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Everyone has had problems with exes, but chances are your situation never reached the extreme portrayed in Homecoming, the story of a former high school football star who returns home from college to find that his ex-girlfriend still pines desperately for him. Unfortunately for all involved, he's brought his new girlfriend along with him.Homecoming is an upcoming American 2009 Indie-thriller film, directed by Morgan J. Freeman, written by Katie L. Fetting, Jake Goldberger and Frank Hannah, and starring Mischa Barton, Matt Long, and Jessica Stroup. It will be released in New York and Los Angeles on 17 July 2009 and expanded in subsequent weeks.

Director: Morgan J. Freeman
Cast: Mischa Barton, Jessica Stroup, Matt Long, Michael Landes, Allen Williamson, Joshua Elijah Reese, Nick Pasqual, Joe Forgione, Alex Hooper
Release Date: July 17, 2009

Plot : A few months after graduating from high school, small-town football hero Mike Donaldson (Matt Long) returns from his new life at Northwestern University for the Homecoming retirement of his old jersey. While he's moved on to bigger and better things -- including a new girlfriend, Elizabeth (Jessica Stroup), whom he brings home to meet the folks -- life in town remains stagnant. His cousin Billy (Michael Landes) is still a cop and doesn't think that Mike realizes how good he has it, especially when it comes to Mike's ex, Shelby (Mischa Barton), who still runs the local bowling alley.

Although Mike assures Elizabeth that she has nothing to worry about regarding Shelby, he's surprised to learn that Shelby thought that their breakup was just a temporary solution to his going away to college. Aw-kward. Tensions cool, though, when Shelby plasters on a faux smile and welcomes Elizabeth by plying her with alcohol, knowing that she'll be drunk when it comes time to meet Mike's parents. Realizing her predicament, Elizabeth opts to spend the night in a motel to dry out.

Through a series of unlikely circumstances, however, Elizabeth finds herself hoofing it down a deserted road later that night, suitcase in tow. Shelby happens to drive by, and by "by" I mean "accidentally runs over Elizabeth." Panicked, Shelby takes her unconscious rival to her house and hooks her up with all of the painkillers her ill mother had taken before her death a few months earlier.Thus begins a cat-and-mouse game between the two young women, as Shelby uses the situation to her advantage by prolonging Elizabeth's capitivity and trying to make Mike believe that she's dumped him, while Elizabeth tries simply to survive and escape her newfound prison

Homecoming is anything but original. Its by-the-numbers thriller plot starts out Fatal Attraction and ends up Misery, down to an obligatory "hobbling"-esque scene in which Shelby lays the smack down on Elizabeth for attempting to escape. It's predictable with a thoroughly underwhelming (and borderline ridiculous) climax.

Still, good performances by Barton, Stroup, Long and Landes and intriguing character development buoy the hackneyed plot. What could be a group of flat, thriller-standard caricatures ends up the subject of an involving character study of four people with divergent goals whose lives intertwine under tragic circumstances. Barton's Shelby isn't a typical, insane Hollywood "single white female" villalin; she actually doesn't mean to hit Elizabeth with her car but rather gets wrapped up in a situation born of desperation and a string of bad luck.

The end result is solidly entertaining in a TV movie-of-the-week sort of way, told at a brisk pace with nice production value -- even if you know where it's going the entire time.

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A dazzling film about a nightclub owner who gambles everything when he looks deeper into his father's death. Music. Betrayal. Passion... Welcome to the Blues and mystery of Dark Streets. Chaz Davenport (Gabriel Mann) is a dashing playboy who has it all: a hot nightclub, two glamorous singers (Bijou Phillips and Izabella Miko)and the most seductive music ever created playing from his stage. But when he enlists the help of the menacing "Lieutenant" to look into the sinister circumstances surrounding his father's death, his life spirals dangerously out-of control. Dark, sexy and sensuous, this music-driven journey smolders with a smoking hot score and a soundtrack that includes 12 original songs featuring Etta James, Aaron Neville and more! Co-starring sensational underground performer, Toledo.

Director: Rachel Samuels
Writer: Wallace King
Cast: Gabriel Mann, Bijou Phillips, Izabella Miko, Elias Koteas, Michael Fairman, Toledo Diamond
Distributor: Samuel Goldwyn Films
Country: US
DVD Release Date: June 30, 2009

Sometimes when I am watching a really bad movie, I start to question how it even got made, leading me to imagine what might have been said at a pitch meeting to get a green light for such a car wreck. Normally, in a traumatic experience, one will wish him or herself to a happier place, so it tells you how bad a movie is that, by comparison, a meeting with Hollywood execs is preferable.

Such is the case with the jazz-age crime musical Dark Streets.

"You see, it's like Sin City meets Outkast's Idlewild, but Idlewild for white people. We'll talk about blues music and have some bluesy riffs running through the songs, but this will be with an almost completely white cast, headed by a guy like Ryan Gosling or the dude from Pushing Daisies. Or at least someone cheaper who looks a whole hell of a lot like them. To throw a bone to the legitimate blues community, we'll give a black guy the court jester role. You know, a narrator like Taye Diggs in Chicago, but he'll ham it up more and smoke a lot like he's in a rap video. We'll borrow a little of the plot from Chinatown, and the clothes will be crazy, almost like superhero costumes, because comic book movies are a big deal. Think Baz Luhrmann squaring off with Guy Ritchie in a back alley, but way more poncey."

Okay, granted, that's not a very serious attempt at what it must have been like, but if the people involved in this--director Rachel Samuels (The Suicide Club), first-time screenwriter Wallace King, or producer Glenn M. Stewart, who allegedly wrote a play this was based on--took it any more seriously themselves, then they have to be three of the most delusional people on the planet. In a year when I suffered through crap like The Women, to call Dark Streets the worst time I had at the movies in the last twelve months is really saying something.

For those who may be curious, the plot involves milquetoast rich boy Chaz (Gabriel Mann, 80 Minutes) running his frou-frou jazz club into the ground, sleeping most of the day away in an alcoholic haze, and crying over the money his recently deceased father decided not to leave him. Daddy was the head of a power company, and his death has occurred in the midst of troubling city-wide blackouts--a fact that should give anyone pause, but Chaz fails to see the connection until it is pointed out to him. But then, Chaz fails to see a lot of things, and his memory isn't so good. The latter part is pretty convenient for the writers, because they hinge half of their plot twists on Chaz remembering things he had previously forgotten when it best suits the story. "Oh, that's right, Daddy had a best friend who I totally hadn't thought about until I saw this picture of him." "The cabin in the woods? I forgot we had a cabin in the woods. I'll hide there and find new clues!" "Logic and plot construction? Was I supposed to bring some?"

Which might be fine if Gabriel Mann wasn't totally inept as an actor. You can have him grow a moustache and put a flask in his hand, but were I the one holding the liquor bottle, he wouldn't be able to convince me he was of legal drinking age with a valid driver's license, birth certificate, and the doctor who delivered him from his mother's womb standing by his side. All of the girls at the club swoon over the rich pretty boy, including the brassy Crystal (Bijou Phillips, Choke), who has a history with Chaz, but also a history with cocaine, so at least she had an excuse. She is threatened by the new singer in Chaz's club, the blonde and angelic Madelaine (Izabella Miko, Coyote Ugly), who was pushed on Chaz by a snarling cop (Elias Koteas, Some Kind of Wonderful) who is dressed in a uniform that makes him look like he's just stepped through a Stargate. The cop's wardrobe is just one of many inexplicable things in Dark Streets. For instance, why does the narrator, Prince Royale (Toledo Diamond), act like he just stepped out of a Fishbone music video--mohawk, cane, flashy suit, and all? Or how does one night away from the club allow it to decay so rapidly it suddenly looks like the morning after the wrap party for a Fellini movie?

These are questions I cannot answer, and I doubt any of the filmmakers can either, because I don't think they ever stopped to ask them. The music in the movie runs at a constant, either sung on stage by one of Chaz's performers or as part of the soundtrack, and I believe it's lathered on so thick in order to hopefully cover up the many plot holes. No doing. Dark Streets is as craggy and absorbent as a sponge, and no matter what Rachel Samuels throws on top of it, it all gets sucked into the boring morass. Hell, the movie doesn't even look good. All of the scenes are underlit, and Samuels and her director of photography, Sharone Meir (Mean Creek), smear the lens with Vaseline so that the image is never fully in focus, the edges of the frame blurred and distorted. I am sure this is meant to represent Chaz's confused state of mind and all the unknowns in the plot, but that's kind of like spitting into a rainstorm to make it more wet.

I suppose there are some people who might make a case for Dark Streets being so bad, it's almost good. It certainly has enough quotable lines, my personal favorite being Bijou Phillips shouting "But not special enough to keep a doctor from sticking a coat hanger in me!" She pops out with that bon mot during a fight with Chaz, and boy, does it shut him up. (Not a spoiler, it's a detail that emerges unprompted and is never mentioned again, neither moving the plot nor really changing anything at all, just like most of the story points in Dark Streets.) I personally think, however, that giving it such a distinction would be too kind to something that deserves no such kindness. When it comes to Dark Streets, we have to let bad just be bad.

Hell, not even an unexpected, somewhat baffling dedication to the people of New Orleans that appears at the end of the film is enough to make me say, "Well, at least they had noble intentions." Instead, I cried out loud, "Haven't those people suffered enough?" I certainly felt like I had.

Reviewed by :Jamie S.Rich [http://www.dvdtalk.com]

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A single mom and her slacker sister find an unexpected way to turn their lives around in the off-beat dramatic comedy 'Sunshine Cleaning.' Directed by Christine Jeffs (Rain, Sylvia), this uplifting film about an average family that finds the path to its dreams in an unlikely setting screened in competition at the 2008 Sundance Film Festival. Once the high school cheerleading captain who dated the quarterback, Rose Lorkowski (Academy Award nominee Amy Adams) now finds herself a thirty something single mother working as a maid. Her sister Norah, (Golden Globe winner Emily Blunt), is still living at home with their dad Joe (Academy Award winner Alan Arkin), a salesman with a lifelong history of ill-fated get rich quick schemes. Desperate to get her son into a better school, Rose persuades Norah to go into the crime scene clean-up business with her to make some quick cash. In no time, the girls are up to their elbows in murders, suicides and otherÂ…specialized situations. As they climb the ranks in a very dirty job, the sisters find a true respect for one another and the closeness they have always craved finally blossoms. By building their own improbable business, Rose and Norah open the door to the joys and challenges of being there for one another--no matter what--while creating a brighter future for the entire Lorkowski family.

GENRE(S): Comedy | Crime
WRITTEN BY: Megan Holley
DIRECTED BY: Christine Jeffs
Theatrical Release Date: 03/13/2009

I wish I’d liked Sunshine Cleaning, a rueful, Sundancey confection from the underrated Christine Jeffs (Sylvia) about two cash-strapped sisters (Amy Adams and Emily Blunt) who move into the niche market of scrubbing down crime scenes. Films with two good young actresses as the leads are hardly a dime a dozen.

Sadly, Megan Holley’s script reminded me of Garden State - red rag to a bull, I’m afraid. We learn halfway that the girls’ mother committed suicide - information carefully withheld then splurged in an unworkable monologue about pecan pie. Far from making sense of her daughters, this reveal simply encourages them into some terribly life-affirming, aren’t-we-sensitive behaviour - Blunt gets her kicks whooping under a speeding train, and poor Adams must contact mum’s spirit on a CB radio.

Meanwhile, Alan Arkin mooches around on the sidelines, automatically cast as their distant, crotchety dad. It’s plainly sentimental under its dressed-down layer of indie grime, but stuffing your heart inside your sleeve is a ploy, not a solution.

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Fate (and alcohol) brings two people together in this independent romantic comedy-drama. Joanne (Tracey Heggins) and Micah (Wyatt Cenac) wake up together one morning after a drunken one-night stand, the result of attending a late-night party at the home of a mutual friend. It becomes clear they don't know each other very well and after sharing breakfast, Joanne isn't interested in getting to know Micah any better. However, when Micah discovers that Joanne has misplaced her wallet, he stops by her apartment to return it, and they end up spending the day together. Joanne and Micah don't appear to have much in common; she's well-to-do and lives in San Francisco's pricey Marina District, while he has a flat in the rough-and-tumble Tenderloin and works with a group of activists struggling to make housing affordable in the city by the bay. As the day wears on, Joanne and Micah become increasingly aware of a genuine mutual attraction, but they also realize just how different they really are. The first feature film from writer and director Barry Jenkins, Medicine for Melancholy received its premiere at the 2008 San Francisco International Film Festival. - Mark Deming, All Movie Guide

Starring :Wyatt Cenac, Tracey N. Heggins
Director(s): Barry Jenkins
Release Date: Feb 4, 2009
Genre: Drama

Visually more sophisticated than the bulk of features to yet come out of the new wave of DIY independent American cinema, narratively smoother and yet still boundless in mold-breaking ambition, triple-Independent Spirit Award nominee Medicine for Melancholy offers a self-contained rebuttal to claims that precious, naturalistic dramas about the existential dilemmas of hipster singles are exclusively a white man’s game. But the most exciting thing about the film is that director Barry Jenkins doesn’t seem interested in rebutting anything, or in playing any sort of game but his own. His mission: to talk about what it feels like to be young, black and artsy in a city in which people who fit that description make up a minuscule fraction of the population.

Formally and thematically, Melancholy is, in fact, driven by fractions. African-Americans currently make up less than 7 percent of the city of San Francisco. Several decades of gentrification have all but whitewashed the city’s historically non-white communities south of Market Street; the few non-gentrified pockets still standing are under constant threat of being steamrolled by the luxury housing boom. To make that point visually, Jenkins and cinematographer James Laxton literally drain the color almost completely from their digital video image. On first viewing, I guessed that the entirety of the film had been desaturated 93 percent to match the racial breakdown, but in Jenkins has said the level of desaturation actually fluctuates). The resulting image is soft and smoggy, mostly gray with pastel hints. Melancholy may be more committed to certain of the city’s un-pretty social truths than any other recent fiction film set in San Francisco, but ironically, as a sheer portrait of the city, it’s also maybe the most beautiful.

Jenkins wants us to know that, in such a literally colorless landscape, it’s a freak occurrence that our protagonists have met at all. Micah and Joanne wake up in the same bed the morning after a house party. They’ve apparently had sex, but have neglected to exchange names. An awkward brunch ensues, then a silent shared cab ride. Apparently embarrassed and certainly hungover, she storms out of the car when it reaches the top of Russian Hill, but leaves her wallet behind. He tracks her down, convinces her that they should spend the day together. The day turns into another drunken night.

As they explore the city together, Micah and Jo spend an awful lot of time talking self-consciously about race, even going as far as to argue over “what two black people do on a Sunday afternoon.” This is, initially, jarring, not just because it’s something you almost never see in a film not directed by Spike Lee, but because as a white girl, my knee jerk response was, “Shouldn’t black people know what it means to be a black person?”

Of course, Jenkins’ point is that, as if anybody ever really knows what it means to be what they are, these two certainly don’t, because for the most part, their racial role models are few and far between, and they can only define themselves against what they know they are not. For Micah, this seems to be Jo’s biggest selling point: she represents something he’s fantasized about, and like many of us would, once he stumbles on the embodiment of that fantasy he’s determined to hold on to it and not let it get away. But Joanne senses this, and doesn’t like it. The last thing she wants is to be wanted just because she’s the only black girl in town who silkscreens her own t-shirts and shops at the organic food co-op.

Over the course of the film, Jenkins subtly shifts our perspective, from Micah’s gaze to Joanne’s, all the while refusing to antagonize or fully sympathize with either. Somehow, by the end, we want to see these two kids cinch a traditional a happy ending. But Jenkins instead chooses realistic difficulty over the easy answer fantasy. A weekend coupling might work as a temporary salve for melancholy, but it never solves the problems it momentarily obscures. 24 hours after we enter the picture, we exit, carrying with us a perfectly molded portrait of a place in the form this fling.

review by : Karina Longworth [co-founder Cinematical Blog]

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Stacy Peralta uses his knack for dissecting counter-cultures to highlight the two most violent gangs in America with Crips and Bloods: Made in America.Since his breakout Sundance hit Dogtown and Z-Boys, about the iconic skateboarders who revolutionized the sport (Peralta was one of the Z-Boys), Peralta has stayed in the alt-sport realm as his second doc, Riding Giants, looked at the history of surfing (it was also the opening film at 04's Sundance). Now Peralta leaves his comfort zone to look at a world he's not directly a part of.In telling the story of the Crips and Bloods, Peralta goes back to the Watts riots of 1965 which let out the anger African-Americans were feeling at the time towards not only their status in America but the brutality the police put on them daily.Segueing to the popularity of black power organizations during the time, gangs in South Central L.A. were at an all time low. But gradually long prison sentences or death to most of the positive black leaders by the end of the civil rights movement leads to the creation of the Crips which quickly attracts the disconnected youth. The Bloods quickly followed as a rival gang leading to decades of a blue (Crips) and red (Bloods) turf war in South Central with little intervention from the state on how to clean it up.

Peralta examines the rise of the Crips and Bloods through interviewing former or current members of the gangs, showing moving still photos, ghastly archival footage of murder scenes and speaking to mothers who've lost their children to gang violence. But Made in America, narrated by Forest Whitaker, isn't so much an expose on gang life as it is an optimistic story of hope. Rather than shocking the audience with the access he can get with the gangs or document initiations or drive-bys, Peralta portrays gang life as not a choice but an all-consuming inevitability for young black males in South Central. The sliver lining in all of this is that it seems gang members who are now middle-aged have seen their errors and are trying to portray a better environment for today's youth, but has the gang mentality become too deep-seeded in the neighborhoods? Peralta doesn't have the answers or attempts to act like he does, he lays out the facts in the hope that change can come on the streets as well as making the audience better understand the reasoning behind joining a gang.

Source : Filmmaker Magazine [http://filmmakermagazine.com]
posted by Jason Guerrasio @ 5/17/2009 11:10:00 PM

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