Ireland in Seattle

I had the distinct pleasure of meeting Seattle legend Dan Ireland, co-founder of the world-renowned Seattle International Film Festival. Dan ran the Egyptian Theatre in Seattle for years, and has worked as a producer on films since the 80s. He now lives in L.A. and directs his own films. I managed to catch up with him as he visited Seattle with his latest film, Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont). Dan has worn so many hats revolving around the love and creation of film, conversation could be endless. We discussed the Oscars, SIFF, his current release, and the emotional rigors of growing old and losing ones you love.

Dan Ireland: There’s an old cliché that the older you get, you remember twenty years ago… but you don’t remember twenty minutes ago. And I don’t think that I’m that old, but I used to have a photographic memory. It was always hard to pull one over on me… now it’s pretty easy. “Oh really did I say that?� That’s one of the joys of life…

PJH: My church in Seattle has a lot of twenty somethings so it’s very strange as I’m turning thirty-three, it’s like I’m the older guy now.

DI: I was always the youngest guy in the group, and now I’m the oldest; I always gravitated toward people that were older than me—I don’t know why—but ever since I was 14, even my friends… I’ve always loved people that were able to get to a plateau in their life and be optimistic and wonderful and have that sort of celebrated life and this wisdom; there’s a little Ludovic Mayer in me for sure, there really is. I lived in Vancouver in an apartment building, and I was the youngest tenant in this amazing building right on the ocean. I use to go to sleep with the waves crashing against the shore, and all my neighbors were people in their late sixties, seventies… I just loved their spirit, and I was sort of the kid on the block so they were all entertained. I’ve always been fascinated by older people because there’s a wisdom that they have that you don’t, but there’s something that you can always share— and when I read Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont, that was the thing that resonated with me: the way it was able to take away a line of age and boundaries when you erase it and come down to the core, just two human beings who are at different points in their life but have a commonality that really brings them together. It was something that resonated in me and I’m really blessed it came into my life, at a time that was perfect; it came to me on my birthday. It is, and probably always will be, the greatest birthday gift I’ve ever gotten in my life.

PJH: And so you got the rights to the film, or first to the screen play, or…

DI: When I read the book I was smitten. And I wanted to do it and I’d had an experience with my mother a few months before, where she was really ill, and we didn’t know if she was going to make it or not… and she did make it. You know, things come to you and there’s a reason, and this film had a life of its own, and this might sound ethereal but I think the project chose me… it landed in my lap and within two months I was on a plane going to London. I’ve never had a film happen that quickly, I’ve never had less money to make a film, and I’ve had never had anything where I just immediately dove into it and it consumed me for a couple of years, right up to the movie poster. I’ve been involved in everything, every step of the way.

PJH: And you never even went to film school…

DI: No, but I created my own “film school� (the Seattle International Film Festival) and it was a lot more fun to learn about film that way, to go out there and just dive into it, and I’m still doing it.

PJH: The first Film Festival was in 1975?

DI: ‘76 actually… we opened the theater December 13th in ‘75. We opened up with The Gang's All Here which really set the stage for the rest of the adventure there.

PJH: You say your twenty-year memory is great; what are your recollections of the first Film Festival? Chaotic, a blur like somebody’s wedding day, or—

DI: We didn’t know how the reception was going to be cause it was our first year and the moment we opened our door it was mind blowing—it happened from day one and our opening picture was a German film called The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum and it was a winner; we had the respect of the audiences and the film critics at large in Seattle at the time. That year we got to introduce The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Grey Gardens, which is now going to Broadway as a musical… It's really wild to look back…

PJH: Have you always loved film and just drifted with the currents, or was there always a goal in your heart to direct your own film?

DI: No, no I had no idea what I was doing, I had no idea where I was going... It was the sum total of being a producer and taking it on the chin for… um… certain films that I had no control over. There was a point in my career where you have to take responsibility, and if you produce a movie you have to stand there by your director&mdasj;good, bad, and indifferent—and when they take it on the chin, you take it on the chin. I took it on the chin for a couple of directors that really didn’t give a damn and I had actors coming to me during the shoot going “What do I do? What do I do?â€� I never wanted to get into the director’s sphere, but on a couple of films where the actor was like that, I knew the script and I would work with them a little bit; it only happened on one film really…

PJH: You don’t have to name it, I’m not going to push you…

DI: I use to think it was the worst experience of my life, and through a chain of people and events it led me to the novel of The Whole Wide World, which led me into my world as a director, so you know, everything has a purpose if you look at it, and [now I see] how it led me and forced me to make decisions and inspired me to tell a story I felt no one could tell better than me. As a director, you’re going to have to live with your film for a couple of years at least, in fact a couple of years immediate and then a whole lifetime, so at the point you give birth to it you’ll get people that respond to it, people that don’t, and people that are passionate about it one way or the other. The most important thing as a filmmaker—for your survival and continued mental heath—is that you have to be happy with it; if you’re not then, then you have to look deeply within your life, see what you’re doing, and either find a new profession or remind yourself why you got into it. On my second picture I went through a brutal time… I had to re-cut it, and I didn’t want to make the cuts, and I had an option of taking my name off the film, which would have been an incredibly big disservice to the actors that I had asked to put themselves on the line, and so I took the hit. From that point on I understood a lot more of the depth and the complexity of what I had to do, and what my profession was.

PJH: Mrs. Palfrey had a meager budget. Did you get excited that a $6.5 million film won Best Picture this year? How did you feel about the nominees? A lot of controversy over…

DI: Oh, I was thrilled that all five nominees were indies, they’re all from that world. It was great, you know, and always, I think your own personal favorite choice is whatever it is and…

PJH: What was yours?

DI: Brokeback Mountain. Hands down. It was a movie that crossed so many lines, yet remained such a beautiful vision of a story, and the fact it was gay was incidental. It’s a story about love and loneliness… it’s just beautiful, I loved the film, I thought it was so beautifully handled, acted, so poignantly directed and beautifully shot, it was like a resonant movie that lived within me, for it haunted me, it’s a movie that stayed with me, and you know I like Crash, but it comes at you with a baseball bat with issue, issue, issue, issue, issue, and I love the performances, I think they are remarkable… [but] I thought it underlined everything a bit too much for my taste… But you know what? That is the whole thing of being subjective, and movies are, and the Academy… I always think they try and dare to be different; everything was leaning toward Brokeback with the BAFTAs and Spirit Awards and they could sniff that. Crash sort of like came in from nowhere and they love to do that, they love to throw it off. You look back at films that have won the Oscar for Best Picture, and you look at the nominees sometimes and you’re just like “WHAT? Where did that come from? How could THAT win over THAT?� But it does…

PJH: So, so you do… One thing that we always try and challenge people with when we teach of film and spirituality classes is this misconception that films are just entertainment—which, if you actually look up the definition, is deceptive: they’re calling it something it’s not, they’re assuming it’s mindless diversion. Even you in some very small ways are defiantly inserting some worldview and some vision—you’re trying to transmit how you feel about things through your film. What do you feel is the general idea out there with filmmakers like yourself? What are your goals?

DI: If I can tell a story that touches me… moves me in some way, that I’m passionate about and that I feel that I can bring a point of view to that isn’t necessarily on the page—or perhaps you find it along the way—that’s so rare and its so great and—great question, by the way… The best way I can describe it is, if you’re an actor and you’re doing a take, what I look for is to see that the artist is lost at the end of the take, so they’re not like the actor giving you the “performanceâ€� just waiting for you to call cut. They’re there, and it’s alive and it’s real. Anything you can do to infuse that in the frame… if I don’t get it, my instinct will tell me and I’ll keep going until I get it.

When we were out shooting that last scene [from Mrs. Palfrey] in the hospital, it was raining and I saw all these people sitting around in the rain… older people just sitting there. They’d wheeled themselves out from the hospital to where we were, and it just got me. I wanted that last shot, because it’s about life. I thought [later, “Should I rip this out of the film? Is this too heavy-handed?� And that’s where you have to be objective, because you don’t want to get accused of being syrupy; but there was just a little tiny thing where she just looks up and goes, “Hello love,� and [Ludo] just meanders on; it’s a little manipulative and shameless perhaps in one way, but in another way, I saw it, it was there, it was there, and I wanted to capture that…

PJH: And the scene when Joan wakes up and says her husband’s name…

DI: That was tough…

PJH: That was probably one of the toughest moments for me sitting there with my wife…

DI: If you want to know what that was… that was me and my mom. Three months before, my mom was like on her death bed, and she survived, thank God, but I flew up from LA to the hospital when she was laying there on morphine and out of it. So anyway, that was tough to shoot, that was the toughest thing I’ve ever shot because it had to be right, and I didn’t want people thinking I’m trying to pull for tears… It was just it was something that happened with me and my mother, and yeah…

(Dan took a moment to compose himself here)

DI: Oh God, it’s so hard sometimes, you know? I lost my father in 1997, and it was tough… But I didn’t know him like I know my mother; he was an enigma in a lot of my life and I loved him, with all my heart, but my mother… that was my drive…I’m sorry I’m not usually like this… That was what told me I had to do [the scene] but you know as much as it ripped me apart to do it, it was so liberating.

PJH: Sorry, I didn’t mean to go all Barbara Walters on you…

DI: No, it’s okay. I’m usually stronger about it, but doing that scene was like hell; the poor actors, poor crew… I was so precise and demanded everybody, you know, silence and intensity and keeping it right, because I was keeping myself in check… And for Rupert, it was a challenge, it was his first full-blown movie role, to have that emotion…

PJH: And it works because its an…

DI: It’s real. He’s a beautiful actor, I love him, I love him; he needed help there in that last scene when he walks in and finds her, after she’s passed, and I brought my computer that day where I have all my iTunes, and I had Donnie Hathoway’s version of “Growing Up,� so when I let Rupert listen to that it was like bam, from eight takes of him getting so frustrated that he couldn’t go there to like letting him listen… I just said “take your time, you come back, when you walk through that door, just when you walk through that door, you’re right and we’ll go.� And you know what, he listened, and just walked through the door and looked at me, and I just went “action�… that whole last scene of him discovering Mrs. P, you just, it was beautiful… And you can’t get that from an actor a lot. You can get it once. That scene with Joan when she’s listening to him singing, that was take one, and I knew I’d never get it again so I immediately ran to my cinematographer and was like, “Send it to LA immediately, and tell me that it’s in focus and that it looks okay!� because I couldn’t ask her to do that again, I just wanted to be an observer in that moment, but I was praying… It’s always scary when you have one take because if it’s out of focus… And on this budget, if you didn’t get it that day, that was that.

PJH: Well it’s a pleasure to have you back in Seattle, Dan. Thanks again, man, for your candor and vulnerability…

DI: By all means. It’s just like a thrill to come here, trust me. And thank you for… I haven’t gone there for a while, so thank you… really, it’s uh… Wow, liberating.

"Please sir... I want some Moore"

V for Vendetta

—1. Overview
—2. Cast and Crew
—3. Photo Pages
—4. Trailers, Clips, Etc.
—5. Spiritual Connections

If Hollywood gave us a new Romeo and Juliet, but the end saw the young lovers alive and living happily ever after, we would not accept it. For those few who might not be familiar with the play, I’m confident that it would still ring false. There are ways in which source material can be tampered with that—even if one hasn’t read the source—muddle the story and leech from it the important qualities that made it worth adapting in the first place. Sadly, this is the fate of V for Vendetta, a great story obscured by its transition from literature to silver screen. The story’s grandeur is masked, much like its titular character, and we barely get a glimpse of the depth beneath.

In the year 2020, it seems, the United Kingdom is at the mercy of an oppressive regime that faked an attack on its own soil, provoking fear from outside that allowed the country to be taken over from within as people traded security for liberty. Young Evey (Natalie Portman) encounters the Anarchist V (Hugo Weaving), who intends to blow up Parliament and bring revolution. Moreover, he seeks a very personal revenge against those who tortured and wronged him, so he stalks the darkness like a cross between Batman and Neo, haunting the city like the Phantom of the Opera and training his female protégé.

Portman and Weaving deliver decent performances based on what they have to work with, but it isn’t enough. The “Stephens� (Rea and Fry) are also quality actors and pleasant to watch. The problems lie elsewhere. For instance, Natalie Portman’s opening narration quotes something V once told her; “Remember, remember, the fifth of November.� Only a few minutes later, he’s delivering that quote to her, and there hasn’t been enough time between the two deliveries to give either the resonance needed. It’s this poor pacing that is reflected throughout the film, with equally pitiable editing choices, awkward transitions, and weak use of the film’s music score. This isn’t a horrible film, but it just feels soft where it could be strong. Under the eyes of Andy and Larry Wachowski, James McTeigue’s directorial debut feels very limp.

I only read Alan Moore’s well-respected graphic novel once, back in the 80s, so I did not carry the baggage of plot comparison with me to the theatre. Indeed, I had to consult wikipedia.com to recall the plot points of the novel, after the tepid cinematic experience made me doubt my memory of its source. Even reading an online Cliff’s Notes-type version of the original story conveyed a better sense of flow than the film. The changes to Moore’s tale involving how the evil government comes to power seem like obviously shoe-horned critiques against the current U.S. administration, perhaps even playing off the modern myth that the terrorist attacks on 9/11 were staged. While I’m certainly not opposed to intelligent criticism of this or any administration, this imposition and others on the story just seem to distract us from the tale itself. Also imposed is the inevitable romantic love interest between Evey and V, which seemed out of place in the film even before I went back and verified that—yep—it wasn’t in the book. Note to screenwriters: if you have brilliant source material, don’t jack it up with cheap Hollywood expectations.

The film deals with intolerance and prejudice, but sadly this comes across as far more preachy than poignant. First of all, the only bigotry really emphasized seems to be homosexuality, with only a few passing mentions of religious oppression. The overemphasis on one issue, versus the illumination of racial and socioeconomic issues, makes the movie seem like it has only one axe to grind, rather than a multi-faceted story to tell. Brokeback Mountain dealt with this complex issue in a very thoughtful way; V for Vendetta’s emotional appeal seems juvenile and reactionary. There are valuable points to be made here about violence toward those who are different from us, and about legislating morality rather than gently influencing by way of setting positive examples, but they are just not transmitted well in this narrative.

Toward the conclusion of the film, V sends out thousands of his face masks to people all throughout the city. Thus, thousands of people are wearing his mask on the night he plans to blow up Parliament. Little girls are wearing them as they play. Others are using the masks to rob poor convenience store owners… and there you have it: the man who is out to bring down the government for committing atrocities in the name of its god, now has acolytes robbing from unrelated businessmen and committing acts of thievery, violence, and who knows what else in HIS name. Talk about a hypocrite. (Yes, when I checked, the mask ploy was not in the original story. Even the moral example of the central character is muddled by the film version.) At the end of the film, as the crowd pulls off their masks, the forced imagery that follows is so syrupy it made theatre-goers groan audibly. V is not the right hand of justice, he’s ham-handed justice.

And let’s not forget the glossed-over torture that V commits against Evey in the film. Does she love him because he’s a charismatic revolutionary, or because of Stockholm Syndrome? It’s easy to enjoy this character with his style of speech, his Matrix-moves, and his anti-big-government talk, but in the end his methods are no better than right-wing, rights-violating Jack Bauer on 24, or even the abusive soldiers at Abu-Ghraib. There are a lot of complex issues that opposing forces in the film treat with pedestrian reactions, and—if we’re lucky—at least the shallow characterizations might provoke post-film talk about what the deeper issues are. I think I prefer conversation happening in light of a film, versus in spite of the film, but I'll take good discussion either way.

V’s goal is to create a symbol that will instigate change; it’s unfortunate that the change will ultimately only consist of who’s in charge, rather than actually achieving a new way of thinking. What is the difference between terrorism and revolution? What methods are acceptable to foment change? Who does vengeance belong to? Should we love our enemies and bless those who persecute us, or let violence beget violence? When is it appropriate to take action to protect loved ones, family, or our ideals? V says that “People should not be afraid of their governments, governments should be afraid of their people.� Is this true? Wouldn’t an ideal government be made up of representatives of the people, and neither would have to fear the other? These types of pithy phrases pepper the film and don’t get to the heart of the issues or the ideal.

As second-unit director for the Matrix films, McTeigue has an eye for the fight scenes and they are enjoyable on a surface level. However, the ways in which the sequences are spaced and the plot is paced are aspects he definitely needs to improve upon. For a good film about a man with singular vision bringing down a pharisaical, totalitarian, Orwellian brave new world, rent Equilibrium. For a decent adaptation of an Alan Moore story, see From Hell. If you feel compelled to see this movie, just realize what you’re really getting is actually "M for Mediocre." In V for Vendetta, an evil government regime twists news and events to create a distorted version of the real story; it's unfortunate that the Wachowski brothers, or the evil Hollywood regime, has done the same thing with Alan Moore's rich, lustrous tale. Perhaps someday the man who helped reinvent the comic book medium several decades ago will have a great movie made from his groundbreaking work.

That’s a revolution V should really get behind.

Plowright Evokes Tears as Palfrey

This simple yet compelling human drama, Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont, focuses on an enchanting friendship between friends with ages differing by half a century. I think what made me really cry is the thought that this film may be more of a fantasy than The Lord of the Rings.

When Mrs. Palfrey moves to London, she finds herself in a resident hotel resembling something akin to British purgatory. Her son fails to visit, and the other nosy, elderly residents in equal need of life and diversion begin to doubt her son's existence. When Palfrey takes a nasty spill outside young Ludovic Mayer's apartment, they forge a refreshing friendship and subsequently fool the residents into believing Ludo is her grandson. This story, in less capable hands, might have been cheesy or pedestrian, but in the skilled hands of director Dan Ireland, and enhanced with the seamless acting of Joan Plowright and fresh newcomer Rupert Friend, Palfrey's stay at the Claremont feels fresh and tragically brief.

There is no bizarre, Harold and Maude oddity in this film adaption of Elizabeth Taylor's novel, though one of Ludovic's ex-girlfriends insinuates as much in one scene. The literate, sincere young man helps Palfrey when she injures her knee, and the two quickly realize that they have much to offer each other; Ludovic enjoys Palfrey's memories, her calm, her patience, and her quiet wisdom, while Mrs. Palfrey gleans joy and energy through the fresh, eager way Ludovic views the world, in stark contrast to the zombified lives of her aged peers. When her grandson does finally turn up, Palfrey gives him the bum rush.

The supporting characters add a splash of balanced humor to the drama; Anna Massey is touching as the controlling Mrs. Arbuthnot, and Robert Lang's aged suitor to Palfrey is delightfully painful to watch, but the best comedic bits are handled by Timothy Bateson as the ever-exhausted Doorman. Ireland's direction keeps the comedy properly subdued and appropriately British in style and wit. Still, it is the polished perfection of Dame Joan Plowright that grounds the film and makes it feel substantive, even when a contrivance in the film enables the older woman to play a part in Ludo finding new love.

Faced with a tight budget, Director Dan Ireland had the story moved from the 1950s to the present, but the tale survives the displacement and proves itself timeless. However, even as I read some early reviews and endorsements for the film, I found myself disappointed with some comments that recommended it for viewers over fifty. How tragic that a film celebrating the joy and growth found in cross-generational relationships should essentially be pigeon-holed for a particular generation! In my mind, I envision theatres full of Mrs. Palfreys, alone with no Ludovic Mayers by their sides, wishing that their grandchildren, or a friendly boy or girl, might share their lives and learn something from this touching story.

Moses wrote in Scripture that we should "rise in the presence of the aged, show respect for the elderly and revere your God." Reverence for the Creator of the Universe and proper treatment of our elders appear in the self-same breath. Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont does not preach, but its familiar story should serve to remind young viewers how we ought to treat those who are in their golden years, with a full life and more in common than we often give them credit for. At one point, Ludovic bemoans the fact that he wasn't born in "simpler times." Palfrey rightly chides him for his romanticized assumption that the days of her youth were any "simpler" than his. Technological window-dressing and customs might change, but the timeless problems of family strife, toil, love, and coming of age were never less complicated; many we disparage as "out of touch" have walked in our shoes decades before we shoe-horned them on.

The book of 1 Timothy describes a good relationship with those older and younger than us: "Do not rebuke an older man harshly, but exhort him as if he were your father. Treat younger men as brothers, older women as mothers, and younger women as sisters, with absolute purity. Give proper recognition to those widows who are really in need." When Palfrey wakes in a start from her chair, with her late husband's name on her lips, Plowright evinces such emotion and heartache, it makes every viewer with a meaningful relationship feel the pain of separation we rarely like to consider. The film is a gentle reminder to enjoy the life we've been given, to break out of our comfort zone, and to seek diverse relationships that will challenge us and make us grow.

Ultraviolet = Ultra-Vapid

—1. Overview
—2. Cast and Crew
—3. Photo Pages
—4. Trailers, Clips, DVDs, Books, Soundtrack
—5. Posters (Milla Jovovich)
—6. Production Notes (pdf)
—7. Spiritual Connections
—8. Presentation Downloads

“My name is Violet, and I was born into a world you may not understand…�

This is the opening line of Director Kurt Wimmer’s latest film, and a propos because the film makes little sense, if any. Milla Jovavich spends the majority of her screen time fleeing from garish badguys, but the unseen enemies she successfully manages to evade are Mr. Plot and Dr. Good-Story.

Wimmer proved he could direct quality science fiction with his 2002 release Equilibrium. It’s unfortunate that he’s gone to such great lengths to prove that wrong with Ultraviolet, the story of… oh, I’m sorry – did I say there was a story? My bad. This film will undoubtedly be dubbed "this year’s Catwoman" and a great candidate for the Razzies. Seriously, this Milla Jovavich vehicle makes Resident Evil: Apocalypse look like Schindler’s List. As for the ham-handed religious metaphor sprinkled throughout the film, one will be too busy checking one's watch to notice, wondering just how long ninety minutes can be.

Don’t take me for a film snob here; I own Resident Evil. I own Scooby-Doo, for pity's sake. I enjoy a cheesy action flick, and thoroughly enjoyed Wimmer’s previous film. In Equilibrium, viewers were treated to a dystopian future with a seeming merger of church and state, ruled with an iron fist by a hypocritical, totalitarian tyrant. A lone, trained assassin became determined to save the oppressed peoples with a unique firearm/martial arts combo. Combined with compelling acting from Christian Bale, Sean Bean, and others, religious parallel abounded in the film with Christ-like imagery, and a narrative journey that mirrored the path of Paul the Apostle. Now comes Ultraviolet… and it seems Wimmer simply grabbed Milla Jovavich, a copy of his Equilibrium script, and some Sharpie pens, hacking up the same story by changing names and throwing in vampires. This material is such a retread, you can see the tire marks.

“Violet� (Jovavich) is an infected “hemophage� with chameleon-like powers, changing the color of her hair and clothing at will (with absolutely no purpose) throughout the film. One wonders why Wimmer and the marketing division who produced the trailer have sought to underplay the fact that the “hemophages� are vampires. (Maybe because the teeth prosthetics are so pathetic?) Violet steals an important “package,� which turns out to be a young boy who holds the key to either a hemophage cure, or the end of the world. The Cardinal of the evil “Archministry� wants the boy back, the vampires want him killed, and hence Violet spends the requisite ninety minutes protecting the boy against a CGI backdrop that looks like the worst, rejected green-screen inserts from Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. Honestly, cut scenes in most video games look more life-like than this movie, whether it's a burning building or Milla on her motorcycle. Tron had better effects. To make matters worse, Wimmer uses such a blurry, soft focus that at times Jovavich has no nose or facial features, just a gooey potato-head blob of a face with eyes, nose-holes and lips. People don’t have seem to have skin, but rather Krispy-Kreme glaze. It fails on all levels.

What’s even more appalling are the opening credits, which appear quite creatively on a succession of pretend comic covers for “Ultraviolet,� announcing Wimmer’s apparent perception that – although the character was created for the silver screen – he’s making a self-styled “comic book movie.� Although the sequence is the only imaginative one in the film, the subsequent cinematic experience is so banal that it makes this claim an insult to the comics medium and its readers.

Violet storms the Archministry’s expansive headquarters, which is conveniently laid out like a gigantic cross. Clad in pure white, she battles her way to righteous victory until she finds both gloved hands pierced in battle. Bleeding out for the sake of the world, her costume turns deep crimson, and she steps forward ready to lay down her life to save the boy and the infected planet. The imagery is obvious, but the whole film has made viewers roll their eyes so many times the spiritual theme evokes only laughter or groans. Again, Wimmer made this point already, and with panache, in Equilibrium. Rent his previous film to save yourself money and spare yourself a needless headache. Ultraviolet is Wimmer's microwave leftovers.

As we see Violet use her amazing belt device in the film, which apparently enables her to defy both gravity and decent visual effects, I felt like I was watching the movie's director and not Milla Jovavich. I sure hope he finds his footing again.