Al Franken: God Spoke

When the political pendulum took a swing to the right with the first Bush presidency, comedian Al Franken felt a fire brew in his belly. That fire needed an outlet, so Franken began cooking his comedy with it. In Al Franken: God Spoke, directors Chris Hegedus and Nick Doob follow Franken during the two years surrounding the 2004 presidential election. The passion and determination, not to mention cheek and moxie, of Franken, and his calling conservatives on their illogical claims (ie. that the media is tainted with lefty liberalism) are frequently funny and inspiring to watch.

The directors start with a bang, dropping us smack dab into Franken's feud with FOX News and conservative Bill O'Reilly, stoked by the release of Franken's bestselling tome, Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them. After pointing out one such lie—a FOX News report suggesting that fewer Americans are dying per capita in California than Iraq every day (in fact, far more are dying in Iraq)—to a classroom of students, Franken tells them his raison d'etre: “What I do is take things they say and use it against them. They say something ridiculous and I subject them to scorn and ridicule. That's my job.” Franken goes on to butt heads with the hateful Ann Coulter, launch his radio show on upstart liberal station Air America, and entertain our troops during a USO tour of Iraq. But Franken forgoes the comedy for genuine anger and sorrow at times —during Kerry's concession speech, he weeps with genuine heartbreak.

I first became aware of Al Franken during the 1980s and never cared much for his schtick. Stuart Smalley was one joke that grew tired fast, as was Franken's egocentric “Al Franken Decade,” which in fact seemed to run for a whole decade, routine. But his rebirth as a shrewd political satirist and activist—and possible candidate in the 2008 Minnesota senate race against uber-conservative Norm Coleman—is captivating. Hegedus and Doob, whose previous works include another politically themed doc, The War Room, keep the pace extremely brisk and dramatic, and manage to get inside both the political machine and human side of Franken. For once in this century, God's speaking led to something good. —Lawrence Ferber

Gridiron Gang

Wasn’t it just a few short weeks ago that Marky Mark was a working-class guy playing football as if his life depended on it in Invincible? With the release of Gridiron Gang, a real-life football story once again inspires underdogs to be better people. This time around, a motley crew of teenage juvenile offenders in South Central uses the game as a way to learn to put aside their differences, believe in themselves, and work as a team.

A film about turning gang members (i.e. “losers”) into “winners,” Gridiron Gang is, of course, full of clichés—which, unfortunately, are all played out with the utmost seriousness. This is not to say the film doesn’t have moments of humor. When a player doesn’t realize what a cup is—or is for—he is soon crunched in the groin to his pain and everyone else’s amusement.

The plot has detention youth counselor Sean Porter (Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson) forming a football squad to raise the self-esteem of these kids who never had any encouragement, despite the skepticism of his superiors. Watching The Rock shout platitudes with attitude is passable until a scene in which the tough love coach actually cries. Not surprisingly, Johnson looks awfully awkward in his tender moments, especially those featuring him and his supportive/sacrificial dying mother. Alas, the kids are all types, from the rival gang members who bond to the hyperactive waterboy who is detained for a violent crime against an old lady.

While filmmaker Phil Joanou (a onetime Spielberg protégé) frequently cues up the sentimental music, it is ultimately gratifying to watch a team that couldn’t catch a cold head into the big game and it is hard not to feel something before Gridiron Gang is over. However, for most viewers, that feeling will likely be déjà vu. —Gary M. Kramer

Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles

Acclaimed director Zhang Yimou has been responsible for some of Chinese cinema's most visually opulent, emotionally compelling films. From the color-soaked splendor of the concubine's tale Raise the Red Lantern, to the generations-spanning study of a family in crisis that informed To Live, to the martial-arts epics (Hero, House of Flying Daggers) that introduced him to a brand new audience in America, Yimou's visionary talent has made him one of China's most respected filmmakers.

For his 15th feature, the director returns to the simplicity of his first few films (Red Sorghum, Ju Dou) to tell the story of an aging fisherman (Ken Takakura, the Clint Eastwood of Japan) who learns that his estranged son is terminally ill, and sets out on a mission to film an acclaimed Chinese opera star performing his son's favorite piece of music. Along the way, the fisherman encounters many hurdles and setbacks, as well as a series of characters—including the now-imprisoned opera star and the 9-year-old son he's never seen—that remind him of the true meaning of family.

It's a simple, uncharacteristically sentimental tale from Yimou, equally informed by Takakura's stoic intensity, Zhao Xiaoding's majestic cinematography, and an elegiac, understated filmmaking style that by turns elevates and hinders the film: When the plot is moving forward, Yimou's simple touches render it poignant and touching, but too often the story meanders and plods along as if the director merely made it up as he went along. Indeed, fans of Yimou's earlier works may look at this as proof that the director is going soft, while those not familiar with his work might find it to be too slow. The film is a bit of a downer, but it does sneak up on you with an unexpectedly powerful ending that serves as a gentle reminder of the kind of beauty Yimou is capable of. Here's to seeing more of that in his next outing. —Ken Knox