived before the Y2K nonsense, 9-11, and our most recent wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Yes, I guess you could say it was a different time – and a very different world.

But here they are again, ‘Woody’ and ‘Buzz’ and their gang of loveable toys all tangled up in a new adventure, every bit as wholesome and moralistic as the two that preceded it. Parents everywhere say Whew! and thank you!

The themes haven’t changed much. Abandonment is a big issue with toys apparently and it’s the main source of conflict in Toy Story 3, which has already grossed $1B worldwide. This time around young ‘Andy’ is all growed up and heading off to college. After some nagging from his mom (Laurie Metcalf) to clean up his room and decide what to do with his old toys, ‘Andy’ singles out ‘Woody’ – of course – and the rest are headed to the attic. Or are they? As is the case in all three Toy Stories, tough choices have to be made and allegiances either strengthened or severed. There is a box of stuff headed to a local daycare and ‘Buzz’ and the rambunctious cowgirl ‘Jessie’ (Joan Cusack) think they can get the crew in it.

‘Woody’ warns them that “Daycare is a sad and lonely place for washed up toys who have no owners.” But they are dead set against the attic. So off they go.

Loyalty, devotion, and frienship are also consistent themes in all three of these wonderful stories, and this film, released also in Imax 3D, stirs up challenges for our heroes to pick carefully where they want to end up and who their friends really are.

The toys end up in Sunnyland Daycare Center, and it appears they may have found the perfect new home. A soiled teddy bear named ’Lotso’ (Ned Beatty), welcomes the new inventory (“Just you wait, you’ll find that being donated is the best thing that ever happened to ya.”) and proceeds to lay out the groundrules: they are to inhabit the ‘caterpillar room’ while he and the tenured toys hold sway in the ‘butterfly room.’ It becomes apparent quickly that the ‘butterfly room is the place to be when the toddlers charge into the ‘caterpillar’ room and go a few steps beyond playing with poor ‘Buzz,’ ‘Jesse,’ ‘Rex,’ and the gang. ‘Lotso,’ backed by an overgrown, banged up ‘Big Baby’ doll (this character freaked out my 11 yr old a little), who has a droopy eye and a penchant for stoic intimidation, has imprisoned the new toys. We learn later through a flashback that poor ‘Lotso’ was forgotten on the side of the road by his child owner and he grew a hard heart.

The ensuing jail break is a blast. A toy car who’s seen it all and has the inside scoop on the joint warns them of a toy monkey whose maniacal fixed gaze and at-the-ready cymbals never leave the surveilance monitors. “The monkey is the eye in the sky. If you don’t take out that monkey, you ain’t goin’ nowhere. Wanna get outta here? Get rid of that monkey!”

Newcomers ‘Ken’ and ‘Barbie’ come real close to stealing the show. Their meeting is superb. Ken (Michael Keaton): “Love your legwarmers.” Barbie (Jodi Benson): “Nice ascot.” He then laments to her that “Nobody here appreciates clothes!” and proceeds to put on a fashion show in front of ‘Barbie’ in his tricked out walk-in closet – it’s a world class chuckle for sure.

What is so great about Lasseter’s story here (also credited to Andrew Stanton and Lee Unkrich, with screenplay by Michael Arndt) is how clearly virtuous the characters are allowed to be, especially the female toys. As the breakout appears to be crumbling it is cowgirl ‘Jessie’ who has the stones to stare down ‘Lotso’ and shout “This isn’t a family, it’s a prison. You’re a liar and a bully!” followed by ‘Barbie’ who rises above her pay grade (and hair color) and adds “Authority should derive from the consent of the governed, not from the threat of force.” Take that, ‘Lotso!’

But all this girl power does not come at the expense of chivalry. In all of these films, the relationship between ‘Mr. & Mrs. Potato Head’ could not be sweeter. Perfectly voiced by Estelle Harris and the legendary Don Rickles, the tandem are always looking out for one another, lifting each other’s spirits, searching for each other’s missing body parts and accessories, and just flat out giving marriage a good name. No apology is made for the fact that he is her hero and that he absolutely adores his wife. ‘Andy’ even says to the girl receiving the donation box “Gotta keep ‘em together cuz they’re madly in love.” Simple stuff -rare in films today.

And then there’s ‘Woody’ – once again beautifully voiced by the one and only Tom Hanks. I must admit, after having sat through so many of the bombardment of annual animated films, I get a little weary of all the major celeb voices cast to play the characters. In a lot of instances I actually find it distracting to either always be reminded of a certain actor or to be constantly scratching my head wondering “who’s damn voice is that?” But Hanks is ‘Woody.’ They are one in the same and the day he decides to no longer lend his voice to our hero is the day I’m certain Lasseter will know the story is over.

“We’re all in this together,” ‘Woody’ says to the gang as the end appears near, the film taking on a surprising moment of spiritual communion, of faith and belief.

Faith and belief. As a parent, it’s nice to have faith in some of Hollywood’s gifted storytellers. Faith that our kids’ best interests are in mind and a belief that being virtuous is still celebrated today just like it was all the way back in 1995, and maybe even to infinity and beyond.

A Splice of Morality Pie

Before I get to the film at hand, let’s establish a couple of simple factoids to help you better understand where your trusty reviewer is coming from. Excuse me while I refer to myself in the third person for a moment, I think it helps to illustrate a few basic truths: Lars Beckerman likes his coffee black and does not need whipped creme on his Frappuccino. Lars Beckerman does not hate soccer, he just wonders why they don’t score more often (I mean, come on, the goal is the size of Delaware!). Lars Beckerman likes Lady GaGa but does not like slasher films.

So when I see an ad campaign for a film that flaunts slasher elements, cheap thrills, and “Don’t open that door!!!” kind of moments, I almost without exception avoid the picture. The thought of going to see any one of the Saw franchise turns my stomach. Not a judgement, just personal taste. I liked the original Halloween (1978), but had no use for any of its sequels, nor Freddie Kreuger or Jason and his hockey mask. I played hockey. That guy didn’t scare me.

I am, however, always curious to see how a big Hollywood film handles a big societal issue. Splice (now on DVD) attempts to tackle a biggie. The debate over stem cell research and ultimately the slippery slope argument of cloning.

The good news here is that, unlike other recent films of a similar thematic nature, the overly-earnest Darren Aronofsky misfire The Fountain (2006), or the underrated and meditative Gattaca (1997), or even the glossy Michael Bay film The Island (2005),  Vincenzo Natali’s Splice actually has a sense of humor. At least in its setup.

Once you make it through the ominous and haunting score (Cyrille Aufort) that accompanies the title sequence, this film approaches its subject matter with a witty and intelligent, fair and balanced dialogue about an extremely touchy social and medical subject. Is human life sacred or can it be created in a petrie dish?

Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley play a pair of scientists who have dedicated their young careers to bio genetic mutation research and discovery. They are also an item, grappling with the big ‘life’ decisions young couples…grapple with. ‘Clive’ (Brody) and ‘Elsa’ (Polley) work at N.E.R.D. (told you the film had a sense of humor) – Nucleic Exchange Research Development – and are both passionate about a pair of genetic blobs (‘Fred’ & ‘Ginger’) they have spawned that will actually mate (or “dance” as the metaphor goes) and produce a new super blob with untold scientific and medicinal benefits. Imagine the possibilities!!!! The actual details, the what and how of their work is secondary to the big questions the two young lovers are pondering.

‘Elsa’ the agnostic and ‘Clive’ the believer are apartment shopping as well as being on the verge of saving the planet from disease and other potential catastrophies. ’Clive’ wants a family, but ‘Elsa’ doesn’t want to “…bend my life to suit some third party that doesn’t exist yet.” And when push comes to shove and they are now on the verge of spawning the newborn blob, ‘Clive’ insists that “…there are moral considerations,” to which ‘Elsa’ snaps back “Millions of people are suffering and dying with no hope! We might be saving them. What are the moral considerations of that?“

And then, of course, the pair are being pushed and sponsored by corporate interests, eager to capitalize on any scientific genetic breakthrough, especially if it could produce “medicinal proteins in live stock.” Sounds harmless enough, right? ”If God didn’t want us to explore his domain,” asks their sponsor. “Why did he give us the map?’

So there ya go, the road to Hell truly is paved with good intentions.

The ”baby” is born, the paternal blob put up on the shelf next to past specimens ‘Sid & Nancy,’ ‘Bonnie & Clyde,’ and  ’Bogie & Bacall’ while the “fetus” incubates in, B.E.T.I. (Biochemical Extrautero Thermal Incubatio - sporting a decal of legendary pinup girl Betty Page – get it?). The nod to Young Frankenstein’s ‘Abby Normal’ jar not lost here.

But once the cells of their creation are under the microscope they learn that the little one, referred to clinically as ‘H-5.0,’  is aging rapidly, days in minutes, rather than kill it (late term abortion also a big ’topic’ in Splice) they see an opportunity and decide to observe its entire life and record it for scientific posterity. Bad decision!

‘Elsa’ quickly falls in love with their ‘child.’  Apparently she did want to start a family afterall, she just didn’t want to go through the cumbersome and “figure wrecking” nine months required to do it the old fashioned way. While ‘Clive’ insists she’s getting too attached and that they should terminate it, ‘Elsa’ says she is merely “compiling a developmental profile.” Until she begins dressing her up in Fred Segal toddler getups and presenting Barbie Dolls into the equation.

And that is just the beginning of where ‘H-5.0′ becomes ‘human.’

‘Elsa’ neglects to tell ‘Clive’ that a little something special was mixed into the blob recipe, a dash of Angelina Jolie and a pinch of Egyptian hippogryph, and once the cake is baked, all heck breaks loose. Parents be warned, the dash of Jolie gets the best of poor ‘Clive,’ who is, afterall, just a man.

Brody and Polley are well cast here, relatively believable as bio chemists struggling with the complexity of it all. Polley, who directed the wonderful Away From Her (2006), is especially good at portraying the mixed emotions of an atheist in search of something to believe in, equal parts longing and cold. The leap required in Splice is just how life-like and ‘real’ the creation becomes considering its wide variety of livestock DNA, taking on such human characteristics as jealousy, coveting, and even a nostalgic curiosity that motivates much of her eventual rage. ‘Dren,’ as ‘Elsa’ named her (Nerd backwards), is played by Delphine Chaneac, who performs admirably in her unspeakable (and hot!) alien form. Funny though, she can adapt to almost anything, she’s both amphibious and can sprout wings, she can even draw crayola portraits and play scrabble, and dance - but she can’t speak? Oh well. Probably for the best. She might have asked for the car keys. Although she would have been severely disappointed to learn that her folks drove a Gremlin! Don’t see those very often.

Ultimately, Splice is nothing more than a cautionary tale about the hazards of reckless science. While it is gratuitously sexual at times, director Natali co-wrote the screenplay and does not waver from the principles set forth in the outset of the story, that life is precious and not to be tampered with, even in the name of medical exploration.