Short Takes: "The Other Woman", "Kaboom".

Will someone please tell Gregg Araki that he's no David Lynch? Despite his florid use of intense white lights for scene transitions, psychosexual explorations and use of actors with animal masks, Araki lacks the conviction of Lynch to deliver stories about chaos within the quotidian. Take this for example, in Kaboom, Dekker plays Smith, a sexually "undeclared" film student who lusts after his surfer roommate (Zylka) while having an affair with ferocious British import London (the truly and utterly fantastic Temple). One night after consuming hallucinogenic cookies, Smith accidentally realizes there's more than meets the eye at his campus and soon finds himself part of a dangerous game involving masked cult members and apocalypse worshipers.

Araki fails to make his film's plight something worthy of our attention and the more he deviates into selfindulgent moments where he uses witchcraft and sci-fi, the less we are thrilled by his film. What Araki gets right is the extreme horniness and carelessness of college students: the irresponsible way in which they engage in affair to affair as if life was merely comprised of hookups and partying. He also aces the relationship between Smith and his best friend (Bennett) even if Dekker is too passive an actor to inspire more sympathy towards his character.

Best in show? Temple, whose fierce London asks "would you like to have sex?" seconds after meeting you. The fact that you wouldn't think of saying no to her is what the whole movie should've felt like.

Natalie Portman is a truly hit-and-miss actress. Send her to a great director and she blossoms onscreen (Black Swan, Closer), place her under the tutelage of a more divisive filmmaker and all bets are off.

While Don Roos has proven himself to be one of the most clever makers of "movies for grownups" (see the underrated Bounce and Happy Endings) Portman lacks the presence to play The Other Woman her baby face and whining come off as annoying more often than not as she plays a second wife, trying to get her stepson (Tahan) to like her. The film's languid pace doesn't help to convince us that any of these characters even want their lives to be onscreen.

Grades

Kaboom **½

The Other Woman *½

A Nightmare on Elm Street *

Director: Samuel Bayer
Cast: Jackie Earle Haley
Kyle Gallner, Rooney Mara, Katie Cassidy, Thomas Dekker
Kellan Lutz, Clancy Brown, Connie Britton, Lia Mortensen

Anyone who's been alive for the past three decades knows who Freddy Krueger is. Heck, he might've even be the cause for them falling asleep at school during the day or the reason why they would never look at red and black stripes in the same way.
Truth is you don't even need to be a die hard fan of the original movies to know what Freddy represents.
This remake, carrying the tragic Michael Bay seal of quality, takes everything about the character and reduces it to a version of 902010 with blood and, more, screaming.
The setup is still pretty much the same: a bunch of kids begin to die mysteriously during their sleep, the only thing they have in common is that all of their dreams feature a man called Freddy Krueger.
The man wears a knifed glove and most of his skin is burnt. He also has a thing for torturing and brutally murdering the teenagers in their dreams while they sleep.
Because the characters and situations are so inconsequential, the thing that's left to judge about the movie is its ability to frighten us, which it never does.
One of the plot twists has to do with the fact that, after an extended period of time, insomniacs might enter a limbo where dreams and reality are impossible to separate. This nod to the power of dreams could've given the film its most terrifying theme but the Freddy scenes are done with such lack of nuance that the audience always knows when it's a dream and when it's not.
The unimaginative cinematography and score do little to set the mood and there is a scene with visual effects out of Scary Movie.
The most important effect of course should be Freddy himself and while Haley's performance tries to amp up on the creep, it never comes even close to conveying the macabre gusto with which Robert Englund dug his claws into the meat, pun intended.
With all its supposed dismay, attempts at conveying a dark back story with all sorts of perversions and traumas; the truth is that the film's use of facile, ridiculous Freudian techniques to explain the whys of Freddy might be the only thing worth a nightmare.