"Kung Fu Panda 2"

Runtime:1 hr. 35 min.

Rated PG for sequences of martial arts action and mild violence

Cast: Jack Black, Angelina Jolie, Dustin Hoffman, Gary Oldman, Jackie Chan

Director: Jennifer Yuh Nelson

Something strange happened here. Sequels aren't supposed to be this good. "Kung Fu Panda 2" is brimming with both confidence and an insatiable need to not be another summer movie retread.

Most sequels aim to recreate. Embrace the familiar. "Panda 2" views itself as more of a stand alone pic and works from the ground up. The original centered around the most unlikely of Kung Fu apprentices... a clumsy panda whose love for martial arts was little match for his perpetual need for whatever provender was within arm's reach. We laughed at his antics until we rooted for his success. Here, the movie must strive harder to make us care for its protagonist more, and the filmmakers demonstrate they're up to the task.

When we first see Po (Jack Black), he is taking a break from his training, betting his fellow warriors on how many wontons he can jam into his mouth at once. (I think it ended up being forty.) He is surrounded by the same team from the first movie... Tigress (Angelina Jolie), Monkey (Jackie Chan), Mantis (Seth Rogen), Viper (Lucy Liu), and Crane (David Cross). Po's next step in his training, as taught by Master Shifu (Dustin Hoffman), is to learn to harness inner peace. This is a tough assignment for Po, as even the slightest drop of rain can distract him. His need for peace, however, intensifies as he begins to experience memories of being abandoned by his parents. The flashes are no more than snippets; he can't quite piece together the truth.

The theme of abandonment spreads to both ends of the story's central conflict, as both the hero and the villain battle strikingly similar inner-demons. The antagonist is the blade-wielding peacock Lord Shen (Gary Oldman) who has come to believe that happiness must be taken rather than felt. After being banned from China years ago, he has now returned to rule, armed with a cannon-like weapon with the power to stamp out the very essence of Kung Fu. The heroes venture out on a mission to stop Shen, even as Po's inability to remember hampers his ability to fight. With the help of a kind soothsayer (Michelle Yeoh), he pieces together his origins.

You can sort of tell early on when a sequel lacks ambition. I never got that feeling here. The look of the film is terrific; the animation rich and textured... this is a movie begging to be seen in glorious and sharp standard 2D. (3D is a disservice to both audiences and the filmmakers.) When showing the memory flashes of both Po and Shen, the film converts to hand-drawn animation, which adds a touch of nuance to the story. The film offers us a few impressive action scenes as well, including a breakneck rickshaw chase along the rickety catwalks high above the city, and a virtuoso sequence where the heroes catapult themselves up a tower one floor at a time as the structure itself comes crashing down.

Empathy and action embody a more prominent role here than the humor, yet the film does contain its share of zingers. In a somewhat refreshing twist, the laughs come from dauntless exuberance rather than pointed mockery. (My favorite moment came as Po and his team all leap to attack the enemy. Po glances to both sides, sees his comrades frozen in a display of unbridled courage set against a starry, firework-decorated sky, then unleashes a low-pitched, drawn out, guttural "I lllooooovvvvveee yyooouu guuyyyyys!")

The director is Jennifer Yuh. The screenplay is by Jonathan Aibel and Glenn Berger. They, along with a vast assortment of gifted animators have created what turned out to be more than a mere pleasant distraction from day-to-day life. It made me grateful. Here is a movie that could have simply sat back, re-told the original plot and made tons of money. Profits are a given, yet the filmmakers wanted to give us more. They wanted us to care. The end result is a movie that is fast-paced, funny, adventurous, and surprisingly heartfelt. It all leads to the movie's final shot; one that crystallizes its own confidence. I'm already looking forward to "Panda 3."

* * * 1/2  out of  * * * * stars

"The Hangover: Part 2"

Runtime:1 hr. 42 min.

Rated R for pervasive language, strong sexual content including graphic nudity, drug use and brief violent images

Cast: Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms, Zach Galifianakis, Justin Bartha, Ken Jeong, Paul Giamatti, Mike Tyson, Jeffrey Tambor, Mason Lee, Jamie Chung, Sasha Barrese, Gillian Vigman, Aroon Seeboonruang, Nirut Sirichanya

Director: Todd Phillips

There's nothing really awful about "The Hangover: Part 2" as long as you can get around the fact that there's nothing really fresh about it, either. I expect the target demographic will have no trouble whatsoever overcoming that hurdle.

The goal here is clear: bring together the original cast, same director, use the basic premise of the first movie, alter the setting, work in the memorable bit players from the original, incorporate some new jokes, push the comic boundaries a little further and presto!  It's not art, but it'll rake in some bucks.

In a nutshell, this sequel is to the original "Hangover" what "Ocean's Twelve" and "Ocean's Thirteen" were to "Ocean's Eleven." Just stay tried and true to a formula familiar to your target audience, toss in a few modifications here and there, and keep the pace up. As expected, the film lacks the freshness of the original, which housed a rising tide of comic madness that carried us along as we wondered just how loony the revelations would get. This time, the bar has been set. The movie has a running-to-catch-up-to-the-expectations feel, but does contain a few funny bits. It all culminates with the collection of photos that accompany the end credits, which have become the staple mark for these movies.

The setting has changed from Las Vegas to Bangkok, Thailand. The wedding of Stu (Ed Helms) to Lauren (Jamie Chung) is to the chagrin of his soon-to-be father-in-law. Stu wants no shenanigans like what went down in Vegas, so much so that the only bachelor party he allows himself cannot exceed the confines of an IHOP. ("See that? That's a glass of orange juice with a napkin on top. You know why the napkin is on top? So no one can roofie me.")

Stu needs this wedding to be perfect. He has invited his friends Phil (Bradley Cooper) and Doug (Justin Bartha) and, after a little bit of convincing, he reluctantly offers Alan (Zach Galifianakis) a plane ticket as well. Alan promises no hallucinogen-induced hijinks this time around, and even memorizes a series of "fun facts" about Thailand, though never quite masters the pronunciation of the country's name. The night before the big day, the gang gathers down at the beach for a seemingly harmless round of beers, accompanied by the bride's seventeen-year-old brother, Teddy (Mason Lee). The next morning, the boys find themselves in a sleazy Bangkok hotel in complete hangover mode. Teddy is missing, and the wedding is hours away.

The discoveries run the gamut of lunacy, including facial tattoos, shaved heads, a missing finger, a kidnapped monk, and a Marlboro monkey who looks unusually comfortable taking a drag. Some comic excavations evoke laughter, such as another tryst between Stu and a prostitute with slightly higher stakes, while other bits embody the puzzling, as when Alan meditates at a monastery and sees all the transpiring events but with kids in the main roles... the effect is more weird than funny.

Bradley Cooper plays Phil as a party coordinator who approaches binge-drinking antics the way a no-huddle quarterback handles an offense; he's just as resourceful getting the gang out of trouble as into it. Reprising his role as a self-described "stay-at-home-son," Zach Galifianakis meshes guilelessness, puerility and self-indulgence into its own art form. Ed Helms walks the line between sanity and catatonia upon some pretty embarrassing revelations. (After one such discovery, his words take the form of quasi-enunciations through a protracted groan.) The irrepressible Chow (Ken Jeong) is kneaded back into the plot, and Paul Giamatti has a small role as a mysterious crime boss in anticipation of a monetary transaction.

I don't know. "The Hangover: Part 2" gets laughs, but bends way over in the process.  Director Todd Phillips and his writing team had to push the boundaries of taste to unprecedented levels to achieve passable comic effectiveness; this is about as far as they can go.  At the absolute minimum, it should satisfy fans of the first one. And then there are those end credit pics.

* * 1/2 out of  * * * *  stars

"Vanishing on 7th Street" (DVD)

Runtime:1 hr. 33 min.

Rated R for language

Cast: Hayden Christensen, John Leguizamo, Thandie Newton, Jacob Latimore

Director: Brad Anderson

"Vanishing on 7th Street" is a competently-directed supernatural thriller launched by an intriguing premise that ends up one crucial explanation short of being a good movie.  The film's knack for tantalizing a viewer with unsettling possibility is both its blessing and its curse.

I realize that demanding an explanation in a science-fiction thriller can come off as unforgivably indolent, but when a movie spends a good ninety minutes pondering a multitude of potential explanations regarding the strange disappearances that have permeated downtown Detroit and never offers up its own theory as to the cause, the viewer is given little to nothing to consider.  There is a great deal of technical skill on display here.  A lot has been brought to the table.  The caveat, however, is that all that potential rests at the mercy of the filmmakers' ability to follow through.  Screenwriter Anthony Jaswinski ended up blowing his no-hitter in the bottom of the ninth.

I suspect the open-endedness at the film's conclusion was intended.  The movie seems to want to invite discussion as to what is really transpiring.  The thing about inviting debate, however, is that you need to divulge some sort of statement or theory that ignites the discourse.  Here we're given all manner of half-baked guesses as imparted by the characters.  The movie's atmosphere is choked with a profusion of possibility.  But instead of disclosing its own belief in the supernatural root cause, the film provides a deus ex machina ending of sorts, then the whole thing starts up again.

Am I being unfair?  I might be.  I realize the compendium of short story literature is inundated with tales that do require reader interpretation to fill out their respective meanings, and that some short films would perfectly embody the frame of a Twilight Zone episode.  This type of story could easily fit that bill.  As a B-grade thriller, the movie more or less works.  But what fueled my disappointment, I think, is that the film spends a seemingly vast amount of time offering up intriguing possibilities, then ducks out at the eleventh hour.  This is a movie that wants to be perceived as bold, but lacks the requisite boldness.

The story taps into the primal fear of the dark.  In this case, a wave of intermittent blackouts has sized Detroit.  These are no ordinary losses of power, though.  In a matter of seconds, menacingly-shaped shadows emerge from the blackness to snatch up anyone resting unguarded in the dark, leaving only their clothes lying in a bundle atop the ground.  Our first thought, of course, is the Rapture.  That's one possible explanation imparted by the movie.  There are others, too.  Both scientific and otherworldly.  The movie also makes historical reference to Roanoke Island, and even the mysterious word croatoan makes an appearance.

Within a span of 72 hours, there is no longer sunlight.  Or power.  What keeps the shadows away from the small band of survivors is an aversion to any kind of light source.  Holed up in a bar powered by a backup generator are Luke (Hayden Christensen), a television news reporter who recently relocated.  Rosemary (Thandie Newton), a newly-clean-and-sober mother of a missing infant with relatively strong religious convictions.  Also, a regretful romantic named Paul (John Leguizamo) who works as a film projectionist, and James (Jacob Latimore), an armed young boy who puts up a tough exterior, yet refuses to shoot anyone lest he be the only one left in the dark.  Each character brings their own "interpretation" of what might be occurring.  (Rosemary with The Rapture, Paul with the historical references, Luke with the otherworldly possibilities.)  In a way, the cast of characters almost seems too utilitarian for their own good.  The plot leans on them for explanation more than they lean on each other for survival.

Despite my disappointment, the movie is a close call.  Director Brad Anderson ("The Machinist," "Transsiberian") employs a slew of nifty filmmaking techniques to convey the ubiquitousness of the danger while continuously feeding our interest in the event's origins.  (The movie is more fascinating than scary.  I don't mind that.)  But it falls short due to a lack of nerve.

It walks its own self-imposed tightrope, and the irony is that tumbling to either side would have been a step up.  Either cut it down to a film short, or follow through on any one of the intriguing explanations brought to light.  Yeah, I get that the movie wants us to ponder the events.  But pondering a concept is one thing.  Trying to second-guess the intent of the screenwriter is something else.  It's not really a bad movie, and does contain a lot of potential avenues of intrigue.  It just makes the unfortunate decision to not follow through on any.

* * 1/2  out of  * * * *  stars

"The Beaver"

Runtime:1 hr. 31 min.

PG-13 for some disturbing content, language, mature thematic material, sexuality and a drug reference

Cast: Mel Gibson, Jodie Foster, Anton Yelchin, Jennifer Lawrence, Cherry Jones, Riley Thomas Stewart

Director: Jodie Foster

Jodie Foster's "The Beaver" lingers uncomfortably somewhere between insanity, despair, and resignation. To hear the film described by some as a comedy stirs me into bewilderment. This is one of the more melancholic viewing experiences I've had lately.

Don't get me wrong... it's not a bad movie. Actually, it's pretty well-made; written and directed with admirable skill and acted with superlative skill. Matching the film's competency, however, is the potential for viewer inaccessibility to the source material. This had to have been a hard movie to make. It's an even harder movie to connect with on an emotional level.

Kyle Killen's screenplay bounced around Hollywood for years, with a multitude of directors and actors attached to the project at various points. Jodie Foster ended up at the helm and Mel Gibson in the lead. Gibson is a good, solid choice for the chronically depressed Walter Black. Playing a man who speaks solely through a puppet nestled on the end of his left arm without slipping into compulsory comic schtick is no easy task. Through Gibson's performance, we never lose sight of the fact that this is a man floating in a sea of mental illness, seeking whatever beacon might be out there.

We're told at the outset via voice-over narration that Walter has been despondent for years. Depression is a formidably familiar entity slithering through his familial lineage. It took the life of his father, and already seems to be making an imprint on his son, Porter (Anton Yelchin), who spends his free time decorating his bedroom wall with post-it notes identifying the very qualities in his father he wishes to avoid, and literally beating his head against the wall.

Walter's wife, Meredith (Jodie Foster) is an engineer who designs roller coasters for a living. She spends her work hours conjuring up methods to launch stationary riders into a flexuous frenzy of mind-bending, wind-whipping madness while attempting the opposite at home. She has struggled to maintain a sense of sanity in the house, but her patience has waved the white flag. She asks him to leave.

While out one night, Walter comes across a tattered beaver puppet in a dumpster. He retrieves it, brings it to some semblance of life with an Australian accent, and soon finds he's better able to communicate with his family and colleagues. His youngest son (Riley Thomas Stewart) is won over, and Meredith is convinced just enough to allow Walter back, but remains skeptical of this attempt at social connection. Porter is nowhere near convinced, and retreats to his own budding relationship with his high school's lovely valedictorian, Norah (Jennifer Lawrence) whose insecurity has propelled her to ask Porter to write her graduation speech for her.

The film is essentially an examination into the relationships as Walter's loved ones struggle to reach him. They see a man inching closer to normal... except that a puppet is doing the legwork. Gibson's performance is crucial. He doesn't play anything for pure laughs, but instead makes Walter into a representation of the charming man he most likely was before depression struck. The catch is, he can only do this with the beaver in tow. What's more maddening to his wife? A completely despondent husband? Or a tantalizingly-close-to-happy one with an unavoidable caveat that manages to keep him at a perpetual arm's length away from true emotional fulfillment?

The movie also gives Porter a healthy dose of attention as he struggles to evade a possible mental state he knows could be lurking. His relationship with Norah is often sweet, but also fraught with possible ulterior motives. At one point, he blindsides her in an effort to get her to open up about an event in her past, and we start to wonder about his intentions. Does he truly want to connect? Or is he seeking proof that even "perfect" people can hide dysfunction? Probably both.

The film is intriguing, but not completely fulfilling. Perhaps that's a given from the outset. It mistakenly attempts to force a happy conclusion (including a voice-over sentiment during the last shot that I don't believe to be actually true). It should have ended one scene earlier, where characters reach various levels of understanding and acceptance in lieu of happy endings. This isn't warm and fuzzy material here. Some viewers will be put off. Still, I recommend it because it's intriguing. Because it's demanding. Because it's bold enough to focus on a relationship between a man and a puppet, and challenges us to contemplate the nature of that relationship and all that it affects.

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides"

Runtime:2 hr. 21 min.

Rated PG-13 for intense sequences of action/adventure violence, some frightening images, sensuality and innuendo

Cast: Johnny Depp, Penelope Cruz, Geoffrey Rush, Ian McShane, Kevin McNally, Sam Clafiin, Astid Berges-Frisbey

Director: Rob Marshall

It was bound to come to this.

When you dip into an oasis of imagination that has by now been siphoned into creative aridity, at some point the end result will come up stagnant and worn.

I'm not really surprised at my lukewarm reaction to this fourth installment in the "Pirates of the Caribbean" franchise; I'm more astounded that boredom didn't set in during the second or third films in the series.  That the movie is watchable amounts to little.  C-SPAN 2 is watchable, but I'd stop markedly short of calling it riveting.

The goal this time around is the Fountain of Youth.  Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) is in possession of a map, but has been taken into custody by the British high command.  He escapes, finds himself in the company of a former flame, the sexy spitfire Angelica (Penelope Cruz).  They share a common goal, but for different reasons... Angelica needs the Fountain for her father, Blackbeard (Ian McShane), the pirate all pirates fear.  He has been burdened by a prophecy that he will meet his demise at the hand of a one-legged assailant.  As for Jack... actually, I don't recall a specific reason for Sparrow's inclination to locate the Fountain.  Curiosity, I suppose.

Angelica needs Jack's help, yet Sparrow wants no part of Blackbeard.  He is tricked by his former lover, captured and made to perform menial tasks aboard Blackbeard's profusely cursed vessel of bloodlust, replete with blood-soaked sails and an intricate pulley-system that can be controlled with a thrust of the vile pirate's own sword.  Also returning to the mix is Captain Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush), now in the employment of the British fleet.  He is dispatched to locate the Fountain as well, but has his own agenda... to exact revenge on Blackbeard after the theft of his most prized possession, the beloved Black Pearl.

While I enjoyed the first three films, none were distinguishably brilliant.  (When one of them finds its way to network television, I often find I have to watch for a good hour before I figure out which one it is.)  Yet each had its own brush with gleeful narrative creativity.  I liked the scene in "At World's End" where Jack cunningly tricks his shipmates into racing back and forth across the ship's deck, thereby rocking the boat to the point where it capsizes... pitchpolling the crew into a whole new dimension.  Touches like that are missing from this movie, although it does try to add new artistry to the adventure; things like a tantalizing school of seductive yet deadly mermaids.  Somehow, though, the effect isn't quite the same.  The endearing flamboyancy inherent in the first three is vacant here.  Even the Fountain itself did little to quench my thirst for arresting visual imagery.

It doesn't help that the movie tries putting Jack Sparrow into the straight man role.  He's not a straight man persona, and the film suffers for it.  As bland as Orlando Bloom's Will Turner occasionally came off in the earlier films, the roles of Turner and Keira Knightley's Elizabeth Swan were crucial to their success.  The story needed a centerpiece around which the idiosyncratic personalities and bizarre plot developments could linger.  The joy in watching Johnny Depp's performances was in wondering what he would do or say next.  Forcing us to identify him as the protagonist that holds the film's center drains him of his most endearing quirks, though the movie does bestow upon him the occasional funny line.  (When agreeing with a clergyman's plea for mercy, he proudly states "I support the missionary's position!")

The most egregious blunder, however, would have to be the misuse of Penelope Cruz.  One thing I counted on was an engrossing array of sexual verbal swordplay between Cruz and Depp, yet they share a small handful of scenes and their dialogue serves only to impart details of the plot.  How can you cast someone as sexy and funny and seductive as Penelope Cruz in the role of a fiery swashbuckler and not allow her the freedom to put her sultriest foot forward?  Yes, there is the occasional humorous line ("Why is it we can never meet without you pointing something at me?") and a nice verbal exchange near the film's end, but it's a little too little and way too late.

It's interesting, I suppose, that the series has come to a full-circle of sorts.  The first movie was created, quite remarkably, from a theme park ride.  Now it seems the studio is engineering these films back into familiar theme park rides for the audience.  With a competent enough screenplay and skilled direction, these movies can continue to be watchable.  Passable.  Certainly profitable.  Just not terribly interesting.  Not anymore.

* *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Everything Must Go"

Runtime:1 hr. 36 min.

Rated R for some sexual content and language

Cast: Will Ferrell, Christopher Jordan Wallace, Rebecca Hall, Michael Pena, Rosalie Michaels, Stephen Root, Laura Dern, Glenn Howerton

Director: Dan Rush

Nick Halsey is an alcoholic, and in a bad place.  Okay, maybe not Nicolas-Cage-in-Leaving-Las-Vegas bad, but he's a ways down the crevasse.  After being downsized from his job as a top-level sales representative, helped in considerable measure by his occasional liquor-fueled antics, he arrives at his suburban Arizona home to discover his wife gone, the locks changed, all his belongings left on the front lawn, and a vitriol-rich letter from his exasperated spouse demanding the cessation of their marriage. 

That's not all.  She also froze their joint bank accounts, literally leaving Nick with nothing to live on but the remaining cash in his wallet and the chattels decorating the yard of his former abode.  At first, this seems unusually cruel.  Until we learn his wife is a recovering alcoholic herself, and her actions are the result of painful yet necessary tough love.  So how will Nick respond?  Rehab?  Nope.  He ventures to the local store, purchases a six-pack with his remaining bills, ensconces himself in his BarcaLounger beneath a tree, and makes the most of the situation.  This guy would have hit rock bottom by now if only he could find it.

Nick is played by Will Ferrell, whose meteoric rise from SNL comedian to A-list movie star was interrupted by the gravitational box office disaster "Land of the Lost."  In "Everything Must Go," Ferrell proves that a film needn't be tailored to a particular style comfortable to him.  The movie is not a comedy.  Its narrative landscape is dotted with a few humorous moments, but the film is more an examination of a desperate soul somehow not cognizant of his own desperation.

Ferrell plays Nick as a hollow shadow of a once fluidly charming man.  We see glimpses of that charm from time to time, enough that, while we understand the exasperated actions of his wife, we root for Nick to find the road back toward the emotionally-fulfilled man that temporarily vacated his being.  With a face and demeanor that denotes one life shit-kicking too many, Ferrell embodies the role quite well.

With nowhere to go, Nick is granted a favor from a friend on the police force, an officer named Garcia (Michael Pena) who was also Nick's sponsor, although admittedly not a very good one.  Garcia obtains a permit for Nick to unload his belongings via a yard sale.  Nick is befriended by a curious, likable, heavy-set African-American boy (Christopher Jordan Wallace) willing to help sell in return for baseball lessons.  There is also a new tenant on the block... a kind-hearted, pregnant housewife named Samantha (Rebecca Hall) who reaches out to him, probably to combat her own growing emotional angst over an absent husband.

Samantha's attempts at consoling Nick are accepted to a degree, but also met with a lazy resignation.  She suggests he get help.  "I've tried help," is Nick's cryptically vague response.  He points out his own knack for seeing the pain in others, and justifies his current existence with the most indolent of observations... "Everybody's life is a wreck.  The only difference between me and everyone else is that I no longer have walls to hide behind."  To him, this may sound profound, yet he doesn't realize that detecting the pain in others is not a gift, and it speaks volumes when your own emotional state is the result of socio-philosophical lowballing.

Nick does uncover flickering signs of hope beckoning him out of his dilapidation, including a high school yearbook.  He peruses it, comes across a kind message written by a girl he doesn't remember all that well.  Her name is Delilah (Laura Dern).  He tracks her down.  Her response to him is interesting.  She instantly sizes up his reasons for locating her.  (If you show up on the doorstep of an old friend with a high school yearbook nestled in your armpit, either you're the star of a bizarre new reality show or your life has taken a dreadful turn.)  She understands his situation, and offers him moments of kindness but no emotional indulgence.  She's too stable for that.  A survivor of her own travails, the most powerful aspect of her compassion is that it's measured.  True salvation can only come from within.  She provides him not with a shoulder upon which to cry, but with a seed upon which to grow again.

Writer/director Dan Rush has crafted a story that siphons itself through a marsh of unsettling realities toward an understanding that while rock bottom is an omnipresent possibility, it comes with the truth that once all the muck and residue of hardship is washed away, the sole being will emerge and the possibility of re-growth with it.  All is never truly lost.

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Cave of Forgotten Dreams"

Runtime:1 hr. 29 min.

Rated G

Cast: Werner Herzog, Dominique Baffier, Jean Clottes, Jean-Michael Geneste, Carole Fritz, Gilles Tosello,   Michel Philippe, Julien Monney, Wulf Hein, Nicholas Conard, Maria Malina, Maurice Maurin

Director: Werner Herzog

The Chaveaut Cave nestled in Southern France gives director Werner Herzog yet another cinematic treasure trove at which the endearingly awestruck filmmaker can point his lens of adoration.  In 1994, a trio of explorers embarked on an expedition which resulted in the discovery of a cavern housing a miraculous exhibition of cave drawings that, thanks to a serendipitous landslide many millennia ago, became preserved in their original state, awaiting to be uncovered.  The drawings date back some 30,000 years.

The culture ministry has gone to painstaking lengths in maintaining the integrity of the site, sealing it off, guarding it like a bank vault, only allowing guards--two at a time--into the site.  Herzog obtained permission to gain access to the discovery.  Accompanied by a small film crew armed with a limited collection of equipment and a tight group of brilliant scientific minds, Herzog ventured into the cavern.  The result is "Cave of Forgotten Dreams."

Herzog's movies are both wise and hopeful... a trickier combination than it seems.  He serves as narrator here, and imparts a few details of their journey, but doesn't spend a lot of time on them.  This is more about the discovery itself.  A healthy chunk of the movie consists of extended shots--set to an aching instrumental score--that patiently linger over various parts of the sweeping artistic display.  To further crystallize the effect, the filmmakers light the walls using only a torch (as could only have been done at the time of the drawings' inception), and we're able to bear witness to the artwork almost coming to life, aided by flickering light and evocative shadows created by the illumination.  The effect is breathtaking.

Intercut with such shots are various interpretations from scientists who had the opportunity to study the artwork.  Herzog seems intrigued not only by those interpretations, but by the joy the scientists take in the opportunity to ponder such queries.  At one point, as an archaeologist interprets one aspect of the discovery, he mentions that he didn't get into science until later in life.  Herzog stops him.  "What did you do before?  As a career?" he asks.  The man hems, haws, chuckles.  "I used to perform.  In a circus."  I'm not exactly sure why Herzog chose to keep that exchange in the film's final cut.  Maybe because too often scientists are labeled as mere curmudgeons whose insistence on evidence over faith renders them devoid of hopeful jouissance.  The opposite is true.  Herzog adores innocence.  He embraces it in himself, and seeks it out in those who grace the front of his camera.

Yet Herzog only allows the interpretations to go so far.  The film's final half-hour is noticeably free of such scientific elucidation.  Instead we're treated to another score-accompanied montage of cave painting imagery to hauntingly pervading effect.  Herzog understands that too much commentary can rob his audience of the joy in their own contemplation.  The director's wisdom is evident in his restraint.  (The most powerful scene in Herzog's previous film "Grizzly Man" involved a retrieved audio recording that captured wildlife activist Timothy Treadwell and his girlfriend Amie Huguenard being literally ripped apart in a wild bear attack.  He doesn't play the tape for his audience.  Instead, we see him listening to it, then switching it off, turning to Treadwell's next of kin and advising, "I think you should destroy this tape immediately.")

Here, Herzog imparts only measured doses of explication regarding the discovery; just enough to whet our interest.  He then allows his camera to do the work, offering us the simple pleasure of experience coupled with our own contemplation and imagination.  While most movies try to hammer home a point (or accrue a monetary profit), Herzog's approach is refreshingly radical.  He wishes to present those who enter the theatre with a gift of film.  I love that.

My favorite observation is made by a scientist who humbly rejects the labeling of human beings as homo sapiens, from the Latin origin literally meaning "wise man."  He points out that wisdom is not inherent.  The drawings are a joyous reminder that humans feel, survive, thrive.  We love, fear, cry, hurt, become angry.  We are forever entwined with all living things, in an ethereal bond with nature that extends beyond any expanse of time.  In short, we are homo spiritualists, beings that are willing and able to summon any resource to make the loneliness bearable.

And so we are.

* * * 1/2  out of  * * * *  stars

"Priest"

Runtime:1 hr. 27 min.

Rated PG-13 for intense sequences of violence and action, disturbing images and brief strong language

Cast: Paul Bettany, Karl Urban, Cam Gigandet, Maggie Q, Lily Collins

Director: Scott Stewart

So I'm sitting there during the end credits of "Priest," as I do at all screenings, and began making mental notes of the character names.  It came as little surprise that the brooding main character would be listed only as Priest, as melancholic heroes in these types of graphic novel adaptations are often imbued with commonplace monikers.  I also understood why Karl Urban's villainous vampire would be listed only as Black Hat, even though it seems the main reason his character sported such headgear in the first place was so the movie would have some identifier for him in the end credits.  And I nodded with acceptance as Maggie Q's character name scrolled up the screen listed as Priestess, although I'm starting to chuckle at this point.

Then it gets to three small but important roles in the movie... a trio of clergymen who participated in the supposed eradication of vampires and have now been dispatched to hunt down the hero.  They were listed as Bold Priest, Brave Priest, and Courageous Priest.  I shudder to think how long it took to cast those roles.  That's seriously the best they could do to distinguish between those characters?

Yeah, I know... stop nitpicking.  I'm not trying to be mean.  I genuinely do want to find something good in every film I see.  And let's give absurd movies their due... as much fun as it was to dissect the ludicrous chase details in "Fast Five," at least that film kept me engaged enough to pick up on its gleeful silliness.  Trying to drum up self-interest in "Priest," on the other hand, is like sitting in a restaurant, starving, and trying to summon the attention of a waiter intent on ignoring you.

The above credit reference is not a big hurdle to overcome when evaluating a film, but it does draw attention toward my problem with the movie... it's not a very solid effort.  "Priest" is the kind of film that wants you to think more imagination has gone into it than actually has.  The premise is too derivative to be inspired, the story is flat, the characters are uninteresting, the action scenes are rushed, indistinct, and haphazardly put together.  Very little has been brought to the table.

Oh, wait... I kind of take that back.  The movie boasts yet another post-apocalyptic world of sorts, although this time mankind has been virtually wiped out due to the unremitting war between humans and vampires.  The look of the film isn't bad, but that's minor consolation when there is so little to care about.  The one action sequence that does resonate is at the end, as the heroes attempt to derail a vampire-filled train headed for civilization.  It's a competent chase that is unfortunately a little too reminiscent of the kind of action George Miller did a lot better decades ago in the "Mad Max" series.

Who knows, maybe the graphic novel series by Min-Woo Hyung upon which the film is based offers something infinitely more interesting.  I have not read it, and have no plans to.  I've stated before I'm nowhere near an aficionado of such material.  I'll cop to that, but I won't apologize for it.  Bottom line... a filmmaker needs to at least make an attempt to connect with the audience, even if some members (gasp!) may not be familiar with the source material.  It feels here like no effort was put into igniting viewer interest.  The movie seems to die up on the screen.

The plot, such as it is, involves a warrior Priest (Paul Bettany) who has broken a vow to not engage in combat upon learning vampires attacked his family.  This enrages Monsignor Orelas (Christopher Plummer) who sends out a group of pugilistic clergy to hunt him down.  Priest reconnects with a fellow spiritual warrior (Maggie Q) and an outpost sheriff (Cam Gigandet) to rescue Priest's plucky niece, Lucy (Lily Collins) from the clutches of Black Hat (Karl Urban).

I know there is a graphic novel fan base somewhere I'm offending with these words, but I just didn't connect with anything here.  Paul Bettany continues to be a fascinating actor, but seems to have the Nicolas Cage affliction of choosing the occasional silly script.  The cast does what it can to elevate subpar material, but to little avail.  It's not a hateful movie, just flat.  Added to which, it has one of those Dear-God-could-there-be-a-sequel-here open endings.  Here's a smidgen of subjective, highly-opinionated advice for the filmmakers... take a moment before you decide to embark on a sequel.

Pray on it.

* 1/2  out of  * * * *  stars

"Bridesmaids"

Runtime:2 hr. 5 min.

Rated R for some strong sexuality, and language throughout

Cast: Kristen Wiig, Maya Rudolph, Rose Byrne, Melissa McCarthy, Wendi McLendon-Covey, Ellie Kemper

Director: Paul Feig

Kristen Wiig is the key.  In the comedy "Bridesmaids," she doesn't merely hold the center of the film.  Her performance is a high-wire balancing act stretching over an abyss of potential doom.  If she tilts too far in either direction, the whole movie comes tumbling down.

Wiig plays Annie Walker, a character so seemingly defeated by life that she has come to relish the idea of not being "rescued" into a state of happiness.  After a failed bakery business attempt, she now coasts through life working at a jewelry store, engaging in a sex-rich, joy-depleted affair with a handsome but clueless lout (Jon Hamm), and imparting dirty, funny little details of said romp with her childhood best friend, Lillian (Maya Rudolph).  It's when Lillian announces her engagement does Annie's situation pivot from sad to pitiful.  The only thing worse than misery is misery minus the company.

A character like Annie can easily come off as detestable to a viewer, yet Wiig somehow, quite remarkably, makes her engaging enough to hold our interest even as she careens toward a state of social rock bottom.  Most movie heroines are genuinely nice people caught up in a whirlwind of external impediments to happiness.  While there are certainly a fair share of external forces that contribute to Annie's mounting angst, she is her own worst enemy... a fact pointed out to her by a kind state patrol officer (Chris O'Dowd) who she's very attracted to but cannot bring herself to experience the contentment of a healthy relationship.

The story is awash in a sea of raunchy humor, which the film wastes no time in displaying.  The movie opens in the midst of an ornate exhibition of sexual horseplay between Annie and the aforementioned lout, concluding with his unapologetic hint that she exit his abode.  ("This is really awkward.  I mean, I want you to leave, but I don't know how to say it in a way that doesn't make me sound like a dick.")

From there, she meets up with Lillian to crack wise about the depravity inherent in such a relationship, complete with her own full-bodied imitation of a phallus, eager and ready for action.  The frank sexual wordplay between the best friends serves two purposes... one, for obvious comic effect, but it's also a kind of common ground.  Annie senses a similar dissatisfaction felt by her best friend, and finding humor in the emotionally unfulfilled brings the two together.  That is, until Lillian announces she's getting married.  Uh-oh.  Bringing any form of romantic idealism into the mix alters the nature of their relationship.

Annie forces a happy face as she meets Lillian's new friends accrued from the upcoming nuptials, most notably the bridal party.  An eclectic mix, including a young newlywed (Ellie Kemper) eager to start a family, an old high school friend (Wendi McLendon-Covey) equally eager to lament over the fact that her three boys are of that age and becoming increasingly uncontrollable.  ("They're rude, obnoxious, and there's semen everywhere," she bemoans.  "Last week I actually cracked a blanket in half.")  Also included is the groom's heavy-set yet supremely confident sister (Melissa McCarthy) who possesses a knack for expressing unedited thoughts.  And there's Helen (Rose Byrne), Lillian's wealthy, snobbish new confidant and Annie's new archenemy, as she's able to plan the kind of bridal shower Annie herself cannot.  (Helen's planning is ridiculously lavish, replete with puppies being given away as party favors.)

The screenplay by Wiig and Annie Mumolo isn't merely a clothesline upon which jokes are hung, but a comic observation of a woman inching closer to the bottom of the social barrel.  Wiig must walk a tightrope here... if she's too serious in her portrayal, the movie will lose its comic edge.  Yet she can't be too tongue-in-cheek funny either, as that could diminish the viewer's interest in her plight.  Even the rowdiest comedies need someone to sympathize with.  Under the confident direction of tv veteran Paul Feig ("The Office," "Nurse Jackie"), Wiig masterfully navigates a role much more challenging than it appears.

The film may be a tad too long, and the humor might not be for everyone.  (One scene has a character actually defecating on a city street, the gruesome details shielded by the expanse of wedding dress.)  But evoking humor and sympathy are two of the more challenging aspects of filmmaking, and a movie that successfully elicits both is a cinematic rarity... one that I appreciate.

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Jumping the Broom"

Runtime:1 hr. 48 min.

Rated PG-13 for some sexual content

Cast: Angela Bassett, Paula Patton, Laz Alonso, Loretta Devine, Tasha Smith

Director: Salim Akil

Movies that take place solely within the span of the preparation / ceremony / reception of a wedding are becoming a genre in themselves.  "Jumping the Broom" is the latest entry into this genre and while it doesn't rank as the best, it does manage to hold its own. 

Sure, it indulges a few cliches here and there, and does rely on the occasional clunky narrative technique of having a character stumble into the exact right place to hear a crucial conversation containing information that will have to be imparted later in the story.  But while a film like "Something Borrowed" feels weighed down by such contrivances, "Broom" finds a way to rise above them, thanks mainly to some sharp lead performances that are both funny and layered.

The story opens in strict fairy tale mode, with a Meet Cute between the previously crestfallen Sabrina Watson (Paula Patton) who repeatedly berates herself for "giving up the cookies" to a man not worthy of her affections, and successful businessman Jason Taylor (Laz Alonso) who grew up in Brooklyn but whose job has taken him into the echelons of Manhattan.  While distracted, she bumps into him with her car, knocks him to the pavement.  Fate's hand at work, they fall in love.  Cut to "five incredible months later" (as a title graphic tell us), where their whirlwind romance leads to a proposal.  Are they rushing into this?  Nah, it's just too perfect.

We know what follows will run counter to the seemingly nonpareil romance depicted early on.  The story mostly takes place in Martha's Vineyard, which will serve as the backdrop for the upcoming nuptials.  As with any wedding, there are eclectic personalities galore.  Yet the biggest potential hurdle could be the origins of the families themselves.  The two matriarchs have not met. 

Jason's mother, Pam (Loretta Devine) adores her son, yet makes no effort to shield her disgust at the prospect of him marrying someone bred from perceived lucre.  Of course, she has no reason to suspect the family's fortune was gained in a dishonorable way, but having an estate on the Vineyard already puts the potential in-laws square into her vitriolic crosshairs.  To Pam, subtlety is a needless inconvenience.  She relishes the windup.  Sparing no critical expense, Pam manages to take offense at everything, but mostly at the couple's refusal to follow the tradition of "jumping the broom," a historical reference to the ritual where slaves would profess their love for one another as they weren't permitted to marry. 

Sabrina's mother, Claudine (Angela Bassett), meanwhile, struggles to conjure up some semblance of serenity in the face of this chaos, yet has her own demons to contend with, mostly in the form of a long lost sister (Valarie Pettiford) with a secret that could derail the entire wedding.  Adding to her mounting cafard is a painful admission from her husband (Brian Stokes Mitchell) regarding the estate itself.

The movie's more dramatic elements are offset by a slew of humorous exchanges and various romantic interludes, some more effective than others.  I did like the efforts of young cousin Sebastian (Romeo Miller) to woo Pam's best friend, the several-years-older Shonda (Tasha Smith).  At first, she tries to convey the silliness of a May-December romance, but eventually comes to the same conclusion we do... that trying to not like this guy is too monumental a task.  And Julie Bowen has some nice moments as the caterer who tries to be helpful while hoping not to be offensive toward the African-American heritage of her employer.  ("Is sunscreen something you would use?") 

As the blushing bride, Paula Patton has a wide-eyed hopefulness that carries the movie.  At times she's excruciatingly naive, yet she respects herself enough to overcome the painful family secrets revealed.  Angela Bassett's character exists in a babel of compassion, heartache, pride, and resentment, and her performance is so nuanced that it crystallizes the complexity of each relationship.  Loretta Devine plays Pam as far less complicated, but conveys just enough of a gentle side so we can understand her apprehension, even if we don't share it.

The film doesn't break any new narrative ground and there's little here that will be etched into my memory for long, but the humor was effective enough, the cast was likable enough, and I did end up caring for the leads.  It honors the genre with its happy ending while honoring itself by appreciating the struggle it took to get there.

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Something Borrowed"

Runtime:1 hr. 53 min.

Rated PG-13 for sexual content including dialogue, and some drug material

Cast: Kate Hudson, Ginnifer Goodwin, John Krasinski, Colin Egglesfield, Steve Howey

Director: Luke Greenfield

Love is a powerful force whose grip is strengthened by an individual's fighting need to deny themselves the possibility of romance in favor of their independence.  Jane Austen understood this better than anyone.  The heroines in her books took tremendous pride in their individuality which made the magnetic pull of attraction all the more vigorous.

Romantic comedies today seem to want to echo Austen's denial-as-a-means-to-fuel-the-attraction approach, but far too many make a single yet crucial error.  "Something Borrowed" is the latest film to make such a mistake.  Its heroine, a shy but successful New York City paralegal named Rachel White (Ginnifer Goodwin) denies herself the chance for true love... not because she's fiercely independent, but because she's forlorn and doesn't feel worthy.  That's a critical blunder that derails the entire movie.  Nothing douses the flame of passion faster than a desperate need for the flame. 

Based upon the novel by Emily Griffin, the story opens at Rachel's (gasp!) 30th birthday party, which for many women is an inexplicable kiss-of-romantic-possibility death.  This is nowhere near the truth.  (Ladies, listen... if a man seeks a woman specifically in her twenties, he's not looking for appealing, he looking for specific.  Be grateful, leave the demographic behind, don't look back, and embrace the accrued knowledge as you enter a far more fulfilling period in your life.  Wisdom is sexier than you think.) 

We learn of another reason for Rachel's melancholic demeanor... her one true love, Dex (Colin Egglesfield) is now engaged to her best friend, Darcy (Kate Hudson).  Six years prior, Rachel lost her nerve and surrendered the opportunity, which Darcy snatched up with obnoxious vigor.  Rachel struggles to put on a happy face.  Dex holds a torch for Rachel as well, yet never really expressed his feelings.  After the celebration (and as a drunken Darcy sleeps off yet another bout of partying), Rachel and Dex share a cab ride... and a lot more. 

Rachel is stirred into an emotional frenzy; the only advice is from her childhood friend, Ethan (John Krasinski) who may have his own secret to impart.  The rest of the movie is a labyrinth of romantic dubiety, as each character struggles to come to terms with what (or who) they really want.  Or don't want.  Or would like to have, but don't deserve.  You get the idea. 

By making the lead character so lacking in self-confidence, the film has to compensate in ways that throw off the story's balance.  Consider best friend Darcy.  Instead of fostering into her a fully-dimensional persona with both good and bad qualities, which would in turn make the narrative developments intriguing, the movie is reduced to making her a nauseating, perpetually intoxicated, shrill individual who could try Gandhi's patience with deplorable ease.  Rachel feels guilty and wants to do right by her, although surviving ten minutes in Darcy's presence without planting her fist through her face already puts her well ahead of the curve.  Yet the film needs Darcy obnoxious, as it helps us cheer for Rachel.

Or consider Dex.  Rather than making him morally and emotionally complex, the movie requires that he be a one-note statue of class status timidity, unable to drop a life he hates for a life he wants.  If he were more noble or decisive, the audience might believe him to be too good for Rachel.  Can't have that.

And that's the problem.  The whole movie feels dumbed down to compensate for the heroine's lack of self-esteem.  Ginnifer Goodwin certainly has a likable screen presence; she can carry a romantic comedy.  The script lets her down here.  Kate Hudson and Colin Egglesfield are limited by the strict confines of their characters. 

Maybe the film was going for something a little more morally complex, which is fine, except that would require the characters to possess much fuller dimensions than depicted here.  You can't have it both ways.  The movie tries to hedge its bets, and the end result is a story that offers up a happy ending while somehow apologizing for it at the same time.

The film does have some bits of humor here and there, though nothing that evoked more than a mild grin.  The characters exist solely at the whim of the writer.  In the books of Austen, we're made aware of the complexities and the qualities and reasons why the lovers should end up together, and ache until the end when they finally rise above their own prejudices to embrace that love.  Here we're simply awaiting the filmmakers' decision that... yeah, now would be a good time for them to pull their heads out of their asses.

The effect isn't quite the same.

* *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Thor"

Runtime:  2 hr, 8 min.

Rated PG-13 for intense sci-fi action/violence

Cast: Chris Hemsworth, Natalie Portman, Tom Hiddleston, Anthony Hopkins, Stellan Skarsgard, Colm Feore, Ray Stevenson, Idris Elba, Kat Dennings

Director: Kenneth Branagh

What distinguishes "Thor" from other comic-book-to-movie translations isn't the volume of action, although the movie has plenty.  Nor is it the visual style, although the look is exquisite.  No, what separates it is a kind of innocence.  It's the quality, I imagine, responsible for evoking a childhood joy in the comic book adventure.  (I can only guess at this, as I'm the furthest thing from a comic book aficionado whose words you will ever read.)

Kenneth Branagh is an ideal choice to direct a movie like this.  His career is defined by a gleeful adoration for literature's most enduring themes interwoven throughout the fabric of larger-than-life personalities.  My favorite Branagh film was the mysterious love story "Dead Again" where he and Emma Thompson played strangers brought together through happenstance only to discover they were lovers entwined in a tumultuous marriage in a previous life.  It was a love mystery that defied the boundaries of time while never allowing cynicism anywhere near its field of gravity.  That takes balls.

As the movie opens, we see a trio of scientists embedded in the desolate New Mexico desert.  It's the dead of night.  A young physicist named Jane (Natalie Portman) is awaiting the arrival of some kind of celestial event.  Her mentor (Stellan Skarsgard) is skeptical, while her associate Darcy (Kat Dennings) would rather be someplace else.  Then it happens.  The sky opens up, a beam of light shoots down.  They board their vehicle, race toward the light only to bump into an already battered stranger, hurling him to the ground.

The man is Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and, in his previous world, was set to succeed the throne of Asgard from his father, Odin (the splendid Anthony Hopkins).  Asgard's glossy domain exists solely for the protection of all other universal realms, including earth.  When its lavish preserve is infiltrated by a group of vicious ice-hurling monsters, Thor insists on their total annihilation.  His father, wiser with age, is reluctant.  The impetuous would-be heir embarks on his own mission to wipe out their race.  This enrages Odin, who strips Thor of his powers and banishes him to earth.

Thor's half-brother Loki (Tom Hiddleston) has his own sights set on the throne, albeit by much more furtive means.  After being imparted with a painful truth from Odin (right before Odin collapses into a coma, in a bout of remarkably bad timing), Loki puts his plans into action and ascends to the throne.  Thor, meanwhile, embarks on a quest to retrieve the famed mallet that will restore his power.  While on his quest, he befriends the common folk of earth and learns that the path to preservation needn't always come at the destruction of another.

My description makes the movie seem more subdued and introspective than it is.  There is thundering action aplenty, and the world of Asgard is a triumph of imagination.  The best special effects number involves a bridge and portal through which the warriors travel to do their bidding, guarded by a steely-eyed gatekeeper (Idris Elba) with an unusual knack for seeing inside the hearts of those who wish to cross into another realm.  Branagh is not really known for action fare, but has surrounded himself with a stellar production team, including production designer Bo Welch (a collaborator of Tim Burton) and cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos.  In Asgard, they've created a seraphic province that revels in its regality.

Chris Hemsworth is a strong presence as Thor, yet is wise to not make him too grandiose that he becomes inaccessible to the audience.  He chews the scenery well in the early scenes, but his best moments are when he first lands on earth without his powers, and struggles to comprehend the best way to act in his new surroundings.  In addition to action and drama, the film unearths a surprising amount of humor from its premise.

Beneath the gloss and the action and the engagingly over-the-top performances, however, is the film's strongest trait... the optimistic belief in an alternate realm colonized not only by protectors, but by people who wonder about us.  Observe.  Hope.  Consider both our joys and our sorrows, and wish us peace.  That Branagh can deliver such a sentiment in a package that also satisfies the summer-movie action hunger is quite an achievement. 

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars