"Transformers: Dark of the Moon"

Runtime:2 hr. 37 min.

Rated PG-13 for intense prolonged sequences of sci-fi action violence, mayhem and destruction, and for language, some sexuality and innuendo

Cast: Shia LaBeouf, Josh Duhamel, Tyrese Gibson, John Turturro, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, John Malkovich, Frances McDormand

Director: Michael Bay

"Transformers: Dark of the Moon" is an endurance test for non-video gamers. This isn't a movie. It's a theme park with the theme being nothing more than bumptious babel. Not like playing a video game for almost three hours, no... that I can sort of understand (they can be quite addictive). This is like watching someone else play for three hours. If that's your thing, a) this movie might be for you, and b) you have my condolences.

I find it interesting that in the blogosphere you can read article after article about how unforgivably pretentious director Terrence Malick was in his approach to "The Tree of Life." How he only makes movies for himself; not with the audience in mind. Pretentious, pretentious, pretentious. And yet I notice that FAR fewer writers take director Michael Bay to task for the same offense. This is done, I think, because many reviewers mistakenly marry one's capacity for pretentiousness to one's intellect. Here's a Merriam Webster litmus test for you... if you think Terrence Malick is pretentious but Michael Bay is not, then it might be time to crack open that dictionary.

Oh, there's action. Gobs of it. Unlike the best action movies, however, that demonstrate a patience in their pacing and a progression to the climax, "Transformers" takes its cue from a case of Montezuma's revenge. The action comes in a non-stop, steady diarrheic flow... refusing to allow us to catch our breath or get our bearings. That's a problem; we need those bearings. They're what fuels our interest in the events taking place. Otherwise, it's just an ostentatious special effects show, which may or may not be your thing.

The story again centers around Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf) who, despite helping save the world from annihilation twice now, can't seem to find employment. (This global recession is a beast.) He has interviews lined up and a new girlfriend named Carly cheering him on. (In the production's highly-publicized fifth wheel replacement, Megan Fox has been tossed aside to make room for Rosie Huntington-Whiteley.) Sam will be thrust back into hero mode again, as a mysterious piece of an alien wreckage is discovered, which in turn leads to the unveiling of several magic pillars that awaken an army of Decepticons from their hibernation inside the core of the moon itself. Only by humans working alongside the benevolent Autobots can peace be restored.

The movie's attempt at rewriting history to be woven into the fabric of its backstory left me with an unpleasant taste. In this case, we're told that Apollo 11 was nothing more than a cover up to locate a downed alien spacecraft on the off-chance that it could have been launched by the Russians. I don't always mind approaches like this; "X-Men: First Class" did something similar with the Cuban Missile Crisis to equally goofy effect, yet I accepted it in that case because I felt the movie was at least making an attempt to capture the fear and paranoia of the time. The approach here has a smug, too-cool-for-school feel to it. The screenplay by Ehren Kruger (who brings to the art, nuance, and depth of screenwriting what the Kardashians bring to... whoever) thinks it's a lot wittier than it is.

I give Shia LaBeouf a lot of credit here. He tries his best to convey some semblance of genuine emotion in a film that doesn't come within light years of deserving it. Lennox (Josh Duhamel), Epps (Tyrese Gibson), and the smart but smarmy Simmons (John Turturro) are brought back into the mix. Frances McDormand as a top-level government head, John Malkovich as Sam's new employer, and Patrick Dempsey as Carly's shifty new boss are all welcome additions, yet are tossed into the background later in the story to make room for more thunderous effects we don't care about.

Look, if this is your kind of movie, my hat is off to you. To each his own. Personally, I just don't see the appeal. At the end of the screening, seconds after the credits began, the projector malfunctioned, went dark, the house lights came up, and that was it. Normally, nothing incenses me greater than faulty movie theatre equipment. In this case, though, I sided with the projector.

* 1/2  out of  * * * *  stars

"The Tree of Life"

Runtime:2 hr. 18 min.

Rated PG-13 for some thematic material

Cast: Brad Pitt, Sean Penn, Jessica Chastain, Hunter McCracken, Laramie Eppler, Tye Sheridan

Director: Terrence Malick

Terrence Malick's "The Tree of Life" is like a tapestry that somehow manages to cincture Creation itself.  For some viewers, it will speak directly to their souls with voices stentorian.  Others it will leave awash in a sea of maddening incomprehension.  Neither reaction is wrong, nor do they reflect the intellect of the viewer.  To say that Malick’s latest endeavor isn’t for everyone is redundant.  True art is never geared for the masses.

This is the reclusive artist’s fifth film in four decades and while that may invite snickers from some, it’s remarkable how, in such a measured body of work, Malick has been able to carve his own distinct creative niche among the directing elite.  This isn’t a story so much as a prolonged meditation on the search for existential meaning and the struggle to maintain faith and hope in the face of loss.  That no conventional wisdom is preached to us is a staple mark of Malick’s approach.  He prefers the tantalization of enigmas to the solace of answers.

The storytelling approach is a gauntlet thrown at the feet of the viewer.  The movie is set primarily in Waco, Texas during the 1950s, and focuses its attention on the working-class O’Brien family.  There is no conventional narrative; there isn’t even dialogue in the traditional sense.  When the characters do talk, we are able to hear them as though from a different plane of existence, eavesdropping on their conversation.  Indeed, the entire story feels viewed through a kind of ethereal prism.  We bear witness to a familial loss, and the subsequent search for answers in a life not compelled to heed the call for understanding. 

Soon after we learn of the tragedy, the movie morphs into a confounding yet wondrous amalgam of visual imagery that denotes the creation of the universe.  Images that run the gamut from the multiplying of amoebae to the explosion of stars to the predatory instincts of prehistoric creatures to the infancy of primal sea life to the planets coming into alignment.  The comparisons to Stanley Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey" are understandable.

The aforementioned sequence extends well into the film's duration, challenging the viewer to reflect and ponder rather than grasp.  From there, the story shifts back to Waco, and focuses on the struggle of young Jack O'Brien (Hunter McCracken, in a mesmerizing debut performance) as he attempts to find meaning and comfort somewhere between the diametrical philosophies imparted by his parents...

His mother (Jessica Chastain) teaches the children to love all... every blade of grass, every drop of rain, every breath of air.  She prefers the way of Grace over Nature.  Grace, we hear her say "...doesn't try to please itself.  Accepts being slighted, forgotten, disliked.  Accepts insults and injuries."  Nature, by contrast, "...only wants to please itself.  Get others to please it, too.  Like to lord it over them.  To have its own way.  It finds reasons to be unhappy when all the world is shining around it." 

His father (Brad Pitt) operates from a different perspective.  Mr. O'Brien is a hardworking, well-meaning disciplinarian who is a little too cognizant of life's iniquities.  ("The world lives by trickery," he lectures his sons at one point.  "You want to succeed, you can't be too good.")  He becomes increasingly abusive as he bears witness to his lifelong ambitions falling into obscurity.  As young Jack struggles to find understanding between the extremes, the film intercuts to scenes years later with Sean Penn in the role of older Jack, still battling to come to terms with those years of adolescent angst.  The scenes with Penn are the weakest in the movie.  I didn't find them detrimental so much as superfluous.  They probably could have been cut without losing much impact.

The movie has plenty of detractors, and the biggest complaint from their quarter seems to be that critics uniformly praise the film without conveying an understanding of its meaning or even being able to articulate why they liked it.  This misses the point.  It's not about following the elite mass of critical praise; it's about reserving judgment of the presentation before allowing the effect to take hold.  One thing I knew as I was watching the movie was that I wasn't going to write a word immediately following the screening.  That would be doing myself a disservice.  If a film wants me to reflect, I'm going to answer that call.

So what did I, an online reviewer of modest intelligence, take away from it?  Simply put, that what defines us is our relationships... with others, with nature, with our spiritual beliefs (or lack thereof).  The film accomplishes this not by dissecting the relationships, but building them up from scratch.  From images of a father tenderly holding his infant son's foot to scenes of tough parental love to moments of trust between brothers and how insecurity can betray that trust.  (When I think back on my own childhood, the painful memories that cut deepest don't involve the multitude of times I was victimized, but those rare occurrences when I actually had power and influence over the vulnerable, but was too self-loathing to make the right decision resulting in the infliction of pain on the emotionally dependent.  Their cries of anguish echo further from the core of my memory than my own ever could.) 

I make no promises here.  You may get nothing from the experience.  Many don't.  It has been denounced in some circles as grossly pretentious.  I, for one, found the experience enthralling.  By forcing the viewer to contemplate his or her own existence, the film offers a gift.  For me, it was a gift of reflection on my life... my triumphs and mistakes, my sorrows, the evolution of my love for family and friends.  On what has transpired, what is yet to come, and what awaits me in the afterlife.  Perhaps even the sublime notion of catapulting back in time, strolling into my childhood backyard, encountering myself as an innocent child playing with his favorite toy; being able to pick him up, tell him everything is going to be okay and it's a hell of a life you have in store.  To dismiss Malick's efforts here as pretentious drivel would be denying myself that gift.  Why would I do that?

* * * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Cars 2"

Runtime: 1 hr, 53 min.

Rated G

Cast: Owen Wilson, Larry the Cable Guy, John Turturro, Eddie Izzard, Michael Caine

Director: John Lasseter

In attempting to reinvent itself, Disney Pixar's "Cars 2" does what we ask of any movie sequel, yet the film has garnered a slew of tepid reviews for its effort.  Perhaps there are some critics out there who need a schooling in a truly subpar movie... an imposed screening of "Mr. Popper's Penguins" perhaps?

To say this sequel is not as good as the first is not exactly news.  Most any reasonable moviegoer would know this going in.  But Pixar vet director John Lasseter, co-director Brad Lewis, and screenwriter Ben Queen aren't interested in re-telling the same story.  They have traded in a nostalgic trip down Route 66 for an international spy thriller this time around.  The result doesn't have the heartfelt sentimentality you get with most Pixar films, but it's still funny and cheerfully fast-paced.

Lightning McQueen (Owen Wilson) shares the top spot with his beloved best buddy, Tow Mater (Larry the Cable Guy) in this adventure.  The story spans the globe, starting from Radiator Springs and moving to Tokyo to Italy to London, England.  Those are the three legs of the World Grand Prix, in which Mater has accepted a challenge for McQueen on Lightning's unbeknownst behalf.  A world famous survivalist SUV named Sir Miles Axelrod (Eddie Izzard) has discovered an alternative source of fuel called Allinol (slyly pronounced "all-in-all.")  He invites the participants to use it to prove its effectiveness.  After a bit of egging from an obnoxious Italian Formula One racer (John Turturro), McQueen decides he's up to the task.  He gathers up his crew and heads out with Mater in tow for this competition.

Meanwhile, a plot of international intrigue is brewing at the same location(s).  A souped-up superspy vehicle named Finn McMissile (Michael Caine), whose name sounds like a tangy fish sandwich you'd order from McDonald's, is trying to ascertain the usage of a device that looks like a studio television camera but might have a more sinister purpose.  He is aided by an inexperienced but resourceful sports car colleague named Holley Shiftwell (Emily Mortimer) who has been unwittingly thrust into field work for this mission.  Through a case of mistaken identity, Mater finds himself catapulted into the quagmire of international espionage.  Of course, he resembles nothing close to a spy, but McMissile believes this to be a rather brilliant cover.  ("No one suspects the fool because they're too busy laughing at the fool.")

As McQueen competes in the races, some of the cars mysteriously begin to blow their engines.  Could it be that this new alternative source of fuel is not everything it's built up to be?  As the plot unfolds, McMissile finds it unusual that all of the evil henchmen (henchmobiles?) are AMC Pacers and Gremlins.  They could have entitled the movie "Cars 2: Rise of the Lemons" but the Disney marketing department probably didn't want to risk it.

The film doesn't have the opulent visual appeal of "Up" or the clever inside-zingers of the "Toy Story" series--a majority of the gags involve fish-out-of-water antics (as when Mater, while in Tokyo, mistakes wasabi for pistachio-flavored ice cream) or auto-references into everyday society (from Brent Mustangberger doing the race commentary to the Big Ben clock being renamed Big Bentley)--but the movie's pacing is what makes it work.  The story opens with a virtuoso action sequence aboard an oil rig.  The film also has a lot of fun with Mater's cheerful goofiness.  (At one point, Mater is reworked to house a voice-activated onboard computer, yet the advanced technology has trouble deciphering the lovable yokel's slack-jawed phrases.)

I had a good time.  The early lukewarm reactions to the movie represent the dichotomy in critical analysis of movie sequels; they get blasted when it's the same movie told again, yet some reviewers have a problem with a complete reinvention.  Is this not what we ask of sequels?  If one insists on comparing it to previous Pixar animations, this doesn't rank anywhere near the top.  Nor is it the best of this year's animated films.  (That honor belongs to both "Kung Fu Panda 2" and "Rango.")  But it offers what I expect from a sequel, and does it with a little bit of heart, a little bit of humor, a little bit of espionage, and a lot of octane.

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

 

"Bad Teacher"

Runtime: 1 hr, 32 min.

Rated R for some drug use, nudity, sexual content and language

Cast: Cameron Diaz, Justin Timberlake, Jason Segel, Lucy Punch, John Michael Higgins

Director: Jake Kasdan

"Bad Teacher" is a cheerful celebration of wrongness. The main character holsters a chamber full of inappropriate responses and doesn't fear a gunfight. When a girl student proclaims she wants to be president someday and the teacher responds with "see, saying shit like that will get you punched," she believes she's doing the kid a favor.

Or consider how she handles a boy student with a hopeless crush on an unattainable girl. The teacher tries reasoning with him... "Look, you will never get that girl, okay? Why? Because I was once one of those girls and I would never have gone out with someone like you. I mean, anyone who wears the same stinky sweatshirt three days in a row isn't getting laid until age twenty-nine." The boy counters... "But this shirt belonged to my daddy. It's the only thing he left behind when he walked out on me and my mom. It's all I remember him by." "There's a reason he didn't pack it," the teacher replies, not missing a beat.

This educational angel is Elizabeth Halsey (Cameron Diaz), and she became a teacher for what she thought were all the right reasons... shorter hours, summers off. She is employed at John Adams Middle School, where the ebullient principal (John Michael Higgins) refers to his instructors as part of his "JAMS" family, as though referencing a radio station. Elizabeth's main goal in life is to realize her dreams of being a successful gold digging wife. Actually, there's an addendum to that goal; she needs to get a new pair of boobs. That should help land a man of means. As the story opens, she finishes the last day of school (and what she believes will be the final day of her teaching career), arrives at the doorstep of her fiance only to discover his mother has influenced him to dump her. It's back to another year of imposed shaping of young minds.

Her basic approach to the profession involves showing her students a wave of education-themed movies ("Stand and Deliver," "Lean on Me," "Dangerous Minds") while she gets high behind her desk. She has managed to alienate most of her fellow educators though does maintain two friends. One is the school's gym teacher (Jason Segel) who repeatedly asks Elizabeth out, but is far short of cash to make an impression. The other is Lynn (Phyllis Smith from "The Office,") a diffident woman-child who talks like Rocky the Squirrel on Quaaludes. And speaking of squirrels, the school has its own; a high-strung ball of scholastic energy named Amy Squirrel (Lucy Punch) who dives into the teaching experience head-first, and becomes Elizabeth's rival for the affection of the new substitute, Scott Delacorte (Justin Timberlake), the heir to a watchmaking empire who has taken the job out of love for the profession.

The film was directed by Jake Kasdan, son of the highly-regarded Lawrence Kasdan ("Grand Canyon.") Jake's work hasn't been as substantial as his father's, prompting some Hollywood insiders to cry nepotism. But the younger Kasdan has demonstrated skill behind the camera, and understands that humor comes from character. He shows a lot of confidence is the so-politically-incorrect eccentricities of his main players, embodied by skilled actors...

Cameron Diaz showed right out of the starting gate with "The Mask" that she's a uniquely gifted comic actor. She's so engaging being clueless to her environment that we never want her to evolve. Lucy Punch is the surprise here; she matches Diaz step-for-step as a mercurial goody-goody who can turn vicious if someone doesn't take the teaching profession as seriously as she does. Justin Timberlake has a funny turn as a doe-eyed lemming with a chameleon-like timidity, ready to side with whatever opinion is presented to him. Jason Segel is the coolest of the bunch, perfectly willing to school these pint-sized sports know-it-alls that LeBron James will never be Michael Jordan, regardless of where he takes his talents.

Yes, the movie is rude, crude, and offers no apology. But it's a better film than "The Hangover: Part II" because here, the GOAL isn't to be rude and crude. Instead, it holds an oddly sweet affection for its main character. The caveat being that the character is politically, socially, psychologically, and philosophically incorrect. The easily offended might want to play hooky.

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Midnight in Paris"

Runtime:  1 hr, 45 min.

Rated PG-13 for some sexual references and smoking

Cast: Owen Wilson, Marion Cotillard, Rachel McAdams, Kathy Bates, Carla Bruni, Adrien Brody

Director: Woody Allen

If ever there was a more appropriate place for a spoiler warning, this is it. Attempting to express what makes Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris" such a delight without getting into details is an impossible task. I imagine a good majority of readers already know the secret but if you're one of those who do not and wish to keep it that way until experiencing the movie, I'd recommend you stop reading now, consider this review a positive one, and enjoy the experience.

Allen's love affair with Paris reaches enchanting heights here, as the film opens with a treasure trove of images from all over the alluring city. These aren't lingering shots you might find in a travelogue, however, but relatively quick cuts, evoking one's fond memory of a place visited long ago. From there, we meet Gil Pender (Owen Wilson), a Hollywood-screenwriter-turned-unpublished-novelist. He expresses to his fiancee, Inez (Rachel McAdams) how wonderful it would be to settle in Paris, and contemplates out loud how incredible it must have been for those who experienced the Parisian atmosphere of the 1920s. Inez listens, but is a bit too practical to take his romantic idealism into her own heart.

Gil and Inez are visiting the city with Inez' parents. They tour the sights, accompanied by an old friend of Inez... a smug, know-it-all, twit of a man (Michael Sheen) who takes pride in challenging the historical details imparted by tour guides while gleefully ridiculing Gil's adoration for 1920s Paris, likening it to a writer pounding out work in a dusty attic replete with a skylight. ("All that's missing is the tuberculosis," he adds.) After a full day with this blowhard, Gil opts out of joining Inez and her friends for a night on the town, and instead embarks on a quiet stroll through Paris' winding, seductively lit cobblestone streets...

It's here where the magical allure of the atmosphere takes control. Gil finds himself lost in the city's back alleys. The clock strikes midnight. A horse-drawn carriage rounds the corner and stops before him. The carriage is teeming with socialites who whisk him away to a party that seems like a costume ball with a 20s theme. The bizarre setting takes an even more bizarre turn when Gil is introduced to various partygoers who call themselves F. Scott Fitzgerald (Tom Hiddleston), Ernest Hemingway (Corey Stoll), and Cole Porter (Yves Heck). Is this a practical joke? Or an impractically glorious fantasy? Gil soon embraces the latter, for a romantic like him not doing so would constitute a crime.

Each night, Gil marches back to the same spot and awaits the stroke of midnight. He meets more historical icons, including Pablo Picasso (Marcial Di Fonzo Bo) and Salvador Dali (Adrien Brody), and strikes up a special friendship with Picasso's mistress (Marion Cotillard) who flitters from lover to lover the way Gil seems to be flittering through time. And imagine Gil's shock at the prospect of his manuscript being critiqued by Gertrude Stein (Kathy Bates). He couldn't have conjured up a better fantasy. (I found Gil's sincerity upon embracing the artistic reverie truly engaging. My favorite scene involves him pitching an idea to Spanish surrealist Luis Bunuel (Adrien de Van)... "It's about a dinner party where the guests can't leave." Bunuel is intrigued but confused. "Why can't they leave?" he asks. "They just can't.")

I've always admired Woody Allen's contribution to the cinema, even as I struggle with his personal life antics and subsequent justifications. (His quote in response to bedding his adopted daughter "the heart wants what the heart wants" would probably carry more weight if homewreckers didn't employ the same philosophy.) True, the days of "Annie Hall," "Manhattan," and "Crimes and Misdemeanors" seem far behind him and his track record does appear spotty in these later years, but perhaps that's an unfair criticism... nobody works more frequently than Allen. "Midnight in Paris" is a like a delightful dessert to the more substantial depth and meaning of his earlier work. The point of the movie is to make the most of your own time instead of longing for a period that always seems more appealing than the one you're living now.

Owen Wilson makes a smooth transition from awestruck to sincere upon grasping the nature of the fantasy before him. The supporting players embody their respective historical icon roles with rich exuberance. The film isn't for everyone. It'll appeal most to lovers of art, history, and especially literature. I doubt there will be moderate reactions here; you'll either be charmed or you won't. I enjoyed it greatly. If your palette is sweetened by historical Parisian aesthetic, this movie will offer you a smorgasbord of magic. Enjoy.

* * * 1/2  out of  * * * *  stars

"The Art of Getting By"

Runtime:1 hr. 24 min.

Rated PG-13 for thematic elements including sexual content, language, teen drinking and partying

Cast: Freddie Highmore, Emma Roberts, Michael Angarano, Elizabeth Reaser, Sam Robards, Jarleth Conroy, Ann Dowd, Marcus Carl Franklin, Sasha Spielberg, Rita Wilson, Blair Underwood

Director: Gavin Wiesen

I have a hard time connecting with movies about characters who refuse to engage. Whether it be in love, in work, in school, or in life itself.  The character at the center of "The Art of Getting By" took to heart a line he remembers reading years ago... "You are born alone. You die alone. Everything in between is meaningless." That is the wrong sentiment to be championed by a gifted, intelligent teenager who is a might too sensitive for his own good.

The film stars Freddie Highmore, who was once the go-to child actor for bigger-budget Hollywood fare ("Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," "Finding Neverland.") Highmore plays George Zinavoy, the aforementioned teen who is on the cusp of high school graduation. Or not. A resigned underachiever ("I'm a misanthrope," he states at one point. "It's not a choice... it's a fact,") he has fallen dreadfully behind in his assignments. Instead of schoolwork, he spends his time drawing richly-conceived artwork in his notebook yet never puts any of it to canvas despite his enrollment in an art class. He is repeatedly warned by his principal (Blair Underwood) to get it into gear, but those admonitions have little effect; George has been here before, knows the "drill," promises to do better, and that's that.

It's important to note that George is not a hostile personality. Quite the opposite. He's charming and answers those adults who criticize his lack of interest in an engagingly disarming way. Highmore is careful not to make the character too abrasive. George's outlook on life is a bit out of whack but we find ourselves rooting for him to feel his way through the angst.

He arrives home to receive daily inquiries into the prospect of college from his mother (Rita Wilson), a kind but increasingly exasperated woman who not only combats an unresponsive son but is married to a stiff would-be disciplinarian (Sam Robards) who tries to set an example for George yet is battling his own secrets. George responds to his mother not like an angry teen but more as an enervated spouse. ("I'm tired. I've had a long day. I can't think about homework or college now. I'm going to take a nap.") He begins to emerge from his shell upon meeting two people... a fledgling artist named Dustin (Michael Angarano) and fellow high school outcast Sally Howe (Emma Roberts). George and Sally want to get closer but neither appears to know how to ignite a romance.

The movie is a coming-of-age story with love resting at its center. The problem for me was that the love story is the weakest part. I became most bored during George and Sally's scenes of budding romance because... there wasn't much budding. Neither seemed willing to engage. From what we know about George, his catatonic responses to Sally's interest are understandable. The character of Sally is the problem. I found her too hard to read. We know she's the daughter of a free-spirit mother (Elizabeth Reaser) who is unapologetic for both her drinking and her promiscuity. Yet we don't know how that affects Sally's perception of George. The only time she verbally introduces the possibility of romance is in an awkward scene in a restaurant, where she asks him to sleep with her, then backs off. Is she teasing him? Or is she serious but annoyingly fickle? I don't know. When one is too insecure to express his/her love, that can be heartbreaking. When both are uniformly timorous, that's frustrating.

The film's best elements exist on the periphery. I liked Rita Wilson as a caring but flawed woman who didn't create the best atmosphere for her son to capitalize on his talents, yet loves him intensely and strives to help. Blair Underwood is also strong here, playing a principal who likes the boy (he raises no objections to George calling him by his first name) yet understands that while a student pissing away his talent is a tragedy, such tribulations are hardwired into the human condition; he'll expel him if he has to. And in an uncredited performance, Alicia Silverstone has a couple nice scenes as a teacher who cares too much for George to act as the crutch for his indolent excuses. ("I've used up so much energy trying to get through to you. I'm not going to expend any more to defend you now.")

Writer/director Gavin Wiesen has put together a decent enough story about a young man learning to get over his fear of life. Highmore gives a thoughtful, engaging performance. The problem is the weak and muddy love story at the core. It just doesn't have a strong enough center. At one point, after Sally returns to join George for what may or may not be the start of a relationship, he asks "So what now?" She shrugs. "I don't know." Neither do I.

* * 1/2  out of  * * * *  stars

"Mr. Popper's Penguins"

Runtime:1 hr. 35 min.

Rated PG for mild rude humor and some language

Cast: Jim Carrey, Carla Gugino, Ophelia Lovibond, Madeline Carroll, Angela Lansbury

Director: Mark S. Waters

Several years ago, when I was writing for another online publication, I received an email from a young mother. She was inquiring about a family-oriented movie she was considering taking her kids to...

I don't remember the name of the movie now or much of what it was about, only that I didn't care for it in the least. With honesty being priority one, I wrote back, telling her I found it dull, slow, uninspired, filled with puerile humor, and had little if any redeeming value. "I see," she wrote back. "But is it good for families?" I was dumbfounded. "I guess that depends on how you feel about your family..." (I didn't actually write that last line. If memory serves, I listed the movie's rating and provided a link to the MPAA website.)

Now, I didn't have nearly that bad a reaction to "Mr. Popper's Penguins." Here is a movie with sublime intentions, contains some cute comic bits, is replete with a perpetual chorus of awww moments, and is harmless. I even saw a commercial for the film this past week where it received some sort of endorsement for being wholesome family entertainment. I can attest to that, just as easily as I can attest to the fact that I sat through the movie in a state of mild yet steady boredom. Wholesome isn't quite enough for me, though I'll cop to the fact that I'm not the target demographic here. (There was a little girl sitting with her mother behind me at the screening. She provided those of us within earshot with a plethora of awww moments.)

The movie gets its mileage from the inherent cuteness of the penguin. Yes, penguins are rich fodder for these types of films. "Happy Feet" played up their adorable nature as well, although that movie also provided a storyline involving the penguin protagonist and introduced tangible themes... finding your voice, embracing your individuality. Nothing deep, but at least relatable to anyone who has struggled through adolescence. "Mr. Popper's Penguins," by contrast, tries to skate by on cuteness alone. When you embrace that approach, the transition from cute to mawkish to downright cloying is noticeably quick.

Tom Popper (Jim Carrey) is a master in the art of real estate procurement. He works for a powerful New York City brokerage firm and has his sights on a possible partnership. The firm has plans to buy the now defunct Tavern on the Green, demolishing the gift shop it became to break ground on a new building. Of course, Popper isn't really callous at heart. He lost his innocence early on when his father became increasingly absent from his life, choosing instead to go on a multitude of expeditions. Their only communication for months at a time was through a ham radio set. Popper was married to the kind but exasperated Amanda (Carla Gugino), and his kids (Madeleine Carroll and Maxwell Perry Cotton) are losing interest in visiting him.

One day, Popper receives a package in the mail. It's from his long lost father. The box contains a penguin. Soon, another box arrives containing five more. This is not good for Popper, as it could get him evicted and even threaten his chances of purchasing the Tavern from its cautious seller (Angela Lansbury). He tries unloading them, but only a suspicious zoo official (Clark Gregg) has an interest. Popper soon changes his mind about his newfound friends, however, when he sees how much his estranged family has taken to them.

For his part, Jim Carrey puts in a good effort. Playing comic schtick off of digital effects is no easy task, and he provides the movie with as much humor as he can muster. As Popper's daughter, Janie, Madeleine Carroll has a very bright acting future. (She played Kevin Costner's precocious daughter in "Swing Vote.") This particular role isn't a standout one; she's capable of a lot more. Yet complex roles for girls her age are in pretty short supply. One day, though, I suspect she'll come across a strong role in an indie drama and audiences will be amazed at what they see.

The movie's innocuousness rests at the center of its ineffectiveness. There just wasn't enough to hold my interest. Good for families? Well, not harmful for families, but when the movie's release date is sandwiched between the far superior "Kung Fu Panda 2" and the upcoming highly-anticipated Disney Pixar animation "Cars 2," your money might be better spent elsewhere. And remember that little girl I was telling you about sitting behind me? By the movie's end, she was tapping her foot and sighing audibly. Take that as you will.

* *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Green Lantern"

Runtime:1 hr. 45 min.

Rated PG-13 for intense sequences of sci-fi action violence

Cast: Ryan Reynolds, Blake Lively, Peter Sarsgaard, Mark Strong, Tim Robbins, Jay O. Sanders, Taika Waititi, Angela Bassett

Director: Martin Campbell

The one requirement for any potential new Green Lantern, we're told early on in this latest comic-book-to-film-adaptation, is the ability to NOT feel fear. If one should possess this ability and is fortunate enough to be chosen, they'll be given a ring that enables the wearer to conjure up anything (and I mean, anything) at their will to be used against evil.

Now... call me a-little-too-philosophical-for-my-own-good here, but it seems to me that if one possesses the ability to materialize literally anything that the mind can dream up for protection (shields, swords, Gatling-inspired firepower, giant fists, pillars, catapults, fighter jets, a racetrack...yeah, that's right...a racetrack), and that power to materialize came solely from a ring, then the so-called "prerequisite" of fearlessness would... you know... come with the ring.

Or let us consider the concept of will. It's explained that will is the driving force behind a Green Lantern's ability to materialize the exact right defense to avert a split-second attack. But is that really willpower? Isn't it more quick thinking? Good reflexes? A knack for mentally adapting on a dime? I mean, the ring is what gives them the actual power, right? And if the only limit to your power is your own will, couldn't you just will your adversary to either die or blow up?

I know there are answers to the above queries, just as I know there is some comic book fanboy out there right now ready to take me to task for being a "hater." (Do these people not understand the concept of film criticism?) It may be unfair of me, but I do find it odd that some comic book adaptations manage to sidestep such questions while others simply cannot.

When the best Green Lantern in all Creation finds himself the victim of an attack, he crash lands on earth, implores his ring to choose a new bearer. The candidate selected is Hal Jordan (Ryan Reynolds), a cocky but skilled military fighter pilot, as evidenced in a nifty aerial dogfight early on. The ring is handed over before the Lantern's death. Hal is whisked away to the world inhabited by all Green Lanterns, a landscape teeming with eclectic aliens inviting memories of the cantina scene in "Star Wars." He is put through rigorous training, although the lead Lantern Sinestro (Mark Strong) doubts his ability and questions the ring's wisdom in choosing a human for the task.

Meanwhile, the government locates the downed spacecraft, and employs the services of a brilliant but underachieving scientist named Hector Hammond (Peter Sarsgaard). While examining the remains, Hector is exposed to a virulent strain of DNA which instills in him the power to read minds while forcing his head into a monstrous shape. The DNA belongs to a muddy blob of an alien hurtling closer to earth on a mission to devour Creation itself. Hal is our planet's only hope but fear stands in his way. His former fellow fighter pilot, Carol Ferris (Blake Lively), helpfully imparts to him the crucial difference between innate fearlessness and acquired courage.

The movie is decent for its first half-hour. Ryan Reynolds makes an effortlessly engaging hero. And I always appreciate a film's attempt at introducing themes. But the philosophy behind those themes feels confused here, and the thematic progression gets mired in backstory exposition. (We learn that Lanterns can, in fact, feel fear, but they didn't realize they could feel fear, then devise a plan to fight fear with fear, only to learn it's better to overcome fear than harness fear... yeah, it's all pretty murky like that. Although I'm sure the aforementioned fanboy would be thrilled to explain it to you.)

The screenplay's thirst for the exegesis of its own lore leaves little room for development in other critical areas. The result is a climactic fight scene that feels oddly rushed and characters we'd like to like but have little to go on. Blake Lively, God bless her, does everything she can to make Carol interesting but the character is so woefully underwritten there's little she can do. Peter Sarsgaard has the most fun, playing a social misfit with a giddy, almost infantile fascination with non-terrestrial science and maintains that giddiness even after that science alters his physical presence in the most gruesome ways.

Like the latest "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie, "Green Lantern" is watchable but ultimately forgettable. In its own world, there is no limit to where Lanterns can trek. But in the realm of comic book movie adaptations, this one stays noticeably close to ground level.

* *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Super 8"

Runtime:1 hr. 52 min.

Rated PG-13

Cast: Kyle Chandler, Elle Fanning, Joel Courtney, Gabriel Basso, Noah Emmerich, Ron Eldard

Director: J.J. Abrams

J.J. Abrams' "Super 8" takes place in the summer of 1979, right around the time of Steven Spielberg's ingress into Hollywood royalty with films that ignited our sense of awe and wonder while stirring our sense of adventure.  This one isn't nearly as good as those movies (Abrams is, after all, no Spielberg).  But it tries to be, and at least has the good sense to chuck cynicism out the door.

In keeping up with increasingly violent times, however, the danger stakes are considerably higher this time around.  Remember the bicycle chase in "ET?"  The danger culminated with a close-up of young Elliott's face, followed by a solitary image of a police shotgun being raised (not aimed, mind you... just raised) as the police form a barricade and wave the boys to stop.  Now compare that to what the kids in "Super 8" face... a train derailment that reduces virtually everything to dust, unexplained attacks and disappearing townfolk, firefights that end with bodies being literally ripped to pieces, and a military takeover of a small Ohio town replete with the heaviest artillery that results in the whistle-stop being reduced to rubble.  This isn't martial law; it's a topographical rearrangement. 

The story opens on a somber note.  A steel mill accident has claimed the life of a young wife and mother.  She leaves behind a grieving husband (Kyle Chandler) who serves as the deputy in the small town of Lillian, Ohio.  His son, Joe (Joel Courtney) is crestfallen, but finds some degree of solace in the company of his filmmaking friends who are shooting a zombie short to be entered in the local festival.  Joe assists with makeup and sound, mainly to get closer to the short's lead actress, the unassumingly attractive Alice Dainard (Elle Fanning), whose no-nonsense demeanor masks a sea of pain bred from a strained relationship with an alcoholic father (Ron Eldard). 

While shooting a scene at a railroad depot, a military locomotive rockets past, is met by a pickup truck that has positioned itself on the track, leading to the derailment.  The boys' film camera was left running as they scampered away, and may have caught a glimpse of the train's mysterious cargo.  Commander Nelec (Noah Emmerich) spares no effort to recapture said cargo, going so far as to set the town ablaze to force an evacuation.  The kids conjure up a plan to re-enter the town when one of their own has been taken.  In a refreshing twist, they break into the school to acquire information on what the "thing" might be, as opposed to merely arming themselves with whatever weapons are within reach.

The actors embody their roles well.  Especially the kids, who have to navigate some pretty tricky emotional waters.  Elle Fanning is the standout.  She has a nice moment in a scene where her character and Joe view old footage of Joe's mom.  Her face conveys a multi-layered angst.  Not only for Joe's loss, but for her own absent mother and despondent father.
 
Director J.J. Abrams possesses distinct skill, but I don't really consider him elite.  The difference between Abrams and Spielberg is that the latter made movies the way a parent might read a bedtime story to a child, striving to fire up the imagination.  Abrams does capture a lot of the nostalgia of the time, but can also come off more like a technician who wants to impress you with the scale of his work.  The special effects in the derailment scene are incredible.  Almost too incredible.  For a brief moment, it took me out of the story.  But Abrams, to his credit, does get back on track and handles the film's quieter moments with every bit as much skill as those involving massive effect.  (Abrams does have a knack for visual imagery, including a special effects shot with a locket near the end that is actually quite touching.)

The movie works more for its nostalgia than its science fiction plotting.  The reveal is... eh, so-so.  Not quite as original as the ads would have you believe.  In strict science fiction terms, the movie is a bit closer to Abrams' "Cloverfield" than to any of the joyous innocence of 80s fantasy.  Still, it does recall the time period well, is devoid of pessimism, and while the action and effects do elbow into the narrative a little too much at times for my liking, the movie ends, quite surprisingly, not with explosions, but with emotion.  Oh, and stick around during the end credits.  The kids' zombie short is displayed in its full glory.  It's worth it.

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Hesher"

Runtime:1 hr. 42 min.

Rated R for disturbing violent behavior, sexual content including graphic dialgoue, pervasive language and drug content - some in the presence of a child

Cast: Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Natalie Portman, Rainn Wilson, Devin Brochu, Piper Laurie

Director: Spencer Susser

"Hesher" contains an assemblage of intriguing characters but holds their stories together in such a haphazard, disjointed way that the end result is more perplexing than satisfying.

The title refers to the name of the central character, and I suspected at some point there would be a corner turned, a curtain pulled back, and a truth unearthed that would give a semblance of meaning to the motivation behind his bizarre, aggressive behavior. About two-thirds in, however, the realization took over that there would be no corner turned, no curtain, and no truth. The impulsive, violent, twenty-something malcontent at the story's center is an accidental catalyst of sorts... a character whose asinine antics don't exactly bring the members of a broken family together, but do antagonize each out of their respective shells.

That's not a bad thing, but the film makes an error late by forcing him into a funeral scene where he doesn't belong, has him deliver an awkward speech with no insight that nonetheless stirs the family members into an emotional release. It's a moment too hard to swallow. The most perceptive movies about unredeemable characters are ones that don't try to redeem them.

Hesher (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is a homeless, often-shirtless, heavy-metal loving drifter. He infiltrates the homestead of a family so deeply embroiled in dysfunction following a tragedy that none of the members have the intestinal fortitude to ask him to leave. Hesher's ingress is born from a chance encounter with a pre-teen outcast named T.J. (Devin Brochu), who we learn recently lost his mother in a devastating automobile accident. T.J. and Hesher don't exactly form a bond. Hesher is manipulative and cruel, gleefully exacerbating the conflict between T.J. and a school bully. The impetuous drifter soon forces his way into T.J.'s home and proceeds to move into their garage. T.J.'s father, Paul (Rainn Wilson) spends his days in a drug-induced stupor to combat his guilt while his grandmother, Madeleine (Piper Laurie) dutifully keeps the home in order, although lacks the resonance of attitude to get through to either Paul or T.J.

At first, T.J. attempts to entice Hesher into being a bodyguard of sorts, but those efforts are met with indifference. Instead, Hesher responds by driving T.J. to his bully's home, sets the bully's car afire, then leaves T.J. to take the fall. T.J. soon rebuffs Hesher's companionship and instead seeks solace in the company of a sympathetic grocery store cashier named Nicole (Natalie Portman). It's only a matter of time before Hesher messes up their friendship as well.

The movie is at its best when it sits back and observes the unfolding relationships. It does contain a couple effective scenes. (The best involves Hesher showing Madeleine how to smoke her medicinal marijuana through a bong. It's the closest he comes to being likable.) The problem came in the final act, where it seemed that Hesher was being forced down my throat. I felt like co-writer/director Spencer Susser was demanding I like him simply because he did. While I did find Hesher somewhat interesting, I never considered him lovable, and the movie does itself a disservice by forcing him into the role of emotional hero. The film has the feel of something Tom McCarthy ("The Station Agent," "The Visitor," "Win Win") might direct, but McCarthy would have considered the characters more carefully and not force the kind of schmaltzy ending we get here.

It's too bad, because the performances are spot on. The strongest aspect of Joseph Gordon-Levitt's portrayal of Hesher is his refusal to imbue him with any genuinely redeeming qualities; that would have thrown the film even more off-balance. Behind large-framed glasses that seem plucked from the face of someone generations older, Natalie Portman plays the kind of young woman every nice guy will inevitably encounter at some point in his life... one who gives her attention to the kind before giving herself to the cruel. She's more open to sympathy than happiness. And Devin Brochu navigates a sea of eccentric personalities with a combination of fortitude and emotional guilelessness.

Despite the bad taste I was ultimately left with, the characters, the performances, and certain aspects of the story make this one a surprisingly close call. Yet it collapses in the final stretch, ending up a little too forced, a little too disjointed, and a little too much in love with its main character. I didn't share that affection. He's just so unredeeming yet we're expected to see the beauty in him. The final shot shows the words "HESHER WAS HERE" emblazoned across the rooftop of the family home. For me, the most inspiring word in that sentence is "was."

* * 1/2  out of  * * * *  stars

"X-Men: First Class"

Runtime: 2 hr. 20 min.

Rated PG-13 for intense sequences of action and violence, some sexual content including brief partial nudity and language

Cast: James McAvoy, Michael Fassbender, Kevin Bacon, Rose Byrne, Jennifer Lawrence

Director: Matthew Vaughn

In the comic book world, special powers are often viewed as far more of a burden than a blessing. This is perhaps no truer than for the Mutants in the "X-Men" series. At one point in "X-Men: First Class," the heroes manage to avert a full-on nuclear disaster during the Cuban missile crisis only to have both fleets aim their warheads in the mutants' direction and open fire. The movie makes a pretty solid argument in Magneto's favor.

"X-Men: First Class" has been compared by some critics to Christopher Nolan's "Batman" resurrection. The movie is good, but not quite at that level. Nor is it quite up to the level of the original "Iron Man." But it is the best of the "X-Men" series, and will probably appeal most to those who aren't aficionados of the comic. Co-writer/director Matthew Vaughn and his screenwriting team have constructed a film quite skilled at streamlining its narrative... giving us strong character development and emotional arcs without losing its action movie footing.

The story opens in 1944, as we bear witness to the early childhood developments of both Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr. We see the first meeting that led to the friendship between Xavier and the blue-skinned mutant Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence), who can change her appearance at will. But the pre-credit backstory focuses more attention on Erik's time in a Nazi concentration camp, where his ability to move and crush objects with his mind fall under the watchful eye of the fiendishly unflagging Sebastian Shaw (a smartly-cast Kevin Bacon). Shaw's methods of unleashing Erik's powers are brutal to say the least, and they scar the boy for life.

The bulk of the story takes place in 1962 where Shaw, whose own scientific endeavors have enabled him to remain youthful via a genetic mutation, now hatches a plan to wipe out civilization by goading the United States and Russia into a nuclear war, then finishing off the humans and leaving the world to the mutants. Xavier (James McAvoy) is clued in to the mutant-fueled danger by CIA field agent Moira MacTaggart (Rose Byrne), who seeks the scientific scholar out for his knowledge in genetics. Erik (Michael Fassbender), meanwhile, spends his days in a revenge-ignited search for Shaw. Xavier embarks on a mission to recruit as many young mutants as he can in an effort to combat Shaw's sinister plan. While he senses Erik's intractable intent on revenge, Xavier nonetheless recruits him as well... hoping to instill some degree of inner-peace.

The movie is the beneficiary of superior casting. James McAvoy brings Xavier to life with an engaging amalgam of charisma and wisdom. It's interesting to see his optimism labor beneath the growing apprehension toward humans in his closest confidants. Behind sharp, angular facial features, Michael Fassbender makes Erik not only vengeful, but perceptive. He may lack Xavier's charisma, but he just might have a better feel for humans' true nature.

The biggest casting upgrade, though, would have to be Jennifer Lawrence. The role of Mystique requires someone possessing not only staggering beauty (she is, after all, attempting to avoid her natural appearance that many would consider freakish) but also a feistiness that enables her to come to terms with her own reality. She desires love, acceptance, and normalcy, yet ultimately learns that the first two elements can only thrive when originating from within, and the third is too subjective to matter. We know from the earlier movies that Mystique ends up joining Magneto's fight, but what we learn here is that she may very well be correct in doing so, if only for her own sake. And to say that Lawrence is beautiful enough for the role is an understatement. Her sex appeal is ridiculous.

The special effects run the gamut from the virtuoso (involving Erik using his mental powers to literally pull a submarine from the ocean) to the pedestrian (involving characters flying through the air that don't exactly come off as stellar). But the film has touches of ingenuity as well, including a device that allows Xavier to telepathically locate other mutants the way a psychic might be able to commune with the deceased, and a quirky split-screen effect as the mutants train that gives the movie a pseudo-comic book feel.

"X-Men: First Class" is better than the two "Hulk" movies that struggled to merge monster effects with melancholic undertones, and steadier than the "Spider-Man" series, which became too emotionally schizophrenic for its own good. I'm normally not a fan of movies that force their plot into a historical reference, but the movie gets away with it because it considers itself with care, as well as its setting. That takes guts. And in a summer movie season, guts is a rare commodity.

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"All Good Things" (DVD)

Runtime:1 hr. 41 min.

Rated R for drug use, violence, language and some sexuality

Cast: Ryan Gosling, Kirsten Dunst, Frank Langella, Lily Rabe, Philip Baker Hall

Director: Andrew Jarecki

WARNING: This review may contain spoilers.

It's somewhat unsettling when you consider the allure of audacity. David Marks, the character at the center of "All Good Things," following the mysterious disappearance of his wife, moves from New York City to Galveston, Texas. There, he disguises himself (unconvincingly) as a mute woman, befriends a lonely war veteran named Malvern Bump, manipulates him into killing David's childhood friend who was a key person-of-interest in his wife's disappearance. After that, he ends up shooting Malvern, admits to hacksawing his body and dumping it into Galveston Bay. Marks ended up serving nine months for improper disposal of a body. He's currently a real estate investor in Florida.

Marks' implausible transformation into a woman wasn't so much an effort to evade investigation into his wife's disappearance as it was a means to distance himself from the very fiber of his being. Born into a wealthy, ruthless, brutally unforgiving family of real estate tycoons in New York City, he came to prominence in the late 70s. Yet David never possessed the social skills to thrive, was tormented over his mother's suicide while operating under the ubiquitous influence of his corrupt businessman father. Marks' testimony (based upon the real life testimony of Bob Furst) was unusually comprehensive--a life story of sorts--and serves as a kind of narration for the movie.

The choice to have Marks' defense in the Bump murder trial be all-inclusive was risky but effective, as juries seem to embrace neglected childhood stories. Casey Anthony's lawyers are attempting something like that now by proclaiming her partying ways were the result of sexual abuse, and while legal analysts like Nancy Grace and Dan Abrams have respective field days discussing the flaws in such an approach, those deficiencies are offset by the temerity in this type of mitigation. Defenses like that have worked in the past.

"All Good Things" has the plot points of a thriller but not the mechanical feel of one. This is a fascinating look into the lives of two people who want to be happy, yet one lacks the social skills to navigate a healthy relationship and the other is both too decent and too aware of her own emotional shortcomings to know when to cut and run. David (Ryan Gosling) and Katie (Kirsten Dunst) initially relocate to Vermont and open a health food store. This doesn't sit well with David's father, Sanford (Frank Langella) who pays a visit and demands his son join the family business back in NYC. David agrees, probably because he lacks the social gravitas to debate him on the matter. They move into the city, thrive financially but Katie's desire for a child becomes the first of many nails into their matrimonial coffin. David dreads the idea of fatherhood; his own upbringing being exhibit A. Their relationship becomes even more fractured when Katie pursues her own medical career. Their union disintegrates into a series of violent confrontations, as David tries to maintain a marriage he is emotionally unable to participate in.

Remarkable performances dot the narrative topography. Ryan Gosling plays David as a man prone to violence but not wittingly vile. His wife is more than a victim of his savagery; she's a prisoner of his emotional vacuity. Playing a woman we could easily judge for staying in an unhealthy union, Kirsten Dunst is terrific as a devoted soul who is resourceful enough to seek a way out, but too conflicted over her own flaws to see the true danger before her. ("My father used to say we shouldn't be ashamed of what we do... only what we don't do. But the thing is, I had an abortion," she confesses to a confidante at one point. "And I don't know what that is. Is that something I did? Or something I didn't do?")

And Frank Langella portrays Sanford as part of a generation of power broker patriarchs with a cruelly dismissive attitude toward the complexities of their children.  When he finally comes clean about why he allowed his son to witness his mother's suicide, we see that his truth is far uglier than any fabrication.

Because the movie involves still unsolved crimes and iniquities, one can argue about the story's veracity. Testimonial lies play such a large part here, but director Andrew Jarecki ("Capturing the Friedmans") and screenwriters Marcus Hinchey and Marc Smerling are clever enough to understand that full depositions are never completely fabricated... only the most crucial parts. What they've masterfully done here is triangulate the details, and present the story as though offering it to a jury. The result is a perplexing, maddening, and mesmerizing film.

* * * 1/2  out of  * * * * stars