3.5 stars

Starring: Alden Ehrenreich, Alice Englert, Jeremy Irons, Viola Davis, Emma Thompson, Emmy Rossum, Thomas Mann

Rating: PG-13, for carnal behavior, violence and occasional profanity

Popular teen-lit series makes a thoroughly absorbing jump to the big screen

By Derrick Bang
Enterprise film critic

Fantasy fans mourning the departure of the Harry Potter and “Twilight” series will find plenty to enjoy in director/scripter Richard LaGravenese’s lush, well-mounted adaptation of “Beautiful Creatures,” the first novel in Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl’s “Caster Chronicles” tetralogy.

The contemporary Southern Gothic setting is irresistible, right from the start, and production designer Richard Sherman has a ball with Ravenwood Manor, the mysterious estate that looms at the fringes of this small South Carolina town. The atmosphere borrows slightly from both Stephenie Meyer (“Twilight”) and Charlaine Harris (the Sookie Stackhouse novels that led to HBO’s “True Blood”), but you’ll also detect elements of “Dark Shadows” and “The Addams Family.”

Along with, I’m delighted to report, a fairly strong echo of Ray Bradbury’s various tales of the supernatural Elliot family, introduced in the 1945 short story “The Traveler” and, ultimately, earning a novel, “From the Dust Returned,” in 2001.

Quite a delectable collection of ingredients.

As we’re informed by 17-year-old Ethan Wate (Alden Ehrenreich), his hometown of Gatlin never quite made it to the 21st century, and many of the town’s small-minded, Bible-quoting citizens seem unwilling to embrace the modern world.

Ethan endears himself to us immediately, thanks to his fondness for reading everything on the community’s copious banned books list. The film begins at the advent of a new school year, with Ethan plainly having outgrown the holier-than-thou conceit of former girlfriend Emily (Zoey Deutch). He’s much more intrigued by new student Lena Duchannes (Alice Englert), whose presence immediately scandalizes Emily and her equally stuck-up, self-righteous best friend Savannah (Tiffany Boone).

Because, as everybody knows, Lena lives in Ravenwood Manor.

Matters aren’t helped by freakish lightning strikes and other strange events that seem to have coincided with Lena’s arrival … at least, that’s the way the sanctimonious Mrs. Lincoln (Emma Thompson) sees it. She demands that Lena be expelled from school during a town meeting that turns livelier with the unexpected arrival of the reclusive Macon Ravenwood (Jeremy Irons).

Macon points out, gently but firmly — with every word weighted by Irons’ marvelously sweet but threatening gaze — that he owns a good portion of Gatlin. Incur his wrath by expelling his niece, and, why, who knows how he might respond.

Check and mate. Much to Mrs. Lincoln’s simmering fury.

In truth, though, there is something unusual about Lena, as Ethan knows better than anybody. He has suffered the same recurring dream for months, about a dark-haired young woman whose face never quite reveals itself, and a Civil War battlefield where a young soldier is shot while trying to reach his own beloved.

Lena, Ethan now realizes, is — literally — the dark-haired girl of his dreams.

LaGravenese takes his time introducing the primary players and establishing all these details. He’s an elegant, intelligent writer with a flair for piquant dialogue laced with subtle connotations: just right for this material. We’ve enjoyed his work on films as diverse as “A Little Princess,” “The Bridges of Madison County,” “The Horse Whisperer” and “The Fisher King,” the latter bringing him a well-deserved Academy Award nomination.

Macon does his best to keep his niece away from Ethan, starting with a casual conversation that turns disturbingly grim (a scene that Ehrenreich plays perfectly). But young love is not to be denied, mostly because Lena is just as captivated by Ethan, as he is with her.

Eventually, then, Ethan meets more members of Lena’s extended family: the prim Gramma (Eileen Atkins) and often flustered Aunt Del (Margo Martindale), and the quiet cousin Larkin (Kyle Gallner).

And cousin Ridley (Emmy Rossum). Particularly Ridley, a voluptuous free spirit with a fondness for scanty clothing and decidedly malignant behavior.

At which point, we and Ethan learn the truth: Lena and her clan are “casters,” a term they prefer to the pejorative label of “witch.” All casters have powers, particularly the women, who face a “claiming” on their 16th birthday: the point at which they’re “taken” either by Light or Dark forces.

Ridley, once a sweet girl and Lena’s best friend, was claimed by the Dark; she became a siren, doomed — and delighted — to toy with men of any age. The Dark forces are ruled by Sarafine, an unseen (but hovering) figure of pure wickedness who hopes that Lena, as well, will embrace evil upon her upcoming 16th birthday.

Quite a pickle. And rather a lot for a small-town boy to absorb.

But Ethan’s up for the challenge, and not merely because he has grown to adore Lena. Ehrenreich gives the young man just the right blend of intelligence, spunk and mule-stubborn determination; he’s a captivating young hero, even though he tends to be acted upon, rather than act. He is, after all, the helpless mortal in this heady brew, much like frustrated young Timothy, the only normal member of Bradbury’s Elliot family.

We’re charmed both by Ehrenreich’s broad smile and affable behavior, and by the sly, tart dialogue LaGravenese grants him, both as narrator and during exchanges with all these strange people.

Englert’s Lena is equally captivating: initially aloof, having learned to be wary of “normals,” and then every inch the winsome young woman won over by Ethan’s unwavering pursuit. Englert is far more interesting and engaging, and has a more vibrant presence, than Kristen Stewart’s dull, pouty Bella Swan in the “Twilight” films.

Irons lends these proceedings an aristocratic flair as the rather complicated Macon, a character we can’t nail down for quite a while; Irons handles that duality sublimely. And Rossum is a hoot as the vampish Ridley, who relishes her own depravity and then worries us — big time — when her attentions turn to Ethan’s best friend, Link (Thomas Mann) … who happens to be Mrs. Lincoln’s son.

Viola Davis delivers another of her rich, dignified performances as Amma, the town librarian and a longtime friend of Ethan’s family, who has her own unexpected place in these events.

The film is pretty much stolen, though, by Emma Thompson. She’s spot-on as the sort of intrusive, self-righteous busybody who fancies herself the town’s unofficial Christian soul: a meddling do-gooder convinced that she knows what’s best for everybody. But Thompson really goes to town once things kick into gear, thanks to a plot twist I’d rather not reveal here. Suffice to say, Thompson truly knows how to deliver a line. All her lines.

“Beautiful Redemption,” Garcia and Stohl’s fourth and final (?) book in the series, was just released in October. LaGravenese has done a lovely job with this adaptation of the first book, and all the elements certainly are in place for an ongoing series. The question is whether the fantasy faithful will embrace this cinematic interpretation, where so many other efforts — “The Golden Compass” and “The Lightning Thief” come to mind — have perished after only one film.

Fingers crossed, then … because I hope to see more of Ethan and Lena on the big screen.

— Read more of Derrick Bang’s film criticism at http://derrickbang.blogspot.com. Comment on this review at www.davisenterprise.com

‘Brave’

3.5 stars

Starring (voices only): Kelly Macdonald, Billy Connolly, Emma Thompson, Julie Walters, Robbie Coltrane, Kevin McKidd, Craig Ferguson

Rating: PG, and somewhat generously, for rude humor and considerable scary action

All Pixar animated films are lush, impeccably mounted productions — every backdrop fine-tuned to the height of available imaging technology, every scene timed to comic perfection — and “Brave” is no different.

The long, long ago and far, far away Scottish Highlands setting has a verdant ambiance granted even greater verisimilitude by the careful application of 3D cinematography; the resulting full-immersion sensation is as breathtaking to us, in these early years of the 21st century, as William Garity’s ground-breaking multi-plane camera work was for audiences of Disney’s early 1930s and ’40s animated classics.

The characters here are fun and feisty, often exaggerated for comic relief, and led by Merida, a resourceful and headstrong heroine who is voiced fabulously by Kelly Macdonald. Merida’s pluck, determination and stubborn defiance of tradition are matched only by her flaming, flowing red tresses: as much a part of her presence and personality as her oh-so-familiar teenage angst.

All the elements are in place … except one.

The most important one.

However well Brenda Chapman’s original story may have flowed, as first conceived, it has become something of a mess in the hands of screenwriters Mark Andrews, Steve Purcell, Irene Mecchi and Chapman herself, along with (no doubt) the uncredited participation of many, many more Pixar staffers. The result plays less like a cohesive, thematically consistent narrative and more like a committee effort calculated to hit all the essential demographic targets.

That’s a shame. Pixar’s best films are truly original creations that establish their own trends; “Brave,” in contrast, too often echoes bits and pieces from other sources.

Indeed, a major plot point is lifted wholly — and quite disappointingly — from a 2003 Disney (non-Pixar) animated film, which I’ll not identify in order to avoid a major spoiler. But the prominence of this unexpected detour sends “Brave” into a direction rather at odds with its premise, while also compromising the integrity of Merida’s character to a somewhat unfortunate degree.

A brief prologue reveals that, even as a wee lass, Merida lacks the refinement and, ah, girlish composure that would be expected of the first-born daughter of King Fergus (Billy Connolly) and Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson). Merida is much more passionate about archery, an interest her father encourages by presenting the girl with a bow on her birthday … much to the displeasure of his wife.

Flash-forward about a decade, and Merida has grown into a bonny lass; she now has three impish little brothers — identical triplets Harris, Hubert and Hamish — who live to gorge themselves on sweets stolen by any means necessary. Merida loves nothing more than jumping atop her beloved Clydesdale, Angus, and plunging through the surrounding highland forests, where she has erected a maze-like obstacle course laden with hanging targets designed to further test her already impressive archery skills.

This is a joyous, exhilarating sequence that draws cheers each time one of Merida’s arrows hits its mark. It’s also by far the most exciting scene in the film, and therefore represents something of a mistake by co-directors Chapman and Mark Andrews. They set up expectations here, with respect to Merida’s archery skills, which aren’t fulfilled as the story builds to its eventual climax.

Because — and this is completely unacceptable — the eventual third-act crisis isn’t solved by anything having to do with Merida’s archery prowess. Can you imagine author Suzanne Collins foolishly deciding to take Katniss’ bow away from her, midway through “The Hunger Games”?

Anyway, Merida’s life takes a calamitous turn when she learns that she’s intended to wed the first-born son of one of three other unruly co-rulers of this land: massive Lord MacGuffin (Kevin McKidd); surly Lord Macintosh (Craig Ferguson), forever bedecked in blue war paint; and cantankerous, quick-tempered Lord Dingwall (Robbie Coltrane). Such a planned betrothal is traditional, Queen Elinor explains; the headstrong Merida sees only that her life is being ruined.

The girl first embarrasses the other clan lords (quite stylishly, it should be acknowledged). Then she has one of those calamitous arguments with her mother, with both women saying and doing things that they’ll have cause to regret. At which point Merida takes off, astride Angus, and winds up following a trail of ghostly, neon-blue will-o’-the-wisps that lead her into a magical realm of the forest.

One fateful encounter later, Merida returns home with the means to have a wish fulfilled … and we all know how that usually goes. In the grand tradition of all ill-advised bargains with magical entities, Merida’s wish has catastrophic consequences.

Things get dire in the third act, with a level of peril that occasionally overwhelms the family-friendly PG rating. Parents should think twice before bringing very young viewers; several sequences are quite scary. The climactic menace and bloodlust are completely at odds with the film’s playful set-up and deliberately exaggerated characters, particularly the silly clan lords and their even sillier first-born sons, who vie for Merida’s hand in marriage.

We’ve seen this juxtaposition of tone before, in other animated features. The similarly oafish Gaston turns quite nasty toward the end of Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast,” while the final, incredibly massive beastie in “How to Train Your Dragon” is rather a shock, after spending so much time with that film’s mostly foolish Vikings.

But the savage events that concluded those two films felt more thematically appropriate, and consistent with the preceding storylines; both climaxes also allowed their respective protagonists to act bravely and honorably. That’s not quite the case in “Brave,” where I rather doubt that Merida has learned the necessary lesson; the denouement lets her off rather easily, considering previous transgressions.

Mostly, though, the story beats feel begged, borrowed and stolen: a bit of “Beauty and the Beast” here; a soupçon of “Lord of the Rings” there; a nod toward Disney’s “Snow White,” with a magic tart standing in for a poisoned apple; and a marvelous horse that — although an engaging supporting character — evokes memories of the similarly intelligent steed in Disney’s “Tangled.”

The Merida we meet, during the film’s first act, deserves better. She’s a vivacious, inspirational character who earns both our trust and respect … at first. But too much of what happens next feels contrived, most particularly a midpoint narrative shift so abrupt that it feels as if we — and Merida — have stumbled into an entirely different story.

I’d love to see the “Brave” that would have resulted from Chapman’s sole vision, but of course that’s impossible.

Meanwhile, I can only lament the unsatisfying, clumsily assembled storyline that simply doesn’t allow Merida to be her best self.

— Read more of Derrick Bang’s film criticism at derrickbang.blogspot.com. Comment on this review at www.davisenterprise.com

“Men in Black III”

Four stars

Starring: Will Smith, Tommy Lee Jones, Josh Brolin, Jemaine Clement, Michael Stuhlbarg, Emma Thompson

Rating: PG-13 for sci-fi action violence and some disgustingly unpleasant monsters

Come to think of it, Jones hasn’t changed a jot in a decade. Perhaps he’s actually an alien in disguise?

“Men in Black III” is a hoot ’n’ a holler, and a welcome return to form after this series’ somewhat disappointing sophomore installment, back in 2002. And while it’s still not possible to recapture the 1997 original’s gleefully warped freshness, this third entry’s writers — Etan Cohen, David Koepp, Jeff Nathanson and Michael Soccio — have done a nifty job with an ingenious premise that stimulates plenty of snarky one-liners.

On top of which, Will Smith’s comic timing remains every bit as reliably droll as Jones’ slow, impassive takes.

The narrative kicks off with a slick jailbreak engineered by Boris The Animal (Jemaine Clement), a truly nasty baddie with a morphology that gets ickier as the film proceeds. Boris — a Boglodite who gets enraged when people add “The Animal” to his name — has been incarcerated on the moon for the past 40-plus years, where Agent K (Jones) put him after a particularly nasty skirmish at Cape Canaveral, back on July 16, 1969.

If you don’t immediately register the significance of that date, surrender your geek cred card at the door.

With Boris seeking vengeance, Agent J (Smith) tries to pull the file on that old MIB case. Unfortunately, he finds the information restricted: rather mysterious, given his usual security clearance. Attempts to gain access get him nowhere; the new head of MIB, Agent O (Emma Thompson), leaves him with an enigmatic warning: “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Although Boris makes an obligatory violent — and gloppy — attempt to kill K, the Boglodite’s actual plan is much more sinister. One behind-the-scenes time-jump later, Agent K’s very existence has been wiped out; when J reports to work the following day, he’s the only one who recalls his (suddenly former) partner.

Agent O, no dummy, immediately suspects a temporal shift: K apparently has been killed back in the past, and J knows just who did the dirty deed. Although surprised to learn that time travel exists — something else apparently concealed from him — J nonetheless embraces the assignment to travel back to 1969 one day sooner than Boris, in order to set the timestream right.

Once in the past, J finds that — as he was warned — things are, indeed, a bit different for folks with his skin color (although the script doesn’t have nearly as much fun with racial tension as it might). He also finds that K’s younger self (now played by James Brolin) is open, friendly and interested in comradely companionship, as opposed to the grumpy old coot J knows from their years as partners.

What, J wonders, could have caused such a change?

Although the younger K doesn’t initially accept the situation at face value, he eventually believes that J is telling the truth. After all, the MIB team is accustomed to weirdness, even in 1969. The goal, then, is to anticipate Boris’ moves … which proves difficult, since J never got to read that all-important file.

In a film full of laugh-laden performances and hilarious sight gags, Brolin’s work is startling. His impersonation of Jones is so good, it’s spooky: same mannerisms and body language, same clipped speech and flinty, squinty eyes. And yet the performance isn’t fully identical, because it’s not supposed to be; the fun comes from the way Brolin weaves kinder, gentler traits into the character we know so well from Jones’ portrayal.

Smith also is a gas, as the often exasperated and eternally put-upon J, forever trying to rise above the feeling that he’s never more than a sidekick … even back in the past, when he’s technically older than K. That’s the chief delight of the Jones/Smith buddy dynamic: K has grown comfortable with the oddness of his job, no matter how crazy it gets, whereas J — reflecting the way we viewers would behave — always is amazed, astonished and disgusted by the appearance and behavior of the frequently gloppy aliens who’ve clandestinely infiltrated Earth for so long.

Michael Stuhlbarg (perhaps remembered as the put-upon star of 2009’s “A Serious Man”) also stands out as Griffin, a nervous alien whose multi-dimensional talents allow him to see the upside, downside and middleside of every situation. He exists in a realm of multiple possible realities, forever trying to determine which of many causalities he’s currently experiencing: which lead to success and survival, which lead to defeat and death.

Griffin is forever anxious and curious, and Stuhlbarg has a lot of fun with this alien’s odd, rapid speech patterns and beatific, Peter Pan demeanor.

Make-up impresario Rick Baker’s inventive, ooky and wonderful imaginative aliens — which earned him an Academy Award, for the first “Men in Black” — are as wildly amusing as ever. Boris is particularly horrible, but Baker also goes to town with numerous incidental characters; he even turns Bill Hader, who plays an undercover MIB operative, into Andy Warhol.

Don’t blink, and you’ll also spot Baker as a 1969 alien with an exposed brain.

Director Barry Sonnenfeld’s touch remains appropriately frothy; even when a given situation is dire, the peril is mitigated by a throwaway visual gag or a well-timed quip from Smith. Sonnenfeld also knows not to pause on this film’s many bits of background business; such details simply hover at the edges of each scene, waiting to be spotted. So yes — as was true of this series’ earlier entries — you’ll probably want to watch this film more than once.

“Men in Black III” doesn’t till any fresh ground, but it raises a crop of giggles nonetheless. Sonnenfeld’s new comedy has attitude, sparkle, imagination and well-concocted characters, which sets it far above yawning junk like “Battleship.”

So: As long as Smith and Jones keep wielding those neuralizers, I’ll keep coming back for more.

— Read more of Derrick Bang’s film criticism at derrickbang.blogspot.com. Comment on this review at www.davisenterprise.com