Mike Bookey

Call me elf ears one more time, Captain Jerk. You tell me, Trekkers and Trekkies: more than 40 years since its inception, what does the Star Trek "brand" mean, anyway?

Director
J. J. Abrams has let it be known that he wasn't a huge fan of Star Trek
before diving into this prequel re-launch of the franchise. It was a
risky move for Paramount Pictures, because perhaps more than any other
property in all of pop culture, Trek depends on the buy-in of the
die-hards.
Abrams (Alias, Mission: Impossible III) has shown
that he knows both how to deliver brainy action, and how to leave his
distinctive thumbprint on an existing franchise. With Star Trek, he
turns out a terrifically energetic, highly entertaining summer
adventure. The only question is whether it means anything in particular
to call this story Star Trek.
It's certainly true that the names
of the protagonists are familiar. Following in the footsteps of his
late father, young hotshot James Kirk (Chris Pine) enlists with
Starfleet to become an officer; the half-human/half-Vulcan Spock
(Zachary Quinto) is already first officer to veteran Capt. Pike (Bruce
Greenwood). When a mysterious Romulan called Nero (Eric Bana) threatens
the very existence of the planet Vulcan, Kirk and Spock find themselves
together on the brand-new starship Enterprise, attempting to prevent
planetary genocide.

Rule number 1: Never take wolverine to the spa. Wolverine is predisposed to make a ton of money ($87 million thus far),
but it doesn't live up to expectations. Most of it feels like a big
waste of cinema, wasting far too much time alluding to sequels and
prequels. As a result, it doesn't stand alone-it goes in too many
directions, stagnates into a world between camp and high drama, and
leaves too many characters alive for any sense of closure. Compelling
flicks like Watchmen and the first X-Men raised the bar, and Wolverine
languishes way below.

The story begins in 1845 with two brothers with
some sort of "gift," who bond via patricide and roam through a montage
of wars-Civil War, WWI & II and Vietnam. Never aging past 30 or so,
it becomes apparent however that these brothers have very dissimilar
attitudes. Logan aka "Wolverine" (Hugh Jackman) has a conscience
whereas Victor aka "Sabretooth" (Liev Shreiber) regales in flaring
tempers, death and destruction. Wolverine has bones that grow out
between his knuckles like swords, uncanny superhuman strength and can
ingest bullets into his system while his wounds heal. Ditto for
Sabretooth, but he just grows fingernails. After surviving execution in
'Nam, Colonel Stryker (Danny Huston) helps them start a new life in a
rag-tag mercenary band of thugs.

The Thriller video shoot is next door, guys. It's not until about three-quarters of the way through that you get to find out why this movie is called The Informers, and by then it's far too late to care. The opening scene starts out just fine, a party rife with '80s fashion and hairstyles, blaring "New Gold Dream" by Simple Minds. It was initially entertaining to see these circa-1983 dudes and chicks wearing Ray Bans, relentlessly looking like a take-themselves-way-too-seriously Breakfast Club, but it spiraled down fast from there. It takes a little under 10 minutes to figure out that The Informers is going to be one long dreary and tedious ride into the land of lame cinema.

The plot follows four or five different stories that barely interlock. There are LA cocktails, sushi and arugula salads. There's Billy Bob Thornton as a dazed-and-confused movie producer, his haggard, sex-addicted wife played by Kim Basinger, Wynona Ryder as a TV newscaster, Mickey Rourke as a sleazy kidnapper turned wimp, and Chris Isaak playing a drunken dad. But the lesser-knowns do most of the heavy lifting, Mel Raido plays drug-addled rock star Brian Metro; the late Brad Renfro (Ghost World) in his last role is Jack, a chubby and super nervous desk clerk, and Jon Foster (Windfall - What, you've never heard of it?) is Graham whom I guess one could say the story revolves around.