Cineplexus

An Education ★★★★

Ah youth. It's hard to know where it ends and real adulthood begins. That said, it seems universally true that we all think we've made it to a responsible decisionmaking age long before we truly grasp the gravity of our adulthood, or of our decisions. This is the dilemma that Jenny embodies in An Education (which is based on the memoirs of journalist Lynn Barber). Jenny's father isn't helping — he's so dead-set on getting her into Oxford that he cares of little else. For example, he feels that Jenny needn't *practice* her cello or attend the symphony; just being a member of the youth orchestra is enough to beef up her application. 

No surprise, then that Jenny (Carey Mulligan) is swept off her feet by the older David (Peter Saaragaard), with his culture, his fun-loving grown-upness, his glamourous friends, and his inescapable charm. He's able to charm even her parents, as he and Jenny devise harmless lies to goad them into allowing her to accompany him on increasingly extravagant trips. Jenny is too young, too trusting, or too naive to realize how much one lie begets another, and that someone with one secret probably has others. 

An Education is beautifully filmed, wonderfully acted, and often hilarious or poignant. It has glorious speeches on the role of formal education in our lives and about the severe career and cultural limits women still faced in the '60s (limits that women in some cultures still face).

"Best Picture," however, it is not. 

For a film that makes such a valiant effort to prove the lameness of The Establishment, of square British upper-middle-class expectations, its ultimate message serves to totally undermine that initial premise. It's as if screenwriter Nick Hornby was unaware of the film's ending when he wrote the film's tenacious beginning and middle acts. If this seems like nitpicking, perhaps my opinion of the picture was skewed from the start because of how creepy I find it's central romance. Nowadays, there are laws against someone in his late 20s — maybe 30s!— courting a 16-year-old girl. Of course, the movie is based on a true story. But that might actually make the whole thing worse. 

Considering the grave implications of this romance and what happens between this starring couple, the last act of An Education felt a bit easy and trite. Cloying music detracts from a heartfelt speech from Jenny's dad, and the closing scene features an out-of-nowhere voice-over that feels like a cop-out. 

Ultimately, I'd be less critical of An Education's last 20 minutes if I hadn't been so impressed with the rest of the film. Maybe the sea of critics with nary a negative word to say about the film had the opposite reaction, i.e., the minor ending issues were forgivable because of the movies' superior majority. With whom will you side? It's definitely worth seeng An Education to fnd out for yourself.     

   

2 Movies About Young Francophile Girls Coming of Age

Okay, I'm not really going to go there. But the last two movies I saw – Youth in Revolt and An Education had some pretty odd things in common. Each featured a star-crossed couple much to wise and cultured for the world around them. Each couple contained a young woman obsessed with all things French, and a male counterpart eager to make her Parisian dreams come true.

Surprisingly enough, these movies have these key points in common and virtually NOTHING else. The former is modern love story, a quirky, tongue-in-cheek adaptation of a quirky, tongue-in-cheek book. The latter is an elegant story of the dubious appeal of the lush life, set in the 1950s and based on a true story. The tone of the two films could hardly be more different. So I will review them separately, later this weekend. I just couldn't resist making my parallel observation. It's a weakness.

Two Movies About The Futility of Reason

A Serious Man, ★★★★½

Where the Wild Things Are,★★★★

Sometimes you can like, even love, a film with your gut but the reasons why remain illusive. A Serious Man and Where the Wild Things Are have this quality in common. Both films explore the psyche of their main characters, visually and through mysterious but fascinating dialogue. Sure, those main characters are pretty different – in the former, a middle aged Jewish man in the 1960s and, in the latter, a modern 8ish-year-old – but the two filmic methods seem strangely similar.  Do the movies share any other traits? It seems unlikely, but I'm going to look. Like these movies, I'm diving into the realm of the impossible.

A Serious Man sets it's own (rather Orthodox) stage in a rather unorthodox manner. We're deep within an ancient Jewish legend, in which a supposedly dead man comes to the door of a couple he knows (or should I say "knew?". The woman of the house stabs him right in the chest, so sure is she that he is a ghost or evil spirit. The husband is aghast, as the man appears to bleed to death. But is he a ghost or not? The story doesn't say. That's not the point. Frustrating, right?

That's the world of A Serious Man and its lead, Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg, who is amazing here). In the middle of a great number of crises ― marital, career, fatherly, neighborly ― Larry is continuously advised to seek comfort in his Jewish faith. The harder he tries, the more he learns that his Jewish tradition is more about pondering crises than solving them...just like in the legend that starts the film (which, by the way, is never referenced again).

This masterpiece of contemplation was written and directed by the Coen brothers, and is probably their most thoughtful film. It also holds the title of Most Jewish Movie I've Ever Seen. Despite its frequent, VERY Black humor, it is a rather challenging film to watch if you're expecting a conventional problem-solution-new problem-ultimate solution story arc. That it has none is the whole point of the film. Can you deal with that?

OMG! Hey! That last paragraph (minus the Jewish part and the Coen brothers part) could be repurposed for a review of Where the Wild Things Are! Another similarity. I knew we could do it. 

Spike jonze adapted the famous Maurice Sendak book only with the author's seal of approval, and this was no small feat when you consider that sendak's original was a 48-page picture book. This left Jonze with countless opportunities to embellish on the details of hero Max, his life, and his experiences with the Wild Things, and Jonze took every one of them. Few of the movie's events are familiar to us from the famous children's book, but the film manages to retain the book's mood nonetheless. This can be largely attributed to the fabulous performance by unknown (Max Records) who was picked from outside The Biz for his spirit and character. Also unchanged is the core event of the story: Max, after acting out at home and being scolded, escapes to a (fantasy) land where he keeps wild things from killing him by saying he's a king who can magically solve all their problems.

Hmm…an unrealistic desire to solve problems? Escape from personal crisis? There may be more similarities between these two movies than I ever imagined. 

One gets the feeling that some hours of serious thought will unravel WIld Things' web of symbols and metaphors, but it's a nut I've yet to crack. Like Serious Man, this film's rich detail and mysterious twists add to its allure. Even so, a lack of answers could demonstrate the purity life's mysteries, but it can also demonstrates lazy editing. Much of Wild Things perfectly captures the ethereal childhood melancholy few movies can approximate, but every so often the drama feels like nonsense. I can't tell if that's part of some master plan on Jonze's part or of it's...well...a mistake. Do Jonze or (co-writer) Dave Eggers (or anyone that works for them) make mistakes? Now there's a mystery to ponder.

I really liked both of these films, but ultimately feel that A Serious Man is a superior film, if only because it's easier to explain why I like it: great writing, great acting, a clear message in spite of its theme of fogginess. Wild Things had all of these but the last. Of course, my rating, unlike this review, is not a comparison of the two movies, and both films are very, very worth seeing. Just another thing they've got in common.

Julie & Julia ★★★★

Biopics are tricky things. When the inspiration for a film is a real person's life, there's a severely limited range of possible outcomes, and the opportunities for plot points. Nora Ephron's latest film, Julie and Julie, has a unique way of dealing with the often static or clumsy nature of the biopic. Instead of telling one story, it tells two – those of the eponymous Julie, a reluctant, almost-thirty government worker who starts a cooking blog in 2002 Queens, and of Julia Child, the famous chef and co-author of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, the book that serves as the blueprint for Julie's blog.

The film is based on a book of the same name, but since I haven't read it, I can't speak to how faithful the adaptation remains, nor do I know how the book handled the "Julia" part of the story. As fascinating and remarkable a subject as Julia Child was bound to have a film made about her eventually, and her scenes in this movie are unfailingly charming. Both stories, in fact, are interesting and engaging, well cast and marvelously acted (of course) by Amy Adams and Meryl Streep. But it's the intersection of the two stories, their parallels despite 50 years of separation, that reveal the art of the movie's 2-story device.

Julie and Julia isn't a perfect movie; it has some moments of forced conflict, including a scene where a personal crisis for Julie is resolved by her personal discovery that she is "a bitch," and the film ends with a truly odd and abrupt freeze-frame, but maybe I'm being picky. The real issue here is that the movie is bound to seem saccharin to some, as sweet films often do. But touching films don't have to be silly, and this one isn't. There is a moment near the end of the film when a potential publisher cooks a dish from the manuscript of French Cooking, not yet knowing that she's about to produce one of history's most famous cookbooks. As she leans over for a second taste of the delicious product of her labor, engrossed in her labour, a bit of wine sauce splashes out into the pages of the recipe. It's a moment that anyone who loves to cook would savor. Sure, it's sweet. But for my part, I don't mind sweet, especially when it comes from the kitchen.

In the Loop ★★★★

The past few years have been jam packed with movies showcasing different perspectives on the Middle East, and on war in the Middle East specifically. Babel, Rendition, Grace is Gone…not too many of these movies have been gutbusters. I cannot, nor will I ever, subject myself to Delta Farce, so I can't speak to its comedic value. But British comedy In the Loop manages to offer an original, scathing take on Western government that is both hilarious and timely, even if its references to going to war in the Middle East refer largely to events that have long since passed.

The film focuses on a few mid-level figures in both the English and the American government, and is thus set in London and D.C. The role each government's minor players begin to take on in each other's worlds builds until it has a major effect on world events. If that sounds pretty serious, that's the beauty of In the Loop. Throughout the film, serious events are unfolding at the hands of especially un-serious people. And the most threatening figures are also the most hilarious – two Scots who can't go more that a few seconds without swearing while screaming are in charge of the English government's public relations.

A constant barrage of accents, sycophants, sarcasm, and cultural-reference jokes keep what could be a dry political "thriller" a fresh, funny, and biting political comedy. Go see it at your local indie house ASAP if you're good with accents (Chicagoans, it's showing at the Landmark Century at least through this weekend). Otherwise, wait for the subtitled DVD so you won't miss a beat.

Moon ★★★★

When I entered the theater last weekend, I knew nothing about Moon except that it starred Sam Rockwell and pretty much no one else. Having seen it, I'm reluctant now to provide any more information than that about the film, so as not to spoil the experience. Instead, I suppose I'll rely on cryptic, tantalizing hints that  might entice you to find out what this film's all about. Yeah, that'll work.

Sam Rockwell plays Sam Bell the only engineer/operator in a futuristic power plant on the moon that harvests energy and sends it back to Earth on a regular basis for power business Lunar. He's aided and kept company by GERTY, a super-smart talking main frame computer, eerily and masterfully voiced by Kevin Spacey. It's been 3 years alone on the moon for Sam, and it's about time for him to go home... that is, if his brain and body can make it a few weeks longer. This gets to be a trickier and trickier undertaking as the film progresses.

The most exciting thing about Moon is the way it sets up genre-familiar expectations and then thwarts them over and over again. This little trick manages to keep the film scary and suspenseful while the plot moves ever forward. Not bad for a freshman director! Duncan Jones, whom you may recognize as David Bowie's son, has created a unique and interesting movie that sticks with you for days as more of it's secrets unravel themselves in retrospect. It's enough to make me want to start counting the days, Sam Bell-style, until his next film debuts.

I Love You, Man ★★★★

Remember the sweet, studious step-brother from Clueless? That was Paul Rudd. The hunky mega-jerk from Wet Hot American Summer? Also Paul Rudd. The ultra-cool but slightly disfunctional brother-in-law from Knocked Up? You get my drift. Paul Rudd has been around, shining a little light on his films from whatever role he's playing. Paul Rudd forces you love him. He has some kind of magic.

The many faces of Paul Rudd

I Love You, Man finds Rudd in a rare position for the actor: leading man. While billed as a kind of buddy-comedy (it has, alas, brought the term "bromance" into fairly regular use), the film really stars Rudd in the primary position as Peter Klaven, a good-natured but dorky real-estate agent and serial-monogamist who has never really had any close, male friends.

Enter Jason Segal. Remember the talk goofy guy from Freaks and Geeks? Okay, okay, I'll spare you the reminiscences of Segal's past roles, but once again, here is someone whose mere presence on screen can produce a smile. I can't think of a pair of actors I'd rather see in a light-hearted comedy. Even if it means I have to say "bromance."

I think it's fair to say that this film is part of the lovable-loser comedy revolution that Judd Apatow seems to have revived several years ago with 40-Year-Old Virgin. Compared to other films of that ilk – Superbad, Knocked Up, Forgetting Sarah Marshall – the majority of I Love You's dialogue and subject matter feels a little tame, but it has so much more comedic bang than your average romantic comedy that it seems unfair to group it with that latter genre. Sure, there's no full-frontal nudity, but this is hardly Fool's Gold. The film also greatly benefits from a stellar supporting ensemble; in addition to Rashida Jones (The Office) as Peter's fiancee, the film casts Jaime Pressly (My Name is Earl) and Jon Favreau as a hot-tempered couple, and Jane Curtin, J.K. Simmons, and Andy Samberg as the Klaven family. They even have Daily Show great Larry Wilmore in a cameo with only one line, and the list goes on. 

I Love You, Man is a funny, happy movie that revels in its own weirdness, just as its stars love to revel in theirs. It may not be the movie of the year, but there's no doubt you'll have fun watching.

Three Weeks Later…Watchmen. ★★★★.

I shouldn't be writing this. Or, to be more specific, after seeing Watchmen three weeks ago, I decided I wasn't going to write a review of the film. Having bought my ticket in a frenzy of haste and anticipation, I watched the Watchmen with my heart in my hands, nervously checking in minute-by-minute to see if the film was a complete disaster yet – not the ideal mental state for criticism. One of the perks of writing a film review blog as opposed to, say, a film review newspaper column is the freedom to censor oneself. I paid for my ticket, and I reserve the right to keep my opinions a secret.

It wasn't that I didn't like the movie. Quite the opposite, in fact; I was afraid that I liked it more that I should. If that sounds completely ridiculous – who can say how much one should like a movie? – well, point taken. I decided to scrap that theory and return to the theater, this time with full knowledge of what to expect, and the mental facility to analyze what was being presented. 

The verdict is in: Yes, Marissa. This movie is pretty friggin awesome.

Watchmen is absolutely an epic. It is complex and dark, vertiginous and long, and demands that the viewer bring some kind of interest and investment in the storyline with them to the theater. At least a passing interest in comic books, superheroes, or the Apocalypse is a pre-requisite for entrance, or should be. 

The major victory of Watchmen the Movie is its dutiful exultation of Watchmen the Book. With the regrettable exception of Adrian Veidt's thin stature and weird accent, the filmmakers have painted a live-action version of the graphic novel's famous frames up on the screen. A pivotal chapter from the book, in which major character Dr. Manhattan relives the story of his frightening transformation into demi-god, is held intact for the film, and the resulting montage may be the most riveting few minutes of cinema we've seen in years. On the flip side, some book dialogue that probably should have been cut from the script (Laurie, arriving on Mars: "Whoa. I'm on Mars.") remains, but one can't fault the overall attention to detail. Little from the primary storylines has been omitted, and the result is a fascinating homage to the classic book. 

All of this, in truth, is a mixed blessing for the viewer who has not read the book, as many of the characters and events might come off as confusing or overly grandiose. Someone arriving at the theater expecting a fun romp through the city on the wings of masked avengers might be more than disappointed. Children could be scarred for life. But that total upheaval of the superhero mythology is exactly what makes Alan Moore's novel such a revelation. While the cinephile side of me wishes the film were a bit more transparent, my love for culture and literature wins out here: I am very, very glad that this movie begs the viewer to compare it to the book. What better way to get the world to read a graphic novel from the late Seventies?

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button ★★★★

In 1922, F. Scott Fitzgerald published a short story about a man that was born old and grew into a baby as he aged. While Fitzgerald's ghost is likely flattered that his story has been adapted for the screen (with Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett as the leads, no less! "What, Angelina was unavailable?" his corpse might joke, but I digress), I have a feeling that movie and story both were inspired in part by William Shakespeare. 

In Shakespeare's famous "All the world's a stage" monologue from "As You Like It," he describes seven stages in the life of a man, noting that very old age begins again to resemble babyhood, "sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

Macabre stuff, no? But in delivering this message, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button – the movie perhaps more so than the story – is able to more or less transcend the need for a traditional plot arc. Rather than a (3 acts), we're presented with a series of events in the life of this one very unusual man. While the various events and characters are each critically important to Benjamin himself, they are often of little consequence to one another. While the film student in me was a little put out by such a rash structural decision, I can't help but observe that real life works just this way. And tragic though it may be, the observation of a life lived backward puts a sharp focus on how universal and lonely the journey (and occasionally exhilirating) toward death can be.

Benjamin Button will no doubt strike some moviegoers as another one of those too-long epics that doesn't know when to quit. To be sure, not everyone can endure a 3-hour film with only a handful of jokes or explosions. But this is a film that, despite its length, manages to stay continuously engaging and full of fascinations. Not the least of which is the breathtaking moment when a finally-youthful Brad Pitt comes racing down the street on a motorcycle.  Somebody, please, give that man an Oscar… 

Burn After Reading ★★★★

The Coen brothers, it's safe to say, are artists. Their films succeed in craftily showcasing characters that are both bizarre and realistic, with plots that are somehow both simple and intricate. Lately, though, they've managed to succeed on what some might call a greater level: they're box office hits. More or less.

Their last film, Best Picture winner No Country For Old Men, has grossed almost $161 million, and after a weekend opening well outside the box office top-10, the film climbed into the ranks of the top five daily grossers weeks later. That's the power of what we call "word of mouth." And now, after 24 (!) years of making films that critics praise and film snobs drool over, Ethan and Joel Coen have made a film that opened at  #1 and has made $37 million in under two weeks. Not bad for a couple of arty types.

Why focus on the money and popularity of  Burn After Reading? It's just that this is not an "everybody" kind of movie. It's not a blockbuster. Sure, there are guns, sort of a car chase, Brad Pitt ad George Clooney co-star…but, in essence, this film is a careful character study. Burn After Reading tries defiantly to be about nothing more than a melange of screwballs, and it succeeds.

In case you haven't seen it yet, and you don't believe me, let me attempt to give a short synopsis of this movie: A CIA analyst quits his job. He decides to spend his new-found free time writing his memoirs. His wife is pissed and secretly seeks out a divorce attorney. She copies everything from his personal computer onto a CD to give to her lawyer. It gets intercepted by some gym employees, who think it's government secrets. They try to get the former CIA analyst to reward them for finding it; he sees this as blackmail. When he won't pay up, they head to the Russian consulate to see if Russia is interested in some government "secrets." Russia alerts the CIA, who is mildly concerned and has the gym employees followed.

At this point, the movie's almost over, and yet my synopsis hasn't even touched on several key details and characters (including one of the stars, Clooney). If that alone isn't enough to convince you that this is not your average #1 opening, allow me to point out the film's lack of conclusive ending (we hear a bit of it, but don't see it), the fact that all the action is based on a stupid misunderstanding that's never corrected, or – dare I mention – the creepy homemade sex machine.

It's a weird movie.

If I sound a little irked at Joel and Ethan, maybe I am. Who told you guys you could make another Fargo and send it into the mainstream?! Ultimately, though, I can't stay mad. Because I really like this movie, despite its quirks, and at times because of them. Its characters are funny and fascinating, the performances are truly stellar (the best part about the movie, in fact), the dialogue is dryly hilarious, and the plot decisions manage to intrigue and excite even as they bewilder. It's all enough to leave me guessing about just what these artists will dream up next.

P.S. There are some familiar faces in Burn After Reading, but if you don't recognize them, you can rest assured that they recognize each other. Here's a little chart I call "Cast After Casting," which depicts what projects these actors know each other from.

Click to enlarge.

Tropic Thunder ★★★★

Ben Stiller, that great enigma of cinema…how will history judge his oeuvre? It's not a question I've heard asked too often, but it's one that's been one my mind ever since I saw Tropic Thunder a couple of weeks ago. It was a question I couldn't quite answer. Then I saw Tropic Thunder again. In a moment of clarity the answer finally came to me, terrific and frightening.

Ben Stiller is the 21st century's Mel Brooks.

Please don't be mad. I know such a bold statement is difficult to read. But before you surf away from my apparently-deranged ramblings in an offended huff, give me a chance to explain myself.

How many Mel Brooks movies have you seen? Sure, you've seen Blazing Saddles, you've seen Young Frankenstein, but what about High Anxiety? History of the World, Part I? Spaceballs? Put these films together, and they reveal Brooks to be a director/producer/writer (oh, and actor) whose body of work is almost completely based on two principles: (1) Make fun of everything that deserves it and (2) Make every joke that's funny, and a handful that aren't.  This simple formula spawned a legend and a legendary set of films.

If Mr. Stiller were responsible for just one silly, ridiculous, hysterical film, the comparison to Brooks might not have occurred to me. But Tropic Thunder – which spits right in the face of some truly laughable people and things on earth – merely represents the (current) apex of a career that's been trending toward silly, ridiculous, and hysterical subjects for some time now. Much like Zoolander lampoons models and the fashion industry, or Dodgeball goofs on gym culture and sports mania, Tropic Thunder offers a biting-but-goofy send up of Hollywood. And much like Brooks, Stiller has chosen time and again to cast himself as the most awful and pitiable characters in a cast of varyingly awful, pitiable characters

There is, of course, a major difference between Tropic Thunder and Stiller's previous satires (Zoolander, Starsky & Hutch, Dodgeball) : this is a much, much better film. Tropic Thunder pushes the envelope right to the brink, it takes just enough advantage of joke opportunities to keep you laughing continuously, but avids inducing eye-rolls, and it celebrates all of the sad-but-true Hollywood clichés it burns. There's no question about it. This is more that a great comedy, it's a good movie.

For every Producers in a Hollywood career, there's bound to be one or two Robin Hood: Men In Tights debacles. With that in mind, I suppose only time will tell if Ben Stiller's works, both great and small, will be remembered as classics in the annals of movie history. But if he keeps this up, I have a feeling that 30 years from now, some know-it-all blogger might be comparing some young director/producer/writer to the great Ben Stiller, much to the outrage of readers everywhere.

Hamlet 2 ★★★★

If the idea of asking a bunch of high-schoolers to stage the sequel to Hamlet as written by their washed-up drama teacher strikes you as ill-advised, you're not alone. No one in the Tucson metro area wants anything to do with Hamlet 2, largely because they've heard it's full of indecent sexual acts and blatant anti-Christian sentiment. But if the eponymous show within Steve Coogan's new film is flailing, the film itself soars high on wings of ridiculous comedy and rampant hysteria. 

Yes, I'll say it: Hamlet 2 is a work of psychotic genius.

Really, we should expect no less from Coogan, the mind behind  Alan Partridge, Tristram Shandy (the brilliant movie version of an "unfilmable" novel), 24-Hour Party People, and countless other creations sprung from a late-night rendezvous between genius and mania. Here the British actor plays Dana Marschz, an American actor (of sorts) who's had a pretty rough time of it.  He's working as the drama teacher in a Tuscon high school, but when his class and his job face extinction, Dana takes action. He writes a play that comes straight out of his experiences with an abusive father, and he names it Hamlet 2. Oh, and it's a musical.

A handful of trials and tribulations befall the cast of the play (and the film), with no one abused more than Dana himself, but the plot of this film is hardly where its brilliance lies. Instead, it comes in glints of spot-on satire of the strange and wonderful world of drama and high-school and magically comedic turns of phrase.  The film also makes ample use of rarely-utilized characters and locales: red-neck principal, wealthy Latino parents, a fertility clinic, the school's "Snackatorium", to name but a few.

These bold strokes are surprising enough to distract the viewer from the occasional hokey stereotype or unbelievable plot twist; at times, the film almost convinces us that any misstep made in script or plot device is really just an inside joke, an homage to the misguided playwright and train-wreck production it depicts. I found myself writing off a handful of bad one-liners and prat falls the moment I laid eyes on Sexy Jesus and his time machine.

If any of this makes any sense at all to you, please do yourself a favor and check this odd little movie out. And whatever you do, do not leave before the big finale. No matter what you think of Hamlet 2 the movie, Hamlet 2 the play (horrible idea though it may be) is sure to leave you speechless.

The Chronicles of The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe ★★★★ Prince Caspian ★★★½

In what could only be called an act of madness, I decided this Sunday that I would spend the hours after work watching, for the first time, 2005's The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, to be followed immediately (it was about 30 minutes later) by its sequel, Prince Caspian, now in theaters. While such an exercise can hardly be recommended to the faint-of-heart, it certainly awarded me with a clear lens through which to compare the films.

I initally avoided The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, dubious of a CGI-tastic brutalization of one of the world's greatest children's novels. While the drawn-out introduction left me frustrated (as in "please, for God's sake, take me to Narnia already!), once the wardrobe doors were flung open, the film delivered a mix of fantasy, horror, violence, and yes, even some Christian symbolism, that was frankly rather breathtaking. I was pleased and, frankly, surprised by how satisfying it all proved to be.

Now, I have an inborn aversion to realistically-animated talking animals. Please do not show me a winking tabby cat or a commercial starring a chrous of singing, dancing puppies (I'm talking to you, Frontline!) But I must say, even this element of the Wardrobe was executed with a precision that kept it from grating too much. With few exceptions, digital effects were focused on the many dangerous or powerful subjects the film tackles, rather than working to evoke a sugar-coated dimension of dewy-eyed rodents.

Which brings us to my trip to the theater.

Far from drawing out our quest to re-enter Narnia, Prince Caspian launches us straight into an unfamiliar, human-filled Narnia that left the people behind me wondering if they were in the right theater. They were. It's 1300 years later, and Narnia has been taken over by a group of apparently Spanish humans called Telmarines. Their prince, Caspian X, must flee his kingdom before he's killed by a power-hungry uncle. Of course, he flees right into the forests of Narnia, where he meets a cool badger, some super-sweet dwarves, and, much to my chagrin, this freaking mouse that think's he's soooo hilarious. Even the voice of Eddie Izzard, whom I dearly love, cannot save this character, whose strange behavior and incongruous animation put him up there with Jar-Jar Binks on the list of CGI annoyances.

When this mouse, whose name is apparently Reepicheep, leaves the screen, the movie progresses admirably, with Caspian unknowingly summoning the ancient kings and queens of Narnia – our stars, Lucy, Edmond, Susan, and Peter. (Incidentally, the magic of Narnia seems to have transformed Peter into a super-hunk . Chill out – it's okay for me to say that, because the actor who plays him is 21. Seriously, though, it was distracting. Sweet Jesus.) The remaining mystical inhabitants of Narnia, led by these five nobles, must fight the Telmarines for their freedom. There are good-and-evil struggles reminiscent of the dark side, and clever, violent battle scenes that make you wonder if this is really a kids' movie. And then, in comes Reepicheep and his ilk, completely undermining all the coolness the film has amassed. What we're left with is two movies: the mature, exciting movie that shows through in the majority of scenes, and the goofy, pandering kiddie flick that should have been left on the cutting room floor.

The verdict? Both films are interesting and packed with moments their cast and crew can be very proud of. Neither film is perfect, but I would like to officially put to rest all of this "better than the original" talk that's surrounding Prince Caspian. At best, the film is an exciting appendage to the first Chronicles of Narnia movie. The indulgent desire to provide a little "something for everyone" frequently derailed the story's progression and ultimately distracted from the astonishing effects and fascinating darkness that gilds many of Caspian's scenes. We'll get to return to Narnia on The Voyage of the Dawn Treader in 2010; hopefully they'll leave the goofy characters at the pier.

Young@Heart ★★★★

Let me pitch you a premise: A bunch of happy-go-lucky senior citizens decide to join a choir. A director young enough to be their son forces them to sing hits and rarities by the likes of the Ramones and Sonic Youth. At first they hate these songs, but they grow to love them, and the movie ends with a hugely successful concert performance to a sold-out auditorium.

This is precisely what occurs in Young@Heart, a new film by director Steven Walker. Sounds like a pretty lame comedy, right? And if the film were a raucous comedy about free-wheeling old fogies, it probably would have been awful. And completely absurd. But Young@Heart, despite some painfully hilarious moments, is no comedy. It's a documentary, and it follows the all-too-true story of a real-life senior choir and its members as they struggle to broaden their horizons and make the most of their golden years.

Originally shot for television in the UK, Young@Heart was shot in Northampton, MA. Despite the best efforts of a too-present narrator with a shaky camera, it's easy to forget all about the film's made-for-tv doc roots. With all the ups, downs, comedic relief, and surprising twists of a Hollywood production, we're taken through several weeks of choir rehearsals that lead up to a big show. These dramatic flourishes definitely work in the film's favor. Not only do they serve to draw the audience in, but they illustrate perfectly the strength and fragility of these unique and wonderful people. For them, the point and joy of life is merely to be alive and doing what you enjoy. This is a humbling message indeed, and it's to the film's credit that it lets this fact shine through the cracks in the group's carefree façade.

I went to Young@Heart expecting to laugh my ass off. And I did, at times. More than anything, though, I left the theater hoping that the choir will be performing soon at a theater near me. If not, maybe I'll just have to start up a Young@Heart choir of my own.

Forgetting Sarah Marshall ★★★★

directed by Nicholas Stoller.

Like many of you, I was concerned that Forgetting Sarah Marshall would prove to be, shall we say, a "lesser" Judd Apatow film. After all, it seemd so.."romantic comedy." Any good film buff knows this is THE genre to shun. Could a mere breakup movie live up to the raucous, raunchy films that have made Apatow a household name?

Yes. Yes it could. Perhaps my first clue should have been Apatow's assertion on The Daily Show that what's great about producing movies is the power to make actors show their penises on film. Sure enough, our first opportunity to see ALL of star Jason Segel comes just minutes into the film, making it crystal clear that this is not your average date movie.

As it turns out, Segel may be responsible for his own entrance into the mysterious world of full-frontal male nudity; he wrote the screenplay. Segel is no stranger to the role of lovable doof (see Freaks and Geeks, How I Met Your Mother), and his experience certainly comes in handy for his Sarah Marshall character, Peter Bretter, who manages to be goofy, lovable, and interesting in practically every scene.

Segel's winning and consistent charm (plus a slew of truly ridiculous characters) is ultimately what makes Sarah Marshall work. Looking back on the film, it's clear that the storyline is paper-thin, leaving the movie to propel itself through a chain of funny, somewhat linear scenes. But it's really difficult to fault the film for these failings, because they were invisible while I was in the theater. I was so busy enjoying myself that flaws in its story arc were the farthest thing from my mind. Its always cool when a film can break the rules without missing a step, and yet again, Apatow and posse make it happen. I ahve a feeling that as long as these guys are around, we're going to have a lot to look forward to at the theater.

Atonement ★★★★

I have heard Atonement described as a chick flick. A word to the wise: don't let the gorgeous English countryside, lovely accents, and smolderingly sexy use of eye-darting fool you. Fool's Gold is a chick flick. 27 Dresses is a mega chick flick. Atonement is a thriller that turns into a tragedy.

If you've read Ian McEwan's novel, you're familiar with the dark depths that lurk behind Atonement's idyllic exterior. If not, I have no intention of spoiling it for you, but I will say that this story is aptly titled. It is not difficult to imagine a real-life circumstance where a child commits a shameful transgression. In this case, when the film's main character, Briony, does just that, it's the devastating lynch pin that the rest of her life (and the film) centers around. She spends the rest of her life desperately struggling to atone for the sin that an immature version of herself committed. What could be more tragic?

The first 40 minutes or so of this movie find us at the immense Tallis estate (where Briony, then played by the striking Saoirse Ronan, and sister Cecilia, aka Keira Knightley, live). This is where the aforementioned thriller section of the film takes place, as a series of strange and titillating events unfold. Once we leave this place, we return there only in fantasy/memory sequences, and the film jumps a bit strangely into an entirely different world. Ultimately, this aspect of the movie is one that I'm still a bit uncomfortable with. On the one hand, the shift (which takes us to WWII France and London) can represent how sharply Briony's transgression affected all of the film's key characters. On the other hand, it's a bit odd for a movie to be broken into two such distinct pieces...though I did once write a whole essay on how such a split occurs in my favorite film of all time, Vertigo.

As you can see, I'm torn. One thing that's undeniable, though, about the WWII scenes is their epic, dreamlike, beauty. While I'm unsure why, for instance, we're shown a sweeping pan over a French beach covered with war-worn, heartbroken soldiers shooting horses and singing hymns, I can tell you that I could watch this gorgeous, moving scene on DVD pretty much forever on repeat. That has to count for something.

If I seem a bit tight-lipped on the actual plot of Atonement it's because I really want you to see it. That goes for you, too, men. And guys? You might want to bring some tissues. As the credits rolled on this supposed "chick flick", I am pretty certain the girl next to me turned to her boyfriend and patted him on the shoulder, saying, "Aww, honey. It's okay."

Sweeney Todd ★★★★

I'll be honest. I struggled a bit with rating Sweeney Todd: Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Perhaps it's a testament to my descent into total critical mindset, because while I loved Sweeney Todd, during the film I was keenly aware of how singularly affected it was. Therefore, I deliver my 4 of 5 stars with a short set of qualifiers:

1. Don't see this movie if musicals make you want to puke.

2. Don't see this movie if blood and knives make you want to puke.

3. DEFINITELY don't see this movie if the dramatic visual stylizations of Tim Burton stir up a desire within you to...well...puke.

That ought to do it. Why the warnings? Quite simply, Sweeney Todd is a masterwork in each of the rarely-merging worlds of showtunes, gore-fests, and Scissorhands-level Burtonica. (Just for fun, see this one with the idea that Sweeney Todd is Edward Scissorhands' great-grandfather...it's seriously not a stretch.)

With under-eye circles and pale skin that would make Jack Skellington jealous, the cast of Tim Burton's latest film aptly embody what might be musical theater's most macabre work. One can't underplay the importance of Steven Sondheim's original product, but Burton's broad and creepy tendencies highlight the show's manic ethos as if they'd written it together. On stage, Sweeney Todd is dark; here, it's an honest-to-goodness horror movie.

If you're not familiar with the musical, be prepared for a weird one. If you know the original, just imagine everything darkly intensified, as if a flashlight had been placed under the show's chin. This provides an even greater contrast with the film's many comic moments (Sacha Baron Cohen is hilarious, but even his character is a child-beater and a criminal). The black humor of "A Little Priest," in which Todd and his new partner Mrs. Lovett (Helena Bonham-Carter, of course) sing about potentially eating the people they see outside, only enhances the creepiness of what's occurring.

Those who want someone to relate to in their movies might struggle with this one, as pretty much everyone is evil, crazy, or both. Alan Rickman as Judge Turpin makes you want to pee your pants without lifting a finger, and Timothy Spall as the Beadle might actually make you want to puke, despite all my warnings. Only the orphan boy in the film (Ed Sanders, quite a little soprano) is truly loveable, and even he makes you a bit nervous from time to time.

No one gets away without his or her comeuppance, so to speak, so your stomach will likely settle before too long. But perhaps I should offer one final warning, just to be safe: for God's sake, before and after this one, steer clear of any and all meat pies.

Charlie Wilson's War ★★★★

Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts as 1980s politicos with Texan accents? From the first time (of about a million) that I saw the trailer for Charlie Wilson's War, I was prepared to be underwhelmed. Partly, it was the goofy jokes and the fact that someone at Universal thought it was okay to use snippets of both "All Along the Watchtower" and "American Pie" in a trailer for a Cold War era film. But the thing I was most concerned about was my own desensitization to Hanks and Roberts as actors. These two are possibly the most famous human beings on the planet, and we all know full well that they did not mastermind a covert war which effectively brought down Soviet Communism. There was no way I'd be able to buy them as Texans, either - I'd simply seen too much of them.

Or so I imagined, based on the trailer. Sometimes trailers can be misleading.

I'm both surprised and pleased to report that Charlie Wilson's War is entertaining (despite a theoretically boring plot), hilarious (despite a decidedly serious subject matter), and well-acted (despite the obvious handicap of having stars some might have once considered a bit screen-worn). It's even a little politically responsible, when all is said and done, which is always a plus when your film is set largely in Afghanistan. All of these high points owe a lot to an excellent screenplay by no less a writer than Aaron Sorkin. But above all, the success of Charlie Wilson's War

When we consider that the story depicted here is a true one, Gust Avrakotos and Charlie Wilson serve as a somewhat poignant reminder of how little political knowledge and skill are related to "proper" behavior. Hanks's Wilson often seems more of an alcoholic womanizer than he is a congressman, but he still succeeds in adequately arming Afghanistan against the people bombing them (yes, it was the Soviet Union then!). In fact, his experience as a hardcore player actually aids in the process - Wilson smooth talks committee members into providing the region with more funds, uses a Texan belly dancer to make an arms deal with Egypt, and essentially makes a sex-based agreement with Roberts' character, Republican philanthropist Joanne Herring, to kick the whole thing off. I hardly think a Mitt Romney or a Henry Hyde could have accomplished all of that.

While the film's failings are few, it does leave one wondering about how these particular Texans (Herring and Wilson) came to be so interested in Middle East politics. One of the first scenes has Wilson ignoring three naked women in a hotel hot tub to watch Dan Rather live from Afghanistan. And while the film lets Charlie drink and chauvinize till the cows come home, when he's accused of doing coke (hey, it's the '80s), everyone's all up in arms. Personally, I also bristled a bit at the film's "Let's kill some Russians!" mentality (that was a direct quote). That said, I'm willing to let it slide - after all, it was the Cold War. And they were bombing innocent Afghanis.

But...weren't we doing that a few years ago?

I spent the last hour or so of Charlie Wilson's War thinking about how much things in the Middle East have changed in 20 years, and how different Wilson's story seems from today's relations with that area, despite the very linear connection between the two wars. I was concerned, too, that the film would remain unconscious of it's connection to the present. But chalk up one more big point for Hanks, Sorkin, and Hoffman. Near the close of the film, Hoffman's Gust tells a story about a Zen master. While I can't repeat it verbatim, hopefully you'll see the powerful relevance in my hasty paraphrasing: Misfortunes occur, and when everyone says "how terrible!" the Zen master says, "we'll see." Over time, those same misfortunes lead to happy events, and everyone says "How wonderful," except for the Zen master, who simply says, "we'll see."

Once ★★★★

(Orginally reviewed June 2007)
d. John Carney.

The movie musical. It is a creature that I've always loved, but whether it's a stalwart classic (The Sound of Music) or a daring rock opera (Tommy), musicals always have one thing in common: when the characters' mouths open and that first song starts coming out, your brain has to high-tail itself to fantasy land, or you'll never be able to get over how bizarre the prospect of a singing, dancing, Universe really is. One might say it's Hollywood's oldest magic spell: an entire genre that viewers flock to not just in spite of its impossibility, but because of it.

Hollywood, it would seem, has never met the director, cast, and crew of Once.

From main character's first street performance as the movie opens to the magical recording session that is the movie's climax, not a note of Once's music - which incidentally, is truly stunning - seems impossible or ingenuous. It might be a cinematic miracle.

Spanning the first few days after its two main characters meet, the film watches an unnamed man and woman in Dublin, Ireland as they begin to unlock one another's immense potential. The pair is played by real-life friends and musicians Glen Hansard (of Irish band The Frames) and Markéta Irglová, and is done so with an unassuming simplicity that is nearly impossible for professional actors to achieve.

The story of Once's protagonists is at once simple and complex. Their romance is ambiguous, their careers are mundane (he's a vacuum repairman at his father's shop, she does odd jobs). They meet in the simplest way possible, when she sees him singing and playing his guitar for passing change on the street. Underneath every conversation and situation the film depicts, however, looms a fuzzy pathos that is never quite spelled out by either character. Never, that is, except in song. It sounds cheesy, but seriously, it is really, really not.

It is difficult to explain the sensation that came over me when I realized how good this music really was, but I can tell you exactly at what point it hit me. When the woman reveals to the man that she plays the piano, she entices him to join her at a local music shop where she is allowed to practice on the instruments on display. After quickly showing her the basic melody of a song he's written, the two start playing and singing together. It is nothing short of tearjerking. In fact, even as I write this, all I can think about is going back to the theater so I can experience the moment again. As the film goes on, we have the delightful experience of watching the faces of several other listeners who are experiencing this same realization, that this music is mindbendingly good. In the lyrics and chords is the story of two people's desperation and pain, but neither character will reveal this acute angst in any way other than music. In real life, I might find that unhealhty, but as an audience member, I'm pretty pleased with this arrangement.

There are elements of Once that are confusing and maybe a bit frustrating. Nothing is black and white, nowhere the characters go is particularly thrilling, and sometimes we're not totally sure why they're their. The hand-held camera is sometimes jerky or sporadic. But all of these things add up to a movie that is not just the most realistic musical ever, but possibly the most realistic love story ever filmed. Really, what in life is black and white? What relationship isn't ambiguous? In real life, there's no such thing as a happy ending, because the only ending we get is the Big One. It's crazy, but by breaking every rule in the cinematic playbook, Once is able to say much more about life and love than any amount of narration, budget, or big-name talent in recent memory has been able to.

Watch out, Hollywood. Your magic spell might be losing its effect.