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Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz

Frank Capra’s keystone romantic comedy, the winner of five Academy
Awards (best picture, director, actress, actor and screenplay), stars movie
legends Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert. Capra bought the rights for
$5,000 from the”Cosmopolitan” magazine story Night Bus by Samuel Hopkins
Adams. Robert Riskin is responsible for the witty screenplay.

The plot is superfluous, but that doesn’t really matter because the
stars have a great chemistry together and provide all the fireworks needed.
This is just a very funny and breezy comedy that hit the right spot with
the Depression era audience. It was a box office smash that put Poverty
Row Columbia Pictures in the big league as a real player. 

Claudette Colbert is Ellie Andrews the rich, spoiled, and snobbish
heiress who has run away from her father’s (Connolly) security blanket
by eloping with her fortune-hunting pilot fiance King Westley (James Thomas).
Dad keeps her captive in his Miami docked yacht after making it uncertain
if her civil ceremony marriage is legal by whisking her away, but she jumps
ship to catch the New York bound Greyhound to join her new husband for
a more official church wedding. On the bus she is seated next to the glib,
cock-sure, ruthless, poor but honest, unemployed reporter Peter Warne (Clark
Gable). The ambitious reporter is heading back to New York to get back
in the business after recently being fired for drinking on the job, when
he reads in the front pages about the heiress’ disappearance and makes
a deal on her suggestion that he’ll keep his trap shut if she gives him
an exclusive. At first they can’t stand each other and go to great lengths
to be insulting. But soon things get a bit more tender as he shows her
how to dunk donuts and bares his chest. Admittedly they become attracted
to each other, as opposites in personality and class sometimes will attract–especially
in Hollywood ditsy comedies. The screwball comedy has many classical set
pieces — Colbert baring her legs to hitch a ride and Gable hanging a blanket
across the room to separate their sleeping quarters. It comes to its climax
as Ellie must finally make a decision: whether to go through with the church
wedding to her husband or have the marriage annulled and take up with Gable.

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In many ways it’s dated, but the comedy still works even if it it’s
probably not as madcap humorous as when it was first released.

The directorial debut of ‘Training Day’ screenwriter David Ayer, this fashion-fuelled powderkeg features yet another sensational and transformational performance from Christian Bale. Plagued by nightmares of the Gulf, troubled ex-US Ranger Jim (Bale) spends his days either south of the lie alongside with his Mexican fiancée, in requital for whom he promises to procure a visa, or riding surrounding LA with his youth friend Mike (Freddy Rodriguez) getting wasted and ripping off the local dealer’s stash. Jim talks of a shoot in law enforcement, but a suspect military record rules him out of a position with the LAPD. Mike, meanwhile, wants to come on a job to desire his yuppie wife (Eva Longoria) but finds it difficult to resist his buddy’s influence. When Jim’s later offered a register with Homeland Safeguarding, he requisite choose between being a Fed and being with his mamisita.Bale chalks up yet another American psycho, bringing palpable depth, even occasional tenderness, to this mentally unstable, angry progeny vet whose violent tendencies are liable to up at anytime. Ayer, who reportedly remortgaged his home to finance the film, grew up on these mean streets and it shows in his disquieting lay out – written before ‘Training Day’ and sharing similarities in sonority, portrayal and setting – and uncomfortably visceral direction. He goes for the jugular at all times – once, quite sic – and the grainy, handheld camerawork adds to the scuzzy authenticity.

The Movie

There’s a scene near the end of Rush Hour 3 that pretty much sums up how the entire film plays out. Inspector Lee (the indefatigable Jackie Chan) is fending off a few thugs while Detective Carter (the wearisome Chris Tucker) runs his mouth, shouting encouragement wrapped in criticism cloaked in a veneer of pop culture savvy. It feels awfully tired, and indeed, Rush Hour 3 never coheres, failing to spark and show any signs of life that were apparent in the first two Rush Hour films. I believe the technical term for this is “Showing up to collect your check.”

No one, except maybe the heads of New Line Cinema, were clamoring for another sequel to the surprise hit, so why did director Brett Ratner, screenwriter Jeff Nathanson and stars Tucker and Chan feel compelled to make one six years after the last installment? There’s certainly no reason for the film to exist other than filthy lucre — the plot barely hangs together, the high-wattage guest stars (Roman Polanski, Max von Sydow) don’t seem as if they’re all in the same movie and even Tucker and Chan seem bored by the whole enterprise.

The narrative, such as it is, revolves around the mysterious Shy Shen, a list kept by the murderous Triad gangs that details who is involved with the outfit. After the Chinese ambassador is wounded in an attempt to locate Shy Shen, Carter and Lee follow the case to Paris, where they meet up with an overzealous local cop, a mysterious woman and plenty of vengeful Triad henchmen. Aside from a truly dazzling denouement atop, inside and outside the Eiffel Tower, there’s very little in the way of captivating moviegoing to be found here … well, aside from Tucker’s penchant for the occasional one-liner.

Rush Hour 3 was the kind of flick I forgot almost as soon as the credits began to roll — there’s quite literally nothing there. If the actors involved could’ve mustered up a bit of enthusiasm, rather than going through the motions, a little bit of fun could’ve been had. Not that the previous Rush Hour films were high art, but they were high energy. Here, you just wait for this 80-minute (pre-credits) bid for box office dollars — a relative failure, incidentally, (the film, which cost around $140 million to make, has only grossed $139 million as of early November) to limp to its conclusion.