Batman

So there I am on the couch, a two-year-old balanced on my forehead and an eight-year-old sitting on my chest, while "Batman" plays in the background. It hurts. "How did I get myself into this?" I think. Then Lee Meriwether, in a corset-tight catsuit, comes slinking onto the screen. "Oh, yeah. That's how."

Not that the feature-length "Batman" is only about Lee Meriwether in a corset. It also features Riddler Frank Gorshin in a girdle, though he chooses to wear his on the outside of his costume. And then there's Cesar Romero's Joker, who can't be bothered to shave his moustache, so he simply applies his white makeup over it in hopes that no one will notice. But the king of 'em all is clearly the fabulous Burgess Meredith as Penguin, who manages to simultaneously act his pants off _and_ ham it up, all while having a wonderful time.

And "Batman" feels like a wonderful time. There's a scene in which Robin says something like, "Why'd you save that bar full of drunks, Batman?" Batman replies, "They may be drunks, Robin, but they can still be redeemed." I know, I just _know_, that, at that moment, the cast and crew hoisted a round of frothy mugs at their screening (and kept raising them well into the night). This movie is so silly, so joyfully, gleefully campy, that you can't help but think it was as much fun to make as it is to watch. And who carries it? Yep, Adam West and Burt Ward as Batman and Robin. God bless 'em: they're terrible actors, but they're game for anything. No matter how ridiculous the scene, these ultimate squares keep their heads up and refuse to wink at the camera. Of course, their earnest delivery makes things all the sillier.

But silliness alone isn't enough to sell a movie. "Batman" is serious about some things, and it displays a level of craft I certainly did not expect. The bright, cartoonish color palette is both visually pleasing and remarkably consistent. The costuming, lighting, and sound are crisp and professional, even if jarring uses of stock footage of things like Polaris missiles sometimes throws things off. The Blu-Ray edition of this film really shines, and I've got to admit that it was a pleasure to watch.

I fired up "Batman" so my older boy would finally get all the "Batman" references in 'Sponge Bob Square Pants' and 'The Fairly Oddparents.' I never dreamed I'd actually get an enjoyable movie, in the process. Good for you, Batman!

Rambo

"Rambo" ain't got time for character development.

Well, I guess it does, if you count an evangelical Western doctor realizing that, sometimes, you've just gotta bash a man's head in with a rock. Or Rambo getting in touch with his inner ... Rambo. But other than that, this movie's all about the viscera, man.

Here's the deal: John Rambo's a snake wrangler in upcountry Thailand (I'm gonna guess somewhere near Chiang Mai, where one of my sisters-in-law lives. She tells me it's quite nice. They have a Dairy Queen, a Home Depot, and a muy thai boxing instructor I think she has a crush on. But that's neither here nor there.). He lives rather a solitary life; just him, his two employees, and his steroid connection. When a group of medical missionaries asks him to take them upriver to savage Burma, he tells them to blow: they can't handle the horror, the horror. But when one of the missionaries, Fay Wr- no, Naomi Ca- no, Julie Benz tries to talk him into it, can beauty get through to the simple beast Rambo has become? Well, when the power of pheremones compels you, there's not much you can do. Soon, Rambo's taking the group upriver, slaying some pirates, and sending the missionaries on their way.

Rambo thinks nothing of it when he never hears from them again, but then The White Shadow himself, Ken Howard, shows up on his makeshift doorstep to tell him that the missionaries have (predictably) disappeared. This leaves Rambo with a tough decision: does he keep to himself and let the world go by, or does he forge himself up a new combat knife and get involved? Well, I'm here to tell you, when The White Shadow tells you to drive to the hoop, you drive to the f*in' hoop. And thus, John Rambo chooses to embrace his destiny as a killing machine and find comradeship with other killing machines.

That's, like, the first twenty minutes. The rest is carnage. So much carnage, such a ridiculously enormously unbelievable amount of carnage, that I laughed out loud at Stallone's wilingness to go so far over the top that I half-expected him to kill the big villain through ultimate arm wrestling. Is it entertaining? If you like to watch things go "Boom!" Is it engaging? If you want to lay odds on the number of barrels of Kensington Gore used in its making. Can it be the centerpiece of an evening with the guys, a couple of pizzas, and a case of Bud? You betcha.

So, yeah, I'd see it again. Under the proper circumstances.

Confessions of a Dangerous Mind

So, "Confessions of a Dangerous Mind," George Clooney's directorial debut. Sam Rockwell, the Once and Future Zaphod Beeblbrox, plays 'Gong Show' creator Chuck Barris in the kind of autobiography one might expect when listening to the life story of a compulsive liar. I don't even know if the real Barris is a compulsive liar, but this tale is so cool, has so many loose ends, and makes such a fun antihero of Barris that it set off my bullshit alarm in a big, big way.

But pay no attention to the bullshit alarm. Focus, instead, on the cool and fun story of a guy whose contempt for his fellow man led to a small fortune in the world of television (This part really happened.), astonishing success with women (This part probably happened - I'm told that cocaine is a remarkable drug.), and survival in the deadly world of international espionage (Bullshit!). Sam Rockwell (quickly becoming one of my favorite actors) as Chuck Barris is a hustler born, and watching him hustle his way through life is a great deal of fun. George Clooney does a fine job of making a tiny film seem less tiny through the inclusion of a quality supporting cast - I mean, who else could have gotten Julia Roberts and Drew Barrymore to show up in such a tiny film? And the whole thing hums along in a sort of alcoholic - nihilistic - bullshitter's groove.

I liked it.

Walk Hard

I don't think I gave "Walk Hard" a fair shake.

I loved the first fifteen minutes, which I enjoyed while eating lunch. Then I started in on the laundry (with two you boys, I have a lot of laundry), and the simple act of folding and sorting took me out of the comedy headspace the film demanded.

Or maybe the movie just couldn't top, "It wasn't it fault!" "Not his fault? He cut him in half! With a machete!"

Even though the picture didn't raise many laughs after its first act, it did impress me with its music. Over the course of the feature, "Walk Hard" showcased perhaps every major genre of music to get airplay in America in the last fifty years. And the title song itself? Y'know, it's catchy. In fact, I've been humming it for days.

So, "Walk Hard." There it is. Give it your full attention, and it may pay off for you. It's hard for me to say.

Hellboy II: The Golden Army

(See my comments on "Hellboy" here.)

(See my comments on "Hellboy Animated: Sword of Storms" here.)

(See my comments on "Hellboy Animated: Blood and Iron" here.)

Sorry, Internet. "Hellboy II: The Golden Army" isn't going to change your life.

Well, I suppose it might, a little. It might encourage you to spend some time reading Mike Mignola's excellent "Hellboy" comic books, a delightful reinterpretation of ancient folklore cleverly disguised as an action-adventure starring a genuine prince of Hell (rebelling against his Old Man by working for the good guys). It might even make you think a little bit about the person other people want you to be and the person you want to be. Hell, it might even turn you into a Barry Manilow fan.

But it isn't the greatest film ever.

It's merely very, very good. Not only is it a well-told story, but it's phenomenally imaginative. Creator Guillermo Del Toro (who made "Pan's Labyrinth," one of the best films I've ever seen) opens the picture with faerie tale reminiscent of "Strings," another brilliantly imaginative tale, and builds on that tale by weaving it into an exciting and funny modern adventure starring Hellboy (the great Ron Perlman), his pal Abe Sapien the gill-man (Doug Jones, whom I still haven't forgiven for the nightmare -inducing Pale Man), and the love of his life, firestarter Liz Sherman (Selma Blair, who outdoes herself here). See, the elves are pissed. Long ago, the made a deal with humanity - humans got the cities, and faerie creatures got the forests. But humans kept cutting down the forests, and the elves are running out of room. Their hotspurred prince declares war and sets out to reanimate the Golden Army - a goblin-built brigade of automatons who can't be bargained with; can't be reasoned with. They don't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And they absolutely will not stop, ever, until all humans are dead.

There's your story, but just outlining the story doesn't do the picture justice. Del Toro has an extraordinary imagination, which is woven into every scene of this visually delightful film. From the throwaway creature designs to the evocations of other worlds, the man gives us the kind of movie we enjoy seeing in the theater but can't wait to frame-by-frame when we bring it home on Blu-Ray. There's so much detail, so much creativity at work; not only in the already-famous Troll Market scenes, but throughout the film; that this movie is more than the clever telling of a good story. It's a multifaceted experience that's well worth savoring.

But it won't change your life.

Well, okay, maybe a little.