The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)

In some ways, people will already have seen The Curious Case of Benjamin Button before the film even begins rolling. We have a protagonist misunderstood for his differences which, along with a diverse ensemble of characters, help shape his life, and a struggle with love for "the one that got away." Sound familiar? Sounds a bit like 1994's Forrest Gump to me.

It comes as little surprise, since screenwriter Eric Roth penned both scripts. But his efforts with Button yield more satisfying results. Why?

Having David Fincher direct certainly doesn't hurt. But this time around, Roth re-worked previously-written material, in this instance a lesser-known short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald. The original Benjamin Button wasn't so much a story as it was a labor, a disappointingly sardonic look at a truly interesting concept - being born old and growing younger with the passage of time.

Here, the recycled elements of Gump have helped create an adaptation that surpasses its original inspiration. Every character is vital to the protagonist's life, resulting in a story that becomes less a chore than a joy to soak up. The film affords each star its shining moment, (even Cate Blanchett!) and makes the story's three-hour run time breeze right by.

Perhaps the biggest reason for that is one of the film's strongest aspects (and the first we notice), its artistic merit. Benjamin Button is one of the most visually stunning movies you'll ever see. We all know going in of the monumental task it faced in presenting the wonders of aging (or is it timelessness?), and they've succeeded resoundingly in that respect. But even more impressive is the scene construction; each one as vivid and beautiful as the last. You're not just watching for three hours, but experiencing this story.

Few scenes achieve the same visual quality as the opener, the night of Benjamin's (Brad Pitt) birth in 1918. Born on the night World War I ends, Benjamin's aforementioned condition sees him promptly abandoned by his father (his mother dies in childbirth) and left with nursing home attendant Queenie (Taraji P. Henson). His early life sees a myriad of different encounters - from a ship captain who gives him his first real job to a resident of the nursing home whose sole purpose seems to be for comic relief, discussing the seven times he's been struck by lightning.

But despite their varying degrees of apparent significance, the characters each provide a vital aspect of the story: the lessons they give to Benjamin inspired by their experiences with him. As Pitt ages (or, rather, grows younger - either way it's astounding to watch), the messages grow more profound, and every character contributes at some level.

It might be Elizabeth Abott (Tilda Swinton), who gives Benjamin his first kiss and, 30-odd years later, reminds him that anything is possible in life; it might also be his father Tom (Jason Flemyng), whose actions teach Benjamin that any and all anger must be let go and forgotten at some point. What hits hard is the casual nature in which the majority of these lessons are delivered - almost as mild banter between friends, since Benjamin never reveals his true age and condition.

Except to his childhood friend Daisy (Cate Blanchett). Her relationship with Benjamin is sort of like Jenny's with Gump; you want it to happen, but it doesn't seem likely. And then it happens.

But for all the build-up, their relationship ends up becoming a bit of a downer. Blanchett and Pitt excel throughout the movie except, strangely, in their scenes together. At its core, the movie is a love story, yet the romantic elements end up being the weakest of any in the movie. Poor? Certainly not - and things definitely improve as the movie goes on. But you'd expect them to feel a bit more natural.

At some point in the 1960's - just after the Beatles play Ed Sullivan and just before the horrendous fashion trends we see emerging in the latter part of the decade - Benjamin and Daisy hit equilibrium. She's gotten old enough and he's gotten young enough for them to be at the same level, and things appear perfect for them. And even with the apparent lack of chemistry between the two, Pitt and Blanchett still manage to convey that element of the sublime, that point at which we feel anything is possible.

That's basically the essence of the movie, though. In an awards season filled with historical representations (Milk, Frost/Nixon) or thinking-man's movies (Doubt, The Dark Knight), this movie is the escape we so desperately need. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button may have a simple lesson, but it is far from a simple film. It's a magical journey - a true triumph in a year that gave us so many duds. It's beautiful, it's uplifting and - pardon the pun - it's timeless.

3.5 stars out of 4

American Beauty (1999)

What is it about American Beauty that so effectively launches the film to greatness?

Is it the stunning performances? The resounding successes of both a first-time writer and director? Or is it a rare melding of drama and comedy that is successful enough to make us laugh, cringe and cry in the same film? The answer? All of the above and none of the above.

Those qualities certainly don't hurt, but arguably the greatest asset of American Beauty is the fact that the situations it presents are so familiar to us all. Not necessarily in the sense of developing attractions to our teenage children's best friends, but in the omnipresence of internal discord - the underlying Yeatsian philosophy of things falling apart.

Its protagonist, Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey), is someone we all know at some level. He works for a magazine and lives in a nice house in a typical suburban community with his wife and daughter. Nine times out of 10, this would be considered a happy life, but here, as Lester's quick to alert us, it's all a facade. He's hit a dead-end in his career, his wife Carolyn (Annette Bening) no longer truly loves him and his daughter Jane (Thora Birch) has grown to resent his very presence.

"In a way, I'm dead already," he says during the film's introduction, shortly before proceeding to masturbate during a shower. Desperate times, indeed, but things aren't much better for anyone else around him. His wife's real-estate career is also floundering. His ex-Marine new next-door neighbor (Chris Cooper) worries for his son's (Wes Bentley) well-being.

These sorts of things happen all the time around us, often without our knowing, often masked by a similar facade to that of the Burnhams. American Beauty takes them all together and makes them not just apparent to us, but indeed our focal point - rendering them all the more powerful. And give director Sam Mendes credit; he corrals an A-list cast perfectly so that their personae don't overwhelm each other, but instead all stay believable in their own right. (Not bad for a guy who'd only directed London theater before this.)

That's the first act.

In the second, the Burnham family takes a turn for the better. Carolyn raises her spirits by beginning an affair with one of her biggest real estate rivals (Peter Gallagher). Jane starts seeing the Marine's son. Out of darkness comes light, one might say.

And no one gets more light than Lester. After developing an unhealthy obsession with Jane's friend Angela (Mena Suvari), his whole life is transformed. He not only quits his job, but also threatens to blackmail his former bosses. He buys a vintage Pontiac Firebird. He starts working out regularly and, almost contradictorily, smoking weed again for the first time since college.

The family crisis still remains, but rather than a source of strain, it becomes a source of utter hilarity as Spacey plunges Lester into new depths of hilarity and ridicule. Lester's fantasies with Angela become more and more vivid, and his masturbation transitions to the bedroom, but Spacey's charisma through it all is astounding - enough to carry the whole movie on its back.

It's not just the effects that shock us, but the causes as well. As Lester transitions from pushover to rebel, we experience one of two phenomena: we either start to see ourselves in him or we start to wish we could. For those of us lucky enough to have developed his new level of vitality, the movie is a parallel to our own lives; for those of us who haven't, it's a kick-start.

This gives the movie a real sense of gusto, but also makes its conclusion all the more shocking. By the end, we don't just watch these characters; we feel them. American Beauty is truly excellent - a movie that finds triumph in tumult, one that covers the entire range of the emotional spectrum in doing so. Don't just watch this one; cherish it.

4 stars out of 4

Blazing Saddles (1974)

A funny thing occurred to me while watching Mel Brooks' 1974 acknowledged comedy classic Blazing Saddles, right around the scene where Sheriff Bart (Cleavon Little), still trying to find his way around the town of Rock Ridge, attempts to greet an elderly woman in town. (Her response: "piss off, n***er") At some point, it'll strike you that all of Brooks' films - whether good, bad or somewhere in the middle - contain the same brand of effected, almost forced, humor.

In Young Frankenstein, it might be Igor's command to Frankenstein to (quite literally) "walk this way." In Robin Hood: Men in Tights, just pick a joke: whether Ahchoo's hip-hop sequence or Maid Marian's Everlast chastity belt. Hell, he even makes reference to Blazing Saddles at one point! Brooks uses these sorts of routines so much that they ultimately belittle his comedic gravitas.

But what we realize with Brooks is that, with all of his jokes being made in a similar manner, it's really not the humor by which his films must be judged; it's the individual storylines and, more importantly, how successfully he weaves the humor into them.

And by that notion, Blazing Saddles really isn't a great film. Sure, you'll get your chuckles; I certainly got mine. And, yes, its handling of racial prejudices so shortly after the civil rights movement is a great source of comedy, probably one of the reasons it's viewed as a classic.

When you look at it a bit closer, though, there's not much of a story. Rather, it's a series of smaller events that build upon eachother and ultimately lead to, well...nothing. The conclusion really doesn't follow the events of the rest of the movie. Its sheer randomness is akin to watching an episode of "Family Guy." Or the middle third of The Shining.

It starts with conniving Attorney General Hedley Lamarr (Harvey Korman) attempting to buy the town of Rock Ridge to destroy it and use the land for a railroad. The citizens, outraged, demand that their governor (Mel Brooks) send them a sheriff to maintain order and prevent their town's destruction. The sheriff is Bart (Cleavon Little), an African-American whom the 1874 Old West town predictably takes its time to warm up to. Hence, "piss off, n***er!"

The conflict is between Lamarr and Bart, and honestly can hardly be called a conflict at all. It's basically a series of cheap pranks, if you think about it: Lamarr tries to pull a fast one on Bart; Bart responds and turns the situation in his favor. Over, and over, and over.

Yes, you'll get your giggles, whether from Gene Wilder's "Waco Kid" (who "killed more men than Cecil B. DeMille!") or Madeline Kahn's Lili Von Shtüpp, a German chanteuse oddly reminiscent of Cloris Leachman's Frau Blücher. But the laughs never really amount to much because they're never quite given a solid context to fit into. As a result, the movie feels a bit stale before you've even reached the halfway point.

Don't get me wrong; I can see why Blazing Saddles is so well-loved. For its time, it's great; it has its place in history as a sort of building block toward the raunchy modern comedy of today. But in the end, it can't be judged as anything more than that.

2 stars out of 4

The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)

Most people might debate over what exactly is the greatest aspect of a film like The Day the Earth Stood Still. It could be the solid acting performances of Patricia Neal and Michael Rennie. It could be the fear-inspiring qualities of the robot Gort. Or it could be the collective sentiments that the movie evoked upon its initial release to the world, which was at the time mired in Cold War angst and xenophobia.

But no, the greatest trait of this cinematic gem is the fact that it is as utterly mesmerizing a film in 2008 as it was 57 years ago, in 1951. Sure, its context may have changed but its overall campaign for peace and understanding resonates as loud as ever. It's a message the human race still has yet to learn, and one that hits even harder upon that realization.

We could all use the sort of rude awakening Klaatu (Rennie) and Gort (Lock Martin - truly more machine than man) bring to Earth. Imagine all of the electricity on the planet going out, for a half hour. It would be even more catastrophic in today's technology-driven world than it was then.

But at the same time, Rennie brings an odd sort of comforting presence to Klaatu. He's an alien bringing a warning of destruction to the planet, yet he makes you feel so at ease through it all. He takes young Bobby Benson (Billy Gray) sightseeing throughout DC and solves seemingly unsolvable equations for the eccentric Professor Barnhardt (Sam Jaffe), and is equally convincing in each facet of his Earth persona, Mr. Carpenter.

What's more, his performance brings out the best in his co-stars, making them more believable and, thus, the film more likable. All things considered, Patricia Neal on her own is rather uninspiring as Helen Benson, but she has a certain chemistry with Rennie that allows you to overlook it all.

Given the upcoming remake, it might be easy to overlook the artistic side of things. How can a film from the 50s possibly compete with 21st-century blockbuster? In much the same way that the 1933 version of King Kong trumps Peter Jackson's recent remake: the effects are there to augment the film, not to drive it. By not assaulting our senses with cheese, director Robert Wise lets us truly appreciate his special effects for the time period from whence they came - whether the spaceship travelling to Earth or Gort's creepy eye-beams that melt anything he chooses.

I could go on, but I'd likely be here for weeks listing all of the positives. Put simply, The Day the Earth Stood Still is a sci-fi classic and an indisputably great piece of filmmaking - as relevant today as it was half a century ago. But don't take my word for it. Rent this, and let the movie do the talking...

4 stars out of 4

A History of Violence (2005)

Split-personality characters rarely come as mysterious as Viggo Mortensen's in A History of Violence.

On one side, he's Tom Stall - married with two kids, the mild-mannered owner of a diner in small-town Indiana. People in his town know him because, well, everyone knows everyone. Until, that is, he kills a couple of criminals one night in his diner in self-defense. Then people know him for being a hero.

And it's then that his other side comes out. The news of his actions travels fast, and before long, Tom's being stalked by a creepy mobster from Philadelphia (Ed Harris) who believes him to be one of his crew and, in fact, called Joey Cusack. Another mobster. A violent one. A killer.

It's a credit to director David Cronenberg that A History of Violence doesn't reveal anything too soon. But unfortunately what ends up being the film's biggest downfall is that there are some things it doesn't reveal at all. So in the end, the Cronenberg-Viggo pairing IS, once again, a success. Just not as big as the duo's next excursion, Eastern Promises.

However, the movie's good enough for the most part to keep us interested in spite of these shortcomings. In addition to the mystery behind Stall/Cusask (which one is he?), the movie's true gusto as a thriller comes from the manner in which Tom's conflict comes to affect his family. We're left not just worrying for his safety and outcome, but for theirs as well. We see it strike his wife, Edie (Maria Bello), whose paranoia turns to fear and again into anger over her husband's predicament. But it comes through strongest in his son, Jack (Ashton Holmes), who transforms from a mild-mannered high school loser to a vicious fighter as the movie progresses.

Unfortunately, the plot holes prove too many to overcome, particularly toward the end of things. There are also some miscasting issues, namely Bello - who should really just retire from cinema altogether. But if Bello's performance is of her typical, unsympathetic self, then there is another miscasting in A History of Violence that is truly deplorable - William Hurt as another Philly mobster, unconvincing and overhammed, apparently, enough to receive an Academy Award nod.

All in all, not bad. Cronenberg and Co. have whipped up a crafty, satisfying thriller that should wind up entertaining all. But if we consider his pairings with Mortensen as we would a sex life (not entirely inappropriate, considering their next film), A History of Violence is kind of like that all-important "first time" - something to talk about, something to remember, but ultimately not as good as what's to come.

3 stars out of 4

The Bank Job (2008)

On September 11, 1971 - an interesting date, if you think about it - London experienced one of the single biggest robberies in its history. It saw nearly £3 million in cash and goods stolen from a Lloyds Bank branch at the corner of Baker Street and Marlyebone Road in a heist that (appropriately) became known as the Baker Street robbery. Of the thieves or the aftermath little of substance is known, but the two have become widely speculated urban legends ever since.

Which brings us to 2008, and the Hollywood retelling of these events, The Bank Job. The producers took full advantage of the fact that so little is known about the robbery, turning the movie essentially into a 1970s British version of Ocean's Eleven. But instead of being overwhelmed by celebrity (ultimately the downfall of the Ocean's franchise), we end up being enthralled by what's important - the story and its presentation on screen.

Jason Statham shines as head robber Terry Leather in a rare role that doesn't waste his charisma. For every decent film Statham makes, he usually follows up with two or three abysmal ones. (So following The Bank Job...well, let's worry about that when it happens...) Here, he excels as the leader of the group, exuding a certain air of confidence even in the most precarious of situation. It's his handling of things above all that keeps our eyes glued to the screen.

It's hard to tell where reality stops and imagination begins in The Bank Job, but here's the general idea of things: an old fling of Leather's named Martine (Saffron Burrows) presents him the opportunity for the robbery. Terry's had his share of mischief, but this job represents a chance for he and his friends to take the next step and make out big. They take it.

But, as has become incredibly predictable in these sort of films, the crew gets more than they bargained for. Tension from all directions mounts, from the love triangle of Terry, Martine and Terry's wife Wendy (Keeley Hawes) to the continuing struggle against aptly named political activist Michael X (Peter de Jersey). Add in police corruption and a veteran London porn king, and you get a movie whose plot you can never really figure out until the end. Not a bad quality to have in a movie, though, is it?

The biggest success of the film is the crew, with each character as endearing and believable as the next. The lone exception is Burrows, whose importance to the film is undermined by a dry, unsympathetic performance. But then, she's not really part of the team anyway. Oops, did I just give something away?

Oh well, it's a minor detail in a movie with thousands. For all it's Hollywood-ing, The Bank Job is as good a heist movie as there's been in at least 20 years, if not ever. So kick back, grab your popcorn, and get ready to be entertained.

3 stars out of 4

The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters (2007)

Captivating, heart-wrenching stories aren't often found among video gamers, and even less so in documentaries about video gamers. But apparently Seth Gordon missed that memo. In his documentary The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters, he pulls one off - presenting the saga of one Steve Wiebe and Billy Mitchell.

Mitchell's the old master, holding high-score records in five classic arcade games and even gracing his own trading card. (You think I'm joking, but watch the movie; by the end, such a statement doesn't seem remotely far-fetched.) For years, his score of 874,300 points in Donkey Kong was a world record.

Until, that is, Wiebe came along, submitting a videotaped score of more than one million points to video game records keeper Twin Galaxies. But because of the many rules and technicalities in competitive gaming, his score is scrutinized and eventually dismissed altogether. Determined to prove his legitimacy, Wiebe crosses the country to popular east-coast arcades to establish himself.

What follows is an escalation of Mitchell and Wiebe's competition into what video game referee Walter Day calls "one of the great rivalries of all time." (You really can't make this stuff up.)

There's Mitchell - the New York Yankees of the two - and his ascent from teenage gaming prodigy to one of the world's most popular gamers. He's one of those perpetually lucky people who seems to win at everything, from gaming to the running of the popular Rickey's World Famous Restaurant chain. Then there's Wiebe, who's more like the Red Sox were for all those years before breaking their "curse." A middle school science teacher, Wiebe's life is chock full of ups and downs (mostly downs, from his high school baseball career being cut short to his firing from Boeing).

But we also see Gordon pull off a rare trick. He gives us something that transcends being a mere "documentary" and merits judgement as a true "movie." The film runs the emotional gamut, giving us comedy with heartbreak and happiness alongside anger. In short, it informs us, but it also entertains us in a way that eludes far too many modern movies - by completely enveloping its viewers.

We see Wiebe emerge as the dominant persona, and watch our emotional highs and lows mirror his own. As he sheds a tear over the unfortunate ending of his quest, we nearly do the same. We also see Mitchell become less and less likable as the story unfolds, at first inspiring feelings of uneasiness which gradually progresses into anger and resentment.

Launch into arguments about what this movie's appeal says about our society if you wish. I did. But then, allow yourself to sit down and watch it with an open mind. With any luck, by the time the credits roll, it will have opened your eyes as well.

3 stars out of 4

Take 2 (Haha! Get it?)

Contrary to what some of you may believe, I did, in fact, survive my fall semester at SU and am now bored out of my effing mind less than 12 hours into my break. Consequently, Ahh, Cinema...will hereby be re-enacted for the duration of my winter break, to keep me sane and my writing sharp. Look for my first review in almost four months a bit later tonight.

Cheers,

-Dan

Tropic Thunder (2008)

When people mention that Tropic Thunder is a satire of all things Hollywood - overzealous actors, greedy and disconnected executives and the perversion of the creative process - you might not initially realize how far they've taken it. The movie is a commentary on the familiar faces in the industry - the moguls and the mega-stars, but it is also one of its fans, its critics, its techniques, its very MO.

Take, for example, the opening of the movie. Before we see even a frame of the movie-within-a-movie, we're treated to an attack on the commercialism of Tinseltown, through fake ads (a sports drink called "Booty Sweat," and its accompanying "Bust-A-Nut" bar) and, eventually, movie trailers. There's the sixth installment of action star Tugg Speedman's (Ben Stiller) "Scorcher" franchise, followed only by Jeff Portnoy (Jack Black) doing his best Eddie Murphy imitation in "The Fatties: Fart Two." And to close it out, we get the art house drama "Satan's Alley," a kind of medieval Brokeback-esque romance between two monks (Tobey Maguire, and Robert Downey Jr.'s on-screen ego, Kirk Lazarus).

Stiller, who directed and co-wrote with Justin Theroux and Etan Cohen, is no stranger to comedy. His parents - Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara - made up one of the enduring comedy duos of the 1960's, so it's basically in his blood. His last venture into directing was 2001's Zoolander - a wildly hilarious satire of the vanity and ignorance of the modeling industry. Yet deservedly or not, most people would probably point to Stiller's comedically-flawed characters as the apex of his talent.

And we see a little bit of all of them here in his newest role, action star Tugg Speedman. Speedman's a Stallone type hero, who, in dealing with his decreasing relevance in Hollywood, sort of reminds us of Stiller's past lovable loser roles in Meet the Parents or There's Something About Mary. But as he leads the team of actor-soldiers on the set of the war flick, there are flashes of his gung-ho, strictly business types, as in Dodgeball's White Goodman.

But after a failed attempt at serious drama playing a mentally retarded farmhand named Simple Jack, his next role is very much a make-or-break performance for Speedman. So for this adaptation of a Vietnam vet's memoir, he teams up with the comedian Portnoy and the award-winner Lazarus, who's had his skin darkened so as to play the platoon's African-American Sgt. Osiris. (Before anyone says anything, it's not a knock on African-Americans; it's a knock on the actors who think their talent and range are limitless.) Hot new rapper Alpa Chino (say it out loud) and relative newcomer Kevin Sandusky (Or is it Kyle? They never seem to know) round out the troop. And almost before anything happens, there's already trouble.

Struggling with a rookie director (Steve Coogan) and numerous financial catastrophes in the shooting, the film is finds itself a month behind schedule only five days in, and the studio executives (Bill Hader and a surprisingly funny Tom Cruise) aren't happy. And the stars couldn't appear to care less; they're too preoccupied with the setup of their on-location TiVo systems or the occasional call from an agent (the scene-stealing Matthew McConaughey).

So the Vietnam vet (Nick Nolte, looking not entirely unlike his recent mugshot) proposes that the filming be moved deep into the jungle and shot guerrilla-style, and it's here that Tropic Thunder takes on a new direction. It's not as much a movie about the making of a war-movie anymore; once they're thrust into the wild, attacked and captured by drug lords, you know it's become strictly a war-movie on its own. The trouble is that now we're dealing with two brands of humor that don't exactly level up with each other.

On one side, there's the occasional dip back into Hollywood-land and all its side-splitting hysteria, as the studios react to their stars' abductions. This is the kind of humor you wish the entire flick was made of, as executives mistake ransom phone-calls for agency negotiations and big-headed stars utter lines like "I don't read the script; the script reads me."

But unfortunately, this is often buried beneath a feeble attempt at action-comedy. Here, they'll try just about anything to make us laugh - from stereotype jokes (a "you people" interaction, along with a hilarious new entry to the moviegoer's vocabulary - "full retard") to obscenity-laced rants in drug deprivation. Sometimes they work, but more often than not (excuse the pun), they misfire - meriting little more than forced giggles that pale in comparison to the earlier belly laughs.

And it's this unevenness that ultimately drags a promising movie down. As the film comes from its brief moments of brilliance to be dominated by the stupider bits, we find ourselves too often on the fringe - unsure of whether we really like the movie or not. Mere instinct suggests that it might someday be a grower, but for now, it's just OK. War is hell, indeed.

2 stars out of 4

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (2007)

A man awakens from an immeasurable sleep to find himself in a hospital room. His blurry vision slowly outlines two figures, which become a throng of people surrounding him and trying to communicate. He feels normal, if not slightly incapacitated from his slumber. But as he tries and fails to communicate with those around him and his medical state slowly becomes apparent, we discover he's anything but. "Normal," has become a thing of the past; this man's life will never be the same.

Such was the case for French journalist Jean-Dominique Bauby. Following a massive stroke in December 1995, the former Elle magazine editor awoke to discover he'd developed "Locked-In" syndrome, leaving him awake and entirely aware of his surroundings but deprived of motion or speech due to near complete paralysis. The only part of his body left mobile was his left eyelid. Slightly incapacitated, indeed.

But with that eyelid, Bauby devised a system of communication that allowed him to write his memoir, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. As a transcriber read off a list of letters, Bauby would blink his eye to choose the right ones, forming words and eventually a chronicle of his life following the stroke. He wove together details of his post-stroke life, from interactions with visitors to simple procedures like bathing, with descriptions of his life before the condition, garnering critical acclaim and numerous best seller honors across Europe.

Ten years after its publication and Bauby's subsequent untimely death, director Julian Schnabel gives us a movie adaptation as beautiful and inspiring as the story and work from which it's adapted. Shot fittingly from a first-person camera perspective, the film attempts quite literally to take us inside Bauby's head following the discovery of his condition. It's a technique that makes us rethink traditional cinema, and it allows us to not merely watch the story unfold, but to live it.

It also, unfortunately, undermines an admirable performance from Frenchman Mathieu Amalric. Though his face-time may be lacking, Amalric shines as a personification of Bauby's remaining active, living qualities. Only Bauby truly knew what was going on inside his head, but thanks to Amalric's performance and a stunning script from Ronald Harwood, the movie delivers the best of both worlds. The audience gets a respectable interpretation of his life on this side of the condition, and Bauby, most importantly, gets a voice.

The voice may just be the most important part of the film, elevating it from simply a great story to an experience we'll never forget. It would have been one thing to just show Bauby's experiences following the stroke. Surely, taking a bath or being sung to would have been entirely more laborious than before, but in all of these cases, Bauby had help. Lacking most functions, he had to share these tasks with his attendants. So as important as they are to the telling of the story, the realization that they've all been lived before by people other than Bauby takes away a bit of the shine.

But nobody's ever seen inside Bauby's head before, which renders the glances inside that much more intriguing. If that renders Schnabel's efforts as quasi-novelties, so be it. Novelties they may be, but they make the film a far more emotionally-rewarding experience. It would have been hard to duplicate the anguish in the interactions between Bauby and his wife (Emmanuelle Seigner) or his father (Max von Sydow, in a touching cameo) without it. Because we know there's someone inside trying but incapable of responding to their desperate pleas, it makes the content nearly as taxing for the audience as for those involved.

Take, for example, an early interaction between Bauby and his aide, Claude (Anne Consigny). Having just devised the basis for their communication system, Bauby strings together a series of letters telling Claude "je veux mourir" - "I want to die." With us essentially inside Bauby's head, the feelings and the message start to feel like they're sprouting from our own, which ultimately lend a new appreciation of the lives and capabilities we all have.

His journey from this moment at rock-bottom to having completed his memoir becomes one from which we cannot look away. While it is a bit difficult to relate to Bauby in his "Locked-In" state, the frequent trips back to his normal past life tie our insides in knots. They remind us that such ailments can happen to anyone, encouraging us on a deeper level to live our lives to the fullest. Bauby may not have before his stroke, but this documentation of his perseverances after show us that he certainly did in later life.

4 stars out of 4

Psycho (1960)

Horror films have a way of working themselves into their audiences' moviegoing lives. And despite the current laughable state of the genre, at some point in our lives, we've all shuddered during moments of terror, let out screams as a killer plots his next move against unsuspecting victims. And then there's the calling card of horror - the slasher sequence. Who among us can claim never to have hidden their eyes during such a scene? And as people who've experienced these noted side effects of the genre, we owe a debt to Alfred Hitchcock's 1960 genre-definer, Psycho.

In discussing such a film, the temptation strikes to give you its resume - the numerous accolades it's received over the years. Take a quick look at the IMDb or the American Film Institute website, and you'll find all you need - everything from its elevated ranking among the greatest films of all time to deserved recognition for Bernard Herrmann's chilling soundtrack, as much a factor to the film's invocation of fear as the fates of its characters.

Indeed, it is hard to dispute Psycho's sterling reputation in film history, especially within its genre. Admirably filmed so as not to appear dated nearly 50 years later, its depictions of sexuality and violence were nothing short of revolutionary, blurring the lines between "acceptable" and "taboo" in cinema. And then there's its villain, murderous psychopath Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins) - among the most haunting characters in history. But a perfect movie? Not quite. Sorry, but this one isn't even Hitchcock's best.

Janet Leigh's performance as Marion Crane tends to get top billing in this movie, especially after her infamous shower sequence, but this is really an unfair presentation. Indeed, Crane kick-starts the story by stealing $40,000 from an employer, ultimately leading her to the ominous Bates mansion and accompanying motel. It is a testament to Hitchcock's skills as a director that the film is as thrilling as it is even before she meets its namesake. Her adventures are such that stumbling upon the empty, darkened motel comes as a great relief, to both character and audience alike.

But beyond this, and her final piercing scream, her role is non-existent. The true terror of the movie comes as we get to know Bates, which only happens once Crane's sister Lila (Vera Miles) and lover, Sam (John Gavin) become involved after her disappearance.

The further they dig, the creepier Bates becomes - his mysterious mother and bizarre responses to simple interaction with other people rendering an earlier development, his unorthodox hobby of taxidermy, seem almost normal. And through it all, Perkins handles the role with an effortless grace that makes it that much more believable and thus that much scarier.

We grow to realize that Bates is truly mentally ill, that he really is a psychopath. This makes sense; the film's title is, after all, "Psycho," not merely "Killer." In theory, such a designation could only enhance the story. The criminal's true motives can no longer be clearly identified; we now have to deal with the origins of his condition, his awareness of the crimes he's committing, and countless other factors.

And for as important a development as this is, it's a bit disappointing to see Hitchcock and Co. handle its realization on film so poorly. We get the explanation all at once, placed in such a spot of the movie so as to completely kill any momentum it'd built up throughout. As a result, we're left with a poor aftertaste in our mouth, one that returns an otherwise classic to the realms of mere mortals.

3 stars out of 4

Trailer Park Boys: The Movie (2006)

Let's get one thing straight right off the bat: Trailer Park Boys: The Movie is stupid. Undeniably so - one of the stupidest movies you'll ever see. It suffers from haphazard, mockumentary-style filmmaking (as per the hit Canadian TV show from which it was adapted), poor storytelling (and, let's face it, a poor story to tell) and above all, a cast of petty criminals and druggies who are often too bizarre to be taken seriously. It's not quite the level of artistry you'd expect from a high-schooler, but it's not too far off, either.

But with that stupidity, series creator/director Mike Clattenberg may just be onto something. The movie may have all of these negative qualities going for it, but it also has a true positive in its originality. You don't get that seeing the same old Will Ferrell/John C. Reilly shtick rehashed for the umpteenth time. Indeed, there's a certain quirkiness to these Trailer Park Boys, one of whom lives out of his car and another in a garden shed. And it strikes you in such a way that, by the end of the movie, you kind of start to like them.

That would appear to be the case, anyway. The TV program recently wrapped up the seventh season of adventures for Ricky (Robb Wells), Julian (John Paul Tremblay) and Bubbles (Mike Smith, doing his best impersonation of the legendary "Milton," from Office Space). Their "universe" - a Nova Scotia trailer park called Sunnyvale - is an odd one, but its inhabitants and the situations they find themselves in truly make one appreciate what we have in the real world. Which, for a movie of this sort, is certainly an achievement.

Early on in the film, Ricky and Julian are sent to prison for 18 months for robbing a gas station. Once they're released, though, they find some major changes underway in Sunnyvale. Ricky returns home to find the stability of his family life falling apart. His girlfriend, Lucy, has taken up stripping at a local gentleman's club, and may or may not have become a lesbian, and their cigarette-smoking daughter (all of about 9 years old, mind) has started stealing barbecue grills and selling them at flea markets. I could go on, but why ruin all the surprises?

Their time in prison has left the boys with a newfound desire for pulling off "The Big Dirty," a dimwitted new scheme that involves stealing large amounts of change. If there's any shock to the revelation that this plan trumps all their earlier crimes, it will be nullified once you meet their crew - including a pair of inept stoners who ride around on a snowmobile and Ricky's father, who pretends to be handicapped so as to claim disability checks from the government.

Throughout their quest, a multitude of things go wrong. And as each new bump in the road is reached, it's a testament to the stupidity of the movie that everything ultimately gets resolved. Sometimes, it's almost an insult to our collective intelligence as an audience the way they try and pass things off. A courtroom sequence that will decide the boys' fates sees their charges dropped almost at the snap of a finger for reasons that should, effectively, have prevented the case from even going to trial.

But at the same time, the boys set their stupidity in such a context so as to make it kind of enjoyable. Their brand of humor is not easily identified, initially. In fact, most of the time, it requires a good minute or two of thought to decipher. But that extra thought process reveals a new brand of hilarity, making the laughs deeper and more rewarding. I'd hesitate to encourage you to check it out, but if you go in expecting, you might just leave with a smile on your face.


1.5 stars out of 4

Charlie Bartlett (2007)

A movie's success is often measured by its degree of originality. Certainly, being well made and/or thought provoking can't hurt its chances, but ultimately, the reason to see a movie is for that little something new. What have they done differently? What haven't we seen before? This is especially true in the teen comedy genre - one formulaic and meandering almost by nature.

It seems director Jon Poll missed that memo before filming Charlie Bartlett. The film isn't entirely unlikable, but it sure does its best to seem that way. By offering up stale, second-rate versions of situations we've already encountered in similar movies, Poll and writer Gustin Nash turn what could have been promising into a disappointingly average flick.

We all know kids like Charlie Bartlett. He's that kid in high school who just wants to be popular, but who wants it so badly that his goal gets out of hand. Whether through our own personal experiences or through the countless teen comedies featuring similar protagonists, we've gotten to know people like him. There's also the misunderstood tough guy who turns to bullying for a fleeting sense of self-security. Oh, and the creepy, anonymous and possibly suicidal nerd and, of course, the sweet young girl who struggles with a parent on the school faculty. Been there, seen that.

That's the trouble with Charlie Bartlett - its characters and their conflicts are all so familiar to us going in that they come off even more mundanely than the first hundred times we saw them . The film wants to triumphantly win us over - the way Charlie (Anton Yelchin) wins over the world in his dream sequences. But instead we're left struggling to combat boredom as we would in an overly-long history class.

Which is not to say the movie's a total loss. If it can't uplift us through the emotional victories of its protagonist, we at least get the occasional chuckle from its fish-out-of-water satire as wealthy Charlie and his mother (Hope Davis) simultaneously adjust to his life as a public school student. Mischief and poor judgment have led to Charlie's expulsion from boarding school, and the obliviousness with which the Bartletts attempt to tackle their new arrangements is not only hilarious, but surprisingly accurate.

It seems that Poll thought this slightly redeeming quality, along with Yelchin's charisma and the mere presence of Robert Downey Jr. as school principal Nathan Gardner, would be enough to carry the movie to success. Those two work well enough together to carry Charlie Bartlett on their backs for a while, as Gardner contends with Charlie's mischief throughout the movie. Unfortunately, their luck runs out, and this overly-recycled take on the high-school comedy genre simply doesn't work out the way you'd hope.

1.5 stars out of 4

New format trial...

Apologies for the absurd delay in posting. It won't happen again, at least not until I get back to school.

I've been thinking of trying a new rating system. The "out-of-10" rating is gone, and I'll rely strictly on stars. The reason? Numbers, I've grown to realize, only make things more difficult. They invoke comparisons between movies that have no connection whatsoever to each other, and really just make things more difficult. A star system gives a broader scope of evaluating a movie's success, allowing one to express like or dislike for a movie without unnecessarily viewing it in terms of another movie's rating.

Just giving it a shot. Hope it works. And now...

Citizen Kane (1941)

"He who prides himself upon wealth and honor hastens his own downfall" -Lao Tzu

Few film protagonists embody the lesson of this proverb more than Charles Foster Kane. Throughout Citizen Kane, his rise to improbable glory is rivaled in significance only by the bitter end he meets. Despite the illusion of "having it all," Kane is a character who starts and ends his life in the same manner - with nothing. The slow degradation of his reason and relevance throughout the film, coupled with the alienation of those around him, render his wealth and power a moot point.

Take, for example, the crown jewel of his fortune - the palace of Xanadu. Designed (but never finished) for his second wife, Xanadu casts a pall over the film right from the start. The gloomy opening shots of an empty fortress silhouetted on the smoky island background set the tone throughout the film.

Kane dies shortly thereafter, but it's not until the rest of the film unfolds that the circumstances of his life become apparent. It's essentially a series of extended flashbacks, as those formerly close to him tell their accounts of how a man on top of the world lived his life so as to leave this world unstable and alone.

The small boy who became heir to a silver-mining fortune transforms into a man (Orson Welles) unsure of a direction in which to channel it. Immediately, hints of an uncertain future present themselves. He drops into and out of several prestigious colleges, before finding the mysterious wisdom to invest in a small New York paper, the Inquirer. For the first several years, they lose $1 million a year, yet Kane could not appear to care less. You don't exactly know what's coming, but little clues like these suggest a bitter ending for the sleazy, yet somehow likable millionaire.

As he builds his empire, Kane's years on top are spent erratically. He woos the top editors from a rival paper into defection, only to travel to Europe and spend lavishly on vintage pieces of sculpture and other artwork. He marries a wealthy young woman, only to jeopardize the stability of their relationship through an ill-advised campaign for political office. And as everything unfolds, the audience is left uncertain how to react. Welles' charisma begs us to feel sorry for him in the wake of each new catastrophe, but the habitual deference to his own massive ego and its poor decisions makes us realize he has it coming every time.

It eventually all comes full-circle in Xanadu, in a scene that is simultaneously the film's most wrenching and its most memorable. Scene after scene of noticeable decay in Kane's relationship with his second wife, Susan (Dorothy Comingore), result to his eventual discovery of her plans to leave. "You mustn't go," he begs her. "You can't do this to me." And like Susan, we see right through him as he reaches the point of no return.

"You don't love anybody," she retorts. "You want to be loved! That's all you want!"Everything - his fame, his relationship - is about Kane. Things meant to be mutual become singular; life's supporting cast is mere afterthought. There are hints at this as the distances between Kane and those close to him widen throughout the film, but it's not until this scene that we're really hit and left pondering the natures of wealth and power, and how they influence those upon which they're bestowed.

The film's contributions to and influences on modern cinema are too many to count: innovative camera angles, use of miniatures...the list goes on. But what everyone will remember is the establishment of a Hollywood renaissance man in Welles. As a director, producer and co-writer, he worked to create a truly remarkable film that would acknowledge the past as well as shape the future. But as an actor, he did one better - creating a character who we both envy and pity, whose fate will haunt us forever. Simply unforgettable.

4 stars out of 4
9/10

American History X (1998)

It is one thing for a movie to document change in its protagonist, and not a very rare thing at that. We've seen it hundreds of times, from Schindler's List to Into The Wild and even as recently as There Will Be Blood. Such transitions are usually where films get their gusto, as they result, perhaps, in a loss of the character's normalcy, but ultimately make the characters deeper and more compelling.

However, it is another, much rarer thing entirely for a film's protagonist to change and then effect the same change in others. It's more powerful, more satisfying; whatever the character's motivation for change was, it's powerful enough to spread contagiously. It's this sort of change that director Tony Kaye evoked in American History X, the story of a Neo-Nazi and white supremacist in modern day Venice Beach, California. It's a gripping, powerful story, one equally as likely to uplift you as to break your heart.

Edward Norton gives a stunning performance as Derek Vinyard, the young man initially smothered by his prejudices after the murder of his father, a firefighter, in south central Los Angeles. His actions and appearance (shaved head, numerous tattoos advocating the Nazi Party and "white power" slogans), make him our main point of focus (or is it engrossment?) as the movie unfolds. And given his performance, this may not seem like a bad thing, but in reality the movie's as much about his younger brother, Danny (Edward Furlong), who seems poised to follow the same path. The two characters are equally vital to the film, thanks to writer David McKenna's flashback-oriented system of storytelling.

Through an early meeting with Danny and his high school's black principal, Dr. Sweeney (Avery Brooks), we learn of Derek's imprisonment for the murder of two black gang members, and of how closely Danny appears to be following the same path. His paper on Hitler's "Mein Kampf," forces Sweeney to establish a daily one-on-one class for Danny, called American History X - more an attempt at reform than a history lesson.

As his brother's release nears, Danny's similarities become striking. He hangs out with the same racist kids, decorates his room with the same Nazi propaganda. His head is shaved, and he's even gotten his first racially-tinged tattoo. But when Derek arrives back home, he's not impressed. Something about his character is different - his motivation for life seems to be coming from a different place. But it's not until he breaks up a party of white supremacists to save his brother that any of this is confirmed. His days of racism and bigotry are over.

What follows, as a frustrated Danny demands an explanation, is an emotional, multi-leveled flashback. It brings into light the things we'd wondered about throughout the film: how bad things had gotten in the Vinyard house, the exact details of Derek's crime. The most important piece of the puzzle is Derek's enlightening experience in prison, told unabridged as he attempts to convince Danny not to follow the same path.

The ending unfolds a bit abruptly, but it's one of the more hard-hitting conclusions in recent memory. The film is not only deeply saddening, but also thought-provoking. It makes you really ponder the sources of such unhinged, uncontrolled anger as we see portrayed on screen. And, as you'll see, the reality of it might come as a surprise.

3 stars out of 4
7.5/10

The Dark Knight (2008)

Traditionally, in the superhero and comic book film genre, there's a pretty clear definition of who or what is "good" and "evil." A superhero has his antithesis, his supervillain, and they'll spend probably 95% of the movie eschewing vital components like plot and dialog to duke it out and see which side will prevail. And now, for the second time in as many weeks, we stumble across a film out of that genre that throws that logic aside and opts to go its own way. And fortunately for us all, The Dark Knight does with far more competence and thus far more success, all but obliterating the other such film - the disastrous Hancock - from our memories.

If you think about it, director Christopher Nolan's never been one to adhere to tradition. With 2000's Memento, he gave us a protagonist with no short term memory, who ultimately unlocked a completely new perspective on the detective caper. 2005's Batman Begins saw him reinvent the legendary caped crusader - breathing new life into a franchise that suffered from poorly realized villains who were impossible to take seriously and the ultimate low - a dreaded benippled Batsuit - among thousands of other shortcomings.

But with The Dark Knight, he's done one better. Using the same series as his template, Nolan and his team have managed to completely redefine the superhero genre as a whole. It's more than just action-packed, clear-cut "good" and "evil" designations that even the most non-witted of moviegoers could figure out; here he's taken the two qualities (personified ultimately in the extremes of Batman and the Joker) and blended them into the middle ground, among regular, less drastic versions of themselves. It becomes a thinking-man's film, one with a stunner of a script that, in addition to telling a story, makes us reconsider our notions, values and applications of "good" and "evil."

Gotham City is Batman's town. Has been for as long as any of us can remember. Whenever criminals manage to elude the police force, he's there lurking in the shadows, ready to restore order. It's sort of automatic. He's embraced while simultaneously taken for granted, as much a superhero as a fleeting thought in the heads of Gothamites. But suddenly, their relationship starts to become strained. The city has elected a new district attorney, Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), who has cracked down on crime and earned near-universal admiration, including from both sides of the Bruce Wayne/Batman persona (Christian Bale).

In Dent, the city seems to have found what it's really wanted all along: someone with the same nullifying effect on crime, but realized in a likable public figure to whom people can relate. So even as Batman's role is reduced, the heads of organized crime still find themselves wallowing into desperation and desperately in need of a catalyst.

And it's here that we meet the Joker. Think it's going to be Jack Nicholson's tongue-in-cheek Joker from Tim Burton's original film? Think again. Nolan's realization of Batman's arch-nemesis is one of the most compelling antagonists in movie history. Combine his superb writing along with Heath Ledger's flawless performance, and you get more than a mere "bad guy;" you get a true villain - nearly as difficult to resist as he is to read.

This Joker's really been there. His green hair is greasy and unkempt, his makeup invoking feelings that skip mere uneasiness and land closer to utter doom. The tales of his facial scars differ each time he tells them, as Ledger orchestrates seamless personality shifts from comical to psychopathic. But what's truly haunting is his motivation by chaos. Money and power don't matter; all the Joker seems to want is for everything - be it the physical Gotham City or even more conceptual entities, such as its hero's anonymity - to be destroyed.

Thinking about it only makes the concept scarier, but at the same time, you can't take your eyes off him. With each new crime, he leaves Gotham wondering who he's working with, and for what. Such is his effect that the only emotional certainty is a sudden anger and resentment towards their beloved Dark Knight. As the Joker becomes more powerful, Dent seems to become less and less relevant as the city drifts back into Batman-land. Unfortunately, Bruce Wayne wants no part of it; he's convinced that a strong Dent equals a strong Gotham. Or does he just want out?

"You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain," Dent tells him at one point. As it unfolds, it's mere small talk at a dinner party, but it's quite astonishing as to how significantly the movie's further developments all come back to that one resounding line. Can inaction, even if brought on by irrelevance, condemn even the best men to villainy? Gotham seems to think so. And consequently, we leave with Batman cast in a far different light than we've ever seen him in before. "Good" versus "evil" is no longer absolute, left instead to become a subject to interpretation.

The result is a film that transcends its oft-meandering genre. It's not enough too just sit back and observe; the movie demands that we open our minds and turn our experience into an active one. And sure, there were a handful of negative elements spread throughout, but nothing enough to completely negate the ultimate movie-going satisfaction fostered by witnessing something as revolutionary as this.

And though the movie takes its name from its long-revered hero, this time around it's all about the Joker. You simply can't get enough of Ledger's performance. When he's on screen, it's all you think about; when he's not, all you can do is wonder when he'll be back. It's saddening to think that Ledger will never again dazzle us as he does here, but that difficulty is lessened once you realize he saved his greatest performance for his last. As The Dark Knight unfolds, it's easy to forget that the we're not watching a murderous psychopath, but just a regular man acting as one. If that's not the mark of an Oscar-worthy performance, then what is?

3.5 stars out of 4
8.5 out of 10

Aliens (1986)

How do you follow up one of the greatest science-fiction films ever made? Let's look at the poster for Aliens for our answer. To start, you change the director, replacing Ridley Scott with Terminator veteran James Cameron. Add in a few, OK - hundred more of your extraterrestrial antagonists and cap it off by giving your heroine a complete character makeover, with a gun. Should be a recipe for success, right?

Well, to an extent. As sequels (or sci-fi/action movies in general) go, you can't find much of anything negative to say about Aliens. Seven years and several key developments after its predecessor, you find that there are a handful of areas (plot, special effects and action sequences in particular) in which the sequel surpasses the original. But in spite of the advancements that were made, the style changes were too numerous, and the several small victories aren't enough to generate that big win - the one that elevates it past Alien as the franchise's best.

We open with Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) drifting unconsciously along in space, as per the conclusion of the last film. After her rescue, lawyer/professional scumbag Carter Burke (Paul Reiser) informs her that 57 years have past since the events aboard her ship, the Nostromo - the destruction of which temporarily loses Ripley her space flight license. However, after contact is lost with the colony aboard planet LV-426, the site of the first film's extraterrestrial encounter, she's coaxed back into action and travels with Burke as part of a rescue team to investigate.

After meeting their team, composed otherwise entirely of a colonial space marine unit, one thing becomes clear: we've said good-bye to pure sci-fi and have moved into more of an action film environment. Gone is the intelligent, calculating crew of the Nostromo, replaced instead with a reckless bunch of über-soldiers (Bill Paxton, Michael Biehn, etc.) whose collective M.O. of "shoot first, shoot some more, then investigate" sets the film's overall tone. The thinking man's Alien film has past; this one's for pure adrenaline junkies.

The team lands on LV-426 and immediately discovers a young girl named Newt, who eventually forms a mother-daughter-like bond with Ripley. It's these sort of added depths in the role, along with the grace with which Weaver realized them, that contribute to the franchise's advancement. The majority of Alien saw Ripley as one crew member of seven aboard the Nostromo, whose cool thinking and sharp decision making saw her emerge as a heroine at the end. Here, she's got that distinction from the start, but must also tackle protecting Newt and winning over her new team in addition to strapping on a gun and kicking some alien ass.

Oh yeah...the aliens. Seven years of special-effects enhancements clearly worked wonders for the franchise. When the aliens strike here, they do so mercilessly. To start, there are more of them (hence Aliens being the title, as opposed simply to Alien 2), and they appear to have developed new breeds. And where the original alien walked, these things run, jump, climb and, most importantly, pursue. It's no longer the humans hunting down the aliens; the hunters have become the hunted on LV-426. A new level of peril emerges in the franchise, to the audience's delight. The showdown between Ripley and the film's main newcomer, the Alien Queen, is a real treat - a showcase of action, stunning effects and pure good-over-evil bravado.

But at times, it's all just a bit much, and it feels like they tried a bit too hard. You kind of start to miss the quiet, more haunting sort of film the first was when thrust into the endless spectacle of the second. Aliens ultimately makes one think of another high-profile sequel from a franchise 15-odd years down the road: The Matrix. The two series both started the same way - with films that succeeded by means of effortless confidence. They sucked their audiences in and won them over without even appearing to try. Both of their sequels got bigger, placing greater emphasis on both the action and the antagonists. And while Aliens has nowhere near the disastrous results of Reloaded and Revolutions, it still doesn't quite match up to its predecessor. A very entertaining film, to be sure, but in the end, Alien is still top dog.

3 stars out of 4

7.5/10

Vertigo (1958)

What drives obsession? How do we go from being attracted to something to being completely consumed by it? People may praise Alfred Hitchcock's landmark film Vertigo for James Stewart's haunting performance as obsessive detective Scottie Ferguson, or for its stellar production value (Which makes you wonder if films set in San Francisco can possibly turn out poorly), and both deserve kudos. But the film's greatest asset is its ability to invoke those two fundamental questions in its audience. While it's not quite the "masterpiece" Hitchcock dubbed it, Vertigo was certainly good enough for him to toot his own horn.

Scottie's slow descent into madness over the course of the film is what keeps us watching, despite his never having been that normal to begin with. An early sequence reveals his development of acrophobia and, eventually, vertigo - to the level that merely standing on a stool in his friend Midge's (Barbara Bel Geddes) apartment is an ordeal. The two have combined to force him into retirement, until an old friend coaxes him out of it to investigate strange behavior in the friend's wife, Madeleine (Kim Novak.)

Madeleine's allure is mysterious, but her behavior even more so. She'll visit the Legion of Honor every day to look at the same painting, only to follow it up with visits to the grave of the woman depicted in it. Her automatic movements, along with the slightly misty quality of the film while she's on camera almost puts you in a trance - not unlike the one she appears to be in. Yet the more erratic her behavior, the deeper Scottie falls for her as his investigation transforms into infatuation. And just when you think you've got a handle on what's going on - they change it up and throw you a curveball.

Unfortunately, there are some lulls after that curveball - and once the mystery's gone, the film's not quite as immediately captivating. But from a conceptual standpoint the second half is a proverbial feast, for Scottie's haunting personality change gives way to those two foundational questions. They'll leave you pondering for days ahead, which is something to treasure coming from a film.

3.5 stars out of 4
8/10

Hancock (2008)

Before we jump too far into Hancock, let's get one thing straight. Will Smith's latest action hero, the film's protagonist John Hancock, is (or is meant to be) a superhero. You know, those guys who fly around, fighting evil and ensuring that normalcy will prevail for everyone around them. They define what is "good" in the world, and try to spread that goodness through their feats. Or basically, they're, you know...super. I could, and will, go into a number of ways in which Hancock lets its audience down, but it is ultimately a lack of that last elementary quality that proves it a failure.

To its credit, at least there's something of a heroic journey in it. When we first meet Hancock, he's passed out drunk on a city bench while the police chase three hoodlums in an SUV down the highway. He gets into an argument with the young child who informs him of what's going on, eventually flying in and setting down the retreating vehicle and criminals snugly onto the communications tower of the Capitol Records building. With Hancock, heroics go hand in hand with unnecessary devastation and financial headaches, and he often engages (quite humorously, I'll admit) in post-feat arguments with the people he's saving. At any point during the first 25 minutes or so of the film, look up "asshole" in the dictionary, and you might just see his picture.

Yet it's not until he saves the life of PR man Ray Embrey (Jason Bateman) that any of this starts to matter to Hancock. After dropping Embrey off home, they conveniently happen upon a televised speech in which a city official publicly expresses anger towards and non-confidence in Hancock. With Embrey's insistence, Hancock decides to clean up his act and effectively begin his heroic journey. This, unfortunately, is neither as humorous nor as properly developed as it should be; with the crime rate in L.A. skyrocketing after his imprisonment, he's granted parole after less than two weeks.

But in spite of the rise in crime, there's never once a truly compelling antithesis for Hancock after his inner transformation. In his first bit of action after release, he saves a group of bank employees from a sadistic and, presumably, unimportant robber. This man is on-screen for all of five minutes, and Hancock disposes of him with relative ease. He's not someone you'd place in the same league as a Lex Luthor, a Magneto or a Joker. Right there, his story should be over. Kaput. Finished. And for a while you think it is. But from out of nowhere, he returns and tries to assert himself as a nemesis - failing quite miserably to do so.

We have to assume that the lack of a true villainous counterpart comes as a result of writers Vince Gilligan and Vincent Ngo channeling their energies improperly towards another plot element - an absolutely absurd twist involving Embrey's wife, Mary (Charlize Theron). Their move is unbelievable in the truest sense of the word, transcending mere ridiculousness by also managing to suck any and all life out of the movie with its dominant presence. It's something at which M. Night Shyamalan would wet himself laughing.

To go into a superhero flick expecting intelligent, thought-provoking writing on top of the layers of action sequences is a bit naïve. (Unless one Christopher Nolan is at the helm, but we've still got a week until his next move) To expect that from Hancock, which had been billed nearly as much as a comedy as a superhero movie, would have been just plain silly. But an audience can't be faulted for expecting competence, which is sorely missing in Hancock. That Gilligan and Ngo wrote this dud of a script is disheartening; that Peter Berg (or was it Michael Bay? I'm not entirely sure) tried to hide its shortcomings among bombastic action sequences and occasional laughs - without making any needed changes - is simply offensive.

Give credit to Smith, Bateman and Theron. They did what they could with such an abysmal piece of film-making. They work well as individuals and as an ensemble, and their chemistry here gives off a solid air of charisma - a lone shining star in a black hole of a film that really doesn't deserve them. It's sad to see their talents put to waste, and also a bit puzzling as to why they'd allow them to be, for there's nothing remotely super about Hancock. It's truly one of the worst superhero flicks in recent memory. Save your money and wait for The Dark Knight instead.

0.5 stars out of 4
2/10

Wall-E (2008)

In 2006, Al Gore gave us his Inconvenient Truth - that the dangers of global warming were severe enough to ultimately wipe out the human race. And in spite of the generally warm reception it received, there were still doubters - both in the US and worldwide - still accusations of it being mere political propaganda. The next step, one that would convince people universally of the problem facing the world, needed to be taken. Two years later, in 2008, that step has been taken by an entirely unexpected pioneer - Disney/Pixar's newest film, Wall-E. And what a marvelous step it is.

Wall-E presents an even bleaker picture of the future than Truth. It's set 700 years in the future, as human beings have not only rendered Earth uninhabitable (through pollution and, presumably, climate change), but have also submitted completely to technology. The race now calls space home, and has become one of idle gluttony - dressed, fed, transported and entertained entirely by machines from the aptly-titled Buy 'N Large corporation, whose dominance would have made Carnegie and Rockefeller weep.

It's a profoundly disturbing prognosis. Were it not a Pixar flick, its dystopian forecast would likely drive children and parents alike away from the theater out of fear or denial. (Or both.) But under the command of director Andrew Stanton (Finding Nemo), Pixar has done it again - bridging the gap to create a film that is as successful a harrowing social commentary as it is a deeply entertaining family movie.

At the center of it all is Wall-E, a trash compacting robot (Waste Allocation Load Lifter - Earth-Class) who's the last of his kind left on Earth after a failed cleanup mission in the early 2100's. As the mission sent the human race into space, he's actually the last of any kind left on Earth. So the film begins accordingly with a half hour of, essentially, non-dialog that allows the charismatic robot ("voiced" by Star Wars' veteran sound engineer, Ben Burtt) to win us over. And as he does, we start to see a bit of ourselves in him. He takes care of a pet (a cricket), watches old movies on his iPod (oh, that product placement), collects crates of old toys and even struggles with the ladies.

The "lady" in his life is EVE (Extraterrestrial Vegetation Evaluator), a robot sent from the humans' current home, the spaceship Axiom, to investigate the sustainability of Earth. We've all experienced this kind of romance: EVE's sleek where Wall-E's a clunker, she's all business while he's just a curious goofball. And as he follows close behind trying to impress her, we start to realize that this is Pixar's most personal creation yet.

The pair ends up returning to the Axiom together, where the robots really run the show. It really makes you question your notions of life; as the obese humans live vicariously through their robotic hovering chairs, the robots are the only ones truly living - performing monotonous chores while also managing to squeeze in games of tennis. And as their time on the Axiom unfolds, the allusions to past science-fiction classics (Star Wars, 2001: A Space Odyssey...hell, even Alien star Sigourney Weaver voices the ship's computer) keep coming, giving us a healthy dose of nostalgia and further cementing the bond between the movie and the audience.

But what makes Wall-E unlike the other sci-fi movies it touches on is that it ultimately presents hope for humanity. What Stanton's saying is that even though the future looks grim, maybe - just maybe - there's a way around it all. It's that lesson that keeps Wall-E grounded, rather than becoming sci-fi overkill like the others. At this point, it would take a miracle to kick start a reverse to global warming. And Wall-E might just be that miracle.

3.5 stars out of 4
8.5/10

National Lampoon's Animal House (1978)

Apologies to Pitchfork

0 stars out of 4
1/10

Magnolia (1999)

About two hours into Paul Thomas Anderson's Magnolia, his entire cast engages in a performance of singer/songwriter Aimee Mann's "Wise Up." As we jump from scene to scene and from character to character, the resounding repeated chorus of "It's not going to stop/'til you wise up" truly strikes a chord. Throughout the 188 minutes, its cast, divided into nine different storylines, has but one thing in common - complete and utter despair. Those with any sort of stability (either positive or negative) become conflicted and fragile, their shortcomings catching up with them and leading down a spiral into mental oblivion. Mann's right; it really doesn't stop.

Never has a film relied so heavily on the degradation of its personae, and never has one done so with such success. It's three hours of pure despondence, portrayed (quite disturbingly) through the situations of those involved along with the haunting presentation of Mann's soundtrack.

There's Quiz Kid Donnie Smith (William H. Macy), the famed veteran of a long running children's quiz show whose life has turned downhill since his appearance in the 1960's. He struggles to get by, working in an independent electronics store as he debates the merits of oral surgery in finding love. (Only P.T. could come up with something like that) His inner turmoil mirrors that of young Stanley Spector (Jeremy Blackman), a young child currently competing on the show under the constant pressure of his greedy father.

But the most compelling plight is that of the show's longtime producer, Earl Partridge (Jason Robards). Earl is terminally ill with cancer and lives under the constant care an unfaithful and manic depressive wife (Julianne Moore) and a hospice nurse (Philip Seymour Hoffman). His estranged son, Frank (Tom Cruise), practices a sort of chauvinist evangelism in selling his "Seduce and Destroy" lesson series, and wants nothing to do with his past - or his father. Each one involved in this saga is intriguing, but Cruise is a cut above the rest - his intensely emotional performance is nothing short of mesmerizing.

"The most useless thing in the world is that which is behind me," Frank says at one point, citing a lesson from his series. But his attempt to downplay his past through career ambition quickly unravels, as we learn the details and exactly why he has become estranged from Earl. Their reunion in the end is gripping, if not a bit too much to handle.

It's that sort of quality that ultimately drags the movie down in the end. Three hours is long for a film to begin with, but it's made much longer with such a constantly negative atmosphere. The negativity effectively becomes the prime focus of the picture, rather than the characters and their various storylines. At times, you sort of just wish Magnolia would end, so that their damages might be limited. When the end does come, it's a bit of an interesting sensation. As with any Anderson film, you get the undeniable feeling of having just witnessed a good movie, but unlike his other works - its excruciating nature eliminates any desire to watch it again.

3 stars out of 4
7 out of 10

Gone Baby Gone (2007)

It's one thing for a film to be entertain us, but it's another thing entirely to do so while making us really think. Ben Affleck's directorial debut, Gone Baby Gone, opts for the latter route, finding as much success as an intriguing crime thriller as it does as eye-opening lecture on morality.

Affleck adapted the film from a novel by Dennis Lehane (Mystic River), and cast his younger brother Casey in the lead of private investigator Patrick Kenzie. Early on, Kenzie and his investigating partner/lover Angie Gennaro (Michelle Monaghan) are hired to find a missing young child, also currently being pursued by the entire Boston police system. As their search goes on, we're treated to a variety of twists and turns in the plot and an even better variety of supporting characters, including Oscar nominee Amy Ryan as the girl's drug-addict mother and Ed Harris as the duo's Boston P.D. support. Even Morgan Freeman makes important use of his limited screen time.

It's a revelation for both Affleck brothers. Casey can finally emerge from his brother's shadow and assert himself as a serious and talented actor. After his performances here and in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, expect more roles and acclaim to come his way. But it also makes a name for Ben as a director (his writing chops already made apparent by Good Will Hunting). If the guy never acted in another movie again and stuck with writing and directing, he might have a promising future in Hollywood. Only time will tell.

And just when you think the story's over and you have an angle on the movie, it starts up again, becoming deeper and more thought provoking than ever before. Comparisons will be drawn between this and The Departed, if for little more than the fact that they're both crime dramas set in Boston. But Scorsese's film, while intriguing, was purely for entertainment value, and Gone Baby Gone outdoes it in one key area - it makes us question our own previous notions of right and wrong. It does so without any shred of arrogance or pretense, seamlessly blending it all into the entertainment value.

All things considered, Gone Baby Gone is a rich, emotionally stimulating film - truly one of the best 2007 had to offer.

3.5 stars out of 4
8/10

Alien (1979)

In the movie industry, true greatness is realized when a film transcends both time and genre. A great film is such without any qualifications necessary. And, nearly 30 years on, Ridley Scott's Alien continues to assert itself in greatness. It's science fiction without stumbling upon cheesiness; it's artistic without being pretentious. Most importantly, it's a movie so enthralling that its run time of two hours feels more like mere minutes passing by.

Scott would again delve into the sci-fi realm with 1982's Blade Runner, but not with the same level of success. The latter was just as futuristic and its conflict just as intriguing, but in spite of it all, it just felt like a bit much. An elevated degree of open-mindedness is required to get through that film, whereas in Alien, Scott somehow weaves everything together to make you feel at home right from the get go - even on a spaceship several hundred years into the future. It also helps having clear-cut heroes and villains; having an alien as an antagonist seems a better fit than a robot playing and looking the part of a human.

Some issues in presentation down the stretch, as well as some expendable roles (Harry Dean Stanton and Veronica Cartwright can hardly be blamed for their characters' shortcomings) ensure that the film is, in fact, human, and thus not perfect. But in spite of these issues, Alien still holds its own better than the majority of modern films - sci-fi or otherwise. How? It keeps us not just interested, but glued - all throughout. If that's not the mark of a great movie, what is?

4 stars out of 4
9/10

Babel (2006)

It seems somewhat ironic that a Biblical story meant to warn of the dangers of misguided ambition could lead to a film comprised of just that - misguided ambition. In the Bible, the Tower of Babel built to connect the human race to the heavens - not, in fact, to worship God. (This little snag led to God's separation of people and languages and, essentially, the world as we now know it.) It tells of the dangers of doing great things for the wrong reasons, which is interesting to consider in the face of Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu's film, Babel. The movie focuses on a hit-or-miss (mostly miss) collection of characters whose actions all but eliminate any possible sympathy we'd have for them. It's essentially the polar opposite of the biblical tale; forget factoring motives into the equation of greatness - there's nothing great about them to speak of.

Babel gives us four different stories, each with characters from different dramatically flawed backgrounds. After the American couple (Brad Pitt, Cate Blanchett) - positively glamorous by comparison, we get more initially compelling personae like Chieko (Rinko Kikuchi), the Japanese deaf and mute girl who struggles for acceptance by those around her. It's all very emotional, and you'd almost be moved if part of the reason for her alienation weren't the fact that she's a complete pervert - sexually assaulting doctors and policemen one minute, only to make like Britney Spears and flash her...well, you know...the next.

The film's other factions are a set of rural Moroccan brothers and the family of the American couple's Mexican nanny (Adriana Barraza), but in the end, the only ones we care about are Pitt and Blanchett. Don't snicker; throughout the film, they're the only ones who remain completely innocent and likable. Sadly, no conflict is more dire than theirs - the result of truly stupid maneuvers by those in the remaining three sagas. Unfortunately, we shift back and forth so much to the ones we don't care about that we start to question why they're there, which ultimately diminishes the effect of those we do.

Misguided ambition? Let's examine Babel. The film came out just months after another (superior) cultural conflict film, Crash, had won Best Picture at the Oscars. The predecessor was a powerful film that delivered its message - yes, it actually had one - through a wide variety of truly compelling characters. That's where the greatness came from; even when characters were complete assholes, you wanted to know what happened to them - you cared enough to want to.

Babel, on the other hand, has no real message at all. The movie runs marathons without actually taking a step in any direction, and seems to have channeled all its ambition for the wrong reason - to continue on and possibly upstage the trend set by Crash. Sound familiar? The film's flawed characters and pretentious nature liken it to climbing the mythical tower by which it was inspired; it's a seemingly never-ending task, and its drawbacks far outweigh the rewards. Sure, it's nifty how they took a Biblical story into a modern context - but there's more to film-making than that, and Babel simply doesn't have it. Without a doubt one of the worst nominees for Best Picture that I can think of. Watch carefully, if at all.

1 star out of 4
3/10