By Aaron Hillis
By Casey Burchby
By Stephanie Zacharek
By Calum Marsh
By Kera Bolonik
By Stephanie Zacharek
By Ernest Hardy
By Eric Hynes
Hardly remembered, Jean-Marie Gauberts Les Visiteurs sucked up $100 million of European and Asian tickets in 1993 but earned about 14 bucks when it was released here by Miramax three years later. But it seems that well be haunted by it until the Disney corporation gets a nice slice of that moldering quiche. Despite our native capacity to ignore what rocks the rest of the world, a movie that put that many non-American asses in theater seats inevitably gets Fun Factoried into a Yankee remake. The remake, Just Visiting, not only microwaves what is already four-day-old fish in Paris, but lets the original director, screenwriters, and stars do the reheating.
Written and directed by Jonas McCord
Opens April 20
Of course the difference is 99 Luftballons-versus-99 Red Balloons minimal. The script receives a pine-scented John Hughes-ing, and Christina Applegate plays the hapless modern girl (a museum curator) stuck with knight Thibault (Jean Reno) and bestial peasant Andre (Terry Jones-ish cowriter Christian Clavier) after they magically bop in from the 12th century after some wedding-day sorcery. After battling and killing a Lexus, the duo wander about Chicago pulling variations on the Splash/Crocodile Dundee/Encino Man shtick, thoroughly scandalizing black-tie diners, triumphing over muggers and unchivalrous louts, and eating urinal disks (Hmm, it smells of the forest!).
What didnt feel contemporary and sharp (to us) in the original doesnt again. It may be a matter of whose pop-history topos is being joshed; I imagine that, say, Greg Kinnear as a Jamestown Pilgrim pratfalling around the Louvre would have some difficulty connecting with audiences in Antwerp. But its all hay to the dogged Disney suits, who might perversely turn Gauberts harmless tosh into a sitcom and Saturday-morning cartoon series if this version sinks. Perhaps we should take one for the team and make Just Visitingan earner, just to be rid of it.
In a similar fashion, Jonas McCords The Bodyfeels 20-odd years olda tepid, clumsily executed Golan-Globus-style international production set in Jerusalem and concerning the fate of Christianity amid the Israeli-Palestinian sniper fire. Antonio Banderas is the unwitting agent of a Vatican plot to discredit a snarky archaeologist (Olivia Williams) who has found a skeleton that may have belonged to an unresurrected Jesus; the Israeli police and ex-intifada splinter psychos attempt to use it to their advantage. Indiana Jones has never been so missed, but instead this shaggy God story hones in on the faith dilemmas of Banderas and a sputtering Derek Jacobi, so Sunday-hammy you want to rivet him with cloves.
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