Lakeview tacky

Call Samuel L. Jackson the Big Bad Black Wolf. Throughout Lakeview Terrace he will huff and puff and shine bright lights into your master bedroom.

The premise of the film revolves around a young interracial couple, Chris (Patrick Wilson, Evening) and Lisa Mattson (Kerry Washington, Miracle at St. Anna) who moves into an upper class neighborhood in California, relentlessly taunted by their racist neighbor, police officer Abel Turner (Jackson, Star Wars: The Clone Wars).

The film opens quietly, almost majestically, as Turner eats breakfast with his children. He is a strict disciplinarian with a solemnity accented with a sense of humor. Turner admonishes his son for wearing a Kobe jersey, saying, "We've moved up to Shaq."

The entire opening sequence consists of long sweeps of the California landscape along with soft piano overtones, creating an atmosphere too tranquil to last.

From here the film takes a downward turn, as the already overplayed "bad cop" role quickly becomes tacky, following clich?(c) after trite clich?(c).

Director Neil Labute (The Wicker Man, Nurse Betty) attempts to create a thriller/drama, but the marital dynamics between husband and wife don't work well enough to successfully thrill or dramatize. If Wilson could display emotions other than an awkward smile and shuffling of his feet, then the relationship might have a chance.

Chris walks around the movie intimidated by every other male on the screen to the point that it induces nausea. After Turner takes one of his practical jokes too far, Chris even redirects his anger towards his wife, confronting her on an issue that has been eating away at him for some time.

Don't go into Lakeview Terrace expecting some deep, contemplative probe into police corruption and racism, because no new insight is offered. The film does offer some classic Samuel L.-style bullying, some overdrawn fire motifs and a case or two of bad acting, though.

Washington puts on a powerful performance and almost redeems the relationship between her and Wilson. The two go through some "baby momma drama," but it doesn't prove shocking enough to raise the issue of children between a young couple.

Another kind of flaw emerges during a scene in which 40 drunken cops watch three strippers; a rather normal scene, except that every one of the strippers is clothed.

Exemplifying Labute's failure in preserving any kind of realistic tone, the director tries to preserve the PG-13 rating of the film but does not even try to artfully suggest nudity in order to make the scene a little more plausible.

Labute does offer up some rare visual gems throughout, the camera observing Turner as a man spiraling towards a breakdown, destroying anything he deems unjust. First-person shots of Turner's point-of-view create an eerie atmosphere as he patrols his neighbor's house and peers out of his blinds.

Unfortunately, this characterization of Turner is shattered when the generic reason for his well of anger is revealed in the form of a somewhat rational catalyst.

Racism plays a huge role in the film, to the point where one should be concerned. It works well at first, but then becomes oversaturated, with every other line out of Turner's mouth being some racist jibe towards Chris.

He tells Chris to keep a tighter leash on "his little chocolate drop" at one point. Right from the get-go Jackson's Turner is blatantly unwelcome and racist and it's surprising, and slightly ludicrous, that Chris takes a half-hour of the film to even confront him.

The "color card" is overplayed to the point where it's almost comical. Turner walks into a party and every couple shown during the scene are interracial. Maybe that's the way it is in California, or maybe it's just a reiterated and overstated point.

It yet another instance Lisa answers her friend's random question by saying, "Zinfandel. [pause] White Zinfandel." Lakeview Terrace bombards the audience with racism and subsequently takes all of the meaning from the issue.