Review: The Hunger Games

Based on Suzanne Collins' best-selling young adult novel, The Hunger Games gets by chiefly on raw, sinister suspense.

It begins in the future, in the 74th year of the Hunger Games, which were invented as a way to control the masses after an unsuccessful uprising. Two "tributes," a boy and a girl, are chosen from each of 12 districts. After some preparation, the 24 competitors are sent to the battlefield, where only one will emerge alive. The entire thing is broadcast and commented upon in hideous reality TV-style.

From District 12, tough, cunning Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) -- an expert archer -- volunteers, taking the place of her younger sister. Katniss' companion is Peeta (Josh Hutcherson), who harbors a secret crush on her. Their toughest competitors are typical, cackling teen bullies.

Though it's mostly made for fans, The Hunger Games doesn't seem to have been made by anyone in particular. The director is Gary Ross, who might have been chosen at random; he has nothing of this ilk on his resume. Perhaps nearest is the comedy Pleasantville, also set in a strange alternate world.

Here, Ross and his co-screenwriters appear uncertain as to how much information to impart. For example, the movie initially makes a big deal out of the tributes finding "sponsors," but drops the idea. Likewise, potential romantic tension between three characters is snuffed, perhaps in anticipation of future sequels. In the same vein, Ross's camera roams indecisively, rarely settling on anything.

Happily, the movie is insidiously effective in the way it captures the anxious terror leading up to the games, and then the unleashed brutality of the games themselves. This is partly thanks to Lawrence's mature performance, as well as Woody Harrelson's, as an emotionally damaged former winner and current coach. Additionally, the movie has a superb, creepy design, with costumes of bizarre colors that make the future look dreadfully plastic and frilly.

Yet The Hunger Games misses a chance that was eagerly taken by Kinji Fukasaku's remarkably similar cult classic Battle Royale, released in Japan in 2000. That masterpiece was pure, giddy exploitation, inviting audiences to have a good time and unexpectedly discover the subtext that these games are bad.

Slowed down and dressed up, The Hunger Games wears that message on its sleeve, leaving the fun behind. But to make up for it, the focus is now on suspense. Even the most stalwart viewers -- prior fans or not -- will be squirming in their seats.

Movie Review: Rampart

Two years ago, screenwriter Oren Moverman made his directorial debut with the surprisingly subtle, intelligent, and graceful The Messenger. Now he returns with his two stars from that film, Woody Harrelson in the lead and Ben Foster in a smaller role, but the result is a good deal heavier.

Los Angeles cop "Date Rape" Dave Brown (Woody Harrelson) lives with an ambiguous mark on his record: the slaying of a serial rapist. Now, in 1999, two more incidents happen in rapid succession. First, he is captured on video beating a motorist that crashed into Dave's squad car. Later, when he tries to profit from a dirty card game, he becomes involved in a robbery and shoots and kills a man. Now, while being investigated, he tries to hang onto his family, especially his two daughters. But he also tries to lose himself in anonymous sex, alcohol, smoking, and drugs. Is there any hope for Dave, or is he lost?

Looking at this study of a dirty cop, it's hard not to think of the two great Bad Lieutenant films -- Abel Ferrara's 1992 release and Werner Herzog's 2009 version -- and how they were anguished, operatic, and completely loony. Moverman's movie is the opposite of its lead character, sober and serious, and with an eye on some kind of social commentary. Moreover, since every scene is intently focused on the main character, the supporting characters -- and the amazing cast that embodies them -- never get a chance to shine. However, Harrelson is given a great challenge and he more than rises to the occasion. And the screenplay, co-written by Moverman and novelist James Ellroy, often has an appealingly poetic rhythm.