Below: Review By B. Alan Orange

B. ALAN ORANGE's "MOVIE BUFFET"

On The Menu: Below, Swept Away, Rules of Attraction, The Transporter, & Sweet Home Alabama

See that wooden chair with no legs, turned upside-down against the guardrail? That's me; a wreck. I've got bruises covering my entire body, a chunk of skin ripped out of my palm, and blood blisters on four of my ten fingers; all from being a 'featured' extra on some low-budget independent film. I'm recovering from the Romanic Flu, and I've got a deep-tissue infection running the length of my throat down into the esophagus that has me chocking back thick bile every time I go to swallow just a tiny gasp of air. To top it off, Movieweb has been sending me to some of the worst films in cinematic history. If I were to believe their logic, I'd know there wasn't a movie being made today worth my time, or yours. Oh, but I'd be wrong. Still suffering from the effects of last week's stolid heap, I opened up the LA Weekly to find Hollywood had dumped a whole load of new stuff off at the corner block near the cul-de-sac. From where I stood, these new motion pictures looked, at the very least, entertaining. Movieweb had been hiding them from me, for whatever selfish reason. Making less than five dollars an hour, there was no way I was going to see them all before they disappeared into some obscure video graveyard. I was left with but one option...

I had to return to my roots. I've been pampered for far too long now, living off of free press passes and frequenting the private screening rooms that are so abundant in this town. I've become a movie pussweeb. I had to get back to the real thing. For one Sunday, I'm talking the whole day; I'd go back to where it all began: The Edwards 26 in Long Beach.

Before Movieweb brushed me off and gave me an office of my own, I used to spend my lonely days skipping about the interior of the 26, bouncing from one theater to the next, devouring each thematic tidbit like a side course at Home Town Buffet. Yes, this place is one giant movie feast. For seven bucks, you can pay for a matinee and stay the whole day. All you have to do is know how long the movies are, and when the next one starts. Luckily, the 26 has a red electric LED screen above each door, telling you which movie it is and all the times it'll be playing that day. And this place seems to switch shifts every two hours, so no one ever notices that you've been hiding in there since noon.

This was the only way I'd be able to see everything. So, with a bottle of water in my pocket, I ventured inside this wonderful palace and began my day at the movies...

(You can cut the following out and use it as a guide or a schedule.)

1:05 pm, Below, approx. 2 hrs: I love movies that take place in, around, or underneath water, but I've never been a big fan of the submarine. That's okay, because Below has more in common with The Devil's Backbone than it does U-571. It's like Disney's Haunted Mansion under the sea. After K-19's disappointing performance at this summer's box office, Dimension, a subsidiary of Miramax, decided to flush this one into oblivion; which is extremely sad. Below is the best looking movie I've seen since late July, and that's no small feat (even if the title does kind of suck). It's very understandable why David Twohy has picked up the slack in trying to promote Below all by himself (Some of my best ideas come from above me, while most of them come from 'below' me. Utter this sentence in your next conversation with a girl. It's supposed to subconsciously provoke her into going down on your tiny u-boat.) Fans of spooky pictures should really dig this. It's truly better than Session 9 and Nicole Kidman's The Others, combined. I hadn't heard of the movie until earlier this week, which is rare, because I generally know of every horror effort coming out. Not this time. Those in charge of making or breaking a project felt this picture needed to sink to the bottom of the murky depths from which it came.

Judging from the relatively high audience turn out on Sunday, I'd say David is successfully dispersing his encouraging words about the piece. I overheard some of the conversations coming into the lobby; all of these lowly theater patrons sounded like sports enthusiasts speculating on the outcome of a game. They played like experts, a bunch of executives from Disney who never saw it coming, and they kind of bothered me with their fanboy rhetoric. But if anyone can spread a virus by word-of-mouth, it's these guys. I'd say they're Twohy's greatest allies in getting this seen. Chances are, though, it'll disappear before the week is out. So, you better run if you want to catch it. I guarantee it's worth the effort...

Going in, I, myself, was expecting some low budget crapfest, but those thoughts were quickly vanquished. This is one of the prettiest pictures I've seen in a long while. Each shot is beautiful in its composition and structure. There's a real intimate eye for detail here that captures a claustrophobic, haunting story straight out of some 1940's naval guide. It unfolds with an unstopping wonder and suspense that had me chewing the skin off the back of my knuckles. With its largely unknown cast and non-apparent promotion, I felt as though I'd stumbled upon a movie from the future. In something that borrows a little bit from every genre, I haven't seen this kind of work before. I'm astounded that Miramax would try to bury such a gorgeous classic.

I can't really judge the scares, because I haven't been frightened at the multiplex in a long time. During Below's running course, I'd say I was less on the edge of my seat than completely encompassed in what was going to happen next. It's as much a 'who-done-it' mystery as it is a straight out ghostly haunt. As an audience, we're never quite sure what is going on, or how it's all going to play out. And that makes it a turmeric ride straight through to the end.

Basically, Below is about the crew of an American submarine during World War II just after they've sunk a German battleship and lost their captain in the process. They soon pick up a couple of drowning British passengers who've been injured and beaten by the ocean. Once these three individuals climb on board, things start to go the way of Art Bell and his Magical Mystery Tour. Could it be because one of the rescued is a woman? Is the dead Captain bedeviling the ship with his Benny Goodman record? Are the dead, torpedoed Germans haunting the ship? Heck, even the crew starts to speculate, winking at The Sixth Sense by suggesting that, instead of sinking the German boat, the German's sank them. And they're dead, but haven't yet realized that fact. Yes, once things start to pick up, this becomes a fun house mirror, where it's less about being on a submarine and more about being trapped in a spirit-infested tube with no way out. And it's got Zach from VH-1 and Out Cold, whose beard seems to be growing more erratic with each performance he attempts to make. This Crackerjack Toy loving goof is superb at every turn, and that his character survives the end affair says a great deal about how unpredictable this quaint poltergeist fable can be.

Seek this one out. You'll want to stare at it with a loving eye for years to come. A DVD keeper; Below is destined to find it's home on video as the underground cult classic of 2002. Run Ronnie Run is actually the Cult classic of 2001, so there's little competition.

Next

3:20 pm, Swept Away, Approx. 90 min: Don't confuse this with Spirited Away, which was playing right next-door. This thing is much more horrifying than that spooky cartoon could ever hope to be. Imagine Cast Away with Madonna instead of a Volleyball, and that's basically what you've got here. Yeah, but the ball was the better actor. And I cried when Wilson drifted away. When Pepe loses his true love at end credits, I couldn't even muster a yawn. Plus, I think Tom Hanks would have succeeded in hanging himself after an hour with this bitch and her high-pitched whining.

Didn't they already make this movie with Harrison Ford and Anne Heche just a couple of years ago? Wait, it's a remake of a different classic, some 1970's Italian flick that's gone unseen by me. Well, if you're seriously considering paying to see Swept Away, you might want to recount your options. Renting one of three other movies (i.e. Cast Away, Six Days, Seven Nights, or the original Swept Away) might be better for your health. That way, when you and your cuddle-lover decide to yap through the duration of my seat time, I won't be there to turn around and clock the two of you in the face. Besides, Six Days, Seven Nights is fun. Almost worth the effort of a rental. This is nothing more than an exercise for Guy Ritchie, like lifting weights. It's as if he had to do it just to get a passing grade in gym class.

I don't blame Guy for taking on such light fare. The sh*t-talkers started to doubt his skills as a filmmaker after he basically remade his first movie, Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels, with Snatch. He was branded a one trick pony, and has now set out to rearrange that thinking with this drab Euro-trash dramedy. I applaud him for trying something different. Great, but where are all his fancy, trademarked hoop-a-joos we've come to expect? After watching Swept Away, I'm guessing someone shot Guy in the face with a heavy injection of muscle relaxant. Watching this is like watching a former speed freak OD on tranquilizers. The essence of the story drips off the screen like beads of amber sap. It's the equivalent of chewing a whole box of Juju Bees, yes; it tires out the lower jaw in a means to keep going.

That said, I wouldn't call it a horrible experience. Some have compared it to Madonna's other lover-inspired projects; namely Shanghai Surprise and Dick Tracy. Others have called it the death of Guy Ritchie's career. I wouldn't go that far on either account. I kind of enjoyed it for what it is. Okay, so I hated Madonna's character and didn't believe for a second that she'd shack up with this doof. I didn't buy the whole rape scene scenario. Basically, I didn't buy anything being shown to me in the duration of the film, and kept wondering how they were going to get more time and juice out of the subject. The idea of these two people on a deserted island reeks of boredom, and I'm glad I wasn't there. Yet, I didn't mind watching them cavort like a couple of idiots. Watching Swept Away is kind of like peering into the married life of Guy and Madonna. He feels she's a wretched whor* of a woman, yet believes he can turn her into a weeping pet. Even though their relationship seems paper thin, and they seem to have nothing in common, he truly believes he loves her. Ah, the joke is on us, I guess.

My favorite part of the movie is the ending. I love a sad, uncompromising conclusion, and the fact that these two island lovebirds fail at forming a commitment once they are rescued had me laughing. It was a warm ray of sun, shining in my heart, the moment Pepe realized he would never get to be with Madonna. His weeping binge made me feel better about myself for a change. I guess that's why I didn't mind sitting through this otherwise ungrateful waist of time. You, dear reader, might want to step back, for it will not nurture the same pleasures for you as it did for me.

I thought Swept Away was going to be the Jimmy Dean sausage covered in Sweet & Sour sauce of my movie meal. That simply was not the case.

Next

5:30 pm, Rules of Attraction, 108 min: Out of all the movies I saw on Sunday, this one was my favorite. It's about a group of truly hateful individuals, and you know me? I love a bunch of grumpy assf*cks. (If people think you're a dick, you're probably my friend.) I'd get along with the people found here swimmingly, and dug hanging out with them for an hour and forty minutes.

This totally reminded me of my former college years, except when I was in school there was no rampant drug use, no stop-overs at a Tarantino-esque drug lord's house, no suicide, no 'dress to get screwed' party, no naked girls humping each other by the keg, no gay guys coming on to me, no love letters in my mailbox, no Shannyn Sossamon...

Actually, the only thing in Rules that truly nailed the spirit of SOSU, my alma-matter, was the dead-on student body mailroom. Man, seeing James Van Der Beek pulling envelopes out of his box really took me back to the good old days. This is probably the most authentic scene in the film. But still, the whole thing stinks of those formative years. I just wish my own schooling could have been a bit more like this. I think I'd be a more well-rounded individual at this point.

Rules makes up for all the inventive camera tricks sorely missing from Swept Away. Roger Avery plays some neat mind games with the use of rewind and fast forward. The European Trip told in quick-zoom by Kip Purdue is a must see; a moment that grabs Avery by the neck and drags him out of Tarantino's shadow. I love that he pokes a little bit of fun at himself in the opening, having a film student talk about Killing Zoe (though the name of the film is never mentioned) and how people though it was a Tarantino flick because the ads said, "By the people who brought you Pulp Fiction." If you'll notice, this movie has done the same thing. Heck, the girl sitting next to me asked her friend, "Have you seen Pulp Fiction? It's made by the same guy." No it's not. Avery only wrote the gold watch sequence and I never did like his other project. But here, he's won me over.

At first sight, I was in love with D.J. (Shannyn) Sossamon, then I started to hate her. Now, I kind of tolerate her on-screen persona, but think she looks an awfully lot like Lisa Bonet, from the Cosby Show. Here, it was her thread of the story that really pulled me into the fold. Watching her virginity fade in the most horrifying way possible will turn a lot of viewers off, but from that moment on, I was fascinated; hooked like a fish. That Avery doesn't reshow this gruesome activity at the end, even though they've tied up the story where it begins, is even more gut-wrenching. The next time we see her, we know what's just taken place, but Avery has left the incident lingering in our head like some unwanted memory instead of forcing us to re-watch it. To me, this is perfect filmmaking. And Van Der Beek? The guy is awesome. I can't think of anyone better to play his role.

I loved Rules of Attraction. It's one of my top ten favorites of the year.

Next

8:00 pm, The Transporter, approx. 93 min: This is one of those movies-within-a-movie. It has to be. We, as an audience, are a bunch of extras who've been duped into watching this during the production of one of those films about Hollywood. This is some hack scriptwriter's fantasy of what his days were like back when he first rolled into town and took a job as a studio runner. Only here, he's turned himself into an over-glamorized agent, transporting exotic goods, not receipts and set dressing.

The Transporter is about nothing more than a Pink Dot delivery boy who finds a pretty Asian girl in his bag of groceries. He soon gets mixed up in some wacky hi-jinks; something about a container full of Chinese people, or something? I'm not sure, and that doesn't really matter. I mean, come on. Jason Statham does one Jet Li movie and suddenly he thinks he's Jackie Chan? How come we didn't see him kicking out the jams like this in Snatch? Where were these moves when Ice Cube really needed him on Mars? Am I supposed to be buying this whole concept? Look at the house the guy lives in. He can afford a 30 million dollar French Villa just by delivering sh*t around town?

Ah, but some of it is fun, even if they do steal the whole climatic ending. Yup, they ripped that truck chase right off the celluloid of Raiders of the Lost Ark, and don't even mind hiding the fact. We'll be able to pick these guys out of a line-up, I'm telling you.

I really wanted to see this movie. It's what got me out of the house. Aside from a couple of cool fights (I especially like the roll Statham takes in the oil slick, and the part where he kicks in the door just as the bad guy goes to look through the peephole), this thing was a let down. It's really just a remake of Marky Mark's The Big Hit without Lou Diamond Phillips. The pacing's a little bit different, but it looks and feels the same.

I'm disappointed in The Transporter. After four movies, I couldn't leave with this taste in my mouth, so I decide to close out the evening with a sugary treat sure to rot my teeth?

Next

10:00 pm, Sweet Home Alabama, approx. FOREVER: Yup, just as I thought, this was about nothing more than Reese Witherspoon's giant forehead. I guess the movie poster didn't lie.

I was one of the last people to leave the 26 Sunday night. The guy cleaning up the theater didn't seem to mind. He even told me to have a wonderful evening. Gee, he was nice. If you even harbor the same tastes as me, this is the order in which I found these films entertaining: 1) Rules of Attraction, 2) Below, 3) Sweet Home Alabama, 4) Swept Away, 5) The Transporter...

Should you pay to see any of them at the theater? Below should be seen on a big screen, but you'll probably like Rules just as much on DVD as you would at the Multiplex. The other three are Dollar Night rentals at best.

Here's to hoping I see you at the 26, enjoying a fine Movie Buffet!

I'll be the fat, stupid looking guy in the ugly T-shirt.

Oh, wait?