We watched Fracture yesterday, a film I had avoided in the theaters due to its alleged mediocrity. (It is fairly mediocre, but before you see a movie, you have to assume that it was alleged, right?)
It suffered from precisely the situation I talked about here. At one point, the music kept getting louder and louder while the dialogue kept getting quieter and quieter.
This almost never happens in the movie theater. Mix it for stereo TV, jerkwads!
The Boy’s perception is pretty keen. He noticed the movie was good while Hopkins was on, and pretty much un-engaging otherwise. The lovely Rosamund Pike (Pride and Prejudice, Doom) is overly made-up and has no accent. Actually, it’s a fine cast, with David Strathairn and Ryan Gosling, etc. etc. etc. But it’s a by-the-numbers cat-and-mouse detective/killer story.
I realized early on the movie was in trouble because I was rooting for Hopkins. I wanted him to get away with killng Embeth Davidtz. Now, I love Embeth Davidtz, from Army of Darkness to Junebug, and from Matilda to Thi13een Ghosts (is that how you spell that stupid title?). She was in Schindler’s List for cryin’ out loud.
Hopkins kills her, and I’m still rooting for him to get away with it. He’s the shoring member that holds up the creaky mineshaft. Or something.
Anyway, director Hoblit has done better, particularly with his uneven but very touching Frequency, about a son whose radio allows him to talk to his (now dead) father. That one doesn’t really work logically, either, but it makes up for it with some great chemistry and a novel concept.