Nostalgic Musical Merriments

Nostalgic Musical Merriments!

by Kristin Battestella

These sentimental and comforting but no less fun and informative musicals, movies, and documentaries provide nostalgic feeling and most importantly, some great tunes.

The Beatles: Eight Days a Week – The Touring Years – This hour and forty-five minute 2016 documentary from director Ron Howard (Apollo 13) traces the band's early formation and their epic tours from 1962 to 1966 with new interviews from Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr alongside archive film with George Harrison and John Lennon audio. Vintage photos accent concert footage of “She Loves You,” “Twist and Shout,” “I Saw Her Standing There,” “Can't Buy Me Love,” “Help,” “Nowhere Man,” “Don't Let Me Down,” and more classic tracks. Cues from the likes of “Please Please Me,” “I Wanna Hold Your Hand,” “I'll Cry Instead,” “A Hard Day's Night,” “I Feel Fine,” and of course “Eight Days a Week” set off onscreen timelines and locations – a linear narrative from Liverpool innocence and the risk of failure in America to initial newsreel interviews getting their names wrong and The Fab Four's humor over the baffling Beatlemania. More clips and radio reports capture the era as the relatable group transcended cultures thanks to welcoming, colorless music and freedom of expression. Their compassion was more important than the hysteria, and the Four historically refused to perform segregated concerts while writing fast on the road and sharing their experiences through songwriting. After their simplistic love songs made to appeal to the masses quickly caught on, they laughed at the thought of their music's lasting impact on western culture. However with the A Hard Day's Night movie spurring the out of control teen movement, John, Paul, George, and Ringo began to realize how big they really were. 30,000 seat tours and everybody wants a piece of them over the sheer logistics and money to be made even if the amplifiers couldn't carry the sound at Shea Stadium. They turn to the recording studio to express themselves deeper despite the rapid singles pace and album release pressure – uniting against touring as drug use escalates. New interests in art, Indian music, and life not lame photo sessions lead to album growth while controversies, negative interviews, and persona non grata threats begat apologies and increased security. The circus was no longer about the music, and the Sgt. Pepper sessions provided a chance to freely experiment with mature, innovative sounds rather than catering to the masses on the road. No longer mop top boys, our long haired sophisticated men go their own way before final, rare footage of the 1969 Savile Row rooftop concert. Although this may be nothing new to longtime, hardcore fans, this behind the scenes focus is a great starting point for new, younger listeners.

Dirty Dancing – My sister the dancer and I watched this 1987 hip grinding fest starring Jennifer Grey (Ferris Bueller's Day Off), Jerry Orbach (Law & Order), and Patrick Swayze (I prefer North and South myself) a lot. I mean a lot. At least the dance scenes anyway. I think she went along with us getting a pool just so we could do that lift in the water, too. Though specifically set in the summer Catskills with mid century cars, frocks, pearls, and budding sixties flair; there are also heaps of eighties hairstyles, sneakers, hip dialogue, and thirty year olds playing teenagers to match the original Swayze tune “She's Like the Wind,” “Hungry Eyes,” and the massive “I've Had the Time of My Life” hit. Whether ticklish traditional routines or forbidden steamy – that “Cry to Me” scene, come on – the dance moves remain energetic. The characters are cliché thanks to the fifties elite mentality and the poor boy from across the tracks social barriers, yet everyone's likable thanks to subtle humor and quirky charm. For what on the surface seems to be nothing more than a dance movie, there are some progressive abortion and pre-marital sex debates. Here women are supposed to go from daddy's little girl to the wholesome wife of a doctor with no other options– dating the bad boy or having career dreams were unacceptable. While some of the life imitating art coming of age is heavy handed and melodramatic, the female focus retains surprising depth. When recently catching this on television late at night, I thought the sweet, sweet oldies like “Be My Baby,” “Do You Love Me,” “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” and more would just be great background noise. However, the comforting storytelling and sexy dancing put a smile on my face. After all, “Nobody puts Baby in a corner!”

Hello, Dolly! – Gene Kelly (Singin' in the Rain) directs this 1969 musical adaptation starring Barbra Streisand (Funny Girl), Walter Matthau (King Creole), and Michael Crawford (Phantom of the Opera) – an overlong two and a half hours with excessively orchestrated, meandering set pieces and dull, unnecessary songs that all feels ten years too late. At times the battle of the sexes banter, zingers, and personality shine better without the music. There are too many misunderstood couples creating more confusion than comedy, and it's easy to zone out or skip around once viewers stop caring about whether this is supposed to be about the matches or the matchmaker. The fast talking backtalk stalls the momentum rather than moving the chemistry along, and the exaggerated, tip toe, butt in the air dance steps are so awkward it borders on parody. This over the top performing for the back row never actually breaks the fourth wall to let the audience in on any meta wink, and sometimes it's all just an hour and a half exercise in making it to the titular show stopping Louis Armstrong (High Society) number. Having said all that, the specific attention to turn of the century New York detail is superb nonetheless thanks to on location pretty, period storefronts, lovely trains, trolleys, and carriages. Feathers, lace, parasols, spats, hats, waistcoats, buttons, bows, and baubles add flair to the wonderful costumes. The bumbling couples are both so flamboyant with their fawning over each other yet completely repressed in their pesky Victorian high collars. Despite the fifties whoopee safe tunes, these corseted women are about to explode and the cross legged men are so grateful to be near enough to a lady to dance. The it's complicated and for love or money hi jinks may be cheeky – the one on one battle of wills where performances are allowed room to maneuver are best – but there's a nostalgic comfort and innocence to the slightly out of touch simplicity. This musical denouement in changing times provides enough whirlwind charm and visual splendor to keep the golly gee giving for young and old.

Stevie Nicks: In Your Dreams – With weepy fan voiceovers, airplane arrival montages, shaky cam introductions, and made to look retro footage, this 2013 documentary chronicling Stevie Nicks' In Your Dreams album collaboration with the Eurythmics' David Stewart is very slow to start. Fortunately, rainy California scenery sets the ethereal mood and we're all here for Stevie's recorded messages and interview sit downs on her pen and paper approach to writing or music production and inspirations. Poetic genesis, military impetus, literary references, and more background on each of the songs from the titular 2011 album pack these 100 minutes with “Everybody Loves You”, “You May Be the One,” “Wide Sargasso Sea,” “Secret Love,” “New Orleans,” “Annabel Lee,” “Italian Summer,” and more. At times, it's difficult to know which tune samples you're hearing because Stevie's lyrics and titles don't always immediately reveal themselves. However, onscreen notes, music video snips, and raw, home recording studio sessions balance the sometimes heated discussions about which tracks sound best – it takes hours, sometimes days for just a few minutes of music. This fly on the wall viewer perspective provides an inside peak at the stress, difficulty, nuances, and all the little things that go into such pretty, sweeping orchestration. Chats with Mick Fleetwood, fun moments with crew, childhood audio clips, early photographs, and home movies create a personal touch. Though occasionally pretentious over waxing on life, love, and music being one and the same with heavy spiritual and emotional thoughts, humorous moments and sarcastic quips keep the time lighthearted. Our rock stars don't forget to rock, and by sampling enough songs and sharing the touching inspirations behind them, this documentary does what it is supposed to do – make you want to buy the album. Why wouldn't you anyway?

Our Shakespeare Reviews!

Our Shakespeare Reviews!

By Kristin Battestella

Looking for the place to find all our Shakespeare critiques and adaptation analysis? So were we so here it is!

Films and Television

All is True

Antony and Cleopatra (1972 – Charlton Heston)

Coriolanus (2011 – Ralph Fiennes)

Coriolanus (2014 – Tom Hiddleston)

Chimes at Midnight (1965 – Orson Welles)

Henry V (1989 – Kenneth Branagh)

The Hollow Crown (2012)

Julius Caesar (1970 – Charlton Heston)

King Lear (2008 – Ian McKellan)

Macbeth (1961 – Sean Connery)

Macbeth (2010 – Patrick Stewart)

Macbeth (2015 – Michael Fassbender)

Othello (1952 – Orson Welles)

Othello (1995 - Laurence Fishburne)

Richard III (1955 – Laurence Olivier)

Richard III (1995 – Ian McKellan)

Romeo and Juliet (1936)

Romeo and Juliet (1968 – Olivia Hussey)

The Taming of the Shrew (1967 – Elizabeth Taylor)

The Tempest (2010 – Helen Mirren)

Titus (1999 – Anthony Hopkins)

Documentaries

The Shakespeare Conspiracy by Sir Derek Jacobi

The Shakespeare Enigma

Shakespeare's Heroes and Villains

Shakespeare's Tomb

Shakespeare Uncovered Season One

Shakespeare Uncovered Season Two

Our Shakespeare and Horror Video Review for HorrorAddicts.net!

Please see our Shakespeare tag for more lists and analysis!

Whitechapel Seasons 3 and 4

Constant Changes Hurt the Goods in Whitechapel Seasons 3 and 4

by Kristin Battestella

After two three-part seasons, the spooky British procedural Whitechapel changes formats with its 2012 Third and subsequent Fourth Seasons – varying in success with six episodes of two-part cases each as obsessive compulsive Inspector Joe Chandler (Rupert Penry-Jones), crusty Detective Sergeant Ray Miles (Phil Davies), and their constables face copycat killers and bizarre suspects alongside possibly evil and ultimately supernatural crimes that test their stiff upper lip mettle.

Whitechapel waxes on its Jack the Ripper past, copycat deduction, and historical cases setting precedents for new crimes even as it restarts as an X-Files creepy investigations wannabe with spooky altars, talk of the devil come to town, and weird neighbors fearing the night. Humbled witnesses, unhappy customers, and dead tailors interrupt wedding parties and family bemusements while forensics, CCTV evidence, and police questioning piece together limps and murder weapon clues. Why was a historical clothier obsessed with modern security technology? Our constables doubt their methodology, drinking and confiding their fears as they grow superstitious thanks to canvasing oddities, a goofy suspect afraid of bright light, and a killer who seemingly disappears into thin air. Cops aren't supposed to believe in magic or monsters, but bloody footprints go nowhere amid prisoner escapes and more deaths. This killer wants to teach a lesson in humility to the snobby survivors and hysterical crowds, but quirky profiling leads to hidden horrors and scary revelations to top off the case. Of course, cranky constables don't really know what to do with a baby much less a mangy fox and bloody appendages. Separated torsos, dismembered bodies dumped in the Thames, no heads – the bodily clues are there, but there's no crime scene and only a wild animal witness. DNA suggests poison – historically a women's weapon – so do they suspect a couple? Stakeouts allow for both humor and time to get to know our characters, after all, how many cops does it take to catch a fox? Smelly abandoned houses begat maze-like booby traps, newspaper pyres, and petrified corpses, but the hoarding and homemade elixirs reveal rare aphrodisiacs, imitation Spanish Fly, beetles, and anthropology evidence. Calligraphy clues, fetishes, unrequited love, and killer personalities come down to bar fights, indecent assaults, and chases, for our undercover team doesn't blend in very well at the edgy night club. By Episode Five, it's a full moon, creepy masks, killer point of view, and an escapee from a mental hospital returning to his former Whitechapel haunts – complete with his doctor Alistair Petrie (The Night Manager) insisting he's the most terrifying patient ever just like Halloween. This bogeyman – pronounced in the British way of course – scares witnesses, poses corpses, and leaves the cell phone in the body's mouth. Parking garage attacks provide chilling violence as the woman plays dead and hopes the killer leaves. It's one thing if a little girl says it's the bogeyman, but what about when an adult victim describes the same? Flashlights, vintage cameras, film reels, and visits to the original murder house lead to haunted whispers, phantom sounds, and spooked constables researching fairy tales and unexplained phenomena. Our therapist victim asks questions, too, helping our detectives see a different angle while the doctors speculate on how a person can die of fright. Great character dynamics and personal moments accent the creepy – they see the victims at night, can't forget them, and learn to live with the gory details. Slits throats, obsessions with silence, and Lon Chaney's London After Midnight drive our killer to slice and dice before standoffs, mouths sewn shut, fatal pantomime, and bloody graffiti – literally.

While Season One of Whitechapel had a fun Jack the Ripper plot, the Kray Twins were less exciting in Year Two, so Whitechapel had to change its format by focusing on local spooky cases. However, it's too contrived that there is always a similar historical case when such tenuous ties aren't necessary to raise the stakes and the series needs to move beyond copycat connections. Rather than using the characterizations and quirky strengths, each of these stories has a bizarre red herring in the first half. Sure police have dead ends and wrong turns, but Whitechapel showcases something eerie in lieu of the real case found in the second part. When the camera lingers too long on a seemingly innocuous person, it's easy to peg him as the killer, yet it's inevitably frustrating when there's always an unfulfilling technicality to catching the bad guy. After all the historical deducting and spooky false starts, the twists to end a case are often rushed with little resolution on what happens next. Despite unique aspects, the crimes are often hollow and formulaic, and none of these stories needed to be two-part shows. Is Whitechapel about solving the creepy cases or the offbeat detectives overcoming their personal and professional demons? It can be both, but the bemusing also negates the attempted scary and every case reboots this mixed focus. The subtle sinister seeds were always there, but outright jokes about the gates of hell being beneath Whitechapel open Season Four as ominous old ladies, pet rats, and torture begat crushed to death murders. Abandoned houses and back alley attacks escalate to an exploding briefcase and possible espionage thanks to carved symbols, mysterious files, and a poison umbrella. These cobblestone streets aren't safe amid old agent vendettas and bums worried about pixies, talismans, and turning coats inside out to avoid a bewitching. Sassy ladies in red and red tape technicalities hamper police interrogations alongside ransacked offices, delicate diplomacy, and hotel surveillance. So called witches are strung up in the snow with bonfires, stonings, slides on persecution history, and charred remains. The police don't believe in witchcraft or whispers of evil among them causing their notorious cases, but the killer does and some of our boys are spooked by the black cats, bodies dropped on cars, and salt water in the lungs to make the drownings slower. Notes found in the stomach during an autopsy, rituals, and abductions acerbate the paranoia. Maybe there's supposed to be a bigger spy picture, but Whitechapel again plays like a different show with two cases at once – wry humor versus frazzled fears and witches jarring with the facts. Rational explanations against demon in the building possibilities are ramped up too quickly rather than letting the paranormal bizarre deduction happen organically – like in the stinky apartment with the long dead body under the electric blanket keeping warm. Ewwww!

Human skin is also left on display during a creepy art exhibit – a hasty flayed while alive chop job lacking in surgical finesse. Russian tattoos, birthmarks, and cadavers as art unnerve the team amid phantom footsteps at the station and medical examiners trying to put the face back on the skull. There's still some trying too much forced spooky adding hot air, for the butcher shops, cleavers, and a victim mistakenly getting in to bed while the killer is already under the sheets is chilling enough. Demented classical music ironically accents the scissors – not the best tool for cutting skin – as the detectives push their desks aside to map out attacks on the precinct floor. Plastic sheeting, chainsaws, killer slicing, and bodies without faces coming ashore are even more disturbing when our clean obsessed constable is unable to wash. Snakes shedding skin, leathery masks, and recoiling dental attacks return to previous crimes haunting the victims alongside great character moments and costly missteps that threaten one of our own. There's no need for superfluous effects when the scares and suspense cut close to home thanks to factory machinery, chases, vats, and a warped sense of poetic justice. Then again, Whitechapel's finest fail at a zombie survival team building competition, but they have no problem with a half eaten body in the sewer, dangling entrails, and precision removal of the liver and pancreas. Here in its final case, Whitechapel finally gets the funny and macabre balance right thanks to killer souvenirs, cryptozoologists, and brains in jars making everyone jumpy. Disused underground tunnel maps lead to a house of horrors as the weird suspects get out of the way early in favor of wounds that won't heal – mentally or physically. Chases caught on video escalate toward more chilling attacks, frightening bathrooms, evil gangs, and bigger missing organs while crimes on Sunday near churches provide religious connotations. Upstanding charitable citizens are being murdered, perhaps sacrificed, and the ominous goings on have the constables on edge – literally. Some of Whitechapel's finest moments come with scared people in bouts of self reflection amid the hooded, shadowed figures and deliciously twisted tasties in the oven. So the suspect has tasted human flesh once! Meat hooks, seasonings, and society clubs mix with cults, ritual banquets, and devilish influences as the psychic messages, sabotage, and reasons for the spooky come full circle. Have all these cases been connected? Why did Whitechapel waste so much time with a back and forth lack of focus when it could have been like this all along?

Inspector Joe Chandler cleans his detectives' desks at night and loathes dripping faucets, but Rupert Penry-Jones' obsessive compulsive constable doesn't have much time for women – especially when her messy, slovenly place is too much to handle. He's particular and it's easier to live alone despite therapy and snapping a rubber band worn on his wrist to control his urges. When a baby throw ups over his shoulder, his team know he would be appalled and agree not to tell him. Chandler screams when there's no water in the bathroom to wash off blood and gets a basin in his office, drinking and repeatedly putting on new shirts after every grubby crime scene. He's reluctant to use mediums or charms even as evil hints mount thanks to the tragic reasons behind his compulsion, but his outside the box attention to detail also aides his deduction. The cleanliness may be an excuse to to go shirtless and each case now provides a potential love interest, but Whitechapel also resets Chandler as some sort of angelic avenger late in Year Four when we barely got any of the good versus evil stakes. Detective Sergeant Ray Miles wonders if he's past it, but Phil Davis' copper is as crusty as ever with his gruff methods and tough love caring about his constables. Impromptu therapy sessions help him express his fears over losing his bite as the sarge insists he still has a place in the chain of command. Miles, however, learns to keep an open mind – trying to set up Chandler and telling a downtrodden witness not to hide her talent. When it comes to a case, he'll take any luck, even contacting a psychic despite Chandler's calling such charlatans affront to real detective work. He hates hospitals because of the smell – and thinks Chandler must love the disinfectant – but his street smart hunches help pull the team's different strengths together. Miles calms his Inspector by viewing his OCD not as a disability but a useful gift, and when supernatural oddities overwhelm the station, Miles returns to his religious roots to confront the evil cause. Steve Pemberton as former Ripperologist Edward Buchan, on the other hand, is relegated to the dusty archive in the police basement as their official researcher. Fortunately, it's a treasure trove of history – until there is mildew near the boxes and Buchan must find the damp source. He's reluctant to use a computer and tells Ed Gein stories, but Whitechapel doesn't always know what to do with his studying the historical files help. He's grateful to Chandler for taking him on, but when he fails to see the details right in front of him, Buchan fees guilty, not sleeping and seeking therapy. It's tough for him to accept that people die in this line of work and he goes out on a limb researching solo for critical information that puts him at risk. Buchan is more traumatized by the experience then he admits, retreating further into his killer case histories until Miles of all people, defends him from the incident room teasing.

Sam Stockman's Emerson Kent, however, is always so jealous! His hero worship devotion to Chandler makes him suspicious of all the women who cross their path, and Kent deliberately interferes when his twin sister dates Mansell. He thinks he deserves getting punched in the subsequent dust up, but Chandler insists he ice the swelling, cover it up, and look professional. Kent gets upset if he lets the Inspector down, so he provides interesting perspectives on a case, canvases when no one else will, and becomes a better detective if only to be like Chandler. By contrast, D.C. Mansell is married one minute, cheating, and on his second divorce the next, and Ben Bishop's toughie drinks at the station and fights in the incident room. He cleans up somewhat when dating Kent's twin sister, but Mansell laughs over office crushes – meddling and sending emails but calling it matchmaking when told what a jerk he's being. Eventually even Chandler calls him out for his messy desk, not being on top of paperwork, and putting victims at risk with his laziness. At times, Mansell is somewhat useless, cracking a code after the case has been solved or left behind at the station. Even when he behaves, doesn't lie or step out, he doesn't feel good enough, and Mansell flips out over a break up – going to the rooftop and contemplating his worth in one of Whitechapel's finest character moments. Hannah Walter's (This is England) Constable Megan Riley joins Whitechapel for Series Three and Four, a lady friendly with the other cops' wives who's not afraid to tell Mansell when he's talking out his ass. Riley won't get her hand checked when it's cut up on the case though – the boys can't get soft or sentimental and neither will she even if the late hours away from her family are upsetting. She does her diligence, canvasing and questions witnesses and getting in on the chases. Riley chats with the boys when she's worried about them, insisting they all support each other – no one bears the blame for their case victims – but Buchan mistakes her comforts for something more. She gently tells him her husband, however, might object if she thought of him that way. Although Riley admits at times she feels safer behind her desk then on the case, Claire Rushbrook as Doctor Llewellyn remains the sensible voice of reason with forensic facts, a morbid wit, and an assistant she calls Igor. She notices when the detectives are being curt and pissy, claiming to spare them the gory details but still providing plenty of gross analysis. Llewellyn is pregnant again in Year Four – walking the long way around to get into the sewer for a body when she can't fit into the manhole. It's fun when we get to see her and Riley together, too, for the medical examiner says she forgets that the living flinch.

Those twitchy, forever annoying, strobe scene transitions, however, serve no purpose and Whitechapel is noticeably better when the flashy interludes are reduced. Rather than paralleling the sensational crimes, the montage overlays stray into re-enactment parody with skulls and horrors that have nothing to do with the morose at hand. Mirrors and reverse angles add better suspense, and choice editing splices accent the obsessive compulsive detail, organized objects, and controlled symmetry. Although the flickering electric, absence of support personnel, and paranormal oozing at times lay on too much notice me ominous, the subtle shadow and lighting schemes suggest a sinister touch. Gory crime scenes and old school splatter contrast bright outdoor filming, police tents, and forensics gear. Photography flashes and zooms are not aesthetics for the audience but part of the investigation while file folders, whiteboards, and projectors invoke the procedural. Whitechapel's weird shaky cam credits change with every story, lacking cohesion and giving license to the show's constantly in flux format. If viewers can look past the uneven historical crime realism versus supernatural explanation mixed vision, Whitechapel provides fine characterizations, intriguing details, quirky humor, and spooky atmosphere for fans of the cast and audiences looking for a different kind of police drama.

The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor

What went Wrong with The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor

by Kristin Battestella

Director Rob Cohen (Dragonheart) takes up the mantle from producer Stephen Sommers, director of The Mummy and The Mummy Returns, for the 2008 sequel The Mummy:Tomb of the Dragon Emperor as Rick O'Connell (Brendan Fraser) and his wife Evelyn (Maria Bello) come to the rescue when their son Alex (Luke Ford) discovers the entombed Dragon Emperor (Jet Li). Once unleashed, however, the only person who can stop the resurrected Emperor is Zi Yuan (Michelle Yeoh) – the sorceress who cursed him.

Ancient Chinese mounds, swords, armor, and dynastic motifs accent the assassination plots, stabbings, raids, and conquest in the opening prologue. The enslaved building of The Great Wall, life after death texts, and forbidden romance betrayals, unfortunately, are a lot like the opening of the First Film, right down to the same Mummy music cues. Then again, the elemental powers, ancient libraries, tormented generals, and immolating curses nonetheless make for a great tale – one viewers forget isn't it's own adventure once Tomb of the Dragon Emperor restarts with our previous heroes now unhappy with post-war quiet and in a rut despite luxury living. Their son's discoveries of Chinese monoliths and the Emperor's tomb come easy and don't feel super epic thanks to the back and forth editing between the bored O'Connells and grave robber skeletons. There's little time to awe at the 2,000 year old frozen in time clay army when the more interesting plot elements are glossed over for set pieces treated as more important than the wonder. We can't enjoy the dragon crossbows, booby traps, or tomb chases because The O'Connells were apparently doing secret espionage work in the interim that we didn't get to see, either. Instead, some Lara Croft:Tomb Raider – Cradle of Life Eye of Shangra-La gem points the way to eternal life, with Tomb of the Dragon Emperor both embracing the Asian history yet feeling xenophobic with evil uniforms, double crossing enemies, and contrived western interference repeating the prior films' M.O. Chases through the streets with fireworks and New Year run amok are fun, but long, hollow fight sequences that do nothing to advance the plot make Tomb of the Dragon Emperor feel longer than it is. There's no sense of the scope or magical powers despite Himalayan treks, avalanches, mystical healings, and a revived Emperor who himself is asking what this is all for anyway. After the first hour, it's not quite clear what's happening with everything including a three headed dragon thrown at the screen in the last half hour. With a hop, skip, and jump, we're at a Great Wall spectacle raising rival dead armies in a Lord of the Rings easy meets CGI versus CGI a la The Phantom Menace that rapidly loses its touch.

Fly fishing in the English countryside is not quite Rick O'Connell's thing, and Brendan Fraser's once proactive, rugged adventurer is now an out of touch, corny old man with outdated weapons and unheeded advice. It's weird to see our favorite couple now arguing about their parenting and contemplating mistakes made – and not just because Maria Bello (The Dark) replaces Rachel Weisz as Evelyn in Tomb of the Dragon Emperor. After writing two successful novels about their mummy adventures, she's hung up with writer's block on the promised third book, but Evie doesn't have much to say or do once the characters are forgotten in the nonsensical action. Bello looks great in the period frocks and initially the camera accents that forties tone with coy smiles and under the hat brim poise, but this Evie does indeed seem like a different person. It would have been interesting if Bello had instead been a second wife and resented step mom competing with Evie's memory. Although the kid in peril was one of the problematic parts of The Mummy Returns, Luke Ford (Hercules) is now the grown up Alex rebelling against his parents yet conveniently following in their archaeology footsteps. Unfortunately, immortal hang ups and young love opposites attract can't save the character from falling completely flat, and Uncle Jonathan John Hannah is a nightclub owner who spends most of his barely there comic relief with a yak while pilot Liam Cunningham (Hunger) is merely convenient transportation. It's a pity we only really see Jet Li's (Romeo Must Die) warlord at the beginning and the end of Tomb of the Dragon Emperor. For most of the picture, the eponymous bad guy – who doesn't get any other name despite the historical possibilities – is just a resurrected, stilted, CGI thing more like an automaton robot rather than the feared man in charge. His powers over the elements are small scale or convenient, manipulating snow or fire and shape shifting as needed without any real countdown or ascension of power as anchored by Arnold Vosloo's Imhotep in the First Film. For the finale we get Li's fine action skills as expected, but he never really has the chance to be the true villain of the piece. Likewise, Michelle Yeoh (Tomorrow Never Dies) is relegated to glossed over bookends. Her immortal Zi Yuan witch lives in Shangri-La, and 2,000 years of magical pools are quickly explained away before a great but too brief one on one battle between our ancient foes – which is all we really want to see in Tomb of the Dragon Emperor.

While some of the fiery terracotta effects don't look so great on bu-ray, Tomb of the Dragon Emperor does well with tangible sand, statues, tents, and archaeology tools. The grand English estates match the vintage cars, antiques, typewriters, gloves, fedoras, and stoles. Temples in the mountains, Asian architecture, and snowy panoramas create a sense of adventure while chariots and molten horses coming to life invoke danger. Unfortunately, the shootouts, attacks, and explosions are super loud and cliché music cues are noticeably out of place. To start, Tomb of the Dragon Emperor feels very forties styled in a Universal homage, but then the action becomes hectic and modern messy with stereotypical seventies zooms when it comes to the kung fu. The camera, the people, and the fantastics are all moving at the same time and it's tough for the audience to see anything, and those contrived yetis – yes, yetis – are embarrassingly bad. Today, Tomb of the Dragon Emperor could have been a direct to streaming off shoot adventure – after all they're still making those direct to video Scorpion King movies. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor breaks from the more familiar theme with a bait and switch title caught between two masters. Tomb of the Dragon Emperor seeks to take the series in a new direction whilst also keeping its ties to the previous films. If this had no connection to The Mummy and embraced its own dynastic legends and lore, Tomb of the Dragon Emperor could have been a fun action adventure. Perhaps it can still be entertaining for youth able to separate it from the legacy of the First Film. Otherwise, the flawed, thin story, and try hard of The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor is just window dressing reaching for an adventurous charm that isn't there.