Cineplexus

From PopSent…"Full House Genetics"

I just wrote a pretty ridiculous meditation on Full House for my pop culture and general-purpose blog, Popular Sentiment. To tempt you to read it, I will mention that it includes this picture:

 
 

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.

The Informant! ★★★½

 In a time when business corruption has trashed our economy and polluted our government, who doesn't want to see a movie that sends up the businessmen responsible? The Informant! (based on Kurt Eichenwald's non-fiction book of the same name) tells the story of Decatur-based agro-conglomerate Archer Daniels Midland. In particular, it tells of Mark Whitacre, their unassuming President of BioProducts, and his seemingly noble attempt to out the agribusiness practice of illegal price fixing.

Matt Damon's physical transformation (he gained 30 lbs. to play the role of Whitacre), combined with an outstanding performance, is reminiscent of DeNiro's for Raging Bull. The rest of the cast is also spot on, led by Scott Bakula (one of my favorites) and about a million comics – Joel McHale, Tom Papa, Paul F. Tompkins, Patton Oswalt, and others were cast in roles both large and small for the film.

For all the comedians taking part, is the final product funny? Yes. It's actually very funny, though most laughable (in every sense) is Damon's Whitacre, especially during his scores of non-sequitur voiceovers, which illlustrate that this man is rarely concentrating on even the most important things that occur aroung him. The movie excels at making this story more amusing that sad, though it is most certainly both. By highlighting the assinine and confusing details of this true story, the film creates the same sense of confusion in the viewer that everyone around Whitacre felt all the time.

Still, purposefully confusing is still confusing. It's hard to feel totally satisfied by a production that leaves key questions unanswered, and leaves everyone (except maybe Whitacre) guessing not until the last moment, but beyond the last moment, into the credits, and on the drive home. And these aren't questions that can be answered by a few hours of puzzling. It is doubtful that anyone knows exactly how the true story of the Informant goes.

The real Mark Whitacre is still alive. Perhaps, on his deathbed, he'll reveal a tell-all memoir that tells the tale of the real man and of the real corn industry. But at this point, I seriously doubt anyone will believe any of it.

Extract ★★★½

Who doesn't love Office Space? Ten years ago, that now-classic captured the spirit of the disgruntled code monkey, and of the office worker in general, so well and with such irreverence that it's become a cultural icon. No wonder writer/director Mike Judge waited so long to release another movie.

Extract, which stars Jason Bateman as the owner of a baking extract business and factory, has several things in common with its predecessor. Both films avoid taking themselves too seriously at all costs. Both have a handful of characters that are cartoon-silly - not a huge surprise, perhaps, considering Judge's roots. And I'm thrilled to report that Extract has at least as many, if not more, gut-busting, laugh-out-loud moments. But where Office Space's everyman leads had you rooting for them no matter how low they stooped, Extract's Joel (Bateman) has somewhat unrelateable, petty problems that he bungles further through his own self-pity.

Joel is urged along on a totally assinine (though amusing) plot to cheat on his frigid wife without feeling guilty by Dean (Ben Affleck), a stoner bartender who really shouldn't be trusted for anything. Affleck, to be fair, is completely hilarious here, but one wonders how Dean and rich, straight-laced Joel have managed to stay friends. Meanwhile, the talents of Kristen Wiig are woefully underutilized in the wife character, Suzie; Wiig excels at creating awkwardness, but is hardly allowed a chance to, be it by the script or the editing. The "Other Woman" in the script, Cindy (played by Mila Kunis) has no character traits at all beyond being attractive to men and criminally manipulative. Kunis's natural likeability helps her character way more than the film's script or plot ever attempt to.

Mike Judge has created a fun movie that will make you laugh, but maybe only the first time. But if a bottle of Reynold's Extract ever becomes as iconic as, say, a red Swingline stapler, I'll be more than a little surprised.

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.

Inglourious Basterds ★★★★½

Quentin Tarantino. A devisive figure to be sure. Is he the great modern filmmaker of his generation, or is he some sort of sick psychopath with a thing for old movies and squirm-inducing violence?

He may, of course, be both. But Tarantino-haters may have to stifle themselves a bit in the wake of the director's most recent film, Inglourious Basterds. Along with a whole bunch of shooting, stabbing, cutting, and bleeding, Tarantino has included a fascInating plot, captivating characters (villain Col. Landa, played by Christoph Waltz, and heroine Shoshanna, played by Mélanie Laurent, are two for the ages), and suspense that proves positively nailbiting. Literally. As in, this particular moviegoer is admitting that her teeth met her fingernails during this film. Oh, and much of it is in French and German with subtitles. How mature and appropriate!

Tarantino reportedly labored for ages writing the film, which he's characterized in interviews as his "spaghetti western." God bless him for that. While the director's cinephilia is very evident throughout Basterds, to describe it as the "Tarantino version" of anything we've seen before is selling it short. Here we have an astonishing melting pot of genres–drama, action, comedy, war, arthouse, and, sure, some westernia–that pays homage to the cinematic arts of the decade it portrays even as it creates something entirely new. And though the film's violent scenes are horrific, they are always brief or balanced with a fair amount of plot development and dialogue. Most of the film's duration–and it's very long, though I didn't mind–is devoted to another kInd of pain: the soul-twisting suspense of not knowing who's going to win each of the film's many battles of wits.

Bravo, Mr. Tarantino, you crazy basterd. I was expecting to enjoy this film, but I ended up loving it.

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.

500 Days of Summer ★★★★½

From the very start, 500 Days of Summer asserts that it is going to be different from other movies. It has a quirky, ironic voice-over by an omniscient narrator, an unuaual dedication, a decidedly unorthodox timeline. And, it states, it is not a love story.

Jumping around from the ending to the middle to the beginning and back again, the film tells the story of somewhat starcrossed couple Tom (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) and Summer (Zooey Deschanel). Breaking the traditional gender roles (as promised), Tom is a born romantic, looking for his perfect match, and taking the whole search very seriously, while Summer is somewhat afraid of commitment, obsessed with her own independence.

500 Days of Summer is definitely not a "chick flick", but I found myself warmly relating to Tom's character, both his sensibilities and his dilemmas. There's a wonderful chemistry between Gordon-Levitt and Deschanel, who both do the film an amazing service as tremendous, recognizable-but-indie actors. Their endearing take on two very realistic characters combines with an offbeat sensibility that pervades the whole movie (there's a post-coital musical number, for example) to create a finished product that's captivating, hilarious, and, above all, totally orginal.

The Hangover ★★★★½

Okay, this is silly. Sometimes I find myself ruminating for days, even weeks, about a movie I've seen, trying to find the right words to describe it. Usually, this happens when a movie is somewhat middle-of-the-road, and I can't really decide whether to hang left or right. In the case of The Hangover, though, I haven't been feeling wishy-washy. I've just been hoping to get the chance to see it again.

This recent work of genius was directed by Todd Phillips of Old School fame. He also directed Starsky and Hutch, a film which I love dearly, but which hardly deserves the acclaim this most recent film has received. The Hangover is a film that manages to be about debauchery and depravity, all while leaving   (most of) the specifics to the audience's imaginations. It is sometimes sweet but never hokey, and showcases performances that are both nuanced and hilarious by each of its three stars - Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms, and Zach Galifianakis.

Perhaps these three actors hold the secret to this films allure, even its greatness. Phillips' past movies have been commercially successful, starring old kings of the Hollywood comedy scene: Will Ferrell, Ben Stiller, Vince Vaughn, Owen Wilson. These are funny guys, but they aren't exactly full of surprises. Of Hangover's stars, the most famous is probably Helms, who comedy fans know from The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and The Office. This is a cast that earns the movie some indie cred, particularly with the addition of Galifianakis, who carries his creepy-hilarious schtick straight from the stand-up circuit to every gut-busting scene in this film.

No film can succeed on its cast alone, and there is much to be praised about The Hangover's unconventional storyline and plot points. One co-worker described it to me as a "funny Memento" and I really like that take. Of course my first thoughts were of my beloved Hitchcock films, like Vertigo or North by Northwest in which no one really knows the secret to why strange events are unfolding until deep into the film. But The Hangover is a comedy, and a great one at that, offering us surprises scene after scene that don't merely perplex, but amuse. Greatly.

Still, it's hard imagining even a unique, fresh script like this one riding so high if, say, Matthew McConaughey had played Cooper's sexy rule-breaker, with Ben Stiller as Helms' henpecked worrier, and (god forbid, though I love the man sometimes) Will Ferrell as Galifianakis' creepy, possibly-insane brother-in-law. With the same lines, the same delivery, it just wouldn't have been the same movie. While I'd love to see these three actors (the actual stars, not my suggested celebrities) in more films together (maybe The Hangover 2, already in development), I should probably be wishing for something entirely different: a whole new slew of comedies starring the unsung, dimmer stars of Hollywood, just waiting to go supernova*.

If this film is any indication, that could be a very good – and lucrative – development.

*Yes, I realize that, technically, "going supernova" would not be an ideal fate, as supernova is the last stage before a star explodes/burns out. But some stars never even get to that point in Hollywood (see: Lindsey Lohan)! Plus, it was just too poetic to pass up. Deal with it.

AS SEEN ON DVD: 2 Movies about loser duos ★★★

Role Models and Pineapple Express, both from 2008, both 3 Stars, both available in "Unrated" DVD editions. 

In the life of a film critic, there occasionally arises a kind of inner conflict between the entertainment lover and the film snob within. Sometimes a film is so entertaining that the snob approves; sometimes a film is so unpleasant that both sides disagree. But occasionally, for healthy, well-rounded critics LIKE MYSELF, a movie comes around that is really enjoyable without actually reaching the filmic level of "good."

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you two such movies.

These pictures, Role Models and Pineapple Express bear nothing in common other than the trait just mentioned and the one I brought up in the title of this post. They're both about pairs of total douchebags who are sort of friends as the films start and best friends when they end. How two movies with such a core value in common could be so vastly different is, I suppose, a testament to the power of human storytelling.

One difference between the two is what they appeared to be aiming for. The former was your traditional, hard-cracking buddy comedy, gunning for laughs and sometimes winning them. The latter film aimed for nothing higher than the designation of "stoner comedy," and, á la Cheech and Chong, threw in some raucous action, blood, and gunfights. It aimed low, and it hit the mark. But where Role Models seemed to be trying too hard to make us laugh with old antics like crude sex jokes, naked body parts, and kids saying "boobies," Pineapple Express suffered a bit from its own laziness. Perhaps that could be considered a virtue for a movie about potheads, but I couldn't help but imagine entire sections of the script reading "The two run around screaming. Continue until everyone has forgotten why they are doing so, which is, in fact, for no reason at all." 

Then we have the characters. I waxed poetic in a recent post about how lovable Paul Rudd makes every character, but even I had trouble liking Danny, the total jerk he plays for the first half of Role Models. Down on his luck and fed up with the world, this guy actually had me wishing that Seann William Scott had more lines. And that's saying something. Luckily, things picked up when the kids were introduced. The true stars of the film, Christopher Mintz-Plasse (the infamous "McLovin" from Superbad) and Bobb'e J. Thompson (see him slay as Tracy, Jr. on 30 Rock) make their characters so fantastically comical that it only emphasizes what jerks their older counterparts are playing.

On the flip side of character issues, we have team Rogan-Franco smoking their way through Pineapple Express. While Seth Rogan's character, Dale, is definitely a loser, it's at least possible to relate to him – he's not a total asshole, he just lacks ambition. Then there's James Franco, who conjures up one of the most amazing stoner-pot dealers cinema has ever seen in Seth, who spends the entire movie in his pajamas. Here is a character that couldn't be more of a loser, and yet he's all the more likable for his occasionally-enlightened confusion. These aren't just any two stoners; they're made unique by their quirks and some spirited acting. Yet again, Pineapple Express manages to meet and exceed its clearly low goals.

So, if one film aimed high and faltered, while the other aimed low and succeeded, doesn't it follow that the two should even out? And so we have two enjoyably average comedies. God Bless America.

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.

30 Rock's Funcooker is Real!

The world is full of products that seem more like a joke than reality. Case in point: the Obama Chia Pet. But there's one product on the market right now that's both a joke andreality. 

A recent episode of 30 Rock found Jack (Alec Baldwin) – who, as you may know, heads up Television and Microwave Programming at 30 Rock's fictional version of GE – desperately searching for a new name for his ground-breaking mini-microwave after the name "Bite Nuker" failed in European focus groups. In the episode, which originally aired on March 12th, Jack derails all progress on the week's TGS script, looking for new names for the device; strong candidates included "The Small Wonder" and "Port-a-Hottie," but Kenneth (Jack McBrayer) eventually suggested and Jack settled on the winning marketing moniker: "The Funcooker." This name is a go until Tracy (Tracy Morgan) uses the term to refer to his bared posterior on national television. Oops. 

Fate of the fake Funcooker aside, I can't help but wonder what the folks at iCubed International think of the joke. While the company seems to have a slew of interesting products in the works, their current inventory involves just one primary item: a portable mini-microwave called the iWaveCube. The unbelievable device (I'm not entirely sure I do believe it!) comes in a host of fun colors and costs only $99; it's to be followed later this year by the iToastCube and the iFridgeCube. What's more, for $149 you can get one with a transformer that allows you to use it "in case of natural or man-made disaster." That model can be powered by your car.

 That's right. You can microwave things in your CAR. 

So, is this all just a hilarious coincidence, or are the 30 Rock writers paying homage to their favorite gadget? The jury's still out on that one; I'll have to do a bit more research and see what I can dig up. That said, if Season 4 of 30 Rock finds Jack pitching the Funfreezer or the Funburner, we'll know for sure where the inspiration came from.

Reno 911! Returns Tonight

The newest episode of Reno 911 starts on Wednesday, April 1 at 10:30 P.M. Is it worth tuning in for another season of police ineptitude?

As episode one of Reno 911!'s sixth season begins, Lieutenant Dangle (Thomas Lennon) willfully ignores the most obvious change to the department: a personnel change. While quickly glossing over the fact that two deputies were burnt up in a (season five) taco stand fire, he deftly changes the subject to the arrival of new coffee mugs. But the change is noticeable, at least for the first few minutes of the show. Then the mayhem begins, and it becomes obvious that it's still shady business-as-usual in Reno.

Two new officers join the team with a world of experience. One, Lt. Jack Declan (Ian Roberts, Upright CItizens Brigade) is actually an expert, by-the-book lawman whose rigidness in the face of chaos is bound to make for some chuckle-worthy situations. The other, Deputy Frank Rizzo (Joe Lo Truglio, Pineapple Express, Superbad), comes to Reno with "a very long resume" and "not one letter of recommendation."

Notably missing are the dearly departed Clemmie (Wendy McLendon-Covey) and Kimball (Mary Birdsong), whose absence leaves the Reno Sheriff's Department a little low on estrogen, but thankfully the always outrageous Raineesha (Niecy Nash) and dorky comedy cornerstone Trudy (Kerri Kenney-Silver) are still around to keep the guys in check. They have their work cut out for them, especially since the team has been rounded out with two more gentlemen (I use the term loosely). Also gone is Deputy Garcia (Carlos Alazraqui), whose colorful worldview will be greatly missed. Or so you might think. I actually didn't notice he was gone until a blogcritics reader pointed it out to me. Oops.

I'm thrilled to that the show's producers have brought on another member of the cast of '90s sketch comedy show The State, which served as the proving ground for Lennon, Kenney-Silver, Robert Ben Garant (Junior), and co-creator Michael Patrick Jann. New guy Lo Truglio was a part of that cast, and is a very welcome addition to this cast as Deputy Rizzo.

As usual, a hilariously bad public service announcement falls at about the halfway point of each episode. And the comedy industry clearly hasn't lost any love for the series. Jonah Hill guest stars in episode one, as does Keegan Michael Key; Patton Oswalt and Jordan Peele guest star in episode two. Nick Swardson is back as the mind-boggling but hilarious Terry Bernadino, on roller skates as ever.

Considering the cast changes and long hiatus, the new season of Reno 911! does a remarkable job of keeping things the same as ever: the officers are still clueless, the townspeople are still crazy, and the screw-ups are still swept under the rug. And for this riotous mock-reality show, that means another season of original and very funny television.

Ghost Town ★★★½

Seriously? Another movie about a mortal who can see dead people? Great. Add it to the list. After all, what actor could possibly manage to make such a hackneyed premise remotely enjoyable?

Oh. Right. Ricky Gervais.

If I'd said I was looking forward to seeing Ghost Town in the hours before I arrived at the theater, I would have meant it in the sense that I enjoy attending the cinema, regardless of how silly the film I'm seeing may be. There was just one aspect of the movie, which is about a man who dies temporarily during routine surgery and is then able to converse with the dead, that appealed to me: its star.

Mr. Gervais more than manages to bring this film up above my (admittedly low) expectations. In fact, his unfailingly dry humor manages to turn a romantic comedy about ghosts into a frequently funny joke at the expense of his jerkwad character, Bertram Pincus, who is desperately in need of reform. That reform comes in the form of a sleazy adulterer (Frank Herlihy, played by Kinnear) who happens to be dead. Once he realizes Pincus can see him, Frank uses his wheeler-dealer skills to convince Pincus that he must convince Herlihy's ex-wife not to remarry. Yeah, it sounds complicated, but it's not. Except for the ghosts. That part I can't explain.

It seems that Gervais's secret – play a jerk, make the audience love him anyway, and make as many self-deprecating jokes as possible – is a winning one. While co-stars Kinnear (ghost-husband instigator) and Téa Leoni (alive-wife love interest) serve their purpose in Ghost Town,  it is Gervais who takes the film from passable to genuinely enjoyable.

But it's still about seeing dead people. Give me a break.

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.

You Don't Mess With the Zohan ★★

Sometimes a film's potential rottenness is appalling enough to keep you far, far away from the movie theater. At other times however, the prospect of a truly trashy movies is fascinating, even exciting. While I've enjoyed moments of Adam Sandler's cinematic career, his latest film You Don't Mess With the Zohan, called out to my more masochistic side – cinematically speaking, of course. I confess that I was even a little excited at the thought of seeing a movie that promised to be so laughable despicable.

In this respect, The Zohan did not disappoint.

At the center of this strange little universe is Zohan, of course. To his credit, Sandler (who typically plays a version of himself in his comedies) vanishes behind Zohan's  accent and hairdo. Sandler's character is a battlegod, an Israeli anti-terrorist capable of killing even a strong man with virtually no perceived effort. But there's a twist! Our Zohan also longs to travel to America and become a world-class hairdresser. As he is used to having his way, he assumes he'll be able to secure such a position despite his complete lack of training and experience. And he's right, sorta. He gets a job cleaning up at a Palestinian-owned salon in a Middle-Eastern neighborhood. Hilarity ensues.

As with a lot of comedies, the strangest, stupidest things about this story to tend to provoke some moderate giggles. Foremost among them is the fact that Zohan and company (yes, there are sidekicks) come from an Israel that is apparently stuck in 1995, from the clothing everyone wears (neon shorts and Mariah Carey tees) to the sport of choice (hacky sack). Is israel really like this? I have no idea, and I'm not totally convinced that Sandler and fellow writers Robert Smigel and Judd Apatow (!?!) do either. But the film finds its jokes about Israel – and the Middle East in general – quickly and holds on for dear life. In addition to those listed above, these are focused squarely on the following subjects: hummus, hairyness, cheap electronics, goats, Hamas/bombs, and sex with virtually any woman, bonus if she's young and/or attractive.

So riotous is this list of joking points that the writer apparently felt little need to srite about anything else. "He'll brush his teeth with hummus!" they howled. "He'll throw hummus at the cat!" Unaware of how accurate or biting all this lampooning might be, I found myself less amused and more confused and offended as these jokes got repeated a sixth or seventh time. I wonder if I'd have felt the same way if I were actually from the Middle East. Maybe not. But I'll never know for sure. 

There are moments of Zohan that are truly funny, but these are lost in a frequently directionless pool of cat-kicking and gay jokes. And hummus. 

Get Smart ★★★

I wasn't born until 1983, but thanks to the good people at Nickelodeon and their tireless efforts to syndicate old TV (see: Nick at Nite, TVLand), I have very fond childhood memories of Get Smart, a groovy spy show that originally went off the air in 1970. For me, there were 3 things to love about Get Smart: the fabulously goofy Maxwell Smart (played to perfection by the late Don Adams), the constant stream of kitschy gadgets, and the ever-present aura of the late 1960s.

I'm not totally sure why someone at Warner Bros. decided that 2008 should be the year that CONTROL and KAOS return to the big screen, but it's probably to the film' advantage that a good chunk of its audience will have little to no knowledge of the classic series that it is re-imagining. The film version, you see, has only 1 of those 3 things that made the TV show great. 

Well…1.5.

Gadgets this film has in spades, and some of its most sidesplitting scenes revolve around them. The ".5" is for Maxwell Smart. Steve Carrell is well cast as Smart, and at moments he seems to be directly channelling Don Adams, even vocally. Ultimately, though, the script makes the new Maxwell Smart a little too, well…smart. Sure he pulls a lot of bonehead moves, and the film shines through most of them. But in the version the writers also make a huge fuss about how Smart is their best information analyst, ho he's fluent in Russian (which never once backfires for him!) and has some mysterious martial arts prowess. Carrell is tailor-made to play he bumbling, accident-prone version of Smart, the one who gets into scrapes but triumphs time and again because of good luck and a good attitude. The other, newer facets of the character seem clunky and out of place.

 

So what about that third facet that I loved so much about the Get Smart TV series? The late 1960s are nowhere to be found on the set of the Get Smart movie. Perhaps the story was modernized so that we could see new-fangled weaponry or better relate to the actors' hairstyles. Maybe the producers were trying to avoid Austin Powers comparisons. But the most obvious advantage of setting the story in the present era is the opportunity o transform KAOS into a terrorist organization and speak, if comedically, to what is generally considered to be a genuine global threat. Somehow, though, despite hints at the idea of terrorism, the villains still manage to be Russian. Russian! As if the Cold War were still raging on in 2008! Maybe I should feel relieve that KAOS wasn't relocated to Iran or North Korea, but the Russian threat seems beyond stale, injecting an unfortunate note of unintended anachronism and kitsch.

All things considered, Get Smart is an enjoyable movie. That said, it uffers (and more intensely) from the same problem I discussed in my recent review of Baby Mama: it's funny, but not as funny as I'd expected. In this case, for every laug-out-loud moment, there was also some cringe-inducing cliché cheese, like the paper-thin bad guy or the oft-mentioned but never fully fleshed-out main-character romance. It was all fun stuff, but my first desire after leaving the theater wasn't to go back and watch the film again. It was to head home and watch the TV show on DVD. Which I happen to have. How convenient.

Baby Mama ★★★½

You've seen the trailer, you saw the tv spots, and you thought, "Finally, a film about surrogate pregnancy that's not  a Lifetime Original Movie." Sure enough, Baby Mama is about surrogacy, but I have a feeling the annals of history will remember it instead as the first cinematic effort of comedy superfriends Tina Fey and Amy Poehler. 

As cinematic efforts go, this is a pretty decent one. The pair shine in their roles as a Laurel-and-Hardy-esque straight (wo)man and whack-job. It's also a kind of cavalcade of modern comedy stars (John Hodgeman as a fertility doctor, Will Forte as a successful ex-boyfriend with an unfortunate mustache,  Dax Shepard as a white-trash common-law husband, Romany Malco as the doorman).  Steve Martin plays Fey's boss, for god's sake! But if you go to the theater expecting "hilarious", you'll likely be disappointed. Baby Mama is not a "hilarious" movie. It's a "sweet" movie. A "cute" movie. Even a "funny" movie. It's this slight discrepancy that's left me brooding over my review for over a week now. 

When brilliant comedic minds collide, the results are not always super-profitable, but they are frequently (allow me to use the word again) HILARIOUS. We've seen both Fey and Poehler produce that kind of comedic supernova in the past, if not together. In Poehler's pre-SNL days, you could see her on the brilliant but short-lived Upright Citizens Brigade tv series and in Wet Hot American Summer. Fey and company make explosive magic on 30 Rock week after week, where anything goes, the weirder the better. So why, I wonder, weren't these two geniuses anywhere to be found in the writing credits of this okay movie? I can't help but wonder what might have been if the cast had been put together in a writing room to hash-out the details of some nebulous "Fey/Poehler Baby Movie". 

For me, the film's weirdest moments are its funniest and most memorable. Sigourney Weaver plays the CEO of a surrogacy service, yet is constantly waving her own late-in-life babies in the faces of her clients. As Fey's boss, Steve Martin "rewards" good work with several minutes of silently staring directly into your eyes. Though these moments are often overshadowed by the film's clumsy love story and surprise plot twists, they allow what might have been a mediocre film sparkle a little with that glint of genius. 

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.

In Bruges ★★★1/2

With the trailer alone, In Bruges conveys upon one the idea that the Belgian city is a bizarre and dreary one, peppered with some shocks of unexpected color. I have no idea if this is true of Bruges, but it is most certainly true of the film itself.

For me, writer/director Martin McDonagh's latest effort plays out as a so-so film with a handful of very high points. It boldly clashes together the genres of drama, action, and comedy, for which it deserves a lot of credit. In a similar stroke of daring, it seems to care very little about the typical conventions of film narrative. Case and point: the film essentially has no beginning and no ending, at least not in the traditional sense. But rather than launching us right into the action, the film merely skips the formality of introductions. We just have to sit back and wait for something to happen.

Enter my biggest problem with In Bruges. A major plot point of the film is the fact that main character Ray (Collin Farrell) hates being in Bruges from the moment he arrives there. His complaining playfully annoys his partner in crime, fellow and more senior hitman Ken (Brendan Gleeson). Guess who else it annoys? Me. I'd essentially had enough of Ray's bitching by minute 5 or 6. I've been on quite enough trips to foreign countries with companions who were determined to make the least of it, thank you. While the film eventually offers some insight as to why Ray's in such a bad mood, I couldn't help but feel irked that I had to listen to 30 minutes of complaining before things got rolling.

Things do get rolling, to be sure, and they're frequently bloody and often surprising. But were they worth waiting for? For me, the brilliant moments of comedy, action, and poignancy in the film's latter half never quite washed away the bad taste the first 30 minutes left me with. I can't say if it will be the same for you. In this case, I'd say its worth finding out for yourself.

Teeth ★★★★1/2

Growing up, as so many have, in a small, midwestern town that ached to embody "Good Christian Values," I found myself in an unusual position for a teenager: I felt compelled to follow the rules. I am fairly certain that one of the main reasons I avoided drugs was a 7th-grade health class video in which three kids die after using cocaine just once. And even as the 21st century neared, my high school health teacher could barely hold down his lunch as he showed us the infamous "STD Slideshow." With so many dangers lurking about, I knew one had to be conscientious in every decision. Smart but green, I imagined for a while that others my age felt the same way. Eventually, though, time and observation taught me just how seamy the underbelly of a sweet little town can be.

As the curtain rises on Teeth, the first feature film from writer/director Mitchell Lichtenstein, I saw an eerily precise rendering of my little town appear before me, and in it lived Dawn, a young girl not unlike myself – call her our heroine, if you like – whose well-meaning but naîve ideas about the world are a cause of some major confusion. And then, over the course of the next 88 minutes, I saw those things ripped to shreds, battered and bloodied, with all semblance of manners or remorse trampled upon along the way.

It was astonishing. It was wonderful.

No one, in my opinion should go see Teeth, this sick-and-wrong masterpiece of horror-comedy-satire, without knowing that the teeth in question refer to vagina dentata, or, well…vagina teeth. I'll leave the rest of the history and explanation of the term to the film itself, but certainly this is a topic that has the potential to be powerfully offensive, and not in the good way. But far from suggesting an anti-female perspective, or even an anti-sex perspective, Lichtenstein and his phenomenal star (Jess Weixler, who won a Special Jury Prize at Sundance for this performance) manage to dance around potentially damning political statements, first horrifying you with a truly freaky monster, and then turning everything on its head by making the victims the authors of their own demise. By setting up a range of stereotypical – and, in many cases, just plain typical – sexual situations and relationships, we get to know Dawn and her monster as they carry us through some of the grossest and some of the awesomest things I've ever seen in a movie theater.

I'm sure there are things about Teeth that were wrong, or bad, but I sure as hell can't name one for you. I was too caught up in this film - genuinely scared, nervous, excited – to take note of them. If you have the opportunity, and a strong stomach, just go out and see it while you can. (Chicagoans can see Teeth at the Music Box until at least April 12; or you can pre-order the DVD).

Oh, and by the way: Potential Suitors, rest assured. Other than a slightly naîve tendency to follow the rules, Dawn and I have absolutely NOTHING in common.

Semi-Pro ★★★

Among the throngs of moviegoers out there, no doubt there is a faction of Will Ferrell-haters that have already written off Semi-Pro as garbage. Are you one of those people? If so, you might as well stop reading now. Because I swear to you, I am going to try my damnedest to take this movie seriously.

It won't be easy. While I always find some enjoyment in Ferrell's lovable-idiot characters, "seriousness" is rarely (if ever) one of their strong points. Semi-Pro is no exception on either count; this time, the lovable idiot is Jackie Moon, an entrepreneur of sorts who rose to fame and fortune on the heels of a hit song called "Love Me Sexy." It's this absurd (and yes, funny) anthem that greets us as the film opens and we're launched directly into Moon's strange world of afros and wacky, violent basketball.

The film's primary goal seems to be paying homage to the ABA, a basketball league that is responsible for many of the rules and moves we see in the NBA today. Front and center are the Flint Tropics (yes, of Flint, Michigan), a team with few fans and few wins to its name. With these characters in the spotlight, the film plays a bit like a Friar's Club Roast of the legendary league, as Moon tries to raise funds and draw sell-out crowds by performing musical numbers, doing life-or-death stunts, and engaging in fist-fights with opposing teams during games. When the ABA decides to dissolve, leaving only the 4 most successful teams to merge with the NBA, these tactics really get kicked into high gear, and another teammate joins the Tropics. Monix (played by Woody Harrelson) is set up to be the team's savior, which of course leaves the rest of the Tropics' players (especially "Coffee Black", played by André "3000" Benjamin) with kind of a bad taste in their mouths.

Did I mentioned it's the '70s? Well, I needn't have. One look at the set and costumes of Semi-Pro would be enough to make it crystal clear. But in this film, the era is no mere backdrop. The '70s figure as a major character in Semi-Pro, and why not? It's a comedy, and the '70s are a hilarious decade! What with all that crazy hair and synthetic clothing…the filmmakers clearly took this simple fact and ran with it, making the very decade a sort of running gag in the film. They even went so far as to include an entire scene based around the offensiveness of calling someone a "jive turkey." Oddly enough, this scene was one of the highlights of this film, and did absolutely nothing to advance the plot in any way.

Many similar amusing moments are built more on funny concepts, or even funny words, than on actual jokes. One can almost imagine the writers putting silly words in a box and pulling them out to decide what scene would be next. "This will be the…CORNDOG…scene," they might have read. "The next scene will be about...BARF." And so on. Amusing? Yes. Compelling? Hardly.

All of this adds up to what is quite simply an often funny, occasionally groan-inducing, and totally formulaic sports comedy with an underacheiver-twist. Thinking back on the film, the plot seems ridiculously trite, but the clever comedy veterans of the cast (Will Arnett, Andrew Daly, Andy Richter, Rob Corddry, Jason Sudeikis, David Koechner, Kristen Wiig, the list goes on...even Tim Meadows spends a few minutes on screen!) makes the most of a mediocre situation by conjuring up quite a few really amusing moments that make this film ultimately worth catching.

Unless you hate will Ferrell. Or afros. Or short, short, basketball shorts.

Be Kind, Rewind ★★★1/2

If movies were food, dreamer/auteur Michel Gondry (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Science of Sleep) would be the bold, unpredictable gourmet chef whose recipes sound impossible or ridiculous in theory but, once executed, prove to be delectable masterpieces. In this analogy, then, Be Kind Rewind would have to be Gondry's latest dessert. But not just any dessert: this is spun sugar atop a cotton candy soufflé; in short, Gondry's latest film is by far his lightest, and possibly one of the sweetest films I've ever seen. And though "sweetest" or "most endearing" are likely the only superlatives the strange project will earn, that's hardly a total loss.

The film, which stars one of my favorite people (Mos Def), and that love-him-or-hate-him mad elf, Jack Black (is that too harsh? For the record, I really like Jack Black), casts the two as somewhat deranged citizens of a small New Jersey town. When Black becomes magnetized during an attempt to sabotage the local power plant, he erases all the videotapes at the movie-rental store that's being run temporarily by Mos Def's character (his boss and surrogate father, played by Danny Glover, is out of town). When pressed by devoted customers to deliver the tapes they want ASAP, the two are unable to track down VHS copies of pretty much anything, and resort to the next logical solution: remake the films, on demand, one at a time, with their camcorder. They name this process "Sweding," maintaining to customers that the technique has something to to with Sweden.

Like it or not, the fact that the store rents only VHS tapes is one of the most believable elements of the film. The magnetization, while at times hilarious, often feels pretty ham-fisted, forced upon us and Black, and later pulled away, just because it's convenient for the story. Much like the videos being hastily created in the film, many of the scenes in Be Kind have the fingerprints of the production process all over them; as we see the actors seemingly making up their dialogue as they go along, you can almost hear someone in the background shouting "move, move, we've got to get this scene over with!" And as amazing as many of the slapdash remakes are (in real life, Jack Black had never seen at least one of the films they had to reenact!), the faster we are pushed through them, the more gimmicky they become. I found myself wishing that more of the film was spent on showing us the creation of a few remakes; in fact, there is a point where we go from shoot to shoot as the camera pans down the block, and the names of the movies in question appear on the screen.

Despite a lot of attention and advertising surrounding the remaking, or "Sweding" of famous films as a plot point, Be Kind, Rewind wants more to be a movie about small-town folks coming together to support something they care about. Initially, it's the creation of the Sweded films, which the locals go crazy for. Ultimately, though, it's the preservation of their local movie shop and the local legends that are contained within it. And even when prospects look grim, the inherent power of coming together in support of something seems to be enough to sustain them and make a happy ending.

See? I told you it was sweet. While I found a lot of major flaws in this film, the positive spirit it maintains makes it difficult for me to speak ill of it. I would gladly watch it again, in fact, despite my better judgement; after all, who can say no to more dessert?

AS SEEN ON DVD: Hot Rod (2007) ★★★

What is Hot Rod, in a few words? Well, it's a film about Rod, a very ambitious and ridiculously incompetent wannabe stunt-man (Andy Samberg, who seems always to be playing himself) who plans a mega bus jump to raise money to keep his sick step-dad from dying and thus depriving Rod of the ability to best said step-dad in a fight and win his respect. Deep breath. The plot, however, is somewhat inconsequential; to me, Hot Rod seemed like a kind of homoerotic fantasy version of the late eighties and early nineties, only somehow set in the present day. There is a lot of "punch-dancing," a mullet, a Voltron reference, a t-shirt with the word "rad" on it, and a soundtrack based on the music of Europe. The band, not the continent. As if that wasn't bad enough, the anachronism is just one of a whole series of things in the film that seem to happen for no reason at all, like a mysteriously remixed conversation that consists of Rod and his brother, Kevin (longtime Samberg co-conspirator Jorma Taccone), saying "cool beans" to each other.

Does it shock you to know that this absurd film haunts my waking life? You'd better believe it. For days - nay, weeks - after seeing this movie, I just couldn't help bringing it up in conversation. I would catch myself humming "Two of Hearts," secrectly chuckling at the memory of Taccone and Bill Hader dancing like idiots in a parking lot. I'd fantasize about a taco and a grilled cheese sandwich fighting each other, and the next thing you know, I was asking the person next to me if they'd ever seen this ridiculous movie. It's the brain-clinging factor of Hot Rod that ultimately earned it 3 stars instead of, say, 2. While 3 stars of 5 is hardly a winning review, I think it propels this film into the realm of "worth-seeing." And frankly, I don't think you should deprive yourself of this 88-minute practical joke of a film, because the funny will come on slowly, tickling your better judgement until you can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Juno ★★★★1/2

Ah, high school. Is there any time of life more idealized or more heart-wrenching? Any time I happen to enter my old high school, the mere smell of it knocks me over; eerily familiar, it's the smell of a minimum-security prison full of wannabe adults with alarmingly complex crises poisoning their generally simple lives. In a small town, high school smells like a soap opera. In a time and place where the smallest problems caused major waves, a real problem was life-shattering.

That's how I remember things. And I can recall a real problem or two.

Yes, as recently as six years ago, I was a teenager. At the risk of over-simplifying, I'd like to think that Juno captures precisely what has changed since then and what has stayed the same. High school still basically sucks as you struggle to be seen as mature while still being taken care of. Your whole life can still revolve around someone who has no idea how you feel about him. Sex is still really weird, but for coolness' sake, you still have to pretend that it's not. And big problems still happen.

If you don't count the goofy slang (do kids in Minnesota really talk like that?), the differences are subtler. In a world where teen pregnancy has long since emerged from the shadows as a common crisis, the kids in this film try very hard to be "so over it." Rather than having a tearful heart-to-heart about how irresponsible she was, Juno and her best friend have a quick phone debate about which abortion clinic she'll go to. And that's just the first scene! The teenagers in this film are at once jaded and naïve, which affords them a level of complexity that the "Dawson's Creek" gang could only have had a verbose discussion about back when I was in tenth grade.

While Juno has been roundly praised for its honest script, engaging performances, and educated cuteness (deservedly so), one of my favorite things about it is its willingness to avoid the preachiness that typically plagues the teen-pregnancy subject. Instead, it finds a real story that engages a whole other range of characters and topics. In the end, Juno winds up not being about pregnancy at all. It's about love and relationships, selfishness and sacrifice, and finding the courage to abandon the life you planned in favor of the life you're living. Oh, and it's funny, too.

The TV Set ***1/2

(Saw this one recently on DVD)
d. Jake Kasdan

I Want Someone to Eat Cheese With ★★★1/2

d. Jeff Garlin

2 Days In Paris ★★★1/2

d. Julie Delpy

About a month before its Chicago release, I got to hear Julie Delpy talk about her new film. And 2 Days In Paris is "her" film as much as anything could be; she not only wrote, directed, and starred in it, but also edited it, scored it, and sang a song in the closing credits.

Normally I might be dubious of a film so tightly controlled by one person, but the opportunity to hear the auteur speak about it definitely turned me into a believer. Ms. Delpy spoke with a personality both confident and self-deprecating, both intelligent and sweet, while still managing to squeeze in the words "blow job" and "penis" 5 or 6 times.

That personality translates magically, for the most part, into the voice of 2 Days In Paris. The film is both genuine and hysterical, providing a bitingly frank look at the romantic problems of two very independent people. Delpy plays Marion, a somewhat bi-polar French photographer whose neurotic boyfriend, Jack (masterfully depicted by Adam Goldberg), finds something to worry about around every Parisian corner during a two-day stay with her parents in the city of lights. Not surprisingly, the film conjures up images of Woody Allen, but it's Delpy's voice that shines through above all. For my part, I hope that, like Allen, she'll go on to helm enough pictures like this one to create her own little subgenre.

If that does happen, there are one or two requests I'd like to make of Ms. Delpy. Well, just one. There's just this little problem with the narration. Delpy's actual voice, as Marion, hangs like a cloud over this story, always threatening to rain down some extraneous information or rush us through an interesting scene. At one point, she comes in to tell us about her childhood. This aside, while interesting, is never brought up again in the film. And while I firmly believe that old filmmaking rules like "Show, Don't Tell" were made to be broken, such rebelliousness should be reserved for times when a voiceover is actually serving a purpose. Worse yet, in the final minutes of the film a truly critical conversation between its 2 main characters is bewilderingly reduced to a few mere sentences of voiceover explaining what happened. Then we're left with very little else before the closing credits roll. After 90 minutes of gradually coming to sympathize with these two lunatics, I felt like my final moments with them had been snatched away by the very hand that crafted them.

If I shake off those final minutes, Ms. Delpy's film is a fantastic experiment with not real conclusion. With the last few minutes, it's a fantastic experiment with a disappointing conclusion. Either way, 2 Days In Paris is a project whose creator deserves to be commended for introducing her unique voice into the world of cinema. Hopefully, next time – and I do hope for a next time – that voice will be heard even more clearly, and not quite so literally.

Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End ★★1/2

(Originally reviewed May 2007)

I'm afraid the proud and noble heritage of the mighty pirate is beginning to lose it's allure.

When the first installment of what will hopefully remain a Pirates of the Carribbean trilogy was released, it was just in time to capitalize on (and reenergize) the tongue-and-cheek pop mania surrounding the pirate mystique. And it did so with a flair; The Curse of the Black Pearl proved that a movie based on a ride could be a hell of a lot more fun and exciting than the ride itself. The second installment, Dead Man's Chest, saw pirate-fever a little less pervasive, and though visually interesting, it weakly failed to revive our culture's obsession with sea-faring criminals.

And now, here we are, a year later. Pirate mania is, I'm afraid, So Over. When was the last time you longed to sail the seas? Is anybody still telling jokes with "Arrrgh" punchlines? While I know one or two fans who were holding their breaths in anticipation of At World's End, I was mostly just curious to see if it made more sense thanDead Man's Chest. The prognosis?

Negative.

That is to say, on a strictly "making sense" basis, At World's End is the least successful film of the trilogy. The story follows Jack Sparrow and the crew of the Black Pearl between dimensions, to several continents, to the edge of the world, and from one side of the war to save the art of piracy to the other. And back. And forth. And back. Etc. Let me try to lead you through the labyrinth.

The cliffhanger ending of Dead Man's Chest (or Pirates 2 in the vernacular) left our hero Jack dead and his ship's crew, at this point made up of a curious combo of friends and enemies, vowing to hunt him down in the world of the dead. This is what they set out to do for the first act of Chapter 3, and not only because they really, really, miss him. There needs to be a meeting of all the really important pirates of the world, because the government (the British Government in particular) is performing a sort of pirate genocide, and if the Pirate Race doesn't band together as an army, life as they know it will cease to exist. They will be meeting at the edge of the world to discuss the potential end of their world, which explains the film's title, in case you were wondering.

As has been a recurring theme in the trilogy, the pirates' chief problem is that they're a bunch of shady, untrustworthy, double-dealing...pirates. The British government is using this to their advantage in spades, and many a pirate is willing to help the enemy in exchange for a box of booty. Among the potential offenders are Kiera Knightley's Elizabeth, Orlando Bloom's Will Turner, Bill Nighy's super-creepy Davy Jones, new character Captain Sao Feng (Chow Yun-Fat), and good ol' Jack himself (Johnny Depp, of course), among others. No one really knows who to trust as we begin to traverse the seas in search first of the land of the dead, then Jack, then the land of the living, then the other pirate leaders, then the British Army, then Bootstrap Bill Turner, then Davy Jones' heart, then the sea goddess Calypso...I think that might be it. Along the way, these stories intersect in a haphazard kind of way that forces you to try to remember everything that happened in the first two films (something I'm sure many viewers had no trouble with) while simultaneously throwing in entirely new facets of the supernatural.

Like Dead Man's Chest, the film relies a little too heavily on dialogue and jokes that were sensational in the first film. However, it also incorporates a whole host of new elements. Some of these succeed, more or less, like the glimpse of the Chinese pirate scene and the small insights into the history of the international world of piracy (sure, it's FAKE history, but it's still kind of fun). At the top of my list of FAILED changes, though, is the complete absence of Johnny Depp from the first thirty minutes of the film. Without his raucous energy to fuel the disparate crew, the film's opening flounders. When he finally returns from the dead - you knew it was coming - he chastises the group: "Look what happens. I leave you people alone for a few seconds and everything goes to pot." These were precisely my thoughts. With Depp's return, things pick up a bit, especially on the comedy front, but it seems like even he has trouble following the film's manifold plot lines.

So are there any redeeming qualities to this third Pirates installment? Absolutely. If the storyline does some tiring somersaults, the visual gymnastics the movie performs as it goes between places and dimensions are positively invigorating. I already mentioned Chinese pirates, but I didn't bring up the rich detail used to depict their realm. The Black Pearl's trip to the underworld and back, not to mention the sort of limbo-land Jack is stuck in, are beautiful and fascinating. The mindbending (if pointless) vision of a choir of Jack Sparrows talking to each other almost makes up for Elizabeth and Will's swordfight-wedding. And if you thought the makeup on the Flying Dutchman was cool in Pirates 2, you haven't lived until you see Davy Jones temporarily change from his octopussy incarnation into his normal human self and back again in a matter of seconds. Astonishing.

Ultimately, Pirates 3 is worth seeing for its bizarre and inventive visual imagery, but you might want to come up with a game plan. Do you own ear plugs? Have you got some nice headphones for your iPod? If you can come up with a way to block out the dialogue and ignore the plot, you'll probably find the experience a lot more enjoyable. (

I'm afraid the proud and noble heritage of the mighty pirate is beginning to lose it's allure.

When the first installment of what will hopefully remain a Pirates of the Carribbean trilogy was released, it was just in time to capitalize on (and reenergize) the tongue-and-cheek pop mania surrounding the pirate mystique. And it did so with a flair; The Curse of the Black Pearl proved that a movie based on a ride could be a hell of a lot more fun and exciting than the ride itself. The second installment, Dead Man's Chest, saw pirate-fever a little less pervasive, and though visually interesting, it weakly failed to revive our culture's obsession with sea-faring criminals.

And now, here we are, a year later. Pirate mania is, I'm afraid, So Over. When was the last time you longed to sail the seas? Is anybody still telling jokes with "Arrrgh" punchlines? While I know one or two fans who were holding their breaths in anticipation of At World's End, I was mostly just curious to see if it made more sense thanDead Man's Chest. The prognosis?

Negative.

That is to say, on a strictly "making sense" basis, At World's End is the least successful film of the trilogy. The story follows Jack Sparrow and the crew of the Black Pearl between dimensions, to several continents, to the edge of the world, and from one side of the war to save the art of piracy to the other. And back. And forth. And back. Etc. Let me try to lead you through the labyrinth.

The cliffhanger ending of Dead Man's Chest (or Pirates 2 in the vernacular) left our hero Jack dead and his ship's crew, at this point made up of a curious combo of friends and enemies, vowing to hunt him down in the world of the dead. This is what they set out to do for the first act of Chapter 3, and not only because they really, really, miss him. There needs to be a meeting of all the really important pirates of the world, because the government (the British Government in particular) is performing a sort of pirate genocide, and if the Pirate Race doesn't band together as an army, life as they know it will cease to exist. They will be meeting at the edge of the world to discuss the potential end of their world, which explains the film's title, in case you were wondering.

As has been a recurring theme in the trilogy, the pirates' chief problem is that they're a bunch of shady, untrustworthy, double-dealing...pirates. The British government is using this to their advantage in spades, and many a pirate is willing to help the enemy in exchange for a box of booty. Among the potential offenders are Kiera Knightley's Elizabeth, Orlando Bloom's Will Turner, Bill Nighy's super-creepy Davy Jones, new character Captain Sao Feng (Chow Yun-Fat), and good ol' Jack himself (Johnny Depp, of course), among others. No one really knows who to trust as we begin to traverse the seas in search first of the land of the dead, then Jack, then the land of the living, then the other pirate leaders, then the British Army, then Bootstrap Bill Turner, then Davy Jones' heart, then the sea goddess Calypso...I think that might be it. Along the way, these stories intersect in a haphazard kind of way that forces you to try to remember everything that happened in the first two films (something I'm sure many viewers had no trouble with) while simultaneously throwing in entirely new facets of the supernatural.

Like Dead Man's Chest the film relies a little too heavily on dialogue and jokes that were sensational in the first film. However, it also incorporates a whole host of new elements. Some of these succeed, more or less, like the glimpse of the Chinese pirate scene and the small insights into the history of the international world of piracy (sure, it's FAKE history, but it's still kind of fun). At the top of my list of FAILED changes, though, is the complete absence of Johnny Depp from the first thirty minutes of the film. Without his raucous energy to fuel the disparate crew, the film's opening flounders. When he finally returns from the dead - you knew it was coming - he chastises the group: "Look what happens. I leave you people alone for a few seconds and everything goes to pot." These were precisely my thoughts. With Depp's return, things pick up a bit, especially on the comedy front, but it seems like even he has trouble following the film's manifold plot lines.

So are there any redeeming qualities to this third Pirates installment? Absolutely. If the storyline does some tiring somersaults, the visual gymnastics the movie performs as it goes between places and dimensions are positively invigorating. I already mentioned Chinese pirates, but I didn't bring up the rich detail used to depict their realm. The Black Pearl's trip to the underworld and back, not to mention the sort of limbo-land Jack is stuck in, are beautiful and fascinating. The mindbending (if pointless) vision of a choir of Jack Sparrows talking to each other almost makes up for Elizabeth and Will's swordfight-wedding. And if you thought the makeup on the Flying Dutchman was cool in Pirates 2, you haven't lived until you see Davy Jones temporarily change from his octopussy incarnation into his normal human self and back again in a matter of seconds. Astonishing.

Ultimately, Pirates 3 is worth seeing for its bizarre and inventive visual imagery, but you might want to come up with a game plan. Do you own ear plugs? Have you got some nice headphones for your iPod? If you can come up with a way to block out the dialogue and ignore the plot, you'll probably find the experience a lot more enjoyable.

The Valet ★★★

(Originally reviewed Spring 2007)
Francis Verber, I think it's safe to say, is not a fan of wealthy businessmen. While he has written and directed several films in the US and France, I have only seen one other, the hysterically executed The Dinner Game (1998), which focused on a snooty gentleman who brings goofy normal people to "Idiot Dinners" so he and his friends can laugh at them privately. When his proposed idiot guest catches him in the middle of a marital crisis, the goofy average joe proves himself far more noble than the elitist intellectual. In his latest film, the good average guy/evil rich guy dynamic is even more apparent, but to a decidedly lessened comedic effect.

The plot circles around a good-guy valet, a bad-guy executive, and a sexy girlfriend/supermodel of ambiguous merit. Good guy valet François (Gad Elmaleh) is too much of a harmless sap to truly impress the girl he really likes, a sweet/smart bookshop owner who's deeply in debt. Bad-guy executive Pierre (Daniel Auteuil) is trying to keep his wife (Kristin Scott Thomas) from finding out about his long-term affair with supermodel girlfriend Elena (Alice Taglioni), while simultaneously trying to assure the latter that he's going to leave said wife. The lives of all involved collide when a tabloid photographer happens to catch the girlfriend and the executive together. The photo runs on tabloid covers all over France, but our executive swears up and down that it's not what it looks like: the supermodel in the shot is with the unnamed third man in the background. You guessed it. It's our valet, who in actuality was just passing by when the shot was taken.

The next step for Pierre is to have his henchmen hunt down the clueless valet and convince him (not to mention Elena!) that it's in everyone's best interests to play along with this lie, making it look as real as possible. While the benefits of shacking up with a supermodel might seem obvious, the advantages to Elena are certainly dubious. As such, the film goes to a lot of trouble to construct a host of reasonable motivations for all characters involved in the charade to stay involved. Pierre wants to save face, keep his girlfriend, whom he believes he loves, and prevent his wife from divorcing him on grounds of adultery, thus taking half of his assets with her. Elena creates a contract that will require Pierre to pay her a hefty sum if he does NOT leave his wife after the ordeal is through, as a kind of trade for her participation. And François, in addition to becoming the envy of valets everywhere, plans to use the money Pierre is paying him for his cooperation to pay off his true love's debts, so she'll agree to marry him.

Such a tenuous balance of interests and crises provides plenty of genuinely funny predicaments. As the characters attempt to fool the world while simultaneously carrying out their normal lives, they manage to confuse everyone they care about, including each other. While the audience always knows the score, few others in the story are sure where the charade begins and the relationship between valet and supermodel begins.

The Valet's numerous twists and conflicts certainly succeed in creating an experience that is both fun and funny, but the whole package - characters, plot, dialogue - pale in comparison to Verber's Dinner Game. There is never any question as to which characters we are expected to root for and which to despise. The complications that arise from the story's elaborate central lie are less than surprising. My main complaint, however, is that we are constantly asked to laugh at the juxtaposition of beautiful model and ugly valet as if it were the craziest thing in the world. François is constantly played up to be Earth's Ugliest Man, which he is certainly not. In fact, he is so much nobler in character than Elena's real boyfriend that it more than makes up for his mildly unattractive face.

I spent most of The Valet waiting for one of Dinner Game's uproarious combos of killer dialogue and ridiculous-but-believable situation, and doing so left me entertained but ultimately a bit disappointed.

Entertained AND disappointed? Perhaps I was merely expecting too much from the film. At the end of the day, The Valet is an enjoyable movie with plenty of amusing moments, a cast that's having a good time, and an ending that you can feel positive about. If that sounds like tame praise to you, you're exactly right. Watch each of two Verber films I watched, and I think you'll agree: While the first manages to be truly hilarious, this one is content to be merely pleasant. Ça va.