Idiocracy

IDIOCRACY is a one-joke movie. It's a pretty good joke, and I know this because watched IDIOCRACY in three parts, as dictated by the events of my day. Each time I started (or returned to) the movie, I laughed out loud the first two or three times I got the joke. Then, however, I settled in and hummed along, reasonably amused and a little uncomfortable, until the next interruption (or the end of the film). When you tell the same joke over and over, that's about the most you can hope for.

Here's the joke: the main characters are surrounded by stupefyingly idiotic people. That makes for funny situations at first, but eventually we viewers come to accept the stupidity and move on. If humor lies in the gap between observation and apprehension, IDIOCRACY makes the gap so small that there's no room for a belly laugh.

Here's the setup: Owen Wilson and Maya Rudolph, two extraordinarily average people, are sent into the far future. Once there, they discover that Will Durant was right - the future does belong to the fertile. America's smartest people have underreproduced, while the dullards have multiplied like - well, in creator Mike Judge's estimate - dullards. People of the future are so dumb, so boorish, so easily led, that they dismiss as "faggy" any speech that makes even the most remote sense. They water their crops with sports drinks because they've been told that plants need electrolytes, then wonder why nothing will grow when it's routinely doused with sugar and salted water. They're so dumb that IDIOCRACY has no internal logic because the systems needed to keep this civilization limping along could not have been designed or maintained by this civilization's own members, nor could this civilization have protected itself from smarter, hungrier, more aggressive civilizations. But we're not supposed to pay attention to any of that. We're supposed to laugh down our noses at the inflated stereotypes that Judge trots out before us, even as we meditate on the decline of our own civilization. And we do laugh, at least at first, but then the joke gets old.

While viewing IDIOCRACY, I felt a growing unease. I'm wrapped pretty tightly in the cocoon of my particular class - so much so that I have very little contact with the class that Judge sees taking over world. Is it possible that people who could be the seeds of IDIOCRACY's comic exaggerations actually exist in any significant numbers? Is America really a "Divorce Court" and "Jerry Springer" kind of place? While watching the film, I couldn't decide whether Judge cruelly misrepresents lower-middle America or I am out of touch.

Regardless, I could decide this: IDIOCRACY can be a pretty funny movie, depending on how you watch it. I recommend short, controlled bursts.

Chungking Express

You know those movies in which everyone in town seems to connect with everyone else? The kind which depict a city as a fabric, with everyone's stories woven together? CHUNGKING EXPRESS (1994) is not one of those movies. CHUNGKING EXPRESS is a movie about disconnectedness, about the isolation we can feel in the unlikeliest of places.

The movie doesn't have a unified narrative, and it isn't all tied together with freak meteorological events. Think of it, instead, as variations on a theme of loneliness. In the first variation, RETURNER's Takeshi Kaneshiro plays Number 223, a not-particularly-effective Hong Kong police officer. He's working through a difficult breakup, and the woman ( Brigitte Lin) he needs may be the worst possible woman for him. In the second, Tony Leung plays Number 633, another officer in similar circumstances. He meets Faye Wong, and I suspect that she's trouble in her own way.

The details of their stories aren't particularly important. What is important is the ways in which they try to order their lives, and how, even though they're sometimes only .01 centimeters apart, they may never connect. I suspect that, somewhere in China, there lives the girl who broke Wong Kar Wai's heart. We need to thank her, because his variations on a theme of loneliness are a beautiful thing, finding connections deeper than those any freak storm can create.

Speedy

Harold Lloyd's last silent picture, 1928's SPEEDY, is an enjoyable romp through a New York City that we'll never see again. From Penn Station to Yankee Stadium to Times Square to Coney Island, SPEEDY crafts an adventure both fascinating and funny.

In SPEEDY, Lloyd's a well-meaning chap who can't seem to hold a job for very long. That's ok, because he's a resourceful sort and he can be counted on to come through when the chips are down. The first half of the film has him bouncing from job to job but, once he finds himself in the second half, he enlists all his powers and all his friends in service to rescuing his father's business.

SPEEDY works because Lloyd is such an agreeable fellow, and because he makes full use of New York City in the film. It's practically a travelogue for another time, and it even features a brief role for the Babe himself, Babe Ruth as a man who absolutely has to get to Yankee Stadium on time.

SPEEDY didn't make me fall off the couch, but I found it funny, warm, and good use of time. Enjoy.

Solaris

A real exchange that occurred while viewing SOLARIS:

My Wife: "This is like a really long episode of Battlestar Galactica."
Me: "But dull."

I've decided that George Clooney is a major talent whose career is worth following. Consequently, I've been seeing some of his films that didn't particularly appeal to me, and SOLARIS numbers among them.

Here's the setup: Clooney is a grieving widow who is called to visit a space station and investigate the strange goings on there. The strangest thing about this station, I think, is that it's lit almost entirely in blue. Other than that, there's some stuff about alien dopplegangers who may be the personification of that which we love the most. Then again, they may not.

Frankly, I didn't care. SOLARIS is so portentious, so plodding, so, well, dull that I was just waiting for it to end.

Sure, Clooney is a major talent. But maybe that doesn't mean I have to see *all* of his movies.

The Kid from Left Field

1953's THE KID FROM LEFT FIELD is a sweet picture with a tough heart, a family drama that actually has something for everyone in the family, and an opportunity to see some familiar faces in a forgotten picture.

THE KID FROM LEFT FIELD plays out the old boyhood dream: a boy gets to put on a Major League uniform and play with the men. Unlike ROOKIE OF THE YEAR or ANGELS IN THE OUTFIELD, however, this kid doesn't realize the dream through medical oddity or divine intervention. He realizes it because he has brains, moxie, and a father who loves him. See, here's the deal: the Bisons suck. They can't hit, they can't field, and they're poorly managed, unlike the more interesting sandlot team that plays across the street. Said team, managed by young Christie Cooper (Billie Chapin), plays like a team and has the benefit of a tough but fair manager who knows what he's doing. Said manager's father, who's a peanut vendor in the big leage park across the way, once played ball himself and knows the game better than anyone in the Bisons organization. Only he's washed up, see, and nobody's going to follow the peanut vendor.

Through luck and a cross-generational meet-cute with 23-yr-old Anne Bancroft, Christie gets a chance to meet the Bisons' owner. Here's where the brains and moxie part comes in, as he talks his way into a job as the team's bat boy. Before you know it, Christie is receiving his father's baseball wisdom, mixing it with his own, and supplanting the team's worthless manager. Along the way, he tries to resurrect the lagging careers of Lloyd Bridges and newcomer Fess Parker (with mixed results), tries to cupid for Bancroft and Bridges (with mixed results), and turn his team around. It's a dream come true!

It's not all pennants and cheers, however. The father, "Pop" Cooper (Dan Dailey) has serious confidence issues, and maybe even a mild drinking problem. There's a real sense of desperation to the guy, like he's just this far from poverty and he's doing everything he can to keep his son and himself afloat. Bridges knows his legs are going and his time is running out, and he has some hard decisions to make. The kid, well, he's just a kid. How long can he actually hold up under the pressure of managing a Major League ballclub? I was particularly impressed by this aspect of the movie. When these storylines resolve themselves, those resolutions feel earned. I felt like I hadn't just watched these people go through the motions of an entertaining family picture - I felt like I'd been on a journey with them.

Regarding the performances, Bancroft and Bridges are utterly charming (and incredibly snappy dressers, to boot), Parker turns in some fine comic relief by playing it close, and Cooper and Dailey convincingly play a father and son who, rain or shine, are committed to making a go of things.

This may well be the best movie I hadn't heard of in quite some time.

Seven Up / 7 Plus Seven

With the highly lauded release of the latest iteration in Michael Apted's "Up" series, 49 UP, generating attention around the world, I figured it was time that I invested some hours into this remarkable project.

SEVEN UP and 7 PLUS SEVEN represent the first two editions in the documentary series that revisits a group of British kids at regular intervals and monitors their progress. These first two documentary films were not, sadly, particularly interesting. (This just in: bright-eyed children often turn into sullen adolescents.) While watching them, I felt like I was laying the groundwork for the good things that are heralded to come: kind of like plowing through the first several chapters of a Victorian novel in the knowledge that things will speed up and come together as the story goes on.

So ... not an auspicious beginning to the series, but I have high hopes. We'll see what 21 UP has to tell us.

Narc

Joe Carnahan's NARC is a very well acted, rather overdirected, and ultimately satisfying procedural.

In NARC, Jason Patric returns to a character that seems right out of his criminally underappreciated RUSH. Det. Sgt. Nick Tellis is a cop in rough shape. He used to be an undercover narcotics officer, but he accidentally hit a pregnant woman in a gunfight and he's barely hanging on the paycheck from his administrative leave. Oh, and he may have been a drug addict, to boot. Tellis is given a chance to return to active duty to solve the murder of another undercover narc, and he's teamed with the always unpredictable (and possibly psychotic) Ray Liotta.

The story has its usual twists and turns, betrayals and redemptions. What makes it stand out are the subtle, finely tuned performances of Patric and Liotta. We come to believe in these guys and their journeys, and the actors bring a much needed reality to a film that might otherwise succumb to its love of blue filters, jump cuts, and dazzling feats of editing.

This movie has some strong positives and some mild negatives. Overall, I'd say it's worth the rental.

For Your Consideration

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION reunites the wonderful team that brought us WAITING FOR GUFFMAN, BEST IN SHOW, and A MIGHTY WIND for their weakest outing to date.

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION follows the lives of the cast, crew, and miscellaneous fellow travellers associated with the sure-to-tank "Home For Purim," a disastrous collision of Tennessee Williams and anachronistic modern Judaism. Things are looking grim for all involved until rumours about possible Oscar nominations start flying on the internet. Then it's the race to sell out just as fast as possible, cowritten by a guy who starred in AMERICAN PIE 5: THE NAKED MILE.

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION has several laughs, notably from the brilliant Jane Lynch as a Mary Hart -like entertainment anchorwoman, but its pessimistic and ultimately sad outlook on Hollywood and its people outweighs the levity of its subject matter and closes us on such a sad, sad note that we forget we're supposed to be watching a comedy.

Nanny McPhee

I absolutely adored Emma Thompson's NANNY MCPHEE.

The film takes a reliable formula, a nanny shows up and squares away an intractable household, and works magic with it. Emma Thompson is marvelous as the titular nanny, Colin Firth turns in fine work as the hapless widowed father, Kelly MacDonald is utterly luminous as the scullery maid with a fairy-tale ending in store for her, and brilliant actors Angela Lansbury, Derek Jacobi, and the young Thomas Sangster prove that there's no such thing as a small role.

NANNY MCPHEE looks great, with a palette that reminds both that we're watching a fairy tale and that, in this world, everything will turn out fine. Its Thompson - penned dialogue sparkles, Patrick Doyle's score perfectly complements the action, and the film's ending is remarkably satisfying. This film does everything it sets out to do, and it does it with uninetrrupted excellence. Watch this one with the kids, or watch it alone - regardless, everyone in the room is guaranteed to have a good time.

While I'm writing about one of her works, allow me to take a moment to appreciate the remarkable career of Emma Thompson. When I first noticed her in HENRY V, she was just another beauty. From there, she went on to DEAD AGAIN, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, and HOWARD'S END, just to name a few. She took home a BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY Oscar for Sense and Sensibility, and her career hasn't slowed down since. She effortlessly moves from small pieces like THE WINTER GUEST to blockbusters like the HARRY POTTER series without missing a beat, and she's consistently smart, affecting, and wonderful in everything she does.

What a marvelous talent.

Highlander: Endgame

I remember how we began, with HIGHLANDER. It was the days before the internet, and I walked into the theater solely on the strength of Sean Connery's name on the poster. You surprised me. You dazzled me. You found a special place in my heart.

But you changed. In HIGHLANDER II: THE QUICKENING, I didn't even recognize you. Everything you had told me about yourself turned out to be a lie, and you treated me like the dirt under your shoes. So I walked away.

I was done with you. I didn't need you in my life. But then you came around, full of promise, with HIGHLANDER III: THE SORCERER. It wasn't like the first time, and our trust had been broken, but at least it seemed like you were making an effort. Finally, though, I realized you were an empty shell - all promise and no delivery. We were finished. Through. I had my own path to tread.

Why, oh why, did I allow myself to fall into the same trap when you came back around with HIGHLANDER IV: ENDGAME? I knew what I was getting into, but I couldn't resist. My heart kept going back to those wonderful early days, even as my mind told me that no good could come of you. I should have listened. Once you had me committed again, you didn't even try to act like a real movie. You were nothing more than an "extra special episode with special guest Christopher Lambert." Your production values were strictly cable tv - and one of the high-numbered channels, to boot. Your heroes were lame, and your villains even lamer. Your story was pointless, your fight choreography uninteresting, and your climax an invalidation of your own wobbly mythos. That's it. I'm done with you, and for good this time. Don't come around, because I respect myself now and I've got no time for you.

What? IMDB tells me that HIGHLANDER: THE SOURCE is in post-production? Well, maybe just this once. What's the harm?

Assault on Precinct 13

ASSAULT ON PRECINCT 13 is aggressively mediocre.

The film hits every mark, goes through all the motions, like it's trying very hard. Hard as it may try, however, it simply cannot muster the tension it's trying to achieve. We know who the traitor is the minute we see him. We know who's going to die, and pretty much in what order. We know exactly how the hero's arc will play out, and we even know how the antihero's arc will play out.

As the hero, Ethan Hawke shows us nothing we haven't seen before. As the antihero, Lawrence Fishburne is convincingly portrays a one-note actor. As the various targets trapped inside the titular precinct house with our anti/heroic duo, Monica Bello, Drea de Matteo, John Leguizamo, Brian Dennehy, and "I've seen that guy before" guy Matt Craven all show up, do their jobs, and go home.

While not a terrible film, ASSAULT ON PRECINCT 13 has little to recommend it. It may be just thing to have on in the background while doing chores, but I wouldn't sit down for it again.

Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels

There's a moment at the beginning of the endgame of LOCK, STOCK AND TWO SMOKING BARRELS (1998) in which all the pieces are assembled on the board, but the interlocking stories and plots are jumbled together and everything appears to be headed for total chaos. Watching it, I thought, "How the hell is this guy (writer / director Guy Ritchie) going to pull this off?"

He pulls it off with dash, flair, humor, and not a little bit of gratuitous violence. The same could be said of the entire film. LOCK, STOCK AND TWO SMOKING BARRELS is a fun, vibrant picture that isn't afraid to tell a raucous story raucously. Ritchie clearly enjoys writing dialogue that, if not entirely natural, is a pleasure to hear. Additionally, the guy knows how to craft a story that's inherently violent without giving it any real sense of danger. His characters and situations are so outlandish that they feel like characters and situations, not like real people, and that adds to the movie's sense of fun.

LOCK, STOCK AND TWO SMOKING BARRELS could have gone wrong in any number of ways. Fortunately, Ritchie avoids them and delivers an energetic, amusing picture.

What a pleasant surprise.

PS There's a whole other side to this movie, the investigation of which was inconsistent with the upbeat tone of my remarks. LS&TSB does some interesting things with the nature of class, cleverly delineating various levels of "us-ness" and "them-ness." This is the kind of movie that could take you from a fun time at the theater to a fun time over coffee later, as you consider how calculated the film is, and how complicit you are, in its presentation of class and ethnicity.

The Descent

I'm not claustrophobic. I know this because at one point in my military training I was put in a situation designed to induce extreme claustrophobia. I was snug as could be and could have stayed there all night. At least, I thought I wasn't claustrophobic. THE DESCENT has made me reconsider.

THE DESCENT has a solid horror framework: a group of friends go somewhere and promptly start dying. In this particular case, the friends go spelunking, a pastime which never particularly appealed to me but never particularly repelled me, either. While watching the first third of THE DESCENT, the one in which the group penetrates more deeply into the cave network in which nasty things are sure to happen, I felt uncomfortable, then confined, then outright claustrophobic. The filmmakers do such a fine job of closing in more and more tightly on both their characters and audience that, by the time a member of the party gets stuck in a tiny passageway, it was all I could do to breathe. I could feel the oppressive weight of the earth above me, and I yearned for daylight. Later in the film, when the nasties show up, THE DESCENT becomes your basic bug-hunt movie, which is fine. Still later, when the protagonist goes Spacek, the movie takes some unexpected and creative turns which pay off well. But that first third - oh man - I've never seen anything like it.

Neil Marshall, who earlier directed personal favorite DOG SOLDIERS, again populates his film with characters we know and respect. He doesn't waste our time with too much exposition, and he doesn't go for all the easy character beats we expect. Instead, he gives us the chance to get to know these people based on what they do, not say. It's sound, economical film-making, and it works.

What a treat.

Rookie of the Year

ROOKIE OF THE YEAR is the kind of innocuous kids' movie that dreams small dreams: it only wants to entertain young baseball fans without inflicting too much pain on their parents.

It succeeds, I suppose. It entertained my young baseball fan and didn't inflict too much pain on me, but that doesn't make it a good movie. Its star, a kid (at the time) named Thomas Ian Griffith, knows two expressions: happy and dumfounded and sad and dumbfounded. Its action is ridiculous, it story paper-thin, and its adult-themed jokes too risque.

ROOKIE OF THE YEAR isn't a failure because it sets its sights so low. If you don't have a young baseball fan in the house, however, don't bother.

Blackballed: The Bobby Dukes Story

I hated every frame of BLACKBALLED: THE BOBBY DUKES STORY. In fact, I couldn't get through it. When the movie hit 45 minutes without eliciting even the faintest trace of the beginning of the uptick of a grin, I ejected the thing, put it in its envelope, and dropped it in the mail.

BLACKBALLED is the kind of movie that hates its characters, hates its subject matter, and hates you, the viewer. The movie's about a disgraced paintball champion who returns to his old stomping grounds a decade after his shaming event. His friends loathe him and his enemies loathe him. I find nothing funny in loathing and found nothing funny here.

BLACKBALLED looks and sounds cheap. Its characters don't work. Nothing about it is funny. Someone should have shot it through the heart.

Pusher

If LAYER CAKE is a movie about a genius trying to survive in a world of morons, then PUSHER (1996) is a movie about a moron trying to survive in a world of morons.

The movie follows Frank, a guy on one of the lower levels of the multi-level marketing scheme known as the Danish narcotics trade, through what may well be the last week of his life. PUSHER uses the industry-standard pattern of high life and decline, but it does so with two important deviations: it's shot with an improvisational style, using ambient light and (mostly, it seems) handheld cameras; and it doesn't give us anyone to root for. Frank is an idiotic scumbag surrounded by idiotic scumbags, and the succession of lousy decisions to which the movie bears witness does nothing to endear us to him or anyone else.

So, why bother with PUSHER? First, it puts us viewers right in Frank's increasingly uncomfortable shoes, and it takes us places where glamorous crime movies never go. Second, it manages to make us root for Frank, even as we despise him. It slowly ratchets up the tension until we find ourselves fully invested in his predicament, and its payoff is both unexpected and perfect.

That said, watching PUSHER was not a particularly pleasant experience. I respect this movie, but I don't necessarily like it. There's a PUSHER II and III out there, but I think I've spent about all the time with these people that I'm willing to spend.

All About My Mother

I fired up ALL ABOUT MY MOTHER solely to check the Almodovar box. I didn't know anything about the picture going in, and that may be the best way to approach the piece.

ALL ABOUT MY MOTHER is a gorgeous picture, the kind of movie that had me watching with one finger on the "pause" button, just so I could admire the composition of certain shots. The care in the film's design reflects the care that went into crafting its characters on both the page and the screen. Cecilia Roth, playing the film's protagonist, anchors its interweaving stories and tragedies with a grounded, present authority and conducts us on a journey that's well worth the price of admission.

What a pleasant surprise.

Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas

I am not the target audience for SINBAD: LEGEND OF THE SEVEN SEAS. I've read _1001 Arabian Nights_. I've been to Syracuse. I'm familiar with Greek mythology. And I like Harryhausen movies.

I couldn't get on board with this movie, primarily because its Sinbad has so little in common with every other version of the character with which I'm familiar. There were more hangups, of course: its maguffin wasn't compelling, its geography was sketchy, and its creation of a fantasy world didn't jibe with the names it gave elements of that world. Why even call your protagonist Sinbad when he bears no resemblance to the Sinbad of legend? Why call your city Syracuse if it isn't going to look anything remotely like Syracuse? Why establish a round world in the film's very first scene, only to make a flat world a major plot point near the end? The list of nits I picked is practically endless, and they conspired to keep me from getting involved in the picture. The only bright spot in the whole production, in fact, is Michelle Pfeiffer's voice work as Eris, goddess of chaos: it's dangerous, seductive, and loads of fun. She isn't enough to keep the production afloat, however. Someone should've scuttled SINBAD back in the story development phase.

PS My wife enjoyed the artwork and our boy absolutely loved it, so your mileage may vary.

Eros

Wong Kar Wai. Steven Soderbergh. Michelangelo Antonioni. Three short films on Eros. How could it possibly go wrong?

Wrong it goes.

Here's the problem: the first film, Wong Kar Wai's "The Hand," is so much better than the other two that most of the movie is a letdown. In "The Hand," Gong Li plays an aging courtesan who enthralls and possesses the young tailor (Chang Chen, from THREE TIMES) sent to design and create her gowns. Li is so intriguing, so commanding, so sad, so pathetic, that she overshadows every other woman in the tryptich. When we should be thinking about the Dream Girl of Soderbergh's "Equilibrium" or the dancing nudes of Antonioni's "The Dangerous Thread of Things," we're thinking about Li and Chen and Christopher Doyle's beautiful cinematography.

Unfortunately, this means that EROS is a mixed bag. TiVo it for the first chapter, but feel free to skip the following two.

Jet Li's Fearless

Fearless is a towering masterpiece and a brilliantly fitting end to Jet Li's wuxia-film career. It's thoughtful, beautiful, exciting, and heartbreaking. It makes me want to be a better man.

By now, most of us are familiar with the Joseph Campbell's Hero's Journey and they way that journey informs the Western storytelling tradition. Jet Li's Fearless takes on a different kind of journey, the Buddha's Journey, and it breaks and re-forms our hearts along the way.

In the Buddha's Journey, the privileged young man comes to see the emptiness of that privilege. He either wills himself or is shocked out of his mental and emotional space, and he embarks on a spiritual quest for enlightenment. For most men, that enlightenment never comes and the quest becomes its own spiritual vehicle. The Buddha, however, gets it in the most profound way imaginable. If he returns, he may try to share part of what he's seen with his fellows. He may even succeed.

Fearless begins with Huo Yan Jia (Li) at a tournament in the waning days of the Qing Empire. Li, the embodiment of Buddhist self-possession and peace, easily bests three Champions of the Western World. As the last challenger, a Japanese fighter, enters the ring, we flash back to Huo as an impetuous and Wu Shu - obsessed child. From there, the film takes on the journey that leads to this ring and beyond. It's beautiful work, beautifully done, and it does more to illustrate my limited knowledge of Buddhist thought than any other film I've ever seen.

The film itself looks beautiful. Fearless chooses a heightened aesthetic. Its world looks like our world, only cleaner and fresher and somehow more wonderful. In other words, it's the world of story. It's a world in which wire-fu lives alongside the drudgery of planting rice in paddy day after day after day. It's a world that's infused with beauty, and one in which unspeakable things happen to people who deserve only wonder and joy. Even if the whole "Buddha's Journey" thing doesn't appeal to you, even if you could care less about wuxia films, this picture is worth seeing for the joy of looking at it alone.

The action, well, it's wonderful. Choreographer Yuen Wo Ping pulls out all the stops here, letting us see and feel the variations in the fighting styles onscreen and seamlessly blending wire work with practical stunts. The film's fights (or later, competitions) breathe with an organic life of their own, and they're filled with surprises both delightful and heartbreaking. Some of the action beats in Fearless made me laugh - others brought tears to my eyes. From a choreography and dance perspective alone, this thing is phenomenal.

Finally, Fearless is a heartbreaking movie. Having grown up in rural America, I'm not much for bucolic reawakenings. Nevertheless, Fearless made me cry just by showing me a bunch of farmers pausing to stretch their backs in the middle of a hard day of planting. This is a movie that explores a life badly lived, then turns and gives us one lived well. We see this life lived well, and we see the effect it has on the people it touches. It makes me want to live my life better, to touch those around me in a more positive way.

What a wonderful, brilliant movie. In a year filled with outstanding films, Fearless is one of the very best.

Gojira

Takashi Shimura had a wonderful 1954. First, he starred as Kambei Shimada in The Seven Samurai, one of the greatest films ever made. Then he starred in another Toho production, the original Gojira. The latter film would later be recut and renamed Godzilla for an American audience, and that version (the one with Raymond Burr) would be the only Godzilla the American audience would know for quite some time.

What a shame, and what a blesssing that Sony chose to release the original version in a new U.S. DVD. Gojira is my favorite Godzilla movie, more than making up for its clunky effects and sometimes hamfisted acting with a genuinely scary and thought-provoking tale that recalls and reflects the Japanese sensibility in the wake of WWII.

Two events overshadow Gojira: the nuclear bombings on Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the fire bombing of Tokyo. While Godzilla is, obviously, a radioactive monster awakened by nuclear testing in the Pacific Islands, his destructive rampage invokes the horror of the fire-bombing, an event that (if I remember my 1993 reading of Kurosawa's _Something Like an Autobiography_ correctly) gutted Toho Studios and personally affected the lives of those who worked there. Consequently, Gojira pulls no punches. The monster's rampage isn't cute, or played for action beats. It's horrific, people die, and those who survive the onslaught must deal with the effects of radiation poisoning afterward.

Takashi Shimura anchors this film. Surrounded by overacting young stars and giant latex monsters, Shimura brings a level of maturity and gravity to the situation that makes us believe in both it and him. The actor plays things straight, and paleontologist / wise man character keeps the proceedings anchored in reality when they could very easily descend into camp.

Gojiira. It's the first. It's the best. It's not to be missed. What were the odds that one man could star in two classics in the same year?

Goodbye, Mr. Chips

I read Robert Hilton's _Good-Bye, Mr. Chips_ about two years ago. I loved it so much that I didn't bother to seek out the film, feeling that I'd already experienced the story. I did myself a disservice by waiting so long.

Sam Wood's 1939 version of the story, starring Robert Donat and Greer Garson, is wonderful. Donat plays Mr. Chips over roughly a 60-year span, taking the character from fresh-faced young teacher to wise old dean without putting a single foot wrong. It's a masterful performance, the kind of thing that makes us realize just how powerful and wonderful an art form drama is. Greer Garson, in her first film role, plays a supporting character that breathes life into both Chips and the movie. Though she doesn't get much screen time, her presence energizes the whole proceedings - she's wonderful to watch.

Goodbye, Mr. Chips follows its titular character through the chapters of his life as a professor at a English Boy's School, the kind of institution that has become part of the British cultural landscape. On his first day, he lets the boys roll right over him, but it isn't long before those selfsame boys come to respect him and send their best wishes, along with their own boys, back to him. This isn't the saccharine stuff of a Dead Poets' Society, however. Chips is a real guy, a product of his time and place, as are his charges. He never really breaks out until he meets Garson on - well, I'll let you discover that element for yourself. The film is told in episodes, lifting moments from the Professor's life, and closes in the way we would all hope a life well lived would close. With grace, joy, and hope.

I just plain loved this movie. Had I seen it as a younger man, it may have inspired me to go into teaching. Who knows? Perhaps it still might.

The Coast Guard

THE COAST GUARD is a Korean picture by Kim Ki Duk, the guy who made 3-IRON. Since I love 3-IRON, I was all set to love this picture, as well. Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way.

South Korea is one of the few countries on Earth that actively patrols its beaches. Since the Korean War cease-fire, North Korea has consistently sent spies and saboteurs south to either do a quick hit-and-run or blend into society and await the call to action. There have been no confirmed infiltrations since 2000, but South Korean soldiers on coast guard duty continue to patrol, and they continue to have authorization to shoot anyone who they see on the beach at night. THE COAST GUARD is about one such soldier, a particularly gung-ho career man who shoots (and grenades) a man he thinks is an infiltrator, but who is actually just a drunk kid having sex on the beach. The soldier comes unglued, the kid's paramour goes insane, and things go downhill from there.

It's a good movie; a perfectly fine movie; but I've seen post-traumatic stress disorder movies before and I've seen military unit falling apart movies before. THE COAST GUARD doesn't add anything new to those concepts, and the print on the DVD is muddy and old. THE COAST GUARD doesn't give one much food for thought and it doesn't dazzle the eye, so we're left with a particularly good Movie of the Week.

As I said, it's a fine movie. But it's no 3-IRON.

The Son's Room

Sometimes, all a guy wants to do is watch an American picture where lots of stuff blows up real good.

That's the mood I was in when I reluctantly fired up THE SON'S ROOM (2001), Nanni Moretti's film about a family and the pain it endures when one of its members drowns in a scuba mishap. It wasn't long, however, before thoughts of explosions left my mind as I became deeply involved with this family, their grief, and their attempts to cope with it.

THE SON'S ROOM succeeds, in part, because it doesn't rush to tragedy. It gives us a good half hour to get to know these people; to develop an attachment to Andrea, the doomed teenager; and to develop a genuine affinity for Giovanni, the father and psychoanalyst who begins to suspect that his professional gods are as false as the Catholic one he left behind long ago. When Andrea dies offscreen, we empathize with his surviving family members, and we're ready to travel with them on the next phase of their journey.

What do I like most about this movie? It doesn't feature "Solsbury Hill," for one thing. For another, it offers no overblown dramatic scenes in which the characters shout their feelings at one another. For yet another, it offers no trite conclusion, or even an obvious message. A page is turned, and that's all, and that seems appropriate.

I was in the mood for an action picture, but I got something better: an involving picture. I care about these people, and I want to know what happens next in their lives. Perhaps they'll write.

Rocky

So you say you want to be entertained? Well, ROCKY wants to entertain you. This 1981 Bollywood production has romance, deception, loss, redemption, motorcycle stunts, fistfights, heroes, villains, motherly love, and even a disco dance-off that you will never forget. The problem is that it isn't very good.

Here's the movie in a nutshell. Rocky's dad is a union organizer who's killed by the Indian Snidely Whiplash, who proceeds to sexually assault his mother while the boy, 6ish, tries to stop him. A family friend arrives just in time to save the day, but the boy is so traumatized that he's now an amnesiac. The local doctor believes that the boy should be separated from his mother, and the family friend steps in to adopt him. Fast forward 15-or-so years, and young Rocky's all grown up, still in the dark about his early childhood. He doesn't know it yet, but he has a karmic score to settle: over the next couple of hours, he must avenge his father, get the girl, and sing and dance his way into our hearts.

There's a problem, however. ROCKY's titular character is played by Sanjay Dutt, an actor so lacking in presence, range, and athletic ability that I couldn't decide which was more unbelievable: his acting, his dancing, or his stunt work. The supporting cast is fine, but it can't save a production that hinges on our acceptance of the entirely unremarkable Dutt as a charismatic leader, fearsome fighter, and dance machine.

As for the production, well, it's late-disco-era Bollywood, so stand by for some amusing sets and costumes. The transfer doesn't help, as the DVD producers seemed to work from the most scratched, discolorized, and generally battered print they could find. I guess it's better than nothing, if you're a Sanjay Dutt completist.

As I said, ROCKY wants to entertain you. Though it pulls out all the stops, sadly, it fails.

Romeo + Juliet

I fell in love with Luhrmann's ROMEO + JULIET when Brian Dennehy's said "Bring me my longsword" and Lady Montague reached for a Longsword .44 Cal.

This movie was everything I look for in a Shakespeare adaptation: audacious, creative, and fun, yet true to the heart of the play in question.

As a Netflix guy, I don't own a lot of movies. I own this one.

Breakfast at Tiffany's

BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S is a movie about people I don't like, living in a milieu that doesn't intrigue me, beginning a relationship that's founded, among other things, on the joys of petty larceny. It's title song is a horrifying bit of schmaltz, and it features a racial charicature so offensive that I'm surprised the movie isn't reviled today.

No, I did not like it. Not at all.

Thank You for Smoking

I enjoyed the heck out of THANK YOU FOR SMOKING.

TYFS puts its message right out there, but don't see it for the message. See it for the delivery. The movie follows Nick Naylor (Aaron Eckhart), a smoking lobbyist who's so darned good at his job that he can't help but love it. Nick's the kind of guy who can appear on a talk show loaded with anti-smoking spokespeople and utterly blow them away. He's morally flexible, incredibly cunning, possibly evil, and so much fun to watch that the movie's 90-minute run time races by.

The movie maintains a satiric distance, but it holds true to its universe (and its protagonist's questionable worldview) throughout. By not winking at the joke, it builds both comedically and dramatically, with a conclusion that's amusing, satisfying, and arguable.

You may or may not agree with the politics or science of the film (Offshore oil drilling is morally equivalent to clubbing baby seals? Cell phones cause brain cancer?), but you can enjoy funny, well made satire no matter your predilictions. TYFS is just that, and it's a lot of fun.

Enjoy.

Three Times

THREE TIMES, directed by Hsiao-hsien Hou and starring Qi Shu and Chen Chang, is supposed to be a briliant movie. It won a Golden Horse for Best Taiwanese Film of the Year and was nominated for a Golden Palm, so it has some serious bona fides, but those bona fides didn't translate into a movie I could engage or enjoy. I suspect it's because THREE TIMES is too Chinese - it's so deeply embedded in Chinese themes and concerns that there isn't much there for the Occidental viewer.

THREE TIMES consists of three short stories, each a play on the theme of love missed. The first, set in the mid-'60s, casts Qi as a pool hall attendant and Chen as a soldier who falls in love with her, only to miss the connection in the end. In the second, Qi plays a courtesan and Chen a wealthy patron, one who always speaks of freeing China from foreign domination while blithely allowing the young woman to remain in servitude at the bordello. In the third, the two play a couple in modern Taipei, so thoroughly engrossed in their own personal worlds that they're incapable of reaching out to another human being.

These sound like interesting premises, but they depend upon an understanding of nonverbal communication and social cues that, in turn, require a deep familiarity with the culture on which they're based. The second story, for example, is a silent movie: its dialogue consisting of intertitle cards and the only sounds are that of the of the courtesan's sad songs. The sad songs are Chinese traditionals, done in the scaling, high, nearly nasal tone that was fashionable at that time, and which grates on my ears today. As for the first and third stories, they depend upon an understanding of the culture and history of Taiwan - one which I, as a viewer lacking in that knowledge, couldn't deliver.

If you're Chinese, you may love the heck out of THREE TIMES. For me, it didn't deliver.

Ong Bak: Muy Thai Warrior

I can't decide which sentence to use for my opening salvo, so please just imagine that you're reading the following two lines simultaneously:

Oh my God.

ONG BAK: MUY THAI WARRIOR is better than ENTER THE DRAGON.

To paraphrase Roger Ebert, this film is 107 minutes long. Seven of those minutes are devoted to the plot, which exists to give our hero, Tony Jaa, a maguffin to pursue through the mean streets of Bangkok. The other 100 minutes contain extraordinary fights, the best footchase ever committed to film, and even a tuk-tuk race. Tony Jaa is a revelation, drawing comparisons to Jackie Chan for the pure creativity and exuberance of his stunt work, and this movie had me exclaiming "Oh my God!", "How is that possible?", and "Did you see that?" more often than a sailor on Phu Ket shore leave.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not questioning ENTER THE DRAGON's quality, importance to film history, or contributions to the screenwriter's hall of fame, Mr. Han-Man. I'm saying that ONG BAK has more action per reel, doesn't bother with the cheesy James Bond storyline, and features stunts so tightly choreographed and executed that Bruce Lee himself would approve.

Tony Jaa is the real deal - no wonder both Chan and Jet Li want to work with him. I can't wait to see what he does next.

Carlito's Way: Rise to Power

CARLITO'S WAY: RISE TO POWER is a perfectly mediocre crime picture about a young tough who's working his way up to the big time. It's unique in that it's a prequel to the excellent CARLITO'S WAY, which saddles the newer picture's star with the burden of both creating his own character and doing a rough Al Pacino impression throughout. The guy does a fine job, but I've been more entertained by the five minutes of MY COUSIN VINNY playing in the background than I was throughout the whole thing.

The Great Raid

Poor James Franco. The guy hasn't had a hit in some time, and he must be running out of studio goodwill by now. THE GREAT RAID hasn't helped.

THE GREAT RAID is actually two movies: a Franco - starring "mission" picture a la THE BRIDGE AT REMAGEN and a Joseph Fiennes - starring "POW" picture about the tribulations of the guys stuck in WWII's infamous Cabanuatan POW camp. The former is pretty good, while the latter had me looking at my watch. Fortunately, the movie shifted back and forth betweeen the two often enough that I knew the good part would always be coming back.

Had THE GREAT RAID been about only the Great Raid, it could have been a bang-up picture and, perhaps, Franco may have gotten a hit. As it is, the thing's too unfocused and it easily drops into the "forgettable" pile.

Mission: Impossible 3

MI3 is the most enjoyable of the MISSION IMPOSSIBLE films. It has a coherent story, nifty locations, and actors who know when to play it straight and when to chew the scenery.

The story is your basic Maguffin chase, no apologies necessary. The film called the prize in question the "rabbit's foot," and it'll end the world or some such, but the prize itself remains largely irrelevant. That's fine - I just appreciated that, unlike with the first two films, I could follow who was doing what to whom and why.

As with any good spy thriller, the action jumps from city to city around the world, barely stopping for breath or exposition. Everything looks great, the cops never respond to extraordinary amounts of gunfire, and someone put the bridge that links the Florida Keys in the middle of Virginia. Oh, and lots of stuff blows up real good.

Finally, there's the cast. The filmmakers assembled an extraordinary group of actors for a bubble-gum movie: there's Maggie Q in black fatigues, Maggie Q in a red dress, and Maggie Q in a leather jacket. It's the perfect cast for nearly any movie, and it succeeds perfectly.

In short, MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE 3 is slick, succesful, big-budget entertainment. I understand that the movie didn't make much money in the theaters, mostly due to the shenanigans of some guy who isn't Maggie Q, but pay no attention to that extraneous stuff: grab a DVD copy, pop some popcorn, and enjoy.

Invincible

I challenge you to watch INVINCIBLE and not lace on your shoes to bag a few quick miles afterward.

OK, so I'm a sucker for inspirational sports films. I also happen to be a sucker for the Philadelphia Eagles, having made more on them than on Halliburton this year. INVINCIBLE hits all the marks of a good sports film and, with a helping of charisma from Mark Wahlberg, Greg Kinnnear, and the wonderful Elizabeth Banks.

Here's the story: it's Philadelphia, it's the mid-'70s, and times are hard. We know this because the part of the film that sets up the milieu is color-corrected with what looks like an annoying yellow gel. The Eagles, Philly's hometown NFL team, stinks, and new coach Kinnear hits on the idea of holding open tryouts, a first for an NFL team. Wahlberg, a down-on-his-luck bartender / substitute teacher tries out for the team, overcomes hardship, and inspires the city. It sounds cheesy, but it works and clips right along to a satisfying ending that feels like it comes far too soon. I'd grown to like Wahlberg's character, real-life player Vince Papale, and I wanted to see what happened next in his life.

I have some problems with the picture, mostly with choices that I think were made in post, but that's ok. If you like sports films, you can't go wrong with INVINCIBLE.

Night at the Museum

I wanted to hate NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM. I really did. I'm tired of Ben Stiller. I'm tired of Robin Williams. I'm tired of Owen Wilson.

I'm in the process of teaching my spawn theater etiquette, however, and matinees of kids' shows provide a forgiving environment. NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM hooked both of us, much to my surprise, and we had a good time in the theater.

Here's the hook: Ben Stiller's a divorced dad trying to set a good example for his son. He takes a job as the night guard at New York's Museum of Natural History and, as guards Dick Van Dyke and Mickey Rooney (!) already know, the place literally comes alive at night. Personal growth, and the earning of respect in the little tyke's eyes, follow as surely as landings follow takeoffs.

The thing that makes NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM worthwhile isn't the by-the-numbers plot or even the CGI workmanship, however. Stiller carries this movie, bringing a charisma to the project that I thought he'd lost sometime after MYSTERY MEN. He sells the idea of running from a reanimated dinosaur skeleton and brokering peace between the Western and Roman dioramas. He makes the tired routine of winning his child's respect breathe, and he made me interested in his work again.

Then there's another thing: the chance to see Van Dyke and Rooney is a major theatrical relase. In a sense, I felt like I was bringing my child to the museum: "Hey, that's the guy from MARY POPPINS! That other guard is from -well, I'll have to rent something for you. But he's been around nearly as long as talkies!" What a pleasant surprise.

I honestly thought NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM would be an exercise in tedium, useful only for giving my boy a place to practice whispering and not kicking the seat in front of him. Who knew it would come alive, and prove to be such a fun place to hang out?

The Prestige

I had a hard time talking my friends into seeing THE PRESTIGE. "It's about two 19th Century Magicians who both study under the same master, Michael Caine. No, not wizards. Regular, performing magicians. What happens? I'm not sure. Something goes wrong with their act and, um, tension ensues."

The ones who did agree to go had a great time. THE PRESTIGE is the kind of movie that's so complex, that requires so much engagement, it almost feels like work. We, as the audience, are looking for the trick, trying to figure out how it's done. The movie dares us to do this, then challenges our belief in our desire to figure things out, then gives us an answer while holding something else back. Most films play on our emotions: THE PRESTIGE plays on our intellects, inviting us to spend two hours puzzling it through.

This makes for a thoroughly engrossing night at the movies, and it's great fodder for later conversation as people assay their interpretations of the film. In fact, THE PRESTIGE may be more fun after the fact than during the viewing, and the viewing is engrossing.

The Best and Worst of 2006

Here are my personal top and bottom six of 2006:

1. The Hidden Blade: A hauntingly beautiful meditation on honor, duty, and love, this film made me feel like I was witnessing something very special. I loved it, loved it, loved it.

2. United 93: The most terrifying movie of 2006, this picture eschews cheap melodrama in favor of a (relatively) clear-eyed portrayal of events as they unfolded on that day. Paul Greengrass took the time to make United 93 technically accurate as well as heart-wrenching, giving the film value as a record as much as a cinematic experience.

3. Borat: The biggest, most pleasant surprise of 2006, Borat combines sharp satire with broad humor and serves it with a disarming smile. I laughed, I thought, I laughed some more, I thought some more. Wow.

4. Running Scared: Another surprise. Running Scared is pulp film done right: fast, twisting, creative, and with a sense of the joy of filmmaking. Running Scared is violent, gentle, and scary; sometimes all at the same time. I watched it, then watched it again with the commentary track. What a treat.

5. A Prairie Home Companion: This film reflects the sardonic gentleness of its namesake radio program, combining humor and pathos in a moving and affirming package. It serves as a fitting bookend to the career of the great Robert Altman.

6. Slither: What a fun movie! Slither combines hilarious dialogue with scare monsters, leaving audiences shaking with laughter one moment and jumping with fright the next. Nathan Fillion, an actor still looking for his breakthrough role, anchors a cast doing great comic work and creating a fun time at the movies. I don’t know how well this will do in the home market, but I loved seeing it in the theater.


6. Apocalypto: Like ‘The Running Man’ and ‘Hard Target,’ this hunted-man picture keeps the pace up and the surprises coming. The movie hews so closely to the formula, however, that it bore no surprises. Apocalypto benefits from its exotic setting, but its setting is all that recommends it.

5. Superman Returns: A story in which the protagonist remains unchanged is not a story. It’s a vignette. Superman Returns gives us a two-hour long vignette trying to trick us into thinking its more through visual wizardry. The Spider-Man series taught that character comes first. Superman Returns skipped that class.

4. Little Miss Sunshine: This film made me feel sad and depressed. OK, so did The Bicycle Thief, but LMS lacked the technical virtuosity of that classic. This film garnered critical acclaim in 2006, but I guess I missed the bus.

3. Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story: I respect this film’s attempt to do something unique in its adaptation of an unadaptable novel. Unfortunately, it failed. Tristram Shandy felt so clearly like an experiment that I couldn’t lose myself in it, and a film that holds its viewers at arm’s distance does not make for a good time at the movies.

2. Bubble: This slice-of-life drama tried to create art out of dull people doing uninteresting things. While there are art forms that can surely accomplish this, film is not among them. Ebert called Bubbler a classic, a masterpiece. I guess I missed the bus on this one, too.

1. Poseidon: Poseidon struck me as a movie for people who never go to movies. For those of us who do see the occasional film, it felt calculated and hackneyed, with obvious themes and an easily predictable mortality roster. I think of some of the movies on my Bottom Six as honorable misfires: at least their creators tried to stretch. Poseidon’s aggressive mediocrity seems doesn’t even let it take credit for trying. Additionally, Poseidon felt painful. In a movie about one bad thing happening after another, it was hard to feel anything other than dread. Boredom and dread: not a recipe for a good time at the movies.

Cars

I missed the chance to take my kids to see CARS in the theater - I was out of the country at the time. We caught up with it last week and, while it isn't the best movie Pixar has ever done (that honor goes to THE INCREDIBLES, which is one of the best movies ever), it's better than every other animated feature released this year.

The movie follows your basic 'hotshot from the city learns a thing or two while stuck in the country' format. It's reasonably funny and reasonably compelling, but it's technically astounding. From sunlight through dust to falling water to cars bouncing on old axles, CARS is a masterpiece of animation. It's simply beautiful to watch, and I take my hat off to all those at Pixar who helped make this happen.

So, I'm saying to rent CARS. You'll like it, your kids will love it, and you'll all be dazzled by it. Enjoy.

The Santa Clause

How can anyone dislike THE SANTA CLAUSE? It has a cheerful story, it's easy to follow for even the youngest viewers, and it has enough of a sense of fun to keep young and old hooked for its brisk running time.

In THE SANTA CLAUSE, Tim Allen plays, well, Tim Allen. This time, he's a divorced dad trying to do right by his son and not feel too threatened by his ex-wife's new husband. On Christmas Eve, Santa falls off Tim's roof and disappears, leaving only his suit behind. Time grabs the suit, stumbles into Santa's sleigh, and he's off and running as the new Santa Claus. Of course, there are all kinds of issues, including custody battles, as he adjusts to his new life, but everything's pretty mild, the kids stay hooked, and everyone goes home happy.

In short, THE SANTA CLAUSE is pablum. It's tasty pablum, however, and just thing to have in the background this Christmas season.

Superman Returns

Here's the problem with SUPERMAN RETURNS: Superman has no character arc. He's the same guy at the end of the movie that he was at the beginning, and that lack of an arc leaves a hole where we expect a story.

Sure, SUPERMAN RETURNS has other issues: it feels unoriginal, its lead gives the impresssion of a guy doing a Christover Reeve impression, and we never sense that its protagonist is in any real danger. Those don't break the deal, however. Superman's lack of a journey, and the insignificant journeys of those around him, do. You cannot tell a story without character development and call it a story. You can call it a sketch, you can even call it an experiment, you can even call it late for dinner. But you can't call it a story.

I wanted to like SUPERMAN RETURNS. I really did. But the movie failed to hook or hold me, and I don't intend to see it again. Bummer.

Rocky Balboa

I took the whole family, +1, to ROCKY BALBOA. The +1 was my college roommate, and we entertained each other with ROCKY trivia prior to the show. OK, so I know enough about the ROCKY franchise to engage in a trivia battle. Additionally, I celebrated my older boy's first birthday with a ROCKY marathon and intend to do the same for my younger boy (Go, gender-role indoctrination!). In other words, I'm ROCKY BALBOA's target demographic. And I loved it.

From Bill Conti's classic music to Rocky's humble wisdom to a training montage that's the best I've seen since ROCKY III, ROCKY BALBOA delivers everything the hardcore fan could want. The real surprise lies in the film's appeal to the casual fan: one of the fun parts of this Christmas has been watching DB trying to convince her skeptical sisters that this is one movie they should see in the theater.

Here's the setup: Rocky is doing ok. He's a beloved Philadelphia sports figure; he owns a retaurant that, if not bustling, appears to be making the rent; and he's maintained his relationships with Paulie and his son (though the son is trying to pull away). Sadly, however, he feels empty. His beloved Adrian has passed away a few years earlier, he's not as close as he'd like with his son, and he feels like he's just going through the motions. What he really misses, even though he doesn't yet realize he misses it, is boxing. Events conspire to renew his interest in getting back into the sport, and it isn't long until that great montage is upon us.

ROCKY BALBOA uses that setup to give us a meditation on dignity, perseverance, and age. It gives us a Rocky who understands that life isn't about how hard you can punch, but how many punches you can take and keep on going. This Rocky may be the world's dumbest sage, but a sage he is as he inspires those around him to listen to their best selves, to stand as tall as they can, and to keep coming back. Rocky embodies these principles with a doggedness, humility, and grace that speaks to the theatrical audience as clearly as he does to his own fictional audiences. You can't not identify with this character. You can't not want to emulate this character. And you can't not cheer for this character even as he climbs into the ring for what you're certain will be a fatal match against an opponent so clearly superior that you need to forcibly suspend your disbelief to even accept that anyone would let the bout take place.

Sure, ROCKY BALBOA has its flaws. The movie sets up character arcs for Rocky's opponent and for a local tough on which it never capitalizes. Rocky's relationship with his son feels rushed and incomplete. And I could've used more drama in the actual fight. But I'm picking nits, here. ROCKY BALBOA is as good as ROCKY movies get, and that can be very good, indeed.

What a pleasant surprise.

A Room With A View

Several weeks ago, I wrote that life is too short to re-see A ROOM WITH A VIEW. I was wrong.

The fact is, life is too short, so we should see A ROOM WITH A VIEW at every opportunity. As each minute of watching the walking bobble-head known as Helena Bonham Carter make a Baxter out of Daniel Day Lewis stretches into an eternity, the glacial passage of time makes us feel that life, rather than fleeting, is a long, tedious trudge of geologic proportions.

I want to see this movie on my deathbed. It'll make me feel like I'm living forever.

Little Miss Sunshine

We meat Greg Kinnear's character early in LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE. He's
giving a motivational speech to an offscreen group and, while the
subject matter is a bit thin, he's swinging away. Since I do a fair
bit of public speaking, I immediately identified with him.

Maybe that's why I found LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE to be so hard to watch.
The movie spends its running time punching Kinnnear's character, a
father trying to put a hopeful face on hard times, directly in the
nose so many times that he eventually gives up and gives in. Movie
people call that kind of behavior "letting go" and seem to think it a
good idea. I just found it sad.

I found nearly the entire movie sad, so much so that I don't know why
people think of LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE as a comedy. It's a movie about
flawed people enduring trying situations and relationships, and it
makes us feel more sad than entertained.

Eternity and a Day

You know what's worse than watching a terrible movie your child
adores? Watching a supposedly fabulous movie that your wife adores
and that you just don't get.

Martin Scorsese presented Theo Angelopolous with the Golden Palm for
ETERNITY AND A DAY in 1998, and a film prof introduces the movie with
a bunch of gushing praise that DB made me watch while I burped the
baby and tried to amuse the older boy, so I suppose it's pretty good.
Additionally, DB routinely stopped and rewound certain shots and
scenes, oohing and aahing over the film's craftsmanship, a move which
made me feel all the more disconnected. All I saw was a muddy print
of a film telling a story I didn't understand about characters I
couldn't keep straight. Was Bruno Ganz kissing his daughter in that
one scene, or was it his mother or his dead ex-wife? And what was he
doing on that boat? And is he alive, dead, or something in between?
And what was the story on those musicians on the bus?

I left ETERNITY AND A DAY bored, baffled, and feeling like a complete
dolt. Somebody, please, explain this movie to me and tell me why I'm
supposed to like it. Until someone does, this will be one of those
titles that'll leave me scratching my head.

Shall We Dance

Here are a few direct quotes from my recent viewing of SHALL WE DANCE on TCM:

"Oh, my God. Look at that. This is what human beings are capable of."

"The pyramids, the moon landing, and this. Thank God for the medium of film to preserve this ... this ... beauty."

"When the aliens come and ask why they shouldn't eliminate mankind, I'm going to show them the 'Let's Call the Whole Thing Off' sequence."

"OK, those masks are creepy. Nothing's perfect."

Now, that's a movie.

Madagascar

My 6yo has been dying to show me MADAGASCAR. Tonight, I made the time to sit down and watch it with him.

Here's the worst thing about watching a terrible movie that your child adores: there's no escape. You can't pick up a paper; you can't check your e-mail; you can't strike up a conversation with your significant other. Your child is monitoring your attention like Big Brother, and brother, you'd better be paying attention.

MADAGASCAR assumes that New York and New Yorkers are inherently interesting. They aren't. MADAGASCAR assumes that pop-culture parody is more interesting than character - based comedy. It isn't. MADAGASCAR thinks racial and cultural stereotypes make for great entertainment. They don't.

Here's the story: a lion, a zebra, a hippo, and a giraffe all live at a New York City zoo. They're happy. Their needs are met by the attentive and competent staff. They have everything they want. Except for the zebra. The zebra's pen sits opposite a frescoe of zebras frolicking in nature, and said zebra hatches a plan to escape and see the wilderness for himself. One thing leads to another and, before you know it, the friends wind up on the island of Madascar - an place which, though it holds a population of over 18 million and has a serious deforestation and desertification problem, looks like that island from "Lost" and doesn't appear to have a single human within its borders. Some of the animals want to go back to New York, some love it on the island, and everyone has to figure out a how carnivore is supposed to get along with his herbivorous friends without
zookeepers bringing him steaks every night.

The movie feels NYC-centric. Its animals are proud New Yorkers, and MADASCAR thinks that jokes about which train runs to Connecticut generate big laughs. The movie so thoroughly roots itself if NY culture that one wonders whether anyone involved in the financing or production of this film ever step foot outside of Mahattan. I've passed through and flown over New York a few times - I mean, I can find the Museum of Natural History - , but I'm not particularly vested in that city or its denizens (In the collective. Shari and Andy are both great.). I didn't empathize with the animals' love of their metropolis and I didn't find the NYC-centric gags (Look! The police horse has a Brooklyn accent!) particularly amusing.

The movie, a Dreamworks production, loves pop-culture parody and references. After the towering success of the SHREK films, they've probably written it into the corporate bible. Problem is, those kinds of jokes age extraordinarily quickly. Many of them already felt passe, and many of them would've made me grown had I been watching alone. (Which I wouldn't have. At least, not past the first twenty minutes.) MADAGASCAR is supposed to be a comedy. It made my child laugh, but the gags that they mixed in just for me simply did not work.

Finally, we have stereotypes. Oh, how I love 'em. But the fat hippo as sassy-black-Big-Momma? Who are these people?

I'll tell you, MADASCAR hurt. But a dad's gotta do what a dad's gotta do.

The Accountant

THE ACCOUNTANT won the Academy Award for best short film of 2001. Someone gave it to me for Christmas (so I opened it early – sue me) for reasons I don’t entirely understand.

THE ACCOUNTANT’s biggest revelation is the fact that the guy who played the preacher in “Deadwood”’s first season now owns an Academy Award, as does one of the guys who play sleazy cops in “The Shield.” They produced and acted in the picture, and the guy who played the preacher actually wrote it. Good for him!

Here’s the setup: a down-on-his-luck farmer calls asks a shady accountant, who may or may not be demonic, to come take a look at his books and try to figure out a way to save the family farm. The finance-man’s recommendations are unconventional. They may damn the farmer. But they may work.

THE ACCOUNTANT hooks us with the strangeness of its titular character, and it keeps us through its natural and empathetic feel for its characters and their lives. It’s the kind of movie that provides a few chuckles, a few revelations, and a number of things to discuss after the show. If you happen to catch it on IFC, give it 38 minutes. It’s worth a go.

Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby

If BEERFEST was mildly disappointing, TALLEDEGA NIGHTS was crushingly
bad. I sat through the entire excruciating affair with a stone face,
utterly unable to buy into the comedy on any level.

Ricky Bobby is a boring, one-dimensional character. His nemesis,
played by emerging favorite Sacha Baron Cohen, is a boring,
one-dimensional character. In fact, every character in this movie is
boring and one-dimensional.

TALLADEGA NIGHTS tries so hard to be wacky and over-the-top that turns
out a wild misfire. Not only that, but it's insulting: it's one thing
to make a little extra money through product placement; it's another
to stop the action for a full-blown commercial thinly disguised as a
"joke" I want my money back.

Beerfest

I wanted to love BEERFEST. I think SUPER TROOPERS is one of the best comedies out there and I’m one of the few people in America who actually owns the CLUB DREAD DVD. I think the Broken Lizard guys are fun to watch, they come up with great ideas, and they’re generally funny as hell.

BEERFEST, however, felt a little off. Sure, I laughed a few times, but something about the movie felt perfunctory. Its structure is so blatantly formulaic that even its copious gratuitous boob shots can’t keep us hooked in, the DAS BOOT gags get old fast, and the whole affair limps from one joke to the next with all the enthusiasm of an underprepared freshman checking all Bs on a multiple-guess exam.

Nevertheless, I did manage to laugh a few times, and there is something to be said for gratuitous boob shots. I didn’t love BEERFEST, but I guess I liked it ok.

I hear Broken Lizard is going to set its next comedy in Ancient Greece. Hopefully, I’ll be able to give that picture more than this faint praise.

Rudy

What’s not to love about RUDY? It speaks to powerful American archetypes and values, it’s competently plotted and paced, and it sells its characters every step of the way.

RUDY’s one of those movies I’ve long felt that I should see, but I couldn’t quite muster the will. I imagined it would be treacly and pandering, and I don’t particularly care about either the University of Notre Dame or its football program. When I finally dug in and gave it a go, RUDY hooked me from the moment an authority figure told the scrappy hero what he couldn’t do – what ambitions were beyond realization for a youngster of his means and talents. I strongly identify with that situation, and I was right there with Rudy as he put his thumb in the eye of The Man through a combination of hard work and perseverance. I suspect that the movie resonates with a wider audience because RUDY’s story is the classic American story, that of the underdog who succeeds against all odds.

The nature of that success helps sell the movie. RUDY doesn’t face an obstacle, go through a handy montage, and quickly triumph over his opponents while winning the girl. He fails again and again and again, questioning himself and the value of his goal, but he keeps at it like a terrier at a rat. His triumph isn’t the sudden victory of the naturally talented or magically transformed; it’s the triumph of hard work over natural talent, of tenacity over nearly everything. It speaks to us because we can so readily identify with Rudy. How many of us are super-geniuses or fantastically gifted athletes? How many of us have gotten where we are through our willingness to work a little harder, study a little more, run a little farther than the next guy?

The story moves along briskly. Rudy dreams of playing football for Notre Dame, but he’s told that he isn’t college material and he believes it. Four years after high school, he’s stuck working in a steel mill until he realizes that if he doesn’t get to work on his dream, it will never happen. He heads to South Bend and tries to enroll at Notre Dame. He’s rejected and settles for the local junior college, where he does absolutely everything he can think of to get in to Notre Dame. After multiple rejections, he asks his priest, “Is there anything more I can do?” The answer is no – he’s doing everything he can and it doesn’t seem to be good enough. Nevertheless, he perseveres and finally gets accepted. Next stop: the football team, where he barely makes the practice squad. Will he ever get to suit up and take the field, even though he’s smaller than the other guys? The answer is obvious, but that doesn’t keep us from coming along on every step of the journey, rooting for the underdog Rudy as he overcomes the myriad challenges and scores the little victories that add up to success.

Sean Astin, as the titular character, does fine work here. He’s hopeful and determined, and we feel for him in his failures and successes. He’s backed by a solid cast which includes Ned Beatty as a millworker father, John Favreau as his tutor, and Charles Dutton as the groundskeeper who acts as a sort of surrogate father for Rudy, giving him a pat on the back or a kick in the ass, as required.

I wasn’t expecting to particularly enjoy RUDY. I saw it for cultural awareness. What a pleasure, then, that its combination of message, structure, and performance worked so well. RUDY is a real treat.

Apocalypto

I respect APOCALYPTO more than I liked it.

Don't get me wrong: there's plenty to like about the movie. It's your basic "hunted man" picture, and that's a formula that's nearly impossible to botch. Problem is, APOCALYPTO is just a "hunted man" movie. I guess I was expecting something more: a meditation on Mayan civilization, perhaps, or at least a deeper journey into that culture.

Here's the setup: Jaguar Paw is doin' all right. He's the heir apparent to his father's tribal chiefdom. He's a good hunter, a good guy, and a good husband and father. He essentially embodies a tribal Mayan version of rustic virtue. Then, slavers from the city show up. They burn down his village, capture him and his friends, and drive them to the corrupted city for sacrifice. During the raid, Jaguar Paw managed to hide his family. He has to escape and get back to them, and to do so he has to evade the hunters who track him every step of the way.

As I said, it's a perfectly good "hunted man" picture, and I liked it fine. The respect part comes in with APOCALYPTO's realization of Mayan culture. The scenes in the corrupted city are nothing short of breathtaking, as the film imagines, down to the last detail of architecture and costume, what Mayan civilization may actually have felt and looked. It's awesome, and awe-inspiring, and I wound up appreciating and respecting its ambition and audacity more than anything else.

I liked APOCALYPTO just fine, but I tip my had to its ambition and audacity. It's worth seeing for that alone.

Clerks 2

CLERKS 2 felt like Kevin Smith just gave up and said, "Screw it. I'll give the people what they want." It's only differences from the original are that it's filmed in color and it isn't quite as funny.

You know the setup: the titular clerks are now fast-food workers who, you know, have antics. The get in trouble. They crack wise. They have a touching moment of heartfelt conversation and clarity.

The movie's funny, periodically, but there's something stale about it. It's like watching a catskills comedian who simply doesn't get that the world has moved on - you may laugh from time to time, but you mostly feel sorry for it.

What a bummer.

Deja Vu

I liked DEJA VU well enough, but I never lost track of time and I never got swept away.

DEJA VU should be the kind of movie that I go for: a thriller with a science fiction twist. It has a clever script, a likeable cast, and a healthy respect for the laws physics (not that it lets those laws get in the way of the story, but it does at least tip its hat to them). It's script is of the type whose scientific genius, when calling for more power for his time-travel gizmo, shouts, "I'm gonna need more cowbell!" It stars the reliable Denzel Washington, who really needs to do a romantic comedy for a change, and noted time travelling veteran Jim Caviezel makes a fine, if rather one-dimensional, foil. Its understanding of the physical universe struck me as plausible, which is rare for a time-travel movie, but there's something about it ...

I never really bought Washington as an ATF agent with an expertise in explosives. I was ready to, but then the film uses him as the audience surrogate for the exposition about time-warping device. By forcing him to ask dumb questions and come off as anti-intellectual, the film makes him dumber than he could be and still do his job. Additionally, I never felt for the distressed damsel, a woman whose sole character trait appears to be that she looks good in underwear. Finally, the movie itself jumped and danced and exploded so much that it kept reminding me that it was a movie and not a portal into its particular sliver of space-time.

My God: what's happening to me? I'm digging movies about the Queen of England's bad week more than movies about stuff blowing up. Before I know it, I'll start listening to soft rock.

The Queen

Hellen Mirren can do no wrong.

Think about it - when have you seen a poor Mirren performance? Whether scheming against Arthur
solving mysteries, selling calendars, or ruling England, she's always absolutely believable and engaging.
Thus, it comes as no surprise that Helen Mirren is brilliant - absolutely brilliant - in THE QUEEN, a
Stephen Frears film that gives us Elizabeth as character study at the height of England's grief for
the just-killed Diana Spencer.

THE QUEEN balances Elizabeth's story with that of Tony Blair, the newly-elected Prime Minister whose view
of his sovereign, and of himself, matures over the course of the film. Blair's 10 Downing Street is shown in
frank contrast to the Queen's Balmoral and Westminster, setting it up as a stand-in for the New England
in its struggle and accomodation with the Old England the Queen represents. It's neat stuff, and it's well
executed, and I stayed thoroughly involved for every minute of it.

But what really makes this production stand out is Mirren's Queen. She's a fully developed character, totally committed
to her sense of herself, her office, her stoicism, and her duty as she sees it. In this role, Mirren's a mistress of the
subtle gesture, the emotion behind the control, and her performance is nothing short of delightful.

I don't particularly care about the Queen of England, to tell you the truth. I'm not English and I never "got" the
royals worship that's so common here in the States. But THE QUEEN made me care about Elizabeth and her world in a personal
way, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

What a winner.

The Constant Gardener

THE CONSTANT GARDENER disappointed me. It had an excellent script and a first-class cast, but it was hobbled by photography and music so distracting that I spent more time thinking about how annoyed I was than I did actually engaging with the film. Bummer. Danny Huston did provide one very bright spot, however. After enjoying his performance in SILVER CITY as a good guy who's trying to be bad, it was fun to watch him flip the characterization on its head for this picture.

Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan

I didn’t expect to like BORAT: CULTURAL LEARNINGSOF AMERICA FOR MAKE BENEFIT GLORIOUS NATION OF KAZAKHSTAN. I’m not a fan of the comedy of discomfort, and by the time the film got its release, its titular character had become overexposed. Nevertheless, I had to stay up late to recalibrate my body clock for something I’m working on, and it was either BORAT or HAPPY FEET.

While I didn’t laugh all through BORAT, I laughed through a great deal of it. Cohen has this way of making his character both so charming and so offensive that I couldn’t help myself: “I hope your President Bush drinks the blood of every man, woman, and child in Iraq!” may very well be the funniest line of 2006. Additionally, I loved the way he drew Americans into validating his faux-Kazakhstani stereotypes while validating the stereotypical way in which different regions of the country view one another.

I’m surprised to say it, but BORAT is that rare comedy that gives plenty to laugh about and plenty to chew on. In fact, the more I think about it, the better it gets. It’s easily my biggest surprise of 2006.

Casino Royale

CASINO ROYALE is the first James Bond film I’ve liked since Timothy Dalton left the franchise. But something about it bothered the hell out of me.

Don’t get me wrong: Pierce Brosnan was a fine Bond, keeping the character just this side of self-parody while clearly having fun with the role. Problem is, he was a fine Bond in terrible movies. Denise Richards as a nuclear physicist? Invisible cars? “He’s the best there is”? Give me a break – he’s one of nine. Sure, I saw every one of his movies, but I walked out disappointed every time. It got to the point where, as with Star Wars, I was ready to leave the franchise behind. Daniel Craig, on the other hand, got lucky with his first film in the role. CASINO ROYAL’s stunts looked practical, its villains seemed plausible, and its story seemed reasonable. This gave the film a sense of urgency that the others lacked, and it helped to keep me entertained throughout its running time.

But here’s the thing that bothered me: I finally realized that the Bond franchise is basically wealth porn. It dangles before us, bright and shiny, a world of fabulously wealthy people living fabulous lives in fabulous locations. Even its working stiffs, its spies and accountants, get to live fabulously on their governments’ tabs (he writes, looking around his serviceable but decidedly non-fabulous government-funded hotel room). It equates wealth with conspicuous consumption, two things that have proven, time and again, to be fundamentally incompatible, and it does so while burying us in advertising for watches, cars, beverages, hotels, and nearly every other consumable a profligate spender might reasonably purchase. I have a problem with wealth porn, because it encourages the kind of irresponsible behavior that leads to people purchasing vehicles whose value outweighs that of their retirement plans, all for a taste of what they perceive to be “the good life.” Why did this particular installment trigger that connection? I suspect that it was the sight of James Bond driving to a posh location alone in a Ford, then driving away in a fabulous sports car, beautiful woman at his side, because he had basically won the lottery. My first reaction? “Frack! I need to win the lottery!” (Legal Disclaimer: So I can put the beautiful woman to whom I’m married in a fabulous sports car. Let’s make that perfectly clear.) My second reaction? “What am I thinking? I need to make another contribution to my Roth IRA!”

So while I enjoyed the movie, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was selling me an attractive lie. It’s the blemish on an otherwise entirely enjoyable film. I wouldn’t let a little wealth porn turn you away.

The Incredibles

THE INCREDIBLES is a perfect movie. It has humor, it has pathos, it has action. It has a wonderfully creative design, a fully realized world, and terrific music that builds on a solid script.

You know how some movies are billed as "fun for the whole family"? THE INCREDIBLES really is. The movie offers several characters that provide an "in" to the story, it builds and sustains tension in interesting and creative ways, and it manages the perfect balance between providing enough danger to keep things interesting, while never scaring the kids into believing that the heroes are in really big trouble.

It had been a few years since last I saw this movie, and I wondered if it would hold up. It did. THE INCREDIBLES is a genuine classic.

Godzilla vs. Megalon

MST3K'S take on GODZILLA VS. MEGALON kept me laughing from beginning to end. It's the most fun I've had with a Godzilla movie in quite some time.

I'd never before seen an MST3K version of a film. I prefer to watch good movies, if I can, but this was the last unseen Godzilla picture in the Netflix inventory, and did feature the titular Megalon, as well as Jet Jaguar and Gigan, so I had to give it a shot.

As is the case with most Godzilla movies of its ('70s) era, it's insufferably bad. MST3K's riffs on the material, however, elevated it to near-masterpiece level. It's the funniest thing I've seen so far this month, and I recommend to anyone who's a little burned out on giant Japanese monsters.

Lady Vengeance

I was all set to love Chan Wook Park's LADY VENGEANCE. I thought SYMPATHY FOR MISTER VENGEANCE was excellent, and I think OLDBOY is one of the best films of the decade. When the beautifully stylized opening credits rolled, I sat back and got ready to wrap myself in the world of a master.

But here's the problem: people have been telling Park (Or is it Chan? I wish we could all settle on a Western standard.) that he's a genius, and he's starting to believe them. LADY VENGEANCE spend so much time cycling into and out of normal narrative time, its subnotes are so cute, and its flights of fancy so indistinguishable from mental instability, that LV fairly screams, "Look at me! I'm the work of a genius, dammit! A genius!" I could not immerse myself in its world because it couldn't quite decide in which world it wanted to immerse me. I could not empathize with its protagonist because by the time the film gave me enough material to do so, I had ceased to care. I could not enjoy the film because the film gave me no cause to do so.

LADY VENGEANCE is the kind of film in which the production designer seems to struggle with the lighting guy, who struggles with the cinematographer, who struggles with the director, who struggles with the actors. They're all trying to one-up each other, all trying to showcase their Genius. But they forgot about me, Joe- Guy -on -the -Couch -Whose -Back -Hurts -from -Raking -Leaves. Entertain me, people. Make me think. Hell, dazzle me. But don't distract me with your Genius.

Just tell me a story.

X-Men: The Last Stand

X-MEN: THE LAST STAND makes up for its abundance of fireworks by minimizing its sense of fun.

The first two X-Men movies weren't masterpieces, but they rocked along reasonably well. They had some laughs, they had some fights, they had some things to think about. X3 has no laughs, too many fights, and enough things to think about for at least three breathless college essays.

The whole thing just feels like an exercise in action filmmaking, but a film like THE HIDDEN BLADE so eclipses it even in purely action-related terms that it can't fully succed even in that limited arena.

X3 is a mediocrity. I can't muster up much more to say about it than that.

District B13

If martial arts movies are basically dance movies with fake blood, DISTRICT B13 (the Americanized title of BANLIEU 13, a French martial arts picture) B13 is the kind of dance movie in which the editing gets in the way of the dancing.

The plot - well, nevermind. Who remembers the plot to SWING TIME? The fighting and acrobatics deliver plenty of thrills and not a few "rewind" moments, but the film's frenetic editing so detracts from the beauty and awesomness of the choreography and its execution that, by the climax, I wanted to put a brick through someone's AVID computer.

Nevertheless, B13 delivers on its audience's expectations. It offers enough of people kicking other people in the face, and doing so in new and creative ways, that it's sure to please action and martial arts fans. Just don't expect to know whether you're watching the result of athleticism and precision or clever editing.

The Hidden Blade

Maybe you can’t trust my comments on THE HIDDEN BLADE, Yoji Yamada’s follow-up to THE TWILIGHT SAMURAI. You see, I’m a sucker for samurai movies – I have been since THE SEVEN SAMURAI. Feudal Japan captures my imagination: the code of Bushido, the architecture, the stark aesthetic of Kendo. The last time I was in Japan, I must have logged 500 miles on the local trains in the greater Tokyo-Yokohama megalopolitan area. A guy can burn out on Europe’s gothic cathedrals pretty quickly, but there’s no such thing as one too many Zen shrines.

THE HIDDEN BLADE tells the tale of Katagiri, a samurai living at the end of the Edo period. It’s less than a decade before the fall of the Shogun and Meiji restoration, and Edo’s long traditions of honor and duty have become more a tool for controlling the samurai class than the living code of the Shogunate. Katagiri believes in these traditions to the core of his being: he takes pride in the fact that his father had committed seppuku for an error that was the man’s responsibility, but not his fault. As Katagiri comes to realize that he serves a system that is unworthy of him, his life becomes increasingly complicated. One of his boyhood comrades and fellow samurai has been convicted of treason, casting the shadow of suspicion on all the samurai of his rural village. Additionally, Katagiri find himself at the center of a local scandal involving himself and an angelic servant girl he rescues from an abusive household.

As audience members, we come to care for Katagiri and his circle. These are honorable people in dishonorable times, making the best decisions of which they are able. The film takes the time to fully invest us in its world and its people, and it moves at a deliberate (though not dull) pace that both evokes its era and adds impact to the swift decisions that can mean the difference between life and death. Yamada films THE HIDDEN BLADE in a graceful, formal manner, calling attention to himself only through the deftness of his touch and the grace of his choices.

Sometimes, a movie seeks only to pass the time. Sometimes, a movie seeks only to entertain. Sometimes, a movie aspires to art. THE HIDDEN BLADE is the latter, and it succeeds.

That is, if you can trust me.

Brain Dead

BRAIN DEAD is cheesy fun. It’s the story of a brain surgeon who performs a highly unethical operation on a man the government suspects of having a secret deep inside his cerebellum. When the surgeon goes to work, so does the movie, weaving in and out of reality in layer upon hallucinogenic layer until the viewer shares in the characters’ disorientation.

I saw BRAIN DEAD by accident: I thought I was getting BRAINDEAD, the early Peter Jackson film. B D, was made by Adam Simon and stars Bills Paxton and Pullman, and it’s 90 minutes of over-the-top, vaguely horrific imagery that manages to do what it intends: set a paranoiac gloss over everyday events that’s creepy enough for spookiness, yet not too creepy for fun.

Sahara

I don’t have much to say about SAHARA. It’s a bit of mindless fluff, a by-the-numbers action adventure that puts hero, sidekick, and love interest through various trials on their way to saving the world. If SAHARA has one thing to recommend it, it’s seeing William H. Macy in his role as a retired admiral and all-purpose ass-kicker who backs the hero at just the right time.

SAHARA’s loud, predictable, and utterly devoid of any originality whatsoever. That said, it’s the perfect companion for an afternoon of paying bills and folding laundry. You can leave the room for a few minutes and, when you return, instantly intuit everything you’ve missed. It does what it does, and that’s about that.

Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home

STAR TREK IV is everything I love about Star Trek packed into 109 minutes of pure fun.

ST4 begins with a mysterious probe heading toward Earth and rendering powerless everything in its path. Coincidentally, the Enterprise crew is about to embark for Earth, where they will face court martial for a host of crimes, not the least of which is forcing audiences to sit through the tedious STAR TREK III. Naturally, the crew will save the day and save themselves, so they can inflict upon us the truly horrific STAR TREK V, but that's just the plot. That's not what makes ST4 a winner.

ST4 (the most successful film of the series, as I recall) focuses on the thing that made Star Trek unique: the apparant camaraderie among its crew members. The Enterprise crew, far from having become a bunch of hoary old retreads, is a well-oiled machine, so comfortable working together that they can take the time to enjoy the ride. The film maintains a perfect tone of light entertainment, all while calling attention to an issue that, while perhaps more glamorous in its day, remains no less relevant in our own. The science is vaguely implausible, yet waived aside so blithely that we don't ask too many questions: it does what it's supposed to do: impart a sense of wonder without overwhelming us with jargon.

STAR TREK IV touches on important themes, such as the value of friendship and the importance of conservation. But the thing I always loved about STAR TREK, the thing that brought me back after more than twenty years, is its sense of fun and delight. STAR TREK IV has it in spades, and I enjoyed the heck out of seeing it again.

Eight Below

I went into EIGHT BELOW with low expectations. It was a Heroic Dog movie, after all, and those generally run from kitschy to depressing. Additionally, I thought that Bruce Greenwood played a villain. I like Bruce Greenwood; I didn’t want to see him play a villain.

What a pleasant surprise. While EIGHT BELOW begins slowly, it quickly picks up steam and keeps us involved in the adventure right through to the end. Here’s the short version: scientists must leave a team of sled dogs behind when they evacuate their Antarctic research station in the face of a coming storm. The movie, which is loosely based on a true story, chronicles the team’s struggle to survive and their human master’s struggle to mount an expedition to save them.

Paul Walker plays the master, and he builds on his fine work in RUNNING SCARED to deliver a character whom we accept as an Antarctic dogsledder and audience surrogate in our concern for the dogs. The dogs are heroic, of course, and though they do engage in behavior that runs counter to my understanding of sled-dog dynamics (As a former malamute owner, I have a passing interest in the subject.), they manage to hold our sympathy and win our respect.

Frank Marshall made EIGHT BELOW in Canada, but the film looks like he shot it in Antarctica. It’s stark, forbidding, and beautiful, and I can’t wait to see this thing in high definition.

Ultimately, I liked everything about EIGHT BELOW. And Bruce Greenwood doesn’t play a villain, after all.

Godzilla's Revenge

GODZILLA’S REVENGE (1969) is the worst kind of cynical filmmaking. Toho Studios made this movie for about $3.95 by blending archival footage from GODZILLA VS. THE SEA MONSTER with a quick and simple story of a little boy whom Godzilla inspires to stand up to bullies. The non-archival footage looks and feels cheap, right down to the holes in the Minilla costume used when the boy imagines he’s on Monster Island.

Sure, the movie turned a profit – how could it not, given the cheapness of the production? But the whole things smells of killing the goose that laid the golden egg. It’s a testament to the durability of the character that the series managed to limp along for another six years before it went dormant for the next 9.

What a waste.

Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!

I think I was supposed to watch FASTER, PUSSYCAT! KILL! KILL! through a prism of ironic detachment, but I don’t care for movies that require me to be in on the joke to enjoy them. FPKK is a ridiculous story about ridiculous people behaving in ridiculous ways, and it’s played so far over the top that it makes suspension of disbelief impossible.

You know that actor’s rule about going to anger? About how it’s the easiest emotion to portray, but it’s also a dead end because once you start yelling, there’s no where else to go? No one told that to FPKK’s lead character and villain, a vaguely Elvira-esque go-go dancer who spends so much of the film spitting mad that she becomes uninteresting. It’s too bad, really. The script gives her some great one-liners, but she can’t even make these gems go. As for the rest of the cast, I’ve seen community theater amateurs essay more nuanced performances.

FPKK has nothing going for it – absolutely nothing at all. Here in the internet age, it can’t even work up much in the way of prurient interest. I hated it.