FILM:

MAJOR DRAGMAJOR DRAGSheen and Co. don't catch lightning in a bottle twice. In fact, Major League II is practically a carbon-copy of the original. A year after the Indians' Cinderella season, we find the Tribe getting caught up in their success. Delinquent-turned-pitcher Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn (Charlie Sheen) has gone corporate, abandoning his 96-mph heater for some weak off-speed pitches designed to extend his career. Speedster Willie Mays Hayes (Omar Epps, replacing Wesley Snipes, who wanted too much money to appear in the sequel) fancies himself a power hitter only to forget how to steal bases. And slugger Pedro Cerrano (Dennis Haysbert) abandons voodoo for Buddhism, becoming passive both at the plate and in the field. The movie follows the formula of its predecessor with a vengeance, even when it makes no sense to do so. Villainous owner Rachel Phelps (the delightfully bitchy Margaret Whitton) is back to drive the team's spirit into the ground, but there's no reason for it. Since there appears to be no prospect of moving the team to Florida (her motivation in the original), it's just stupid for her to try and get her own team to lose. Despite this slavish imitation, the sequel actually offers some modest entertainment. However, just as in the first film, which was stolen from "stars" Sheen, Bernsen, and Tom Berenger by then-unknowns Haysbert and Snipes, Major League II's most enjoyable performances come from the supporting players. Relative newcomer Eric Brukstotter is a hoot as the new catcher, the aptly-nicknamed "Rube" Walker. In addition, Epps, who has always seemed like a Wesley Snipes-in-training (both found plenty of early work playing athletes), steps into his predecessor's shoes as well as can be expected. He doesn't quite have Snipes' comic gifts (he's still trying to master the art of the double-take), but he has the same aura of brashness about him. Despite the appeal of the rookies, Dennis Haysbert continues to steal every scene he's in. He's helped by the fact that his character has a complete personality transplant -- the once surly Cerrano now thanks pitchers for striking him out. He has an inherent goofiness that most of his more established co-stars still lack. Bernsen seems uncomfortable throughout, as if he's waiting for his next paycheck, while Tom Berenger is as wooden as ever. Even Charlie Sheen's gift for deadpan humor gets wasted as he's shackled with a lame subplot about a love triangle. That romance actually typifies Major League II's biggest problem: too much time is wasted on off-the-field problems, and not enough is spent on the field. Hayes' ego seems to stem more from his time in Hollywood (in the off-season, he apparently made a cheesy blaxploitation film with Jesse "The Body" Ventura) than anything he did on the field the previous season. And Vaughn's inability to throw his fastball seems to be caused by his conservative haircut and Armani suits, not by any actual arm problems. The upshot of this is to distance you from the game itself, which is the reason director David Ward brought everyone back in the first place. Because so little time is spent on just playing baseball, we never really get a feel for the way this team's season is going, nor do we especially care. In fact, neither do the filmmakers, apparently. At the end of the original's 'inspirational' Big Game, we faded out on the players' celebration. This time around, the climax comes not at the very end of the Big Game, but afterwards, as Vaughn finally chooses the right girl. The greatest sin a sports movie can commit is to take the sport itself for granted. -Alan Sepinwall DUCKMEN Disney proves that two is better than one Surprisingly, D2: The Mighty Ducks, is quite entertaining. Granted, it's geared towards nine-to-twelve year olds, not the discriminating intellectual college student. But it still remains an amusing two hours. It doesn't have any universal truths (well, sort of) but is merely a tale of winning against all odds and the spirit of team work (which just happens to be the very same theme of the first installment). And it's a Disney flick, so that infectious Disney magic pervades the entire experience. The original troupe is back, a little older, but still cute and amazing on skates. For those die hard Brat Pack fans, Emilio Estevez is back in his coaching position. Thrown in for extra flavor are six new team members: a friendly if naive Texan, a brusque bad boy, a lithe Korean figure skater, a talented female goalie, a loud mouthed kid from South Central, and the fastest Cuban skater from Miami. Michael Tucker of LA Law fame plays the quirky, high strung sponsor and Kathryn Erbe is the peripheral, but safely cute, teacher for the team. The team's agenda this time is winning the world championships. They represent not just the Mighty Ducks, but the United States, and by extension, peace, love, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness on skates. In their way is a formidable opponent team (this time, mean blondes from Iceland) and their own conflicts of jealousies, misplaced priorities, mistrust, arrogance and getting used to one another. All this while frolicking in the City of Cities, Los Angeles, where the wide-eyed and rambunctious Ducks gambol on Rodeo, Venice, the Coliseum and even take an excursion to South Central. It's in the game against some locals that the clean cut team gets their rollerblades rattled, but it's in such fast-paced hockey games that the film really shines. Overlooking the costuming and characterizations of the local kids as somewhat insidious, the montage nevertheless charms. The other standout fast scene is early on in the film, and serves to establish the movie's pace. The Ducks go about rounding each other up at their locales while speeding along on their rollerblades. The film borders on the self-serving, with stunts, cutesy pranks and daredevil antics, all at daring speeds; but set against the saturated colors of a Kodak commercial and a background of good but generic rock, the Ducks are really too good at what they do to hold much against them. Who wouldn't want to skate through Minneapolis at a breakneck speed? Some might argue this is simply a rehashed version of the first film, with new characters and a grander scale, and it might be, but the goal of this and similar movies is simply to entertain, not to offer truths on man's innate evil or the disparity of existence. It's about a bunch of cute kids who know how to skate and how they skate their way into triumph. The scenes are well constructed, fast and entertaining, the games are as exciting as real hockey games and there are even some real Queen tracks to ensure an authentic feeling of triumph. ABOVE THE RIM Can you say "rehash," boys and girls? Above the Rim is out there for all those who need another basketball movie. Yet although it is a rework of worn inner-city and basketball themes, the film is not entirely without some merit. Set in Harlem, the movie revolves around basketball talent Kyle Watson (Duane Martin) as he tries to play his way out of the neighborhood by garnering a college scholarship. As backdrop to his struggle are two brothers who have split and taken divergent paths. One is a security guard who once had the potential to go all the way to the NBA, but was sidetracked when his friend unexpectedly died. The second and younger brother took the low road and became a dealer and a leader of a posse of thugs. The brothers each embody forces that push Kyle between these disparate avenues. If he pulls it together, he will live happily ever after, if he doesn't he will end up not being recruited. Guess what? He pulls it together. Overall, the movie invokes a strange feeling that a lot of cutting and pasting went into its making. Characters are quickly familiar because they've already been developed in other movies. There are all the recycled inner-city players, the strong single mom, the neighborhood dealer and company, the stoic father figure, the fast-talking clown. They are all characters from movies that deal with the inner-city and basketball such as Blue Chips, White Men Can't Jump, and Boyz N' the Hood. Besides the characters being similar, the conflicts and tensions between the characters are also familiar. It is hard to find anything slightly original in this predictable film. Ignoring its markedly banal flavor, the film is somewhat entertaining. Duane Martin delivers a strong, heartfelt performance. Parts of the movie are genuinely humorous. In one scene, Kyle gets hit up for a game of one-on-one by a homeless man. Although they were perhaps unkind, the insults and ridicule Kyle and his friend heap on the bum are hilarious. Above the Rim's quick-cutting basketball scenes are refreshing, especially in their depiction of the tumultuous outdoor-court basketball world. Those looking for some mildly exciting basketball scenes and inner-city jive and will have to forsake any semblance of suspense or originality, however. --Rand Orban IN THE HOUSE OF THE SPIRITS In The House of Spirits, Clara (Meryl Streep), who has supernatural powers, proclaims to the audience that she "sees the relationships between the events" in her life. Unfortunately, the viewer also needs psychic powers to understand the significance of all the people that die, the lovers that secretly meet, and the dead people that randomly reappear throughout the movie. This film follows a family in South America through three generations, and the events, some interesting and some entertaining, many repetitive or unnecessary, that happen to them. Most of the action takes place on the estate where the self-made patriarch Esteban (Jeremy Irons) lives with his sister Ferula (Glenn Close), his psychic wife Clara, and their daughter Blanca (Winona Ryder). The violent revolution is the backdrop for the primary storyline, which deals with the intimate relationships that bring the characters' lives together. The House of Spirits would be more enjoyable if it simply centered on these relationships or if it played more on the spiritual occurrences and ghosts that appear. Instead, the relationships are not closely examined at all, and although a few tables float in the air and Clara predicts a few events, her power doesn't seem to amount to anything. Ferula predicts that Esteban will end up alone in life, but he doesn't, and so this seems irrelevant. There is also eerie music that backs some of the scenes but since nothing particularly spiritual occurs, it goes mostly unnoticed. Another fault is that the film seems to have lost its Latin American style for which the original novel was acclaimed. And it doesn't help that the four main characters are played by Anglo-Saxon actors. Still, the biggest problem with The House of Spirits is Jeremy Irons and his character. He spends too much time chasing his daughter's lover Pedro (Antonio Banderas), and for all his heartache, he shows hardly any emotion. Basically, Irons sounds like he is reading his lines from the book and is completely unbelievable as the abusive father. Many of his character's actions don't add to the story and are only distracting. It's curious why he was cast , especially since his age isn't even close to that of the character. With a ridiculous ending following depressing turns of events, the film becomes tiresome and bland. Read the book-- it's better. --Shari Goldsmith JIMMY HOLLYWOOD Some actors just reach a point when they're running in place. Joe Pesci is one of them. Since his breakthrough in Goodfellas thrust him into the category of Hollywood leading man, Pesci has apparently done everything in his power to relinquish that role in a series of flops. Jimmy Hollywood, his latest, is no exception. Pesci doesn't do anything particularly surprising -- he is his usual opinionated, raspy-voiced, ranting and raving self. The problem with his acting is that he is unable to escape the typecasting that has followed him around for the past few years. It is entirely feasible to randomly interchange the roles he has played in previous movies without missing a beat, or losing much substance from his characters. In Jimmy Hollywood, Pesci plays an out-of-work, eternally angry actor named Jimmy Alto. Frustrated with acting, Hollywood, and life in general, he goes on a rampage after his car radio is stolen. His actions are mistaken for those of a vigilante group and, realizing his opportunity for fame, Jimmy grabs it. Along with his pathetic sidekick William (Christian Slater), he makes a name for himself as pseudo-crime buster "Jericho," the greatest (and only) role of his life. Soon reality and fantasy intermingle, and Jimmy fails to make the distinction. Slater's co-billing would seem to be a feeble attempt to generate more starpower for an already suspect screenplay by director Barry Levinson. Slater, however, fails to spark much interest and simply takes up space. He does quite a job of hiding whatever talent he possesses behind William, the partially mute, partially psycho but, ever-loyal weirdo. Although Slater's actual time on screen is substantial, his presence is negligible. The few lines of dialogue that he actually has consist of curt, boring replies ranging from one word to one sentence, hardly the thing for someone who is often addressed as the actor of the future. Slater's mumbling can also get on one's nerves, especially when clashed with Pesci's non-stop motormouth. Jimmy Hollywood is a black comedy, though if you're looking for laughs, you've come to the wrong place. It paints a bleak picture of the streets, society, and the difficulties in creating an identity in a town without pity. This idea is poorly executed, and the final moments of the movie may leave you wondering exactly where you parked your car rather than contemplating any messages conveyed. When the highlight of a film is during the credits, you know you're in trouble. --Jeff Han