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