A Reintroduction

Welcome to my new film review blog! I encourage your comments, and am hoping to build this blog into a place that can spawn some film discussion.

I definitely consider myself a cinephile, and try to see as many films released each year theatrically as possible. Even though in this digital era, the selection of films available in the home is wider than ever, and there are certainly plenty of home theater options to make the viewing experience as pleasant as possible, there's still something magical about seeing a film in the theater as intended. There's a loss of control the audience has when they go see a film in a public venue which contributes to the experience that anything can happen; and it's my opinion that it's this very experience that helps a film to work properly on the audience and have an effect on our subconscious. We can study a movie all we want in the comfort of our home and its hermetic environment, but we can also lose that experience of being part of the journey of the film; I'd liken it to the difference between observing or studying something, and participating in it so that is has a more profound and visceral effect. This experience is heightened by knowing as little about a film as possible going into it, which is why I try to keep my general reviews plot-free and focus more on the effectiveness of a film's various elements.

I live in Los Angeles, CA, so I'm lucky to have access to almost all theatrically released films, be it a large or small scale release. I also have a wide variety of taste, from foreign to indie to the classics to Hollywood blockbusters. I really have a love for all film, and my main criteria is simply high quality and the hope of witnessing something that hasn't quite been done in the same way before, and in very special circumstances advances its genre or even film in general in some way.

It's my belief that storytelling, when done well, can be a means to transform the audience. We're all here in this world on our individual journeys, and a good film gives us the opportunity to take a glimpse at humanity from a fresh perspective and apply the experiences of the characters up on the screen to our own personal struggles. It can be cathartic and make us laugh and take comfort in a larger shared commonality; or it can take us to a stark, dark underbelly where we may find something to inspire us with the most difficult of our struggles.

I use a 1-10 rating scale, and for those used to a five star system, I'd equate it like this:
Five stars = 10, a classic and a must-see
Four stars = 8-9, highly recommended, would be worth owning the film
Three stars = 6-7, moderate recommendation to an audience with a predisposition to it
Two stars = 3-5, some audiences may get something out of it, but unless you have a vested interest in it, likely not worth your time
One star = 1-2, likely not worth anyone's time

I try to avoid seeing anything I think I'd end up rating 1-2; and because I'm a fan of certain genres I may occasionally see something I think I'd rate a 3-5 and still enjoy it on some level. But in general, even though I do see a large number of films, I do still try to target those I think are worth my time and I will really appreciate (I say appreciate because there are great films that you don't always like in the sense that you find them enjoyable to watch, such as Michael Haneke's Funny Games).

Other than hoping to inspire a discussion on film while sharing my opinions, my goal with this blog is two-fold, and is in part intended for the more casual filmgoer who doesn't get a chance in today's busy world to go out and see a lot of films. The first is to bring to their attention films that they really should not miss, which is everything in the 8-10 category. And the second is to provide an opinion on those middle-of-the road films that they may be considering spending a night out to go see. If I rate a film 6-7, it probably won't wow anyone, but it's also likely you won't consider it a waste of your time. If I rate a film 3-5, I consider that falling below the line of something most moviegoers will have want to waste their time with, unless of course there's something about the film that has you itching to see it come hell or high water, in which case you're probably not really seeking anyone's opinion about it in the first place.

I can't promise I will review every film I see. Does anyone really need to read yet another review of some Hollywood blockbuster or bomb that they already know is a must-see or something to be avoided at all costs? Instead, I'll be prioritizing the films that I feel mainstream audiences may be overlooking entirely, or those that, while performing successfully, are so good that they deserve another voice championing them.

Since we're already well into 2010 as I'm starting this blog, I'm going to do a quick list here of everything I've seen theatrically this year to-date. Things are rated within their genre, so keep in mind that if I give a 6-7 to something in a genre that you generally HATE, you're still probably not going to like it and, in such a case, might want to wait until I give something in that genre a 9-10 to check it out. And there's always the case that my opinion is, at the end of the day, still just an opinion; there may occasionally be a film that I fell in love with which someone else may loathe. But disclaimers aside, anything in bold comes highly recommended!

The White Ribbon, Michael Haneke, 10/10
Daybreakers, the Spierig Brothers, 6/10
Youth in Revolt, Miguel Arteta, 6/10
The Book of Eli, the Hughes Brothers, 7/10
Fish Tank, Andrea Arnold, 6/10
Legion, Scott Stewart, 6/10
Creation, Jon Amiel, 8/10
The Girl on the Train, Andre Techine 7/10
Edge of Darkness, Martin Campbell 7/10
Terribly Happy, Henrik Ruben Genz 6/10
From Paris With Love, Pierre Morel 4/10
Frozen, Adam Green, 7/10
Red Riding Trilogy: 1974, Julian Jarrold, 8/10
Red Riding Trilogy: 1980, James Marsh, 7/10
Red Riding Trilogy: 1983, Anand Tucker, 8/10
The Wolfman, Joe Johnston, 2/10
Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief, Chris Columbus, 5/10
Shutter Island, Martin Scorsese, 9/10
The Ghost Writer, Roman Polanski, 7/10
The Crazies, Breck Eisner, 8/10
Easier With Practice, Kyle Patrick Alvarez, 10/10
Cop Out, Kevin Smith, 1/10
The Yellow Handkerchief, Udayan Prasad, 10/10
A Prophet, Jacques Adiard, 8/10
Alice in Wonderland, Tim Burton, 4/10
Brooklyn's Finest, Antoine Fuqua, 8/10
The Secret of Kells, Tom Moore & Nora Twomey, 3/10
Green Zone, Paul Greengrass, 7/10
Remember Me, Allen Coulter, 5/10
She's Out of My League, Jim Field Smith, 7/10
Mother, Joon-ho Bong, 6/10
The Bounty Hunter, Andy Tennant, 6/10
The Runaways, Floria Sigismondi, 7/10
Repo Men, Miguel Sapochnik, 5/10
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, Niels Arden Oplev 8/10
How to Train Your Dragon, Dean DeBlois & Chris Sanders, 7/10
Greenberg, Noah Baumbach, 8/10
Chloe, Atom Egoyan, 9/10
Hot Tub Time Machine, Steve Pink, 7/10
The Eclipse, Conor McPherson, 8/10
Clash of the Titans, Louis Leterrier, 5/10
Date Night, Shawn Levy, 4/10
The Square, Nash Edgerton, 7/10
Kick-Ass, Matthew Vaughn, 8/10
The Secret in Their Eyes, Juan Jose Campanella, 8/10
The Joneses, Derrick Borte, 7/10
A Nightmare on Elm Street, Samuel Bayer, 7/10
Harry Brown, Daniel Barber, 7/10
Iron Man 2, Jon Favreau 6/10
Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, Mike Newell, 6/10
Splice, Vicenzo Natali, 7/10
The A-Team, Joe Carnahan, 7/10
Toy Story 3, Lee Unkrich, 8/10
Cyrus, the Duplass Brothers, 7/10
Knight & Day, James Mangold, 7/10
Predators, Nimrod Antal, 7/10
The Kids Are All Right, Lisa Cholodenko, 9/10
The Girl Who Played With Fire, Daniel Alfredson, 6/10
Rec 2, Jaume Balaguero & Paco Plaza, 7/10
Inception, Christopher Nolan, 9/10
Salt, Phillip Noyce, 6/10
Dinner for Schmucks, Jay Roach, 8/10
Middle Men, George Gallo, 8/10
Animal Kingdom, David Michod, 8/10

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The Book of Eli (2010, The Hughes Brothers)

The Book of Eli looks fantastic. If there's one thing the Hughes brothers excel at, it's their sense of visual style. They can frame a shot with the best of them; and there's nothing like a post-apocalyptic landscape to provide some great cinematic opportunities. You also can't ask for a pair of better, more watchable actors than Denzel Washington and Gary Oldman.

Some of what this film suffers from is bad timing. It's essentially treading very similar ground to The Road, but the two films aren't even in the same league. The Road is a poetic, beautiful, haunting, expertly-crafted meditation on love and grief; by comparison The Book of Eli is stereotypical Hollywood schlock. And as good an actor as Denzel Washington may be, again his portrayal here can not touch the nuanced, emotion-wrecked naturalism of Viggo Mortensen's performance in The Road. Finally, after the grim, gritty, harsh reality of that film, everything that happens in Eli is laughable and sanitized.

Another part of what The Book of Eli suffers from is poor set and costume design. Mila Kunis actually turns in a fairly honest performance, but the scenes of her trekking across the desert wasteland like she's sporting Ray Bans in a Gap ad while modeling what appears to be the new fall line absolutely kills any kind of authenticity. She just doesn't have the look of someone who's been ravaged and world-worn.

Once you throw some of the credibility out of the window, what's left is a high-concept Hollywood-ized neo-Western. In that sense the film succeeds, and is relatively entertaining. But it's a shame to see actors like Washington and Oldman lending their credibility and having to swim upstream to make this into a workable B movie. There's also a twisty revelation at the end of the film which will probably come as a surprise to audiences, but which is unnecessary and doesn't add much to the proceedings, as revelatory as its intended to be.

Sure there's some mileage to be gotten from the plot hook of Oldman's character searching for a Bible as a means to lead (i.e. manipulate) the mostly-illiterate sheep in this post-apocalyptic world, but it's nothing that hasn't been tread before in things the likes of Showtime's mediocre series Jeremiah, starring Luke Perry. And the seeming set-up for a straight-to-DVD sequel starring Kunis' character doesn't help regain credibility, either.

7/10

Youth in Revolt (2010, Arteta)

The two words with which I can best describe Youth in Revolt are "likable" and "modest," which also seems to be an apt summary of Michael Cera's entire career. Here he's hit paydirt with another film adaptation of a novel beloved by the teenagers of today, the first being the recent Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist. These sorts of projects seem ideally suited to the introverted and beguiled Cera, who has a certain amount of Hollywood savvy in spite of himself.

Youth is directed by Miguel Arteta, who started his directing career with the low-budget indie Star Maps, went on to the Mike White-scripted Chuck & Buck, and finally the Jennifer Aniston picture The Good Girl, directing episodes of Freaks & Geeks, Six Feet Under, and The Office along the way; all of which is to say that Arteta has the kind of low-budget background and a facility with actors that serves him well here. The picture is loaded with capable actors, from the now-hot Zach Galifianikis, the decades-reliable Fred Willard, and industry vets like Jean Smart, Ray Liotta, and Steve Buscemi. Arteta manages to keep a lot of plates spinning while navigating the forever-rotating cast of characters and keeping them competently sharing the same general universe. But the picture has the meandering feel of a series of vignettes; some of them work better than others, most of them are at least functional, but none of them really pop.

Cera's greatest gifts as an actor are simplicity, honesty, modesty, and self-doubt. He's easy to like, to identify with, and to root for. Yet there's a passivity inherent in his persona as well. This can play quite successfully given the world of the film around him, probably as a result of his simple emotional truth and sincerity; and Cera's made a lot of very smart choices in the films he's chosen to do so far that capitalizes on all of this. Yet, he's only playing a few notes, and as well as he may play them, there's quite a bit of repetitiveness in this narrow field of play.

To win the girl of his dreams in Youth in Revolt, Cera's Nick Twisp realizes he's a nebbish victim in over his head, and in a semi-psychotic break creates the persona of Francois Dillinger to appeal to French-obsessed ingenue Sheeni Saunders. Francois sports a little wispy facial hair, smokes cigarettes, and affects some aloof disdain for authority. Yet for all of Twisp's wide-eyed shock and befuddlement, the alter ego is really never more than Twisp himself with a backbone. Cera underplays the Francois character in almost exactly the same way he underplays every role. So many opportunities with the character are lost, not the least of which, and the most obvious, is a thick French accent. In trying to seduce someone as stereotypically French-fetishizing as Sheeni Saunders, that accent is without a doubt the first place Nick Twisp would go. Yet it's conspicuously absent.

This is only one small observation, yet indicative of the failings of Youth in Revolt as a whole, as well as of Michael Cera's current career trajectory. Both manage to modestly get the job done in an understated, unassuming, and often charming way. Yet there's so much unmined potential that any kind of success can only be minor, and far from wholly fulfilling.

6/10

Daybreakers (2010, The Spierig Brothers)

I was suitably impressed when I saw the Spierig brothers' previous directorial effort, the low-budget, sci-fi, Aussie cult-hit Undead. It was chock full of cliche, and it couldn't ultimately escape the boundaries of its limited budget, but there was a lot of energy, creativity, and vision behind it. I remember thinking to myself that it would be really interesting to see what these guys would do with a better cast and more money. As it turns out, Daybreakers is not the film to answer that question.

Somehow the brothers managed to score Ethan Hawke and Willem Dafoe for their second feature, and the first one to get a stateside and international release. Sam Neill is along for the ride as well, likely showing a little Australian patriotism in support of these budding homegrown visionaries. And while Daybreakers isn't without its inspired touches or moments of brilliance, the end product is much in the same vein as Undead-- a showcase for their potential that never really delivers in its own right. Perhaps just as they did their own effects work and wore several different hats on Undead, Daybreakers largely functioned as a training ground for the Spierigs to get their feet wet working with a larger budget and more toys. Perhaps their next film will truly deliver on their developing potential.

The easy hook is that Daybreakers looks like The Matrix... with vampires. There are similar themes: a futuristic world overrun where human are used as batteries; except that in this future the humans aren't feeding a giant computer program, but a world overtaken by vampires. One of the plot twists revealed in the trailers, that of a vampire scientist fighting on behalf of the humans against his people and eventually transformed into one of them, who then fights alongside them against the corrupt world he's escaped from, is not only a genre-bender never really seen before, but also rife with metaphor. Racism, sexism, homophobia, or classism... pick your -ism and let the metaphor work for you, particularly in a corporate-run world with dwindling resources. All presented against a slick futuristic backdrop with cool vampires. It seems as though the Spierig brothers had captured both of the required elements for lightning in a bottle: a blockbuster high-concept fueled with social relevance.

But as soon as Daybreakers begins, it's obvious that the Spierig brothers have made the film with an aesthetic half outside of mainstream appeal. The film employs the use of blue filters, perhaps to emulate The Matrix's green filters, but the end result doesn't play out quite the same way. Instead, Daybreakers is cold and sterile and somewhat flaccid. And where The Matrix hit the ground running with action and suspense, even in the way it built the narrative at the beginning, Daybreakers starts slowly, with little dialogue and less action, taking its time introducing characters and exploring its world with a very understated, introverted, and meditative pace.

There's still no doubt that the Spierig brothers are visionaries; the framing and cinematography look fantastic. And they obviously work well with their actors. There's one or two inspired, if brief, set-pieces, and another few sharp ideas (vampires driving cars in the daylight with the use of cameras and computer screens). But the Spierigs still haven't figured out how to balance their ideas or pace themselves. They try to do both too much and not enough at the same time. On the one hand, they spend a lot of time creating humanizing, three-dimensional characterizations that aren't simply black and white, but are chock full with gray areas. But just as with Undead, as the film's reels unspool and the brothers near the end of their alotted running time, they employ a hurry-up-and-finish-it technique that oversimplifies everything they've built along the way. Suddenly complexities are left by the wayside, characters are jettisoned and forgotten, and the plot is streamlined, undercutting some of its previous intelligence. Perhaps the brothers need to start their process by trying to do less and leaving room to grow as their story builds, or planning in terms of multi-film epics where they can evolve their narrative without the need for a third-act retcon that oversimplifies and undercuts. Either way, they need to safeguard against their tendency to continue developing detail until so far into the running time that an ending requires the desperate act of a fisherman reeling in a fish more powerful than his rod, one that ultimately requires him to throw the rod aside and whip out a baseball bat. The Spierigs obviously have all of the tools and all of the puzzle pieces assembled; now it's simply a case of putting everything together and taking the world by storm with a bonafide masterpiece.

6/10

The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus (2009, Gilliam)

The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus is vintage Gilliam and shares much in common with his previous work, yet at the end of the day it's a minor effort from the director. What makes the film such a curiosity is the passing of lead actor Heath Ledger before principal shooting was completed. As with most of Gilliam's movies, there's a fantastical component to Parnassus, both in the very nature of the story itself, and the fact that there's a fantasy world, in this case the consciousness of Doctor Parnassus, that can be entered through a magical mirror in his traveling sideshow. Serendipitously, Ledger died after completing all of his scenes taking place outside the world of the mirror. But as he enters the mirror several times throughout the course of the story, each time accompanying a different civilian mark, Gilliam was able to create a workaround using several different actors (Johnny Depp, Colin Farrell, and Jude Law) to portray the version of Ledger's character as seen by each of the civilians that enters the mirror with Ledger's Tony. In fact, the film works even better as a result, layering on themes of identity that wouldn't have existed otherwise, and providing more depth to both the character and the film itself.

While Ledger does give an inspired performance, without these necessary casting adjustments the final version of Parnassus would have been even more of a minor effort than this final version. At the end of the day, the narrative is on the thin side and lacks any real meat; most of what gives the film its substance is subtext. The film is obviously also intended as a memorial to Ledger, and in that case the film succeeds admirably. Anyone who followed the story behind the production in the wake of Ledger's death knows how Gilliam had to reinvent the film, recast scenes, and conjure Parnassian magic himself to retain financing and complete production. And the evidence of the love behind the tribute is all over the finished film, including the film's credits and dedication. If nothing else, the completed film is a heartfelt love letter to Ledger's talent and charisma, and a glimpse of the promise of a further career that could have been.

As is the case with most of Gilliam's films, the world of Parnassus is fantastical, rooted in fable, and has a carnival-inspired logic, sensibility, and sense of design. There's also a murky timelessness about it; even though the film is obviously set in modern times, it could easily be taking place hundreds of years ago when this kind of traveling sideshow may have been more commonplace. In fact, part of the fun is seeing how Parnassus manages to just barely keep operating on the fringes of society, and the parallels drawn between certain contemporary elements and their ancestral parallels had the film been set hundreds of years in the past. The more things change, the more they stay the same; which is a theme that both Gilliam and Parnassus seem to understand all too well, yet at the cost of existing in a contemporary world currently blinded to certain universal truths. It's quite obvious that Gilliam the filmmaker is represented here by Parnassus, and that like Parnassus, Gilliam feels himself to be in the death-throes of his career, a master of an outdated style of creativity and craftsmanship that is no longer appreciated and in many cases, even invisible, to a world increasingly obsessed with the technological revolution and its own dehumanization. But for one last show, Gilliam has given us some brilliant visuals that stand up with the best of his work, and the reminder that even though current society may be looking in a different direction, everything is cyclical and everything is ultimately eternal.

While the audience may be looking most intensely as Ledger and his performance, he really ends up being a supporting player. The other performances are universally strong, from Christopher Plummer to newcomer Lily Cole, who credits Ledger with teaching her what acting is truly about. There's no doubt that her performance would have been far less nuanced without his influence. And as charismatic as Ledger is, Andrew Garfield manages to somehow steal almost every scene away from Ledger in a role that is, on the page, not showy in the least. Stripped of the added dimensions from Ledger's passing, Garfield is the real emerging star of Parnassus.

But finally, while Parnassus is a must-see for Ledger fans and essentially functions to legendize the actor, as a piece of cinema it's one of Gilliam's lesser efforts. On display are all of Gilliam's strengths and what has made him such a creative and masterful director over the years, and certainly the themes are food for thought and particularly relevant to Gilliam at this stage of his career. Yet stripped of Ledger's passing and the resultant production hurdles and solutions, as well as the parallels to Gilliam's similar struggles on past efforts such as The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, the narrative of Parnassus itself is rather thin and on the weak side. Parnassus is much like Ledger's presence in the film: concentrated, well-crafted, but not as substantial as one might desire or hope.

7/10

The White Ribbon (2009, Haneke)

The first compliment you have to pay to Haneke's The White Ribbon is that it looks gorgeous. It's the kind of glorious black and white cinematography that harks back to the best of Ingmar Bergman. The high contrast of black and white, as well as the sharp framing and strong visual direction, create the perfect sense of clinical sterility for Haneke's aesthetic. And then the plot begins to unravel with a series of accidents in this picturesque, pre-World War I German village. There's a sense of foreboding, brooding, and danger. And as Haneke tells his tale and the accidents build on one another, related in, again, almost clinical fashion... one thing is certain: the children are evil. In fact, I felt like I was watching a more meditative and lyrical companion piece to Village of the Damned.

And in many ways, that's kind of the heart of the film. But instead of science fiction, we're treated to a study of and exploration into, perhaps not evil, but certainly aberrant psychology and the way strong patriarchal authoritarianism can erode and decay over generations, mutating from some kind of moral, religious, healthy, and helpful code of behavior and twisting into something perverse and amoral. And Haneke, through the voice-over of the village's schoolteacher, frames this as an explanation of subsequent Nazism. Yet, in typical Haneke fashion, this voice-over established by a character we come to like and trust eventually abandons us without really drawing much of a conclusion to the proceedings. It's a film without an epilogue, or a thesis paper without much of a conclusion. To confuse matters even more, Haneke peoples the village with not only the likable schoolteacher to provide a counterpoint to the authoritative baron and pastor and rapist, incestuous doctor; but also with ingenue Eva, her stern yet fair father, and the pastor's youngest son Gustav, who clearly has a very healthy and positive relationship with his father that is 180 degrees the opposite of some of his brothers and sisters.

So while there's a poison in the village that's fermenting from generation to generation and across the class system, Haneke muddies the waters of his own argument. There's true compassion, understanding, and tenderness between Gustav and his father in his efforts to save a wounded bird; and a carriage ride into the country for a picnic lunch between the school teacher and Eva calls to mind Bergman's idyllic Smiles of a Summer Night, and the respect the school teacher shows his tentative ingenue is heartfelt. Even in the sternness with which the pastor disciplines his most worrisome children, we see the loving intention behind it, and a confusion and inability on the pastor's part to create any kind of effective discipline for his children who may simply have been born damned and evil. He can't even see the degree of twisted perversion in front of him and the degree of heinousness of his childrens' crimes; he's still living blindly in a pastoral existence where the worst crime he can conceive is his children being late for dinner, and his belief that if he can only teach them to value and blindly and whole-heartedly obey puritanical, Protestant, and patriarchal, moral codes... righteousness and goodness will decidedly follow. Along these same lines, another of the pastor's sons, Martin, even seems to absolve his father with the admission that he's simply evil in the way he offers God the opportunity to disempower him and kill him if his aberrant behavior and desires aren't natural and God-given.

What we're effectively left with is an argument of nature vs. nurture, and one that presents both sides of the equation while not offering much of a solution. In true Haneke fashion, the initial offering of an explanation and solution is subverted, and instead the audience is left only with a very ordered and detailed list of atrocities, evidence of both the success and complete failure of a society's system of governance, as well as the wild card of genetic morality or immorality, and finally, a boatload of questions with no clear answers. But that, in essence, is the genius of Haneke. Instead of wrapping things up with a final reel and a pat answer, his films turn the theme back to the audience itself for thought, meditation, and discussion. Likely extremely frustrating to those who like their answers spoon-fed to them, but Haneke is an expert at this style of cinematic sleight-of-hand and audience confrontation. And The White Ribbon finds him in top form, working with pristine yet lush visuals and an exceptionally talented cast. To call on Bergman's name one last time, what ultimately makes this film so effective, powerful, and likely timeless, is the way Haneke gets such naturalistic, Bergman-esque performances from his actors, places them in such an evocative, picturesque setting, and then counterpoints it with such sharp, stark visuals and his masterful sense of clinical detachment.

10/10

The Hangover (2009, Phillips)

"We're a wolf pack of four, wandering the desert, searching for strippers and cocaine." -Alan Garner, The Hangover (2009)

The Hangover is about what you'd expect from Todd Phillips, and is very much in the vein of Old School. Take a trio of up-and-coming actors, two of them fairly funny comic actors still perfecting their comic voices, throw them in an outrageous, high-concept fratboy picture that still has a heart beating somewhere inside, and set to frappe. Not all of the jokes hit, and when looked at squarely and incisively, there's not much substance supporting the fluff.

At the same time, Helms and Galifianakis in particular work the hell out of the material they're given, and Cooper's charisma is tangible to the point that there's no doubt he's a superstar on the rise. In fact, when looked at objectively, I'm at a loss to explain why Cooper would accept the role of Phil Wenneck simply because there's so very little for him to work with. Yet his screen presence is memorable enough that his role feels much more substantial than it really is. And his presence, along with Justin Bartha's, provides a needed counterpoint for Galifianakis, operating at full-tilt absurd. Somewhere navigating middle ground is Helms, who in my opinion steals the show and cleanly walks the tightrope between some of the more absurdist comedy while making his character both believably nebbish and sympathetic in a fully-realized way, no small feat in a film like this. If Helms is surrounding himself with the right people, he'll be able to greenlight his The 40 Year Old Virgin in the wake of The Hangover's success.

Perhaps wisely, The Hangover doesn't try to clean up its leads too much in the film's third act, apologize for them, or arrange a tidy ending that ties every character thread or puts everything neatly in its place. The film lives or dies by its jokes, and when viewed without too many demands, it pleases more often than not. It's not the kind of tightly calculated comedy destined to become a comedy classic, it simply succeeds based on the good-natured chemistry of its male leads. Likewise Phillips has been around the block enough to know that his greatest talent, after assembling his winning cast, is simply to set the scenes and then get out of the way and allow the magic to happen whenever possible.

If you do decide to see The Hangover, stay through the closing credit sequence; it keeps pace with the best moments of the rest of the film and delivers many a chuckle. All in all, not necessarily the most glowing of reviews, but The Hangover seems to be proving a sleeper hit this summer, delivering more than its share of anticipated entertainment. It certainly helps that there's no associated franchise baggage, no weighted or lofty expectations, and that the film has been allowed to operate without castrating it for family viewing. And as relatively mindless, R-rated summer fun, it's operating uncontested at the moment with several more weeks until the arrival of probable home runs Bruno and Funny People.

7/10

Drag Me to Hell (2009, Raimi)

"You will be surprised what you will be willing to do when the Lamia comes for you!" -Rahm Jas, Drag Me to Hell (2009)

I've been quite the fan of Raimi's recent Spider-Man films, but even so, his return to the horror genre is one of the most refreshing breaths of fresh air in the film world of the past few years. I'm hard-pressed to think of any horror films in the last decade that aren't either torture porn or simplistic, ineffective, artless remakes and regurgitations aimed at the multiplex-going tween crowd. A pair of exceptions are Danny Boyle's 28 Days Later and Neil Marshall's The Descent, but there's nothing that approaches Raimi's brand of expertly-crafted jump scares, creative gore, and horror comedy.

He's back in full Evil Dead 2/Army of Darkness mode here, something that becomes evident once the film has unspooled to the parking lot confrontation scene. That's when I knew that Raimi wasn't going to be compromising with something bland aimed at mainstream acceptance. And yet, the movie is so balls-to-the-wall, over-the-top entertaining that it's impossible to imagine most audiences not revelling in squeamish delight at the roller-coaster ride that Raimi has no doubt cooked up with devilish glee. In fact, one male audience member sitting in front of me was on pins and needles for the entire screening, screaming like a little girl, and as the end credits rolled, proclaiming to his friends "What was that?!? That was the craziest thing I've ever seen in my entire life!!!"

The movie has a lot in common with Evil Dead 2, from playful jump scares and an unrelentingly maintained tone of foreboding and dread, to similar thematic elements like abusive airborne spirits and an increasingly determined hero, this time a heroine, besieged by escalating horror comedy grossery. Yet despite the shared elements and stylistic shorthands, Drag Me still stands squarely on its own. It reaps the benefits both from the Hollywood slickness Raimi has been able to cultivate over the past decade working on Spider-Man, and his increasing facility work effortlessly with actors.

Lohman is exceedingly well-cast, and as much as I like early contender Ellen Page, Lohman is a far better fit for the role. Likewise Justin Long brings the perfect balance to his part. He's proven himself a very capable, realistic actor, and though somewhat unlikely, a charming leading man, while also retaining a character actor's sense of timing and skill with dialogue. And Lorna Raver, not a Hollywood mainstay by any means, makes the most of every line of dialogue and character flourish as the antagonistic Mrs. Ganush. She is nothing short of fabulous and fantastic, and as so much of the quality of the movie ultimately rests on her shoulders, her casting and performance deserve the highest kudos.

I don't want to reveal any of the marvelously icky scares or set-pieces, or too much of the third act. But it's characterized throughout by Raimi's unique talent at anticipating audience reaction, playing to it, turning it on it's side, and slyly nodding while pulling the bottom out from underneath. He's the carnival barker of high-budgeted horror comedy, and nothing is ever quite safe, even when he takes the audience by its hand and offers almost-believed promises, save for a sparkle and glint of the eye. Cinematographer Peter Deming works so collaboratively and successfully with Raimi that both the director's vision and heroine's point-of-view are perfectly balanced in the mind's eye of the audience; we're intimately brought into Christine Brown's world while Raimi's ironic storyteller's distance is simultaneously maintained, and this is no easy balancing act. There's even room for a term paper thesis supporting the interpretation that Christine Brown's haunting is all a figment of her own imagination and the result of a potential eating disorder; and this kind of narrative possibility and playfulness will only serve to reward multiple viewings, and ensure the Drag Me's life as a cult favorite.

I know from interviews that Raimi is headed back to work on Spider-Man 4 feeling rejuvenated in a way after the shooting of this film that he hasn't felt in years, and excited to bring that energy back into the Spider-Man franchise. I can only hope that between every future major Hollywood film, he decides the best thing for him creatively is to go off and make one of his signature horror films. It's as much fun as Star Trek, as certainly the only fun the horror genre has seen in years.

I won't go so far as to say that Drag Me is a perfect film. It still has elements of B-moviedom to it, yet that's also part of its unassuming charm. It's the balance between this and its Hollywood gloss, all orchestrated by Raimi with such confidence and flair, that makes it such a success as pure entertainment. The genre needs Raimi, and it finds him here at his most creatively gonzo and brilliantly inventive.

9/10

Terminator: Salvation (2009, McG)

"Two day old coyote. It's better than three day old coyote." -Kyle Reese, Terminator: Salvation (2009)

In the words of comic book artist Jhonen Vasquez, "Terminator: Salvation the movie was no Terminator: Salvation the trailer."

There's been a lot of hype and anticipation for this latest installment in what has become the Terminator franchise. The first film launched the career of James Cameron; the sequel was a technological masterpiece. A decade later, Jonathan Mostow's workmanlike effort of the third in the series was forgettable at best, and appeared to signal not only the death knell of Arnold Schwarzenegger's acting career, but also that of the Terminator films itself, ostensibly coming one film too late.

So the announcement of a new trilogy several years after that came as a shock to most. The news that followed was a series of ups and downs: the film would take place in the future, and focus on John Connor and the war against Skynet and the machines, up; McG was selected to direct, down; Christian Bale was cast as John Connor, up; McG was still directing the picture, down. Then the trailers began to hit, and damn it if they didn't look promising and like a big step forward for McG's directing career. Simultaneously, one had to remember that this was going to be an action picture after all, and thus McG couldn't screw it up too much. And his football movie We Are Marshall had been a big step forward itself from his previous Charlie's Angels pictures. On top of everything else, the involvement of Jonathan Nolan, screenwriter of the recent Christopher Nolan/Christian Bale Batman films, as a script re-writer/editor held some degree of promise.

And so I went into the film, expectations buoyed by the trailer even in light of the publicized Bale rant, hoping that the discovery contained in the trailer that Marcus was a cyborg wouldn't spoil the film. The short answer is that it doesn't-- it's fairly obvious from the opening of T:S, even though the film simultaneously telegraphs this dynamic while also trying to use it as a surprise about an hour into the film. I'm also very happy to report that McG doesn't screw up the film; he does an admirable job of stepping up to the plate and hitting the action sequences out of the park. However, one can still hold him ultimately responsible for the reasons the film fails.

And that pair of reasons are screenwriters John Brancato and Michael Ferris, and overinflated star Christian Bale. Brancato and Ferris were responsible for Mostow's substandard third Terminator film, so why anyone would begin a new iteration of the series with their shoddy writing is beyond me. Yet, there were a few ballsy, near-genius ideas in their early drafts, but those ideas were jettisoned once Bale came on board. It seems the original draft had Conner barely seen throughout the film, leading the resistance largely by radio broadcasts, and then dying at the end of the film, with his face being transplanted onto cyborg Wright. Thus it was Wright who would go on to lead the resistance in the guise of Conner, and become the future hero that the first films had led us all to believe was Conner's destiny. Once these plot details were leaked, internet bloggers and fanboys were up in arms, decrying what seemed to be a betrayal of the Terminator audience and the already-established Terminator history.

Then there was Bale, who declined the offered role of Marcus Wright and insisted on playing John Conner, and then on having the script rewritten and revised to beef up the Conner role. This meant that subplots developing both the Wright and Reese characters were truncated, replaced by unnecessary and extraneous scenes of Conner yelling and taking charge. And quite frankly, as good an actor as Bale is, his angry grumbling/muttering act has worn its course and reached the point of semi-self-parody. While it's possible and even likely that Conner dying and Brancato and Ferris' planned twist would have angered many an audience, it was also the biggest ambition their screenplay boasted. By eliminating this detail and rewriting per Bale's specifications, the project resulted in the worst and most mechanical of what all three writers had to offer.

And while all of this story structure tug-of-war was going on, it seems no one was on dialogue detail. What remains is a B-movie with some fantastic action and laughable dialogue, that never does anything beyond treading water. And bookending the visually inspired action sequences are a somewhat painful and belabored opening focusing on Marcus Wright and the poorly-served Helena Bonham Carter, and a castrated version of the orginal ending that lacks any real emotional resonance or sense of purpose. It manages to set up the rest of the new trilogy with about as much promise as it destroyed for itself over the course of its own production, but the actual production of the rest of the announced trilogy now seems unlikely, as the box office for the first installment has been a big disappointment for the studio.

Still, while nowhere in the realm of T2, and not even matching the lower-budgeted yet oft-inspired original Terminator, T:S is still a big improvement over T3. At its worst, it's a big, dumb summer action movie with shit that blows up good, a feat that T3 couldn't even satisfyingly muster. If T:S somehow manages to scrape together enough global box office, DVD sales, and good will to warrant the greenlight for the sequels, we can only hope that Nolan will be retained, Brancato and Ferris ejected post-haste, and Bale told to concentrate on finding some nuance to his brooding instead of interfering with the screenwriting process. This would leave Nolan free to pen some believable dialogue, so that I can watch the sequels without the constant, well-deserved sidelong glances and eye-rolling from my much-beloved girlfriend.

7/10

The Girlfriend Experience (2009, Soderbergh)

"How the fuck are ya... like what I haven't done with the place?" -Internet Blogger, The Girlfriend Experience (2009)

Sasha Grey is one of porn's hottest rising starlets: extremely young, aggressive, and hyper sexual, there's seemingly nothing she won't do and enjoy. Following in the footsteps of recent gonzo marquee names like Bella Donna and Flower Tucci, she combines their zest for sexuality and sexual acts, enjoyment of sexual boundary-pushing, and a celebration of and revelling in all things sexual; with filmic and literary knowledge, artistic aspirations, and multi-media ambition. Paired with filmmaker Steven Soderbergh, a director who has always played with and against his mainstream success as much as he's embraced it, there are the makings here for at least one cinematic masterpiece.

While Grey is attractive, alluring, and a sexual compulsive, there's also something very detached about her. Not necessarily as a porn starlet uncomfortable with her chosen profession, but as someone whose intelligence far exceeds her purely sexual exploits; watching her films you can sense that as much as she's enjoying fully submitting to her carnal appetites and riding a wave of pure bestial nature; there's also a part of her watching herself from the outside, wondering where she can take things next, what it all means, and what the next step is in that evolution. There's something of the Marquis de Sade to Grey, a sexual carnivore lurking behind the youthful idealism and yes, even innocence, that are still somehow present in her persona. In this digital age, we've reached a place where such a cocktail of personality traits can somehow co-exist; young women can be this sexually empowered, materially savvy, and still ultimately naive. All of which is to say there is a wealth of material present in everything from our current society's sexual morals, technology, and Grey herself to provide a truly insightful and studied look at our culture and where our sexuality is headed.

But while Soderbergh starts with all of the necessary ingredients, he never combines them into anything worth a damn. Grey plays high-class escort Chelsea, balancing clients, finances, marketing strategies, and a struggle for some kind of protected, personal life and even intimacy. But Soderbergh populates the film with such on-the-nose economic discussions between financial investment ex-fratboys, and overly obvious financial observations and advice from poorly-portrayed wealthy clients, that the end result never really scrapes below the surface. We get it: the world is in a tough economic place right now, and Chelsea, like every one else, is feeling the burn, and is intelligent enough to be financially aware and ask questions about her own financial planning. But these economic discoveries need to be the starting point of a journey; they need to be the window-dressing setting the tone, skewing things slightly off-center and interesting the viewer enough to follow this character and her plight-- not be the central theme or final summation of some half-baked thesis. "Hooker with a heart of gold" is not a story-- it's a character description, and a stereotypical one at that. As is "financially-aware and somewhat emotionally vulnerable high class escort." This should be the beginning set-up for the "and then what?" that drives an actual plot or character study.

But evidently the end result is that we're supposed to marvel that the girl has these kinds of smarts; and we're supposed to see some kind of emotional struggle with intimacy and relationships resulting from her flirtation with a potential client and her whimsical thoughts about leaving her boyfriend. The latter fails because Grey, as fascinating a person as she is, just doesn't have the acting chops to pull off anything in the film beyond naturalism. The moment she's required to pull out some emotion while remaining believable, things quickly detour to the kind of whiny, embarrassed acting that populates beginning acting classes. Yet the failure of the film isn't entirely, or even primarily, her fault. Soderbergh, being the skilled and experienced director that he is, should have been more than capable of directing this non-actor through scenarios and story lines capitalizing on her numerous talents and naturally-present behavior and emotions. We don't need to see some Streepian range of emotion from her; we just need to see the sides of her that anyone who's familiar with her already knows exist, and have those sides explored through well-choreographed story points.

The truly intimate moments between Chelsea and her personal trainer boyfriend Chris, while present, are few and far between. Their mundaneness would have been a legitimate choice, if paired with a deeper exploration into Chelsea's character and her desires. But that doesn't seem to be what Soderbergh is aiming for anyway, nor does a sparseness of intimacy. Rather, the problem seems to lie with Soderbergh's overweighting both Chris and Chelsea's business savvy, and the constant strategizing and marketing considerations of their not dissimilar businesses. What little screen time remains is spent exploring Chelsea's compulsive pseudo-spirituality culled from half-understood numerology books. It would seem Soderbergh is ultimately trying to paint a portrait of someone lost in a world of constantly increasing technology, managing to keep pace professionally while floundering personally.

Perhaps the problem lies in the fact that Soderbergh is too determined not to find fault with Chelsea and her chosen profession, is too determined to champion it as a legitimate choice and then use her as a craftily-cast sort of everywoman for our times; and ultimately, wants too much to buddy up to his leading lady. In order for this sort of take to have worked, a deeper exploration into the more vulnerable and human side of Chelsea would have been required-- more innocence, more confusion, more of both the failed and successful attempts at controlling her career. What we're instead offered in its place, from the compulsive and misunderstood numerology to the awkwardly forced emotions and whiny, bratty, illogical, and annoying argumentativeness, simply reduces the character to an embarrassing joke. We get neither a biting social critique nor a profound exploration into the human condition in the vein of Grey's beloved French New Wave auteurs, who were also so influential towards shaping Soderbergh's own work, but instead exactly the kind of limp, impotent, and lazy effort that usually requires either a little blue pill or an extremely motivated fluffer.

So what begins as a somewhat experimental possible exploration into contemporary sexuality and personality ends as nothing more than a failed experiment, with nothing to say beyond the obvious and cursory. Grey's persona will undoubtedly remain unscathed by the endeavor, because there's really no down side to the project for her, even as a failure. Yet it's a shame that somewhere in this bundle of film lies a lost Godardian classic, and a missed opportunity for her to create exactly the kind of art she's always aimed for. As for Soderbergh, I'm still grateful that he's willing to try things like this, and take his artistic lumps like a man, rather than simply phoning in the pre-packaged Hollywood product like so many purely mainstream directors.

5/10

Angels & Demons (2009, Howard)

"Fellas, you called me." -Robert Langdon, Angels & Demons (2009)

Ugh. If I had to review this film in one word, that would be it.

Let's start with the fact that Dan Brown may not be the world's greatest writer, but contrary to some elitist opinions, he's actually an extremely skilled writer of the pseudo-political/technological thriller. His books are the kind where you devour hundreds of pages at a time, continuing to read at a breakneck speed and page forward to keep pace with the momentum of the protagonist and the unspooling plot.

Enter Ron Howard, champion of the mediocre. Ron Howard appears to be one of the nicest guys in Hollywood, and I have to assume that he's exactly that, treating both actors and crew with nothing but complete respect and kindness. It would go a long way to explaining his current status as seeming Hollywood royalty, considering the fact that almost every one of his films is generic mediocrity that panders to the multiplex crowd and the lowest common denominator. And based on his track record of always attempting to please the senseless masses, it comes as no surprise that he'd miscast universally-loved Tom Hanks in the ill-fitting role of Robert Langdon. This is a character that was originally conceived with Harrison Ford in mind-- picture the schoolteacher persona from Indiana Jones taking center stage and solving puzzles sans whip and fedora, but instead solely through intellect and spectacles. The reason for Ford seems to be a likeness to author Dan Brown himself, and Ford's visage a romanticized version of Brown's. Nevertheless, the Langdon is obviously based on 80's Ford, something that Ford himself is now too long in the tooth to embody. Of course, leave it to Howard to not understand this fact and to pursue Ford for The Da Vinci Code, before settling on Hanks after Ford was unavailable.

I have yet to see the film version of The Da Vinci Code, a result of the presence of the mediocre Howard and the miscast Hanks, after thoroughly enjoying all of Brown's books for the light, fluffy beach-reads they are, and not wanting to witness the elements of the books unsuccessfully butchered. Just as Angels & Demons was the stronger, though less successful of the two, so have I heard that Angels & Demons is the stronger of the two film adaptations. So it was that I decided to kill a couple of hours waiting for a friend to arrive at LAX, when there was nothing left playing in theatres that I was genuinely interested to see.

Hanks does better in the role that I had anticipated. He puts a lid on the usual Hanks' enthusiasm and off-kilter boisterousness, yet doesn't quite sink into the kind of tedious, self-imposed gravitas that marked his performance in Saving Private Ryan. And, of course, he returns to the role of Langdon without the long-haired coif of Da Vinci that made him a veritable laughing-stock. Nevertheless, Hanks lacks the two primary aspects required of the role; I don't buy him as either the intellectual professor or the hidden athlete. He's too everyman with a homey demeanor to capture the requisite intellectual, bow-tie precision; and he's too doughy and complacently settled to believably rip out with Langdon's more athletic side. It's a shame when someone like Patrick Wilson (Little Children, Watchmen), admittedly less of a marquee name, would have made such a spot-on Langdon.

The supporting cast are filled with some wonderful actors-- Stellan Skarsgard, Ewan McGregor, Armin Mueller-Stahl-- but they're either phoning in their performances or just given so little to work with in the scope of the story structure that the difference is negligible. And actress Ayelet Zurer doesn't fare so well as to come off as simply useless; she unfortunately borders on the obnoxious and annoying.

Howard tries his best to make the film a visual affair, and I suppose there's some kind of effort to make the technology sound convincing; but he fails on both counts. Whereas Brown has a facility to blow through technology and junk-science making it sound plausible enough to proceed with the plot, Howard trips and stumbles over his own feet right out of the starting gate. From there Howard fails to capture what makes the books such page-turning adventures; instead of little mysteries and plot details building suspense and continuously accelerating the speed toward the impending climax, Howard ticks off each little mystery as it appears, explaining it immediately and keeping things in a constant state of deflation.

By the time the film has come to an end, we're past the point of caring about the plot or any of its characters. This is multiplex fodder at its most banal; something that may hold your attention for its overlong running time, or may not, yet which hardly matters as the likely nap is probably equally invigorating; and something that will find any partial recall hours later a larger mental challenge than the viewing experience itself.

4/10

The Brothers Bloom (2009, Johnson)

I have to admit to strongly disliking Rian Johnson's debut Brick. The noirish dialogue that he inserted into the mouths of his teenage characters was so affected and out of place that it grated at every turn and made the film extremely unwatchable for me. It was obvious that the director had a sharp intellect and a puzzle-creator's Goldbergian eye for detail, but nonetheless everything felt overly designed and very heavy-handed. It was a case of style over substance to the nth degree, and it didn't help that the film felt emotionally hollow and, in the end, nothing more than a self-congratulatory stylistic exercise. It's one thing to design the hell out of your story structure; it's another to direct your film in such a way that it calls attention to itself in a "Hey Mom, look, I'm directing!" kind-of-way. If anything, far more mileage can be gotten out of hiding any intricacies behind the magician's curtain in service of the act. But sensing Johnson's obvious talent, I was very hopeful for a big leap forward in maturity with his next film. The superb, offbeat cast and jaunty trailers for The Brothers Bloom only served to feed my expectations.

And so I'm happy to report that The Brothers Bloom delivered on all of my expectations. Yes, it's true that the narration provided by Ricky Jay has made some pull out comparisons to Magnolia, based on little more than the narration itself. There are somewhat more justifiable comparisons being made to the films of Wes Anderson-- a result of hand-drawn journal titles separating the film into acts much as the curtains did in Rushmore, the presence of Darjeeling actor Adrien Brody, and in general a tight and intimate production design and quirky, often very self-aware characters with a penchant for poetic, haunted romanticism. Nevertheless, this doesn't feel like an Anderson film to me. While Anderson and Johnson may share a love of the complex and layered, at the end of the day Anderson's films service his characters whereas Johnson's films service his plot and story structure. Yet, Johnson has matured with The Brothers Bloom to a point where his characters are emotionally full and resonant, and unlike Brick, the complex story structure here serves the characters instead of feeling like a pointless exercise in moving the pieces around a structural chessboard.

It certainly helps that he's cast Adrien Brody and Mark Ruffalo as the two titular brothers. They are two of the best actors working today, and underutilized for various reasons. Brody looks physically awkward enough that mainstream Hollywood doesn't quite know what to do with him. His gangly body-type and hangdog looks don't quite mesh with his charm or onscreen charisma. He was a great fit in Hollywoodland a few years back, because there's something about him that seems more at place in old Hollywood. Ruffalo has more of the stereotypical leading man looks, yet he's a very emotionally sensitive actor with great vulnerability; he reminds one of Brando back in his heyday, and seems to have much more interest in character roles than generic paycheck parts. Both of these actors would have had so much more material to work with if they'd only been in their prime back in the 70s, when Hollywood wasn't run by a bunch of faceless corporate suits more concerned with 7-part franchises and adaptations of toy lines, as with films focused on exploring the human condition or the social themes of our times.

In addition, Rachel Weisz gives one of the most infectious performances of her career. She's an actress who can do just about anything, and here she adds the kind of fun, jaunty, vaudevillian performance again seen in those screwball comedies of yesteryear to her proven portfolio. Rinko Kikuchi, probably best know to Western audiences from Babel, has far less to do; yet her role and performance aren't quite so reductive to be one-note, and she makes the most of a role that has a little more depth and detail to it that one might assume.

Which in general can be said for The Brothers Bloom as a whole. I won't go into the plot, other than to say it's a con man/caper movie, which should be obvious from the trailer. But it's the kind of film where the journey and the reveals are what make it so enjoyable. So to include any kind of plot summary would simply be to distill the experience and ruin the movie. Rest assured that if you like the cast, quirky Anderson-like films, screwball comedies, intelligent scripts, and fun yet densely-plotted caper movies with plenty of twists and turns-- then this film should prove very satisfying, if not a home run. Everything about the film from the cinematography to the production design is a step forward from Johnson's previous effort. But most importantly, the depth and detail found across the production, particularly in the more organic and emotionally-realized characters, strikes a much more satisfying balance with Johnson's penchant for the kind of intricately designed story structure and makes for a wholly more satisfying viewing experience.

9/10

Monsters vs Aliens (2009, Letterman & Vernon)

"Boys, set the terror level at code brown, 'cause I need to change my pants." -The President of the United States, Monsters vs Aliens (2009)

Not exactly the height of comedic dialogue, and to put it simply, it’s no Shrek. Hell, it’s no Shrek the Third. With Monsters vs Aliens, Dreamworks proves that their Shrek films have been an anomaly, and that Pixar still reigns supreme in the computer-animated genre with little significant competition.

What’s mind-blowing about Monsters vs Aliens is the cast. It’s like a who’s who of comedy today, and includes everyone from Seth Rogen to Paul Rudd to Rainn Wilson to Will Arnett to Stephen Colbert. For pedigree, there’s everyone’s favorite girl-next-door Reese Witherspoon, House’s Hugh Laurie, and Keifer Sutherland doing a fantastic R. Lee Ermey impersonation. But I can’t for the life of me figure out how such a stellar cast was assembled for this project— because it obviously wasn’t a result of the material. And therein lies the problem.

There are a few chuckles here and there and one semi-interesting action set-piece. Reese Witherspoon’s 50’s-era housewife has a character arc involving learning to stand up for herself instead of in her husband’s shadow that riffs nicely off of the source material Attack of the 50 Foot Woman. The other characters include Will Arnett’s The Missing Link (Creature from the Black Lagoon), Seth Rogen’s B.O.B (The Blob), and Hugh Laurie’s Dr. Cockroach PhD (The Fly). But the high-concept and the monster-movie-inspired characters offer up so many rich story possibilities and details which go unexplored or undeveloped, that for every smart idea which actually made it into the script is a treasure trove of unused material.

In fact, the movie is so underwhelming that I began to imagine the script had originally been intended as live action, and how much more exciting it would have been to see a chase around the streets of San Francisco if it had actually been done with live actors and real sets. It’s never a good thing when a movie is so boring that you’re imagining a better version of it while watching the film on a first viewing. The sharp color palette and the 3D computer animation were probably the only things keeping my attention, and I think seeing a non-3D print would have been a coma-inducing experience, taking away the best element the movie had to offer. Of course, if you catch it on DVD or Blue-Ray, it won’t be in 3D.

The film suffers most in its third act, which feels like a clichéd, harried ending more fitting as the final act of some kiddie animation produced for Saturday morning television. It loses any of the meager pop and excitement it had going for it and just quietly fizzles out at the end of its very short running time.

If Dreamworks wants to be able to compete with Pixar, they need to realize that sharp, crisp animation isn’t everything; and that the most important element in Pixar's outstanding films are the intelligently-written, visually and emotionally-textured scripts where ideas have been developed and layered, and characters have truly been given life.

4/10

Star Trek (2009, Abrams)

"These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Her ongoing mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life-forms and new civilizations; to boldly go where no one has gone before." -Spock-Prime, Star Trek (2009)

J.J. Abrams & co-producer Damon Lindelof are a very pop-culture savvy pair, and an enormous amount of credit is due to them for their ability to take a dying American franchise and to not only reinvigorate it, but by doing so to permanently install it as timeless American iconography.

Lindelof may have only been a co-producer on the maiden voyage of this new outing, but he's already at work co-writing the sequel with screenwriters Orci & Kurtzman. Nevertheless, Orci & Kurtzman have gone on record to say that this first new Trek film still carries Abrams and Lindelof's fingerprints all over the script development process, and I think it's obvious that the central idea behind the franchise reboot probably owes its genesis to Lindelof's work at Marvel Comics on Ultimate Wolverine vs. Hulk.

Marvel's Ultimate line is essentially a modernization of their characters for a new generation. Marvel and their competition at DC seem to do this every 10-20 years or so, and the Ultimates is the latest retcon at "the House of Ideas." Essentially it's a way to throw out clunky old continuity while preserving what works, revitalize classic story arcs with new variations, spin characterizations in different directions, and generally freshen up something that may be aging past its current shelf life. It's also a way to simply start over and attract a new readership with a fresh and shiny beginning devoid of decades of attached history. And when it's done right, with talented creators behind it, the old fans line up as well-- excited at the new life that has been breathed into characters dear to their hearts, and interested to follow a new journey that may share some parallels to what went before, but which may also diverge into unexpectedly different directions.

And of course, this also perfectly describes the new Star Trek film. Abrams and Lindelof have been very savvy with how they've gone about it-- using Leonard Nimoy as fan-favorite Spock to not only midwife this new reinterpretation into existence, but to seal the entire project with a stamp of approval. In addition to revitalizing Star Trek, this strategy immortalizes it. No longer is history stuck with one interpretation of Spock, Kirk, or likely Khan... but the characters are transformed into archetypal icons that can be reinterpreted and passed down from generation to generation, much like we've see happen within comic-dom and across media with the likes of Batman, Superman, Spider-Man, and the X-Men. Captain Kirk is no longer just William Shatner; Captain Kirk is now simply Captain Kirk. And ironically, by doing this, Abrams and Lindelof will likely also generate more interest in the original Star Trek than simply continuing on with more flaccid sequels ever would have. Because now as new sequels and iterations are able to capture the zeitgeist, fascinated and curious audiences will always be able to go back and re-discover the original interpretations of the characters that started it all. And everything old will be new again once more.

As for the new film itself, it's certainly not flawless... but then again, no Star Trek film ever was. There are a few over-the-top attempts at crowd-pleasing that probably go too far, and a whole new generation of Trek fans is already debating things like the validity of Spock's justification in jettisoning Kirk in a safety pod down to a Hoth-like planet home to some large, predatory creatures ("... but the automated message in the pod told him to wait there for Starfleet to pick him up!").

But damn it, it's fun. The new film captures an excitement and a visceral crackle that no prior Trek film has ever quite achieved. Part of this is simply due to film technology being more advanced than it was at the time when other standouts in the series like The Wrath of Khan and First Contact were produced. The Onion even ran a story with the headline "Trekkies Bash New Star Trek Film as 'Fun, Watchable'." But at the same time, it's reverential of its characters while reinventing them. Every classic core Trek character gets to steal at least a scene or two. And in typical Abrams' fashion, the casting is inspired and spot-on across the board, and all of the actors do a fantastic job in their roles. From Karl Urban's interpretation of McCoy's brash and bitter attitude, to Chekov's battle with his accent so that the ship's computer can understand him, to Sulu demonstrating his badass fencing skills-- the reintroduction of all of the classic characters and elements is done with tremendous energy and success. On top of that, Abrams finds a way to include everything from big, high-energy moments like Kirk's encounter with the aforementioned nasty alien predators on a Hoth-like ice planet (Abrams and Lindelof love their Star Wars, of which there are more than a few nods throughout) to more character-driven, broader, humorous moments like McCoy following Kirk around the ship and repeatedly inoculating him, or Kirk's infamous defeat of the Kobayashi Maru simulation. Abrams even finds a way to sneak in his beloved Red Matter MacGuffin. There's such a variety of invention throughout the film, that the leanness of the story never becomes much of an issue, especially when countered with the forward-positioning for future installments.

And with Lindelof on board the sequel as a co-writer and not just a co-producer, any lingering doubts or minor quibbles and worries should be provided their salve. At the end of the day, not only is Star Trek pure, unadulterated fun, but it's also ripe with the promise of future voyages that look very bright for the first time in years.

9/10