Something 4 The Weekend by Paul Bullock

In preparation, I open up Ye Olde Book of Orlando Bloom Nicknames. Hmmm, let's see, Bloomy, Orly Worly, Ickle Orlando, The Bloomeister… Yep, all here!

Welcome ladies, gentlemen and film fans everywhere to entertainment manchester's weekly feature 'Something for the Weekend'. Every Friday, we deliver to you the best (and, in the interest of balance, worst) of this week's new cinematic releases. If, as Forrest Gump once might have said were he a film fan, cinema really is like a box of chocolates, then think of us as your mini-menu, steering you away from the coffee creams and towards the Turkish delights of the movie world.

The Big Picture

The first of this week's new releases is Elizabethtown, starring Orlando Bloom...no wait come back. Yes, I know he gets teenage girls squealing like banshees and sports the worst facial hair since Brian from Westlife thought a bit of stubble would give him a shred of musical dignity, but I'm going to stick my neck out here and actually defend the Bloomeister, because frankly, with some of the criticism he gets (albeit totally justified in the case of Troy and Kingdom of Heaven), he could do with someone to fight his corner.

In this latest film from Cameron Crowe, Bloom plays Drew Baylor, a down on his luck businessman just fired after losing his company millions on a bizarre shoe design called The Spazmodica. Life only gets worse for the poor guy though when, on the brink of suicide, he learns of the death of his father. Understandably a little down, he meets perky flight attendant Claire (Kirsten Dunst) on the trip back to his father’s birth place of Elizabethtown who, in that true Cameron Crowe way, re-affirms his faith in life. Awwwwww.

The trailers bode well for the film, promising a typically whimsical, sweet natured romantic comedy from the man who made Tom Cruise bearable in Jerry Maguire and delivered the finest line about unrequited love ever committed to celluloid (Say Anything’s "I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen"). However the success or failure of Elizabethtown hinges on two things: Bloom and the balance of Crowe’s script.

Crowe's films are often highly personal, most obviously the autobiographical Almost Famous, a recounting of his time as a Rolling Stone journalist. Sure, sometimes he goes a little over the top, romanticising life and producing some truly cringe worthy moments (“You had me at hello”, "You complete me"). But, in a cinematic landscape where directors are too often satisfied to churn out soulless hunk of celluloid after soulless hunk of celluloid, it's heartening to know that there are such helmers as Crowe who constantly speak from the heart.

Still, while such soul-searching often adds up to success, as with the glorious Say Anything and the not-as-bad-as-most-say-despite-The-Cruiser Jerry Maguire, it can also create self-indulgent messes like the misjudged and hideously overrated Almost Famous (and its even more odious Director's Cut) or the simply atrocious Vanilla Sky in which Crowe abandoned his natural compassionate instincts and tried to make a sprawling but still grounded cerebral sci-fi.

As Elizabethtown is at least partly inspired by the death of his own father, it's sure to see Crowe returning to the realm of personal filmmaking. And, for all the romanticised, self-mythologizing excesses of Almost Famous, this can only be a good thing. Crowe has an unshakable instinct for making films which appeal to universal traits in everyone. When at his best, he's the director's version of Tom Hanks or Jimmy Stewart, a natural successor to Steven Spielberg and Frank Capra, managing to relate to the common man and tap into real life, but give it an uplifting edge - which frankly is what cinema is for anyway, despite what cynical naysayers would have you belive.

This is where 'ickle Orlando' fits into my grand scheme (he said laughing maniacally). Elizabethtown could finally ease him out of the lull his career has suffered through since Lord of the Rings. 'What?' I hear you cry. 'Orlando Bloom's career is in a lull!?' Well, yes! Sure he may be the apple of every schoolgirl's eye, but he is hardly respected as a great actor. After his truly dreadful showings in Troy and Kingdom of Heaven he has become a bit of a whipping boy for critics (myself included) who see him as easy prey. Both Paris and Balian were awful performances, no doubt about it, with the young lad looking utterly bewildered amongst the scattered CGI remains of an ancient Greek city. But there can also be little doubt that they were roles which never should have graced his doorstop in the first place.

Bloom is not a leader of men, nor is he the kind of guy you'd spark a playground scuffle for, never mind the kind of epic battle as detailed in Troy. He's an affable, charming and relatable 28 year-old screen presence who still has a lot of things to learn as any 28 year old does. He has earned himself his epic, swashbuckling reputation for his antics in Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean. But let's not forget, he was, at best, a second-stringer in the Rings trilogy and simply the warm-up act for the great Johnny Depp panto that was Pirates of the Caribbean. What 'Orly' needs is a modest part in a modest film, an everyman role where he can put down his sword and shiny trinkets and just play an ordinary bloke.

It's so easy to play the kind of swashbuckler Bloom has been given in the past few years. As long as you can do a passable impression of Errol Flynn in the Adventures of Robin Hood or Charlton Heston in the many epics he played in, then you'll be just fine. It is a true test of an actors talent to just play normal. Indeed, one of the few criticisms levelled at the likes of Marlon Brando, Robert De Niro and Al Pacino is that they could never play just normal. Mob bosses, unhinged angels of death, obsessed cops, sure. But normal? Never! Hell, the closest Bobby D got was Jack Byrnes in Meet the Parents, a dedicated family man, who just happened to be a son-in-law bothering ex-CIA agent.

Elizabethtown is the low key film Bloom needs now and with a few years of big movie experience behind him, it's his chance to prove he really has got the chops to go all the way in this tough business they call show. Tom Cruise tried to play normal in Jerry Maguire and failed. But Bloom is no Cruise - he doesn't do the whole Scientology thing for a start. If Crowe's writing is up to scratch and Bloom can channel the same off-kilter affability as John Cusack at his peak (a tough ask I know, but eminently doable) then this could well be the start of Bloom's renaissance and should keep off some of his detractors. Well, until some moron casts him as Jesus anyway...

Also Playing...

Just like Cameron Crowe, Terry Gilliam is a writer/director who is as interesting for his flaws as he is for his successes. Like every member of the Monty Python troupe, Gilliam's cinematic exploits have been a little hit and miss. For every Brazil there's a Baron Munchausen for every Twelve Monkeys a Jabberwocky. At his best Gilliam can be inspired, gleefully creating bizarre imagery or cutting through historical pretension, but always infused with the kind of intelligence which marked the Pythons in their heyday. At his worst, he's a budget gulping fantasist who all too often let's his wild imagination get the better of him. Half the fun is guessing which one you're going to get and the result is never less than entertaining.

Gilliam's latest, The Brothers Grimm, his first of two upcoming releases, the second being the more low key Tideland, promises more of the history teacher bothering anachronisms as Time Bandits. It's 1812 and in French occupied Germany, brothers Willhelm and Jacob Grimm (Will and Jake to be down wit' 'da kids) are posing as witch-hunters. However, when their cunning plan is rumbled by insane French general Delatomber, he orders them to root out another dodgy plot as punishment, this one including missing children. Cue magic and mystery all wrapped inside Gilliam's typical wit...

True to form, The Brothers Grimm created similar problems. After finally getting his project underway (which itself was a struggle), original backers MGM got cold feet and pulled out, stalling the project for a month until Miramax and Dimension films came on board and stumped up the necessary cash. Of course, with the notoriously controlling Weinstein brothers on board, rumours of casting disputes and on set disagreements rumbled and eventually the release date got pushed back from 2004 to 2005.

The man who gave the world giant squashing feet would have been a perfect fit for the wild and whimsical world of Quixote, but alas the fates disagreed and conspired time and time again to royally screw him over. Stars fell ill, torrential downpours wrecked expensive sets and, predictably, the budget spiralled wildly out of control. Finally, Gilliam waved the white flag to the great movie gods and admitted defeat, abandoning the project whose script now lies in the hands of an insurance company just begging to be resurrected.

"Last June it reached a point where we seemed to be talking about two different films," Gilliam tells Hotdog magazine. "There was 'them' and I couldn't work out what film 'they' were talking about, and then there was 'us' who had made this one and we knew what we were talking about". Finally, a frustrated Gilliam decided once more to temporarily halt shooting in a bid to ease the escalating tensions and went off to make Tideland instead, before finally returning to finish off the world of the Grimms to yet more studio problems.

Now the film is finally released, it sadly seems that the end result may not have been worth the struggle after all. Critics in the US have largely savaged the outlandish fantasy, with many citing style over substance as the main problem. But in the UK, reviewers have been kinder with most agreeing that despite its numerous flaws and excesses, it is still a noteworthy addition to the Aladdin’s Cave that is Gilliam's cannon.

Murderball - what a cracking name for a film. Good, strong Murderball. Still, it makes an even better name for a sport, coming second in the great sport name stakes only to Fireball, the sport created by Joey and Chandler in one of the oft repeated episodes of Freinds. Sadly, the reality of Quad Rugby - to give it its official title - is rather less happy go lucky, being an often brutal game played by quadraplegics.

Murderball the film is sure to be another in the long line of left-field documentaries currently coming from America. Since Michael Moore's sadly impotent anti-Bush hissy fit Fahrenheit 9/11 hit box office gold last July, the documentary has become big business. It seems that people just can't get enough of a hard-hitting, but silver lined slices of real life and this seems to fit the bill perfectly. After all, to lose a limb and then excel in a brutal sport which looks like a cross between rugby, basketball and a brawl down your local boozer is quite an achievement. "It's basically 'Kill the man with the ball'", says one participant. Take that Wayne Rooney!

Directed by Henry Alex Rubin and Dana Adam Shapiro, the film's narrative arc concerns the bitter rivalry between US player Mark Zupa and US player turned Canada coach Joe Soares. From there a whole host of players are investigated, with Rubin and Shapiro looking to explode the myth that the so called 'lesser-abled' among us should be pitied. Critics have already embraced it, with many calling it 'life-affirming' and 'though-provoking'. Catch it from today...

Next week: we get green fingers with The Constant Gardner, throw forth our best quips with Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and come over all girly with In Her Shoes. Speaking of which, I've only just discovered Jimmy Choo is a shoe designer and not a comedically named gangster...