Too much of a Baby Boomer sci-fi fantasy of the Rod Serling variety to lure post-"Matrix" younger audiences in astronomical numbers, New Line Cinema's strong April 28 wide release "Frequency" is nonetheless a crowd-pleaser with a fairly fresh premise--what if a Mets-loving father and his son thirty years in the future could communicate, save each other from harm and change history?
Director Greogory Hoblit ("Primal Fear", "Fallen") is partly if not mostly successful with this deadly serious cinematic channeling of a wildly improbable scenario, written by newcomer Toby Emmerich, who has been president of New Line's music division for five years. The excellent production values and tuned in cast are key elements in exploiting the inventive payoffs. One goosebump-raising example is an ecstatic cop played by Andre Braugher (NBC's "Homicide: Life on the Streets"), silently becoming a believer as he watches with fore-knowledge a key moment in an historic baseball game.
Leads Dennis Quaid and Jim Caviezel ("The Thin Red Line") ham it up, but in a good way, as fireman father Frank and cop son John Sullivan, who through time-jumbling magnetic storms caused by the sun reach out to each other across the decades via the same ham radio. The film's biggest obstacle for some viewers is ostensibly its biggest selling point to genre fans, a convoluted plot that several times resorts to spacy montages as a way to help the fantastical premise move along.
Otherwise, there's no real romance, a bit of baseball and, yep, a serial killer. The front-end story of Frank takes place in October 1969, with the aurora borealis lighting up East Coast skies at night in beautiful, slowly shifting curtains of light and the Amazing Mets headed into the World Series against the Baltimore Orioles. The Mets still win in five games, but a lot of other headlines are messed around with in one of those puzzling science fiction conundrums that has the past and future co-existing on different planes and in weird ways medling together.
The movie seesaws between the two worlds after we're introduced to both, starting with upright, honest, solid-as-a-rock Frank (Quaid) in '69, who is loved dearly by his wife Julia Elizabeth Mitchell) and worship by young son Johnny (Daniel Henson). Best friends include Frank's fellow public servant Satch (Braugher), a police detective, and Johnny's neighbor Gordo (Stephen Joffe). All appears hunky-dory as the northern lights mystify and Frank's heroic tendencies seem to go along with a charmed life.
Drifiting off into cosmological areas best dealt with tangentially, we suddenly find ourselves with grown-up Johnny, now just John (Caviezel), still living in the family house thrity years later. He's also still friends with Gordo (Noah Emmerich), who remembers John's dad and his love of ham radios. You see, Frank died in a fire before the end of the Series, and John's life has not turned out too hot. Indeed, we're introduced to the near rock-bottom John when his mate (Melissa Errico) is leaving him.
Once contact has been made and both Sullivans believe they are communicating across time, John tells Frank about his impending death and history is changed. But in a nifty device whereby family photos and scrapbooks in the John's time keep changing, every action has a consequence. Frank still dies before his time from lung cancer, so John gets him to quit smoking. But when John starts fearing for his mother--after a random visit by Frank to the hospital where Julia works results in a killer (Shawn Doyle) surving poor doctoring--the movie morphs into a thriller/detective story.
As such, it can get mighty entertaining but eventually hinges on a violent resolution that lacks the desired punch. But the long running time is put mostly to good use. Many unanswered questions remain, but there's no mystery to the timeless contributions of cinematographer Alar Kivilo, production designer Paul Eads, editor David Rosenbloom and costume designer Elisabetta Beraldo in making the widescreen production a visual home run.
FREQUENCY
New Line Cinema
Director--Gregory Hoblit
Screenwriter--Toby Emmerich
Producers--Hawk Koch, Gregory Hoblit, Bill Carraro, Toby Emmerich
Executive producers--Robert Shaye, Richard Saperstein
Director of photography--Alar Kivilo
Production designer--Paul Eads
Editor--David Rosenbloom
Costume designer--Elisabetta Beraldo
Music--Michael Kamen
Casting--Amanda Mackey Johnson, Cathy Sandrich
Color/stereo
Cast:
Frank--Dennis Quaid
John Sullivan--Jim Caviezel
Jack Shepard--Shawn Doyle
Julia Sullivan--Elizabeth Mitchell
Satch DeLeon--Andre Braugher
Gordo Hersch--Noah Emmerich
Samantha Thomas--Melissa Errico
Running time -- 115 minutes
MPAA Rating: PG-13...
Director Greogory Hoblit ("Primal Fear", "Fallen") is partly if not mostly successful with this deadly serious cinematic channeling of a wildly improbable scenario, written by newcomer Toby Emmerich, who has been president of New Line's music division for five years. The excellent production values and tuned in cast are key elements in exploiting the inventive payoffs. One goosebump-raising example is an ecstatic cop played by Andre Braugher (NBC's "Homicide: Life on the Streets"), silently becoming a believer as he watches with fore-knowledge a key moment in an historic baseball game.
Leads Dennis Quaid and Jim Caviezel ("The Thin Red Line") ham it up, but in a good way, as fireman father Frank and cop son John Sullivan, who through time-jumbling magnetic storms caused by the sun reach out to each other across the decades via the same ham radio. The film's biggest obstacle for some viewers is ostensibly its biggest selling point to genre fans, a convoluted plot that several times resorts to spacy montages as a way to help the fantastical premise move along.
Otherwise, there's no real romance, a bit of baseball and, yep, a serial killer. The front-end story of Frank takes place in October 1969, with the aurora borealis lighting up East Coast skies at night in beautiful, slowly shifting curtains of light and the Amazing Mets headed into the World Series against the Baltimore Orioles. The Mets still win in five games, but a lot of other headlines are messed around with in one of those puzzling science fiction conundrums that has the past and future co-existing on different planes and in weird ways medling together.
The movie seesaws between the two worlds after we're introduced to both, starting with upright, honest, solid-as-a-rock Frank (Quaid) in '69, who is loved dearly by his wife Julia Elizabeth Mitchell) and worship by young son Johnny (Daniel Henson). Best friends include Frank's fellow public servant Satch (Braugher), a police detective, and Johnny's neighbor Gordo (Stephen Joffe). All appears hunky-dory as the northern lights mystify and Frank's heroic tendencies seem to go along with a charmed life.
Drifiting off into cosmological areas best dealt with tangentially, we suddenly find ourselves with grown-up Johnny, now just John (Caviezel), still living in the family house thrity years later. He's also still friends with Gordo (Noah Emmerich), who remembers John's dad and his love of ham radios. You see, Frank died in a fire before the end of the Series, and John's life has not turned out too hot. Indeed, we're introduced to the near rock-bottom John when his mate (Melissa Errico) is leaving him.
Once contact has been made and both Sullivans believe they are communicating across time, John tells Frank about his impending death and history is changed. But in a nifty device whereby family photos and scrapbooks in the John's time keep changing, every action has a consequence. Frank still dies before his time from lung cancer, so John gets him to quit smoking. But when John starts fearing for his mother--after a random visit by Frank to the hospital where Julia works results in a killer (Shawn Doyle) surving poor doctoring--the movie morphs into a thriller/detective story.
As such, it can get mighty entertaining but eventually hinges on a violent resolution that lacks the desired punch. But the long running time is put mostly to good use. Many unanswered questions remain, but there's no mystery to the timeless contributions of cinematographer Alar Kivilo, production designer Paul Eads, editor David Rosenbloom and costume designer Elisabetta Beraldo in making the widescreen production a visual home run.
FREQUENCY
New Line Cinema
Director--Gregory Hoblit
Screenwriter--Toby Emmerich
Producers--Hawk Koch, Gregory Hoblit, Bill Carraro, Toby Emmerich
Executive producers--Robert Shaye, Richard Saperstein
Director of photography--Alar Kivilo
Production designer--Paul Eads
Editor--David Rosenbloom
Costume designer--Elisabetta Beraldo
Music--Michael Kamen
Casting--Amanda Mackey Johnson, Cathy Sandrich
Color/stereo
Cast:
Frank--Dennis Quaid
John Sullivan--Jim Caviezel
Jack Shepard--Shawn Doyle
Julia Sullivan--Elizabeth Mitchell
Satch DeLeon--Andre Braugher
Gordo Hersch--Noah Emmerich
Samantha Thomas--Melissa Errico
Running time -- 115 minutes
MPAA Rating: PG-13...
- 4/17/2000
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
If it were a '40s romantic comedy, "Why Do Fools Fall in Love" might be titled "Testimony of Three Wives".
A dark, dramatic biopic based on the downsliding life of doo-wopper Frankie Lymon, who rose to fame on the titular song, "Fools" stars Halle Berry, Vivica A. Fox and Lela Rochon as the women who were married to Lymon and whose court fight over his royalty "estate" clue us to Lymon's sorry life, a drug-filled saga that had too little "doo" and way too much "wop."
Boasting some great late '50s and early '60s rock sounds, this Warner Bros. film, unfortunately, spins back and forth narratively so much that it has trouble settling into a consistent story rpm and is likely to get only a short play time at the boxoffice despite the excellent lead performances and nostalgic rock 'n' roll sound track.
Frankie Lymon (Larenz Tate) was short, cute and smooth. In the early '60s he was a star, lighting up the roadshow venues with his electric personality and, most popularly, his hit song -- "Why Do Fools Fall in Love". Even by rock star standards, Frankie had a way with the ladies: they adored him and, with his slight frame and boyish looks, he brought out their motherly instincts as well. According to Tina Andrews' fact-based screenplay, Frankie attracted all kinds as we readily see in the three very different women who vie for the royalties he supposedly acquired following his death by overdose. In a court battle, which very much resembles a game show owing to the varied nature of Limon's wives, Widow No. 1 is Zola Taylor (Berry), a former Platters singer and female rock star; Widow No. 2 is Elizabeth (Fox) a streetwise, petty criminal, and Widow No. 3 is Elmira (Rochon), a demure Southern schoolteacher. Frankie had a rather loose regard for bigamy laws, and all three contend that they are the true wife of the late singer. Each has a story and, as you'd expect, they're not exactly airtight.
In essence, Frankie's life and career is refracted through the prism of these three women's viewpoints and, not surprisingly, each paints a startlingly different portrait of the troubled entertainer. With most of the film told in flashback with multiple viewpoints, we're given a textural portrait that is both entertaining and illuminating. Best, this includes some great rock 'n' roll period stuff as well, early Alan Freed shows with such groups as the Shirelles, Little Richard and the Platters performing up and through the mid-'60s on shows including "Hullaballoo". Most of this is engaging, especially owing to the gritty and glossy lead performances, but some of the period evocation is a bit scratchy: '60s protesters come across as variety-show entertainers and the authenticity is muddled by the all-too-obvious studio-lot look of the settings. Like all music bios, we get the feeling that much of the story is grooved according to which music rights were available -- it's odd to see the mid-'60s in rock history with only a one-line mention of the Beatles and a cursory selection of songs that, overall, gives us no "Satisfaction".
The high note of this affectionate production is in the performances, especially Fox as the sultry bad-girl who decides to take on the music-industry practice of producers plastering their name on the writing credits of pop songs for royalties. Fox's don't-mess-with-me demeanor is a powerful pack of facial expressions, body language and attitude. She's reached back for some moves we haven't seen before. High praise also to Berry for her sassy, splashy performance as Frankie's songstress/wife, while Rochon is splendidly credible as Frankie's provincial Southern schoolmarm wife. As the troubled Frankie, Larenz Tate is a perfect blend of charisma and self-destructiveness. Once again, Paul Mazursky is outstanding in a supporting role, hitting all the right slimy notes in his role as a sleazy music producer.
Despite the artificial, studio look of much of the film, light up the applause meter for Cary White's garish, eye-catching, pink-patched production design, perfectly conveying the excess and transience of the characters and the era.
WHY DO FOOLS FALL IN LOVE
Warner Bros.
Producers: Paul Hall, Stephen Nemeth
Director: Gregory Nava
Screenwriter: Tina Andrews
Executive producers: Gregory Nava, Mark Allan, Harold Bronson
Director of photography: Edward Lachman
Production designer: Cary White
Editor: Nancy Richardson
Music: Stephen James Taylor
Costume designer: Elisabetta Beraldo
Casting: Reuben Cannon
Sound mixer: Veda Campbell
Color/stereo
Cast:
Zola Taylor: Halle Berry
Elizabeth Waters: Vivica A. Fox
Emira Eagle: Lela Rochon
Frankie Lymon: Larenz Tate
Little Richard: Himself
Morris Levy: Paul Mazursky
Herman Santiago: Alexis Cruz
Sherman: J. August Richards
Running time -- 123 minutes
MPAA rating: R...
A dark, dramatic biopic based on the downsliding life of doo-wopper Frankie Lymon, who rose to fame on the titular song, "Fools" stars Halle Berry, Vivica A. Fox and Lela Rochon as the women who were married to Lymon and whose court fight over his royalty "estate" clue us to Lymon's sorry life, a drug-filled saga that had too little "doo" and way too much "wop."
Boasting some great late '50s and early '60s rock sounds, this Warner Bros. film, unfortunately, spins back and forth narratively so much that it has trouble settling into a consistent story rpm and is likely to get only a short play time at the boxoffice despite the excellent lead performances and nostalgic rock 'n' roll sound track.
Frankie Lymon (Larenz Tate) was short, cute and smooth. In the early '60s he was a star, lighting up the roadshow venues with his electric personality and, most popularly, his hit song -- "Why Do Fools Fall in Love". Even by rock star standards, Frankie had a way with the ladies: they adored him and, with his slight frame and boyish looks, he brought out their motherly instincts as well. According to Tina Andrews' fact-based screenplay, Frankie attracted all kinds as we readily see in the three very different women who vie for the royalties he supposedly acquired following his death by overdose. In a court battle, which very much resembles a game show owing to the varied nature of Limon's wives, Widow No. 1 is Zola Taylor (Berry), a former Platters singer and female rock star; Widow No. 2 is Elizabeth (Fox) a streetwise, petty criminal, and Widow No. 3 is Elmira (Rochon), a demure Southern schoolteacher. Frankie had a rather loose regard for bigamy laws, and all three contend that they are the true wife of the late singer. Each has a story and, as you'd expect, they're not exactly airtight.
In essence, Frankie's life and career is refracted through the prism of these three women's viewpoints and, not surprisingly, each paints a startlingly different portrait of the troubled entertainer. With most of the film told in flashback with multiple viewpoints, we're given a textural portrait that is both entertaining and illuminating. Best, this includes some great rock 'n' roll period stuff as well, early Alan Freed shows with such groups as the Shirelles, Little Richard and the Platters performing up and through the mid-'60s on shows including "Hullaballoo". Most of this is engaging, especially owing to the gritty and glossy lead performances, but some of the period evocation is a bit scratchy: '60s protesters come across as variety-show entertainers and the authenticity is muddled by the all-too-obvious studio-lot look of the settings. Like all music bios, we get the feeling that much of the story is grooved according to which music rights were available -- it's odd to see the mid-'60s in rock history with only a one-line mention of the Beatles and a cursory selection of songs that, overall, gives us no "Satisfaction".
The high note of this affectionate production is in the performances, especially Fox as the sultry bad-girl who decides to take on the music-industry practice of producers plastering their name on the writing credits of pop songs for royalties. Fox's don't-mess-with-me demeanor is a powerful pack of facial expressions, body language and attitude. She's reached back for some moves we haven't seen before. High praise also to Berry for her sassy, splashy performance as Frankie's songstress/wife, while Rochon is splendidly credible as Frankie's provincial Southern schoolmarm wife. As the troubled Frankie, Larenz Tate is a perfect blend of charisma and self-destructiveness. Once again, Paul Mazursky is outstanding in a supporting role, hitting all the right slimy notes in his role as a sleazy music producer.
Despite the artificial, studio look of much of the film, light up the applause meter for Cary White's garish, eye-catching, pink-patched production design, perfectly conveying the excess and transience of the characters and the era.
WHY DO FOOLS FALL IN LOVE
Warner Bros.
Producers: Paul Hall, Stephen Nemeth
Director: Gregory Nava
Screenwriter: Tina Andrews
Executive producers: Gregory Nava, Mark Allan, Harold Bronson
Director of photography: Edward Lachman
Production designer: Cary White
Editor: Nancy Richardson
Music: Stephen James Taylor
Costume designer: Elisabetta Beraldo
Casting: Reuben Cannon
Sound mixer: Veda Campbell
Color/stereo
Cast:
Zola Taylor: Halle Berry
Elizabeth Waters: Vivica A. Fox
Emira Eagle: Lela Rochon
Frankie Lymon: Larenz Tate
Little Richard: Himself
Morris Levy: Paul Mazursky
Herman Santiago: Alexis Cruz
Sherman: J. August Richards
Running time -- 123 minutes
MPAA rating: R...
- 8/10/1998
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
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