The Absolute Worst Films of 2009

I’ve run out of good things to say about 2009 so after catching up on the bad things I am, after all these many months, finally ready to close the door on last year.

1.Lovely Bones (Peter Jakson)

A film so misguided and ill-conceived that it essentially undid all the greatness Peter Jackson was able to accomplish with his masterful, decade defining “Lord of the Rings” series. I didn’t think it possible but this movie surpassed Jackson’s God awful ”King Kong” fuckery. With “Bones,” Jackson takes an adaption about a dead girl “solving” her own murder. This could have been cool if only the filmmaker didn’t Spielbergize it to a point of nauseating candy coated proportions. The shallow as a grave and bare “Bones” film fails as a gritty mystery because characters sit around and mope rather than engage in any sort of investigation and the movie fails just as hard as a “What Dreams May Come” type of fantasy because characters sit around in a magical candy land and just sort of stair off into space. In the latter scenes, the film does little more than showcase its heavenly effects. The film not only gets the admittedly tricky tone surrounding dual realities connected by love (rolles eyes) all wrong but lays the schmaltz on so thick that it forgets (or fails) to give the viewer a proper sense of logic, purpose, reason, causality or motivation. Obviously this kind of story that requires the viewer to take a leap of faith and while I went into it with a total sense of openness, I found it impossible to do so because this forced, heavy handed and dramatically inept film doesn’t meet us half way or provide any reason for why we should take that leap. This may be the most passive mystery ever made! Like its main character, “Bones” is as dead as disco and yet also like her it never shuts the fuck up or gets real for even a second. ”We’re in heaven…. yaaaaaay” a fellow lost soul tells our wonderstruck heroine. If this is heaven then I’d rather be in hell. (full review)

2. Away We Go (Sam Mendes) “I can’t believe you told your mother about my tilted uterus.” “I didn’t know your tilted uterus was a secret.” ”Yes, my tilted uterus is a secret.” Wonderful. Okay then… two married, or dating (I don’t even remember) and self-described “fuck-ups”/non-self-described douche bags decide to travel around the country to “find themselves.” The two attention sponges played by a pregnant Maya Ruldoph and, um, a bearded John Krasinski get so much out of life and suck so much more out of it. And us! Their journey is a draining affair full of trite sentiments, forced indie music cuts, tacky humor and phony drama. Every line and plot action is performed in a precious, whispery aren’t we funny/cute/profound way that instantly activated my gag reflexes. The ponderous dramedy (directed by the overrated Sam Mendes with a screenplay by David Eggers of all people!) enables the 30-something angstaholics to a point of complicity. It’s not presenting their story but selling it and rubbing it in our faces. While this isn’t technically the “worst” movie of the year it is certainly the most annoying and definitely the most insincere hipster message movie since “Rachael Getting Married” and “Garden State” before it. A movie made for all those preening monkeys who grew up being told how important they are. (full review)

3. The Blind Side (John Lee Hancock)
“I never had one before,” “What, a room of your own?” “No……… a bed.” “The Blind Side” is not only biggest turd of the year but after a shameful best picture nomination/best actress win it’s the most unjustly celebrated turd of the year. This Republican wanking, pseudo inspirational sports drama has me convinced that people in general are way too easily inspired. Its ”based on a true story” (but not really) views on small towns, sports and race relations is archaic and down right creepy. After watching ”The Blind Side,” for instance, I learned that all white people are rich, that all black people need help from said all white people and that all black people are either on drugs or sell drugs. The film is that blank and white (no pun intended) about the world it exists in and the people that inhabit that world.
The (indirect? unintended?) racial condescension gets even creepier with its curious depiction of white saints treating its resident sad, black and perpetually moping lug of character (Quinton Aaron in a horrible performance of startling one dimensionality) as if he has no agency or power to help himself. Rather, he must be directly controlled, shaped, pitied, educated and generally ”fixed.” The firecracker Football Mom played by the untalented-as-ever Sandra Bullock determines that “that poor Michael is like a fly in milk at that place.” This giant sized teen, compared to an animal (or insect as it were) is literally turned into a pet project by her. And by the film as well which is as lazy as they get. The shrill and irritating Bullock (and her shrill and irritating family) seems to be thinking, “hey, this boy’s black and big so lets put a football in his hands” as if that’s all a person like this can offer the world. Oh, but don’t worry, the film also allows it’s black character to be a bit racist. Apparently white folk, with their books and food and, oh wow look at that, beds, are “weird.” I can almost see his point. As bad as things get, black and white Amreica come together at the end thanks to football, the prospect of money and of course Jesus. “You’re changing that boy’s life,” Bullock is told by an ego stroking cronies. ”No……………………………… HE’S Changing ours” she responds in a line that illustrates the trite nature of the screenplay. Bravo assholes, like the movie “Crash” (another racist classic starring America’s Most loved Nazi lover) the one thing this sub-TV movie manages to do when it comes to racial relations is make me dislike all races involved.

4. G.I. Joe: The Rise of the Cobra (Steven Sommers)
Worst “Hollywood” movie of the year. In fact, as soulless, disjointed and jagged as almost anything Michael Bay has ever done. Ironically, 2009 was the year Bay actually made a halfway good movie–literally, though, only about half of “Transformers 2″ could qualify as being watchable but that’s a full 50% more than “G.I. Joe.” Everything about this film is awkward and stiff and, that being said, you won’t be surprised to learn that director Steven Sommers also made “Van Helsing.” Well, he managed to top himself! Star of tomorrow (and that’s really true than kill me now) and expert non-actor/male stripper Channing Tatum sucked harder here than his after hours activities at his previous job. And if it’s possible Marlon Waynes’ “that’s whack!” token black side-kicked sucked even harder. Did anyone survive unscathed? Yeah actually, Joseph Gordon Levit plays such an over-the-top, Darth Vader-ish heavy that he gave what’s either the worst performance of the year or some just sort of a brilliantly self aware “bad” performance on par with Marlon Brando in “The Island of Dr. Moreau,” Bill Murray in ”Charlie’s Angels” and Robert De Niro in “Rocky and Bullwinkle.

5. Jennifer’s Body (Karyn Kusama)
Yes, I like “Juno.” No, I don’t like Diablo Cody. Her name at this point in her “career” is a punchline and the joke was this shitty shitty film she wrote. This teen horror movie tries sooooo hard and goes sooooo nowhere that it makes “New Moon” look like a Bergman movie.

6. Up in the Air (Jason Reitman)
Speaking of “Juno,” did I mention how much I dislike Jason Reitman? For putting George Clooney in a rare bad movie he can never be forgiven. I’m serious: Steve Gagen and I are still not on speaking terms after “Syriana.” The film tries to be socially relevant and comes off socially inept. Any film with this amount of insincere sincerity is almost guaranteed to land a spot on my top ten. To make matters worse this film also tries to be funny and comes off cloying. It tries to be dramatic and comes off… the rails. I’m shocked that it managed to be both popular and respected. (full review)

7. Paper Heart (Nicholas Jasenovec)
This nugget of indulgent indie hipster bullshit was saved but the bigger and stinkier piece of indie hipster bullshit that was “Away we Go.”

8. Taking Woodstock (Ang Lee)
Ang Lee is such a hard director to figure out. He’s capable of mighty feats of technical skill like “Crouching Tiger…”, gritty American dramas like “The Ice Storm” and rich period melodramas like “Brokeback Mountain,” and ”Ride with the Devil.” He’s also really good at fucking good things up. The stylized “Hulk” and noir “Lust, Caution” are both virtually unwatchable. “Taking Woodstock” belongs in that second category of Ang Lee movies. It’s not just bad but his opus of fuck-ups. It’s hard to watch but at the same time hard to stop watching because it’s so not cool.

9. Brothers (Jim Sheridan)
“The Hurt Locker.” “The Messenger.” For a genre that has no good movies to its name, Iraq War 2 movies gave us two good ones in 2009! The rarest of streaks was cut short by Hacky McHacksalot’s (aka Jim Sheridan) ”Brothers.” This is not so much a bad movie as it is a really boring and biteless one. It plays it safe and plays it contrived. At the heart of the film’s problems is a miscast Toby Maguire who stars as a hardened (really?) soldier taken hostage while his wife paints her new kitchen with his boner hiding brother. THEN HE COMES HOME! The terrorists should have done us all a favor and not given him back.

10. Fireproof (Alex Kendrick)
HahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaHahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaHahahahahahahahahahahahaha
…(gasp)…ha. Married characters haven’t been this annoying since “Mr. and Mrs. Smith.” But at least that film had action and guns and shit. This one has fire fighters and Jesus.

11. Up (Pete Doctor)
Clear your mind and pretend you know nothing of Pixar or “Up” and just listen for a second. So there’s an old guy and his wife dies that bums him all out so he, well, he gets a bunch of balloons and, um, attaches them to his house and the house floats up and up and up in the air and, whoops, there’s a chubby Asian Boy Scout in the house too and so… uh, the house floats to an exotic land and almost lands but doesn’t quite land and the two jump off and find a rare bird that like chocolate and the three go on to meet an other old guy who has a blimp and hunts said exotic chocolate eating birds and, oh, he also has an army of talking dogs. THAT GOT AN OSCAR NOMINATION. THAT GOT TONS OF CRITICAL RESPECT. THAT MADE A LOT OF MONEY. PEOPLE LOVE THAT MOVIE.

12. Miss March (someone directed this?)
Gave it a shot because it made AV Club’s number #1 worst movie of the year. Now I wish I was shot.

13. Julie & Julia (Norah Ephron)
Only the Julie part makes the list. Amy Adams as an aspiring chef/nagger is hard to stomach. Here I was all ready to watch a movie about a historic figure and instead got one about a self obsessed blogger that leaches off a historic figure and screams at her husband for not being supportive enough. The effect this had was strange because the better Meryl Streep is in this movie (and she’s good), the more I ended up disliked it because it’s not really her movie at all. New rule: the only time Amy Adams should be allowed to be in a movie with Meryl Streep she better be playing a nun.

14. I Can Do Bad All By Myself (Tyler Perry)
So can Tyler Perry. I’m so sick of Perry’s that I’m not going to even bother watching his movies at this point, I’ll just put them on this list with the total confidence that they belong on it. Why are people so afraid to call Perry out on his hackiness?

15. The Burning Plain (Guillermo Arrigaga)
From the writer of the films “21 Grams” and “Babel” comes a film just as bad as “21 Grams” and “Babel.” Here’s the lesson and it’s a lesson worth learning. When a bad film is pointlessly rearranged, it becomes an even worse film.

16. X-Men Origins: Wolverine (Gavin Hood)
Almost had me missing the glory days of Brett Ratner. (full review)

17. Hanna Montana: The Movie (Peter Chelsom)
I’m not admitting to watching this movie. I’m only admitting that I didn’t like it. Draw your own connections if you must.

18. Mutant Chronicles (Simon Hunter)
Mutants, mutants never change. You would think a movie with Ron Pearlman, Thomas Jane and a shit load of mutants AND the apocalypse AND a giant hole in the earth where the mutants came from would be really cool. This movie is not really cool. It’s really stupid.

19. Year One (Harold Ramis)
No… more…

20. Land of the Lost (Brad Silbering)
…bad comedies!

Not Quite On The List but Not Quite Off The List:New Moon (dir. Chris Weitz)
Proof of how hard it is to mess up a story about vampires. This film is not bad but it’s such a lazy, you’re-going-to-pay-to-see-regardless-of-quality sequel that one has to admire the almost total lack of effort that went into the making of it. And this is coming from the director of the beautifully crafted (and underrated) “Golden Compass.” I can’t blame Chris Weitz though because he was clearly rushed by a studio that doesn’t give a blood sucking shit about quality. Summit is milking this bloated cow till it runs dry and they are wise to do so because they know that a few years from now it’s not going to hold up and that millions of girls of all ages are going to wake up out of this daze they’ve been in these last few years, hate themselves, then probably move on to a worse fad. 
“New Moon” is lightweight and very dumb but harmlessly so. The amazing thing about this series, book and movie, is how it attracts haters as much as it does fans. I love watching non-fans or as I like to call them “normal people” get all worked up about the creepy social message this series upholds. Girls apparently can’t function without an abusive man in their life. The message is rancid and the across-the-board performances (except the dad, who is always cool somehow) do not help things either. Bella, played by a pouty Kristen Stewart, is such an infuriating twit that I found myself dreaming of Buffy coming to town and kicking the brooding shit out of her (then, of course… lesbian sex). Buffy was into an vampire asshole too but she MOVED ON. Bella is such a needy creature that I don’t think independence is possible for her. Ah, it’s just so fun to snark on this movie! This is a movie instantly ready for Rifftrax. Had the above commentary been released in theaters it might have out grossed the actual movie.

Worst Lines of the Year:

1. A character gets stabbed. “My tit,” she whispers. ”No…………your heart” her friend tells her. Jennifer’s Body, keeping it real. A very profound and subtle statement Diablo, you are a true feminist.
2. “You’re changing that boy’s life,” “No……………………………… HE’S changing ours.” Sandra Bullock in The Blind Side.
3. “You’re lime green jell-o and you can’t even admit it to yourself.” Megan Fox in Jennifer’s Body.
4. “I SEE YOOOOOOOOUUUUU,” Sam Worthington in Avatar.
5. “You’re my only reason to stay alive……..if that’s what I am.” Edward in New Moon
6. “I can’t believe you told your mother about my tilted uterus!” Maya Ruldoph in Away We Go.
7. “Every second I am with you is about restraint… and you’re too fragile.” Edward (again) in New Moon.
8. “You can’t trust vampires… trust me.” Edward (again, again) in New Moon
9. “Bella, you give me everything just by… breathing” Edward (uh huh, again) in New Moon
10. “We’re in………………. HHHHHEEEEEEAAAAAVVVVEEEENNNNN! Yaaaaaaaaaaaay!” Some stupid dead kid in Lovely Bones.
11. “You never leave your partner! Especially in a fire!” Kirk Cameron, as a fireman, in Fireproof using a fantastic fire metaphor for his marriage. What a dick.

Top Ten Suprisingly Non-Bad “Bad” Movies

1. The Box–destined to be either cult classic or a film people try their best to forget.
2. Crank: High Voltage
3. Knowing
4. Taken
5. Pandorum
6. Gentlemen Broncos
7. Push
8. Gamer and Law Abiding Citizen (Two three star Butler movies brings up the grand total of watchable Butler movies to three. He still sucks though.)
9. Funny People (Well funny until the lame third act where I found myself hoping Adam Sandler would get cancer again and stop making out with his boring ex wife. Hum, third act problems, where have I see that before, who directed this movie again?)
10. Bandslam–a lot of cheese here but ”Bandslam” is still one of the best High School/music movies around.
11. Underworld: Rise of the Lycans–as Michael Sheen vampire movies go, better than “New Moon.”
12. Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs

Worst Directing

1. Peter Jackson’s Lovely Bones
2. Stephen Sommers’ G.I. Joe
3. Tyler Perry’s I Can Do Bad…
4. Karyn Kusama’s Jennifer’s Body
5. Sam Mendes’ Away We Go

Worst Performances

1. Worst of the Worst: Channing Tatum in ”G.I. Joe.”
   Picture a Ken doll that sounds like Markey Mark from the 90s… and add zero acting ability, personality and charisma and you have an idea of Channing’s first big splash in the industry. Really, it’s more of a dribble though. Tatum is so bad that he transformed G.I. Joe from one of the worst films ever made to one of the worst films ever made EVER.
2. Megan Fox, Jennifer’s Body and Transformers 2
   Head overruled other head on that vote.
3. Anna Kendrick, Up in the Air
   How did this false performance earned Oscar nomination I will never understand)
4. Sam Worthington, Avatar/Terminator Salvation
   Sam Worthington can’t ruin every movie this year too, can he? Can he?! Oh shit, he gonna isn’t he!
5. Sandra Bullock in The Blind Side
   She seems nice, let’s give her an Oscar.
6. Sandra Bullock’s annoying fucking son (Jay Head… yes that’s his real name) in The Blind Side
   A special place in hell is reserved for this little shit.
7. Sandra Bullock’s 300 lb pet project (Quinton Aaron) in The Blind Side.
   The master of one expression and one expression only. Here it is folks.
8. Ms. mopes-alot Stewart in New Moon
   The most mentally crippled character in “literary” history successfully parlayed her mind numbing into the cinema thanks to Kristen Stewart’s perpetually off-putting, sad sack mumbling sappy stupid performance.
   Toby, we need you to play someone who is very dull and not quite in touch with his emotions. Toby: …………………I can do that.
9. Tyler Perry in EVERYTHING 
   This year he had the distinction of sucking in not just his own movies (he did, what, six last year?) but Star Trek too!
10. Robert Pattenson in New Moon
11. Marlyn Waynes, “G.I. Joe.”
    Dude, you’re not funny.
12. Michael Gambon in Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
    Getting better just as he got, um, dead. And that getting better accounts for why he’s so low on this list cuz Gambon (normally a great actor) as Dumbledore is usually way higher.
13. Vin Diesel in Fast and Furious
    This character went from charming in a very campy way in the first THE Fast and THE Furious to macho desperation in Fast and Furious.
14. Hillary Swank in Amelia 
    No words, just pictures.
15. Maggie Grace in Taken
    Maggie Grace (from Lost) is young and hot and a girl yet after watching this movie in which she plays a bubbly teen that gets kidnapped it is as if she has never been all three of these things. Okay only two, she’s still hot.
16. Liv Shriver in X-Men: Origins
    The normally good Shriver takes all the teeth out of Sabertooth’s character. He’s just dull. I never thought I would miss the wrestler that played Sabertooth almost ten years ago but… here we are.
17. Chris Pine in Star Trek.
    Capt. Kirk as a frat boy douchbag.
18. Michael Jackson in This is It
    Oh, he wasn’t acting. Then what was he doing exactly?
19. Leslie Mann in Funny People
    Ruined so many comedies that Mann has now earned the right to be called the Mia Farrow of this generation.
20. Morgan Freeman in Invictus 
    Oh, come on people he was horrible in this tepid movie. I love Freeman, but this is not a good performance, it’s him talking slow, going on walks and staring off into a rugby field.

Most Overrated Film of the Year:
Avatar, followed very closely by Up. Avatar is the better movie (I still stand by my B-) but it’s shallow conventions and down right annoying moments get more and more apparent with every viewing. Up, however, was annoyign from the beginning and never looked back.

2008′s Worst Films (because I didn’t do one last year for some reason)

1. Rachael Getting Married
   Audience Getting Fucked.
2. Paranoid Park
   Gus Van Sant at his art houseiast worst. Meandering tone poem about blank teenagers that has all the feel and personality of an indie wax museum of people, places and events I would never want to see, go to or experience. GVS tries to pass the blankness as thoughtful reticence of youth but it’s really just bad, pardon non, pardon natural acting crippled by enabling directing. I love when the director meanders (Last Days and Gerry are modern classics) but with this film he wanders off the edge.
3. Slumdog Millionaire
   The most overrated film of 2008 and the most overrated Best Picture winner since “Crash.” Almost every note the film hits is false. Cinematography, screenplay, music, acting and Danny Boyle’s lame use of style for the sake of style are all grating. I thought it would take a few years for this Oscar winning film to be forgotten but we’re pretty much at that point now. I don’t know if you got the memo but it’s officially not cool to say you like this film.
4. Zach and Muri Make a Porno
   Another year another bad Kevin Smith movie. Kevin Smith: please go away. Not going anywhere, are you? Oh, you still have fans, good for you! Okay then just roll out Cop Out 2 and Clerks 3 and, fuck it, how about a Mallrats sequel. Smith is novelty director and the novelty wore off, oh, I’d say about fifteen years ago.
5. The Reader
   To be honest I forgot why I hated this film so much in 2008 but rather than watching this prestige POS again I’m just going to go with my gut. Pretentious: yeah. Profound: no.
6. Righteous Kill and 88 Minutes
   These two 2008 films from John Avnet are so bad that users in the wasteland that is the IMDB message boards are calling for his death. Ouch, but, gotta say… not completely out of line.
7. Punisher: War Zone
   Hey, not all comic book movies in 2008 were happening. Some were just bad (Hulk 2-ish) and some, like Punisher, were just the worst. Just about the only thing this Punisher was able to kill effectively was any chance that they’ll ever make another Punisher movie again.
8. Speed Racer
   Speed Racer is a beautiful film. Speed Racer is a horrible beatuiful film.
9. Sex and the City
   To quote Jack Nicholson: SHUT UP!!!!!!!!! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!
10. Leatherheads
    Clooney, what happened? To build upon my “Up in the Air” mini-rant: For directing George Clooney in a rare bad movie, George Clooney can never be forgiven.

and let’s not forget…

Seven Pounds, Quantum of Solace, The Eye, Prince Caspian, The Mummy 3, Mirrors, The Bank Job,  the second half of Wall-E, Get Smart,  Harold and Kumar 2, Mamma Mia, Saw V and no doubt if I had been brave enough to watch The Love Guru and Fool’s Gold both would probably be on this list.

Once you go blue...

• What’s Good: James Cameron’s dedication to the material is admirable. His ability to sell this half formed, totally unoriginal sci-fi story is masterful.
• What’s Not:“A New World” meets “Dances with Wolves” meets “Aliens” meets “Princess Mononokie” meets “Fern Gully in Space.” A lot meets here. What there are not a lot of however is new ideas. Cameron’s inability to make the aliens ALIENS is confounding. Cameron is like a sane version Michael Bay who fetichizes the military war complex while denouncing it it at the same time. I’m also sore that Michael Biehn and/or Bill Paxton are not in this movie but Sigourney Weaver is so that’s cool.

Science Fiction has enjoyed its most prosperous year of the young century. The genre has not been this fecund since the year “Matrix,” “Princess Mononokie” and “Star Wars: Episode I” came out. It has also not been this overrated in years though I must admit that the sci-fi purist in me fears mainstream involvement in this genre so I’m naturally defensive. This year though: first “Star Trek” crammed that cocky, shit eating Kirk (Chris “I’m awesome!” Pine) down our throats. Then “District 9″ turned a story of alien apartheid into an inept retelling of “Transformers.” Then, um, yeah, the bland “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen” came out and, astoundingly, was not as bad as everyone made it out to be. Now “Avatar” has come to rule them all.

There is very little doubt that this 300-500 million production will not only make a tidy profit but may go on to become the third or even second highest grossing film in U.S. history right below James Cameron’s other blunt edged epic “Titanic.” “Avatar” is a vivid contradiction that poses the question of how could something so stark and visionary can be so unoriginal. Easy, it’s made by Cameron. Aww, nah man, I kid, I kid, the dude’s earned my respect many times over; Cameron’s work in this genre includes masterpieces like “Terminator,” “T2″ (his most overrated film but still good by any other standards) “The Abyss” (his most underrated), and “Aliens” (an A+++++ film) are unparalleled in genre defining qualities that, “Abyss” aside, shoot first and ask questions later. That Cameron’s reputation precedes him is perhaps why I expect more from him especially given his decade long, post “Titanic” hiatus. The expectations are not so much in the storytelling department but in the powerful ways in which he is usually able to approaches stories. The result here is a mixed bag full of minor technical miracles and major storytelling blunders and a curious lack of real danger posed to the protagonist.

This save-the-rain-forest adventure set on a planet known as Pandora (that’s, uh, symbolism, right?) brings virtually no new ideas to the table. Instead, it grafts new technology over old ideas.  The ground it does tread it treads competently, but with all the narrative grace of one of the film’s tree smashing mega bulldozers. What we get here is a hearty retelling of a good vs. evil, man vs. machine, and nature vs technology tale in which an ex military grunt, working as a Backwater-esq soldier for hire, goes undercover and, before he knows what hits him, goes native. The central gimmick is that humans are now able to fuse human and alien DNA to harvest bodies known as Avatars. These proxy creatures can be possessed via cryo-sleeping humans! In their dreams! Nonsense! Yet nonsense that Cameron is able to sell effectively because everything else is so meticulously mapped out. Avatars are essentially flesh based video game characters and the hero, Jake (another original Cameron hero name–totally more original than Jack), gets a mean case of chosen-one-itis when he puts this new body to use. This avatar concept in one sense gives the film a semi-original approach(if you don’t count the other Avatar-ish ”Surrogates” this year) while at the same time removes me from an investment in the immediacy of the hero’s situation since he’s not really there. The Avatar driven hybrids and, for that matter, indigenous aliens known as the Na’vi (which sounds like a snazzy name for a laptop or mp3 player) look convincing and at times posses flawlessly rendered realism but their design is a bit awkward. Their flat noses, strange heads, stupid tribal marks and grotesque bodies gave me, among other things, really bad “Antz” flashbacks.

The plot is so far from exceptional that it gives a new name to the term space opera. There is a lot of politics (and politicking) and tropical/topical parallels to imperial America, sure, but really this is just an space set “Romeo and Juliet” story involving a boy trying to win the heart and mind of the girl and her community. He is accepted by the alien clan all too easily and masters their ways in a manner of weeks. This story element takes up about two hours of the film so expect lots of iridescent plant life, prancing about and forced moments of adventure (Jake trying to tame one wild animal or another). There are enough 90s era Disney cliches here to fool me into thinking characters are on the verge of breaking into a show tune any minute. Lucky they don’t; unluckily, though, James Horner does and his score and it’s full of tritely recycled melodies.

The rest is of the film (and entire third act) is vintage Cameron hoorah military hokum. Humans invade a peaceful, nature loving planet rich in precious minerals whose value to the  new, resource depleted Earth is never fully explained. I’ve always loved sci-fi for the ways in which it is able to encode progressive message into the text. These days all sci-fi subtext has become text because we’re obviously too stupid to get the  message if it’s in any way subtle. While Cameron is being  praised for creating a new world, all I see here is “A New World.” While the romance is nothing new, the post colonial aspects are even more worn. First off, I mentioned that the hero enters this community like a space age Jesus (or Tom Cruse or Kevin Costner etc.) and that undercuts a lot of the supposed autonomous integrity these “savage” creatures have. In addition to that the cultural tropes are obtuse. I have no idea why people bash George Lucas’s anthropological aliens when this film’s egregious mess of Earth based stereotypes gets received with near unanimous approval and cultural cache. These creatures are Ewok’s squared. The peaceful and simple subaltern alien race (Others are aliens, get it!) are a crude amalgamation of African, Aboriginal and American Indian cultures and icons. What bothers me is that Cameron makes no attempt to make these alien underdogs actually alien. I just can’t understand how something so ambitious can be so lazy. Is this a prime example of  unintentional leftist racism or just bad writing? Whatever the case, the humans of “Avatar” are just as one dimensional (ironic that this is 3D then, huh?) with bullheaded military men, egg headed business men, even headed mentors and a Jarheaded hero played by Terminator Salvation’s Sam Worthington.

While I could go on about what bothers me there’s a lot to admire in “Avatar.” Sure, the visuals pop with a musty green brilliance and eerie fog but what I like most about the film is the way it inverts the sci-fi cliche of making humans the evil invaders (weare aliens) while having the viewer relate to the little (actually, large) blue space men. Heading up the invading force is a wonderfully wicked performance by Stephen Lang (“Public Enemies”) as the evil, Duke Nukem looking Colonel who steals the movie through the simple act of bringing some color, dimension and fire to a morally black and white story universe. Too many characters, yes even my dear Sigourney Weaver as the all too noble scientist in charge, are cardboard cut outs that this bad ass Colonel shreds to hell with his his twenty foot mech’s giant-sized machete. Now, as to why a fricken mech needs a big ass knife is something I’ll have to add to the pile of things I don’t get about this movie. Anyways, after all this inane, semi-incoherent ranting I’m going to put aside my objections and give “Avatar” a (barley) passing grade. I do so with caution and the illogical self awareness that I don’t always need to like a science fiction movie to like it.

Grade: B-

“Nine?” Uh, not quite, more like a six or seven. The best thing this musical remake of Fellini’s “8½” did is remind me of how good the original is. Broadway/Hollywood’s update is a glitzed out and dumbed down version of an original that parodied the very same spectacle that ”Nine” has become! I guess the the original Broadway writers and Hollywood director/producers of “Nine” missed that; “8½” is a foreign film after all and that means you have to read subtitles so it make sense that the nuances went over their heads. That huge contradiction aside, this film doesn’t work as a remake because it doesn’t work at all as a musical. No amount of new wave Italian visuals, “Citizen Kane” ripped cinematography and sparkly costumes can mask the taste of bland-ass music. I went with a friend and soon after the film ended she mentioned that she like the song where the beleaguered protagonist played by Daniel Day Lewis sits in a corner while his wife gets her revenge on him through a musical number where she is stripped bare right in front of him. Within minutes of seeing the film this conversation happened and while I could remember the image of a scruffy Daniel Day Lewis and a beautiful, wide eyed Marion Cotillard singing, I could not for the life of me recall what she was singing or, for that matter, just about any other song in this movie! That’s a bad sign.

This is one of those rare musicals in which the story is better than its set pieces. I called it dumbed down and it is but it’s also something of a curious interest to fans of the original because here we have a crudley parsed version of a hallucinatory masterpiece. The predominant theme of male anxiety in Fellini’s version is hard to approach or understand at first but by end you’re infected with it. “Nine” is the cliff notes version where the anxiety of the lead character is quite literally spelled out for us (no flying dreams and only one childhood flashback) while notions relating to the elusive nature of art that Fellini captures so artfully (to describe it is to demystify it is the film’s point) is far from elusive with its big and bright quotation marks that are on display like a gussied up whore. Daniel Day Lewis is the right actor to play the part of Guido if only because he looks so cool when he’s tormented (I need not remind anyone of his past performances). But he’s also a bit too over the top this time.  He does lots of angsty pacing here as well as sitting crouched over with his hands up against his face like a tortured version of  The Thinker sculpture. Lewis, like Marcello Mastroianni, plays the Guido as a filmmaker who has nothing but decisions put in front of him and yet is incapable of making even the smallest one. A big difference is that Mastroianni was playing a version of Fellini while Lewis is, um, well he’s definitely not playing a version of thisfilm’s director Rob Marshall because the character in “Nine” is actually considered a great director by his peers and the press and is even called “Maestro.” At any rate, each decision and commitment, no matter how trivial, bears down on Guido like a runaway train and each is avoided at all costs, which, considering the budget of the film he’s not working on, is a lot. “Directing a movie is an overrated job. You just have to say yes or no. What else do you do? Nothing” the non-film’s costume designer, an Edith Head looking Judi Dench, tells the perpetually smoking Guido who clearly hears and perhaps even agrees but just can’t take that proactive plunge both as an artist and as a man. This is a classic struggle that is mirrored with very little mystery in “Nine.”

Marshall, like his character, also seems incapable of making a choice with his film because the music is not only forgettable and antiquated but unnecessary. Marshall wants to make a musical adaptation of a play that was adapted from ”8½” and that’s fair game I guess but he goes ahead with this endeavor without the support of the music part! Marshall’s Oscar winning “Chicago” worked because the music numbers made sense within the context and reality of the story world; they were the lavish day dreams of crazy killers and depraved men. “Chicago” also worked because the music was good and, when not good, catchy at the very least. The music in this film, like “Chicago,” occurs outside the diegetic story space but that’s as far as the film is willing to go with them. Guido will be dealing with one of his many mistresses/feminine infatuations (Nicole  Kidman the international actress, Kate Hudson the American reporter, Penelope Cruz as the mistress, Fergie the vamp from Guido’s past, Sophia Loren the mother etc.) and suddenly someone get a music number dedicated to how they’re feeling. Is he imagining it? Are they? Are we? I feel, though I’m not sure who agrees, that one of the jobs of a film musical is to accommodate the music itself. To find a home for it within the aesthetics as well as being pleasing in its own right. In that regard the music of “Nine” is not only tone deaf but homeless.

I mixed feelings about “Nine.” The lead performance is strong (perhaps too strong) and the cinematography, while not visually original, is even more beautiful than all the women. And even if the refashioned story goes against the philsophy of the original I found it compelling when the music wasn’t getting in the way. Is that enough? Depends. Those who really like musicals might give this a shot, and might like it. Those interested in classic art house foreign films may also want to see it, but will probably not like it. Everyone else should just stay home.

Grade: C+

Well, here lies another high profile release that failed to live up to the hype. While I found the year as a whole to be amazing the winter movie season is the most underwhelming in recent memory. It’s as good a time as any to put this review season to bed. I will be catch up on all the stuff I missed (Avatar, I’m coming to get you!) and of course pulling my best of the year picks out of my arse. Video Games will come first next week, then music then movies, then best of the decade lists. Gwah, exhausting.

Lovely Bones is really, really, really, really, really… bad. I mean really bad. Really. Bad. Rrrrrrrrrrreally bad. In case you didn’t read the book, it’s better than the film version. Big surprise. “I’m Sally Salmon and this my story” we are told in this movie about a dead girl narrating her life from her after life. Her family grieves for her as the murderer sits in a room right across the street (IRONY!). As time passes she prances about in her very own Candyland… or purgatory, or something, I couldn’t actually tell and this film was not about to tell me so Candyland it is. What she does there and how that relates to what’s happening on our earthly plane is never explained, which actually might be a good thing seeing as how clumsy the film’s narrative is. Better to not explain than to to so badly.

As poorly constructed as the somewhat similar 2007 mystery “The Invisible” is, at least the dead protagonist in that story took on the role of a detective who investigates his mortal death and, accordingly, can only be revived or go to heaven (I forget which; again, not a good film) once the killer is caught. Dumb, yes, but at least there’s some measure of internal logic at work. Not here. The dead girl played by the promising young actress Saoirse Ronan (“Atonement”) has no control or agency. She’s dead in other words. So then what function does she serve other than standing around and watching us earthlings with bittersweet wonder? None. The film is more interested in giving you goosebumps and being sentimental (father lights a candle atop a ship in a bottle for daughter to see in the dark storm of night ::gags::, father cries, girl’s not-quite-lover writes her poetry) than exploring notions of death, cosmic justice, fate, and the after life. Not being analytical about this stuff is all well and good in many cases (“Ghost Town” for instance gets a pass) but being that the sentimentalism falls flat while the exploration of the physicality of one’s death is not even a concern there came a time during this film when I wondered, and not in the existential sense, what the point of all of it was. Again, there is none. The film is nonsense, a hollow spectacle of style over substance over common sense that displeases to the core.

Peter Jackson put his name on this film and I feel sorry for him. It bears his trademarks both pre and post “Lord of the Rings” which is as much of a blessing as it is a curse; there are swamps, there are horrible underwater effects (fans blowing on actor’s faces), there is death, there is evil there is good and there is fantasy. Oh, and there is also a lot of bull shit. I am officially done with this filmmaker because I see no future for him. I also pity Jackson because he seems to be in a similar (creative) limbo as his main character in this movie. After “Rings” Jackson wants to be known as a serious filmmaker on “Lovely Bones” when he tries to be that here his creative expressions end up more far fetched than any fantasy world he’s ever conjured up. The movie magic and visual mastery Jackson tapped into with thedecade defining “The Lord of the Rings” series has been negated by a duo of agonizing follows ups “King Kong” in 2005 and now “Lovely Bones.” A problem is that Jackson does not seem to have an emotional compass sharp enough to depict the real world. Fantasy and sloppy comic horror (“Dead Alive”) is what he’s able to do and do very well but anything else comes across as corny and amateurish. When he attempts to blend the two, as evident here, it’s a disaster. Where Jackson was once an clever innovator (“Forgotten Silver” and “Meet the Feebles”) and a cynical genus (“The Frighteners”–his other film about ghosts), he is now a schmaltzy middle class appealing hack that could match wits with Spielberg any day. (Spielberg produced this movie by the way and it shows.) More than anything though “Bones” is a lesser version of Jackson’s own early gem called “Heavenly Creatures,” a film that also involves murder, young girls and the fantasy world they escaped to.

This film’s visual pallet contains almost as much darkness as it does heavenly color. Providing that darkness is Stanley Tucci’s George Harvey character, the killer of the girl who dwells in his Golem like layer that, on the suburban outside, looks perfectly normal, perhaps too normal. Tucci brings George to life with ticks, dorky speach mannerisms and creepy hobbies (crafting doll houses and making outdoor traps for ducks) and is certainly a potentially interesting presence of evil. What undercuts that potential is the fact that his evil is EVIL without equivocation or hesitation. By extension, the afterlife he sends his victim(s) to is the AFTERLIFE. While there’s a lot of talk of in “betweens,” there’s ironically very little of that in the moral or thematic sense. The metaphysical realm, full of rainbows and flowers and coronas of white light so bright I was half expecting Gandalf the White to pop out, is handled with such awkwardness, bombast and intellectual meaninglessness that the movie plays more along the lines of a Mitch Abom/Oprah book club selection than a gritty drama. “You are in betweeeeeeeeen” the dead girl’s spirit medium tells Sally when she asks where she is. Another line that had me howling was “We’re in HEAVEN, YAAAAAY!” and I shit you not, that yaaaaay part is in there too. In this Candyland giant boats in bottles (a blown up symbol of Sally’s father’s hobby) crash against mountains while night, day, snow, water, sun and the moon are all able to exist in the same frame. She’s EVERYWHERE, get it? Sally can’t really communicate with the living but in one scene a dead flower on earth springs back to life when the father holds it (what does that even mean?) and that seems to be the dead girl’s only real power and it’s as lame as it sounds. While the sentiments are all Hallmark TV Movie and Spielbergian drek, the painterly onanism on display in the “in between” reminded of something else, something far, far worse. The late nineties saw a unspeakable film called “What Dreams May Come,” another film about dead people prancing about like dandies in a celestial CGI world. I also happen to resent that film because it’s as empty as it is pretentious. The qualities of emptiness and pretentiousness is a total contradiction in terms but that’s what we’re dealing with here.

Okay, so the fantasy is a big fail. But this is really a mystery one could just as easily argue. But, even there, as a murder mystery the film does not fare much better because in this world cops are inept, the mother splits town and the co-lead, a father played by Mark Wahlberg (as guilty pleasure bad here as he was in “The Happening”), sulks in his den, not letting his daugher’s memory go as he growing scruffier and more introverted by the day (which, for Wahlberg, is tough to endure because he’s so low key to begin with).

Just about the only thing I learned from the director/writer on this movie is his fondness for extreme close-ups of fingers. What am I talking about? Fingertips, that’s what. Jackson cuts to them all the time be it characters skimming the dead girl’s journal, other characters skimming the killer’s journal or the killer coldly touching a charm bracelet piece he got off the girl. Yup, lots of finger action for those potentiometer fetishists out there. Why fingers? I have no idea but that makes about as much sense as anything else in “Lovely Bones.”

Grade: D

Hey, let's talk about luggage!

• What’s Good: Clooney can do no wrong, even…
• What’s Not:…when his film can. How so? Well, it’s pretentious, it’s tedious, it’s shallow and it’s predictable. That probably means this is going to be a beloved film this year–a film that will win awards and a film that you’re neighbors and casual acquaintances will respond to with ”Have you seen Up in the Air, ohmygod it’s sooooo good!” Up in the Air has its share of nice moments I but came away from watch the film resenting it.
• Faux Peter ”hack” Travers Quote: This film will have you flying high on humor and emotion. It is a first class ticket to free-flight bliss. Check your emotional luggage at the door.

The more institutionalized, mainstream, critically accepted or, to put it another way, the more Steven Spielberg like Jason Reitman, the more annoyingI find his films. “Juno” was irritatingto be sure but it was also sincere and winning while Reitman’snew film is all that minus the sincere and winning part. In fact, I don’t see any sign that the director is even trying anymore because why should he? Clearly, charm and the illusion of heart are able to get his films past the finish line and into audience/critic’s, um, hearts. By that definition, “Up in the Air” is his most calculatingbest film to date. Reitman’s feel good road trip formula (actually, it’s a flight plan trip but never mind) is patronizing and relies too much on individually pre-package sentiments to get its bittersweet message across.

If “The Terminal” and “Away We Go” were slightly more bearable and slightly less patronizingthey’d be “Up in the Air.” You see, ”Up” –I wish it was “Up”– ”Up in the Air” I should say is a romantic comedy that half thinks it’s changingthe world so it doesn’t have to be that funny or romantic due to the pretence of dramatic importance heaped on with a great and obvious sense of awareness but no true integration into the material. It bothers me that this film gets a pass by the press and public on actually exploring any of its serious themes (lonleyness, joblessness, Clooneyness) because, hey, everyone will claim that it’s not it’s job but, rather, a bonus. No. The story follows a man hired by corporations to facilitate the firing of large amounts of useless corporate employees; “What am I going to tell my kids?,” “What am I  going to do now?,” “‘Sorry’ doesn’t put food on the table mister!,” “How do you sleep at night,” and my favorite “I’m going to jump off a bridge” are non emblished blurbs from what are essentially talking head “every day” Americans. Oh boy, that’s Serious Stuff, but it’s just propped up to give the film a sprinkle of context and flavor.

George Clooney plays a well dressed nomad that enjoys the life of the road and, yes, the metaphor of a man literally flying from his personal responsibilities is that obvious. His boss (Jason Batemen doing the rounds by being in every single movie this year), looking to cut costs on the business of firing (really?), teams the old business shark with a up-and-comer straight out of college and “top of her class.” ”Twilight’s” Anna Kendrick plays her without ever expanding on being that character, i.e. the challenge of youth posing a threat to the antiquated (but human) ways of the older man. She is a product of the new American business machien while he is the result of it. Personality wise, this sidekick also seems to be modeled after Reitman’s character Juno in, um, “Juno” except this sassy gal’s a walking cliche that possesses a flat sense of wit and very little empathy. The actress seems unsure if she’s supposed to be funny (her cryingscene) or serious (giving Clooney shit for not being able to “grow up”) and quite frankly so was I so I can’t blame her all the way. Faring slightly better is Vera Farmiga (“The Deparated”) as Clooney’s casual fuck buddy he meets in an airport and compares business credit/frequent flier miles (as well as fluids) with. At least this character talks from the heart (rather than the screenwriter) and also does an interesting job at selling one of the film’s only redeemingmoments with a cool plot twist at the end. I like this character because she’s the one thingin the movie that’s doesn’t remind me of nailed down furniture. She’s original (and has a great ass!!!)! Nothing else seems to be.

The plot is dull because it thinks it’s more interesting and socially relevant than it is and the filmmaking is routine because Reitman has no real flair or vision. Even the music is wrong. First, the whimsical original score (Rolpe Kent who also hammed up the sounds of “Sideways”) makes what’s on screen feel like a sitcom (because it is!). But worse than the musical Mickey Mousing (aka John Williams-ing) is the wretched song cuts that play over the film to a point where they should be credited for co-writingit. The film sounds like a b-sides Juno CD which, given the plot, is totally off the mark. And nothingbothers me more than when the EXACT RIGHT SONG plays duringthe the exact right moment, thus taking me out of a movie even more because I’m no longer watchinga crafted work of art or storytelling but, rather, a commercial.  Hey, something sad’s happening, quick throw up some Elliot Smith. Lazy, lazy, lazy.

As I watched George Clooney jet from one city/hotel/rental car to another I kept thinking of a moment in “Fight Club” of all things. Ed Norton’s deliberately lifeless (compared to Clooney’s unintentionally lifeless–jeez, is Reitman capable of making a film without voice overs?!) narrated montage about the absurdest prefab universe of travelingfor a living. I wondered for a moment what it would be like if that sequence was extended into an entire feature length film and realized that, holy hell, I WAS watching that movie albeit a neutered and crowd pleasing version. It’s as if we too are stuck in the travel purgatory of the film’s character.

Purgatory is a good word. The production design gets old very fast. A better director would have found a new way of visualizing shots of people in lines, people sitting, people at airport bars etc. and I know that’s possible because I was just mentioning David Fincher’s “Fight Club” and he did it! That being said the pervasive flatness would have been intolerable without…. George. Ah, yes, Mr. George Clooney. I love em’ as much as any straight guy could. I mean, Clooney can hold a movie as good as anybody out there, even a movie that’s not very good with is a real feat. Here he anchors the whole picture with likability and delivers what’s expected except he also delivers his most grab-happy, attention seeking performance  to date (and, yes, I’ve seen “Syriana”).

I fear Clooney had a lot to do with the emphasis of reaching out to middle America in the scenes where the film shows and puts a face to the economic fallout. I can’t stress enough how insultingthis aspect of the film is. The film contains no less than three extended sequences (boringly shot of course) of “everyday” people getting fired and blubbering by a staid looking Clooneyand befuddled Kendrick and each time Captain Your Fired spoke in his gravely voice I wanted to scream because it felt so damn self serving and unearned. But it’s not even like the rest of the film is good enough to be ruined by this social approach; it just means a bad film is being made worse by good intentions. Clooney is a lone wolf but humanist! He’s an island but really loves people! He’s, um, George Clooney. But he’s also a wounded child that finally gives into his softer side when he admits that settlingdown is more than something “other people do”–now give him an(other) Oscar, damn it! Look, George Clooney is great at being himself but what’s funny if seemingly impossible is that he’s been better and being himself! He usually smarter than the material but this time only seems to be pandering to it.

Grade: Oy Vey (C- actually)

“The Road” proves that you can make an apocalyptic movie without zombies. The film is an unrelenting yet landmark work of science-fiction because, for one, the viewer is so caught up in the moment, in surviving with the two lead characters, that it hard to tell it’s even sci-fi. That said, this is the most dramatically rich (and oppressive) films of its kind and no short-cuts are taken. The film is true to the story and the characters. Sometimes so much so that it’s hard to handle.

John Hillcoat (who made the equally bleak Western called “The Proposition”–a film I also love but am afraid to watch again) has fashioned this story based, of course, on the great Cormac McCarthy novel, with a very loose plot structure (the family is moving south for reasons unstated in a world destroyed from unknown reasons) but in a lot of ways the less we know the more we are able to feel the frustration of the characters. And that’s what’s it’s all about! When it comes to the central father and son characters the film is focused and that’s where it counts. With a strikingly haunting Great Depression era face, Viggo Mortensen is brilliant in his struggle to remain “good” when such moral qualifiers no longer exist. Yet he persists. He is not perfect and he is not profound, he just.. is and I admire the modesty and minimalism in Mortensen’s grounded performance. We may not know much in the way of context (the flashbacks to his past life are unnecessary) but we are able to connect with the spirit of the character who does not even have a name; we understand what he is doing and why he is doing it even if we, along with him, can’t articulate it. Sharing every moment of screen time, the man’s son, played by Kodi Smit-McPhee, doesn’t ruin the movie and that’s one of the highest compliments I can pay to a child actor.

The film’s production design is perfect. The muted and drab earth tones capture this dying world. And I don’t just use the term “dying world” as a metaphor. The world is shutting down. The temperature is dropping and life is on its way out. Hillcoat and his team capture exactly that. When the two characters finally reach the “blue ocean,” they take one look at it and the father says “I’m sorry it’s not blue.” There you go! Trees are skeletal and often keel over on screen and in a particularly effective design choice, do so off screen too as we often hear creeks and thuds in the background which startle us at first but become a fact of life soon after. Vegetation is withered and brown. Earthquakes reign down upon man like an angry God is shaking the world loose. Animals are nonexistent (and they’re lucky for it). The only thing left is what remains of humanity, full of scavengers, thiefs, blind men and cannibals (yes, cannibals). Mad Max had it easy, this is humanity. If it’s any consolation there is hope, but in typical McCarthy fashion it comes as such a great price that there might as well not be. But there is.

“The Road” is one of the best post-man movies I’ve ever seen. I love that, after having a kid himself, McCarthy’s way of celebrating fatherhood is THIS devastating world. Still, I consider myself a student of apocalyptic fiction so my point of entry into “The Road” is through the genre more than the author and accolades. On that basis its a beautifully realized movie that, refreshingly, lacks irony, sentimentality and Will Smith.

Grade: A-

• What’s Good: “Education” features three perfectly fine performances. That’s the only thing that sets this film apart.
• What’s Not: Coming of age + private school + 60s = seen it before. Bland writing and uninspired directing. Bah humbug.

As the fifth highest rated film of the year (Metacritic) with 7 perfect scores and countless other fawning cheer-a-thons one would think this film would have more to offer. It does not. This is a very simple yet also a very assuming film. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a cute little movie at its heart but that’s all it is. So while what they say is true (it is nice) and what happens comes awards time might be deserved (Carey Mulligan is guaranteed a nomination) but “An Education” is just the kind of shallow feel good story to win over the hearts of America’s old and tired who want to experience this story without being challenged in any sort of way.

Ms. Mulligan, the young lead, is winning to be sure but not very subtle in her emotional pallet. She’s smart, she’s nice, she’s a romantic, she’s a, well, Mary Sue. I blame the writing more than the performance. Mulligan’s Jenny is an overachieving student who experiences love (or lurve) for the first time but the story she finds herself in does not rise to her level of academic excellence. Ah, but there’s a twist (but not really): set in an all girls private school (insert naughty thought here) during the roaring-or-rocking-or-whatever-60s, the education in question is not one of acquiring knowledge but experience in ”the school of life.” Wow, groundbreaking. It’s not like we’ve ever seen a plot chronicling a youngins’ personal awakening set against the backdrop of social upheaval (YOU SEE, BECAUSE THE TWO PARALLEL EACH OTHER) before, oh no, never, I can’t even wrap my brain around this groundbreaking concept. Despite such trite sentiments, this gifted young girl with her gifted young dimples has the ability to melt away even my icy cynicism–she’s like the Nermal of teenage girls in that respect. Mulligan’s Jenny is an intellectual shut-in who is a willing prisoner of her demanding father and silent mother. Her bubble is popped (along with a few other things) upon the arrival of an older man into her life in act one. From Latin to lipstick, Jenny suddenly finds herself swept away by a shady rich man and her family is all too willing to allow Jenny to go down this path because the man is rich and powerful. Or is he? Will she stay with the dubious cad or pursuit a life of the mind at Oxford University??? You know the answer. What I’ve just said is all there is in this picture. The plot is so linear that watching it play out provides almost no measure of surprise or insight. It goes where it must and where it has before in countless stories about young naive love.

The film might as well have been written by a machine which, looking at who actually wrote it, author Nick Hornby, that’s half true because he hasn’t written anything true to his style or particularly original or not corny since High Fidelity. The catch in terms of how one judges this kind of film is that the lead is so winning that the flaws inherit in the by-the numbers drama are blurred to a point of forgiveness. Just as effective in an altogether different way is the jail bait scouting suitor played by Peter Sarsgaard (awesome actor, and doing a pretty good Brit accent as far as I can tell) who walks the line between charming and creepy so well that I would say the success of the film hinges upon his ability to make us like him despite our Spidey-senses tell us that some thing not quite right is going on here. While Mulligan will sponge up all the accolades (her cute-as-a-button newness is impossible to resist–could this be the second coming of Sally Field? ooooooh I hope so!) the real show stealer is the great and gifted and usually underrated Alfred Molina who plays her her father, a hysterical and peevish oaf that represents old England with their old values. The only problem is that he’s more lovable than than everybody else (made even more so because this is Doc Ock and the Mexican from “Maverick” we’re talking bout). Even here though, and all across the board, that’s all there is to it.

In the end gives me no pleasure to be hard on such a harmless and likable film. But it gives me even less pleasure to watch something that plays it safe, has no fresh ideas and still gets awarded for its mediocrity.

Grade: C+

• What’s Good: The scene with the baby powder. The amazing anticipation anytime we’re in the bedroom seen above. Usually the ghost just fluffs pillows but it’s still really exciting.
• What’s Not:A very shallow film. The film does not even try that hard to make us think that the characters “should” stay at home, I love how a visiting ghost Dr. gets creeped out by the energy in the house and screams “oh, and the presence will follow you wherever you go… lata!” on his way out.

It took about ten years but the horror genre finally gets its unlikely successor to ”Blair Witch.” Which (haha) basically means that everyone will see this un-seen ghost movie once, and probably even like it (as I did), but, because it’s a gimmicky ”reality” spook show where, as its non-fans love to point out, ”nothing happens,” where do we go from there? Nowhere, this is the end of the line. Others will copy “Paranormal Activity” but none work because what’s there to copy? There is simply not much to hold on to or embrace in terms of actual content or any measure of horror mythology. I guess they could do “Paranormal Activity 2″ set in the attic but anything short of that limits this phenomom’s had-to-be-there potential. Still, any successful horror movie that’s not ”Saw” should be seen and supported.  

Funny how just a few days after the art house horror-esq movie ”Antichrist” arrives another film with similarities such as (a) there are only two characters in the whole movie; (b) the two characters are married; (c) the characters are trapped, by their own design, in a confined space such as a house even though they could leave at any moment; (d) the wife in both relationships is deeply disturbed by inner demons that, in the case of “Paranormal Activity” but not “Antichrist,” are LITERAL demons.

This is what I call a Youtube horror movie where a house is haunted and… and… um, yeah, it’s haunted you see and… uhhhh, a dude captures it all on film with his new camera. His reasons for constantly shooting the house and his girlfriend is unclear because he doesn’t do anything with the footage except watch it and go “woah, look at that!” only to continue to stay in a house that is clearly going to hell. He’s a dumb ass horror movie character in other words. The premise is as a thin as the spectre. All the “scary” stuff happens in the bedroom, but only at night because ghosts love the night. (I have a theory that the new Leno show is so bad that the ghost snapped and decided it would rather entertain itself by scaring this retarded.) At night, the cool sound of wobbling energy (the ghost materializing?) is usually followed by a noise, a tap, a gust of wind or some sort of otherworldly ghostly resonance. If the movie “Jaws” has the tagline ”Don’t go in the water” then ”Paranormal Activity’s” should be “don’t go in the bedroom.” And on that level it really works! I for one scared the shit out of my sister who lives in my upstairs apartment and I urge everyone to do the same (to your sister, not mine please). The hauntings become more severe until the end where I must admit to have seen the different, and more subtle, ending than what was in the theatrical cut. I liked what I saw and hated the one you probably saw, which makes no sense. 

Either way, a similar but vastly superior handheld or Youtube horror film, with a real story and a tangible menace, is the underrated “Quarantine,” a remake of the equally good but most would say better Mexican film “[rec].” That film has rage zombies that tear apart human flesh while this one has… an invisible ghost that closes doors at night. That sounds (and sometimes is) underwhelming but ”Paranormal Activity” accomplishes its very basic mission statement of slowly creeping us out. And its hard to hold a film accountable for a lack of substance when I can’t look away from a it? The film is not really directed and the story is not really told but the sum of the parts adds up to a really effective horror film that had me h(sp)ooked all the way through. As is the case with “Blair Witch,” “Paranormal Activity” the film will be forgotten but the experience of watching it is here to stay.

Paranormal Activity: B / Lasting Appeal: D

“Antichrist.” Fuck! What are we to make of this? It’s hard calling something one of the best films of the year that makes you feel the worst you have felt all year. Lars Von Trier has set out to make a film about madness and the horrible things humans do to each other and has succeeded more than just about any director this side of Werner Herzog or Brian de Palma. The best way to describe the awesomely titled “Antichrist” is to say it will cut you and that if you watch it you will hate life for a least a day after watching. And that’s a compliment! Watching it hurts but its the kind of hurt we need and the kind of hurt that I could not look away from. As director Lars von Trier tells his simple yet disturbing tale of humanity’s masochistic dark side he heaps layers upon layers of artistic formalism and his approach is jagged and obvious but the effect reached his approach is undeniable and, after your done, unforgettable. I hate that Trier’s dirty parable was so well made because this is also a film I instinctively want to reject and tell people to stay away from. It’s quite mad but there’s genus in its madness and there’s no getting around that.

“Antichrist” has only two characters, one a man and Other (capital o) a woman, who, by the end are both stripped of their humanity in almost every way possible including their gender markers i.e. gentiles. The man is a headstrong psychiatrist that seeks to enforce reason to chaos and the woman, his wife, is… um, crazy. During an opening sequence that is best described as a avant-garde horror commercial porn (classical music, slow motion, black and white, and, wha!!!, a shot of actual hardcore sex done by what I hope to dear god is body doubles), the couple’s son wakes up somewhere atop a hi-rise building, sees his parents having sex (in slow-mo!) and pulls a Clapton by heading straight for the window, falling to his death which is probably what I would do I if my dad was Williem Dafoe and I saw him boning my mom. Anyways, this tragedy sets off a chain of events that drives the mother to the point of Freudian madness (I have a hunch that she was a bit off before the accident) and, it goes without saying, in bad need of help. The interesting thing is that the “help” is what hurts. Is it a good thing or perhaps a horrible thing that her husband is qualified in ”helping” people with “problems.” A few dozen night-terrors/angry-sex-beat-downs later and the couple are off to the woods, a lake house called Eden. As a qualified therapist, the husband’s project and maybe even experiment becomes his own wife whom he psychoanalyses to death! She is stricken with a condition that is obvious in origins but mysterious in its symptoms. This vague and debilitating illness, depicted with haunting perfection by actress Charlotte Gainsbourg, dominates the narrative and, if you look at it in terms of gender issues, touches upon themes of male hegemony and witch trials. She tells him the woods are the first, make that second, thing she fears most in life so… yeah, off to the woods they go. Here, the film has all the makings of a genuine horror story. Horror fans take note, the “horror” is psychological, metaphorical, tonal and achingly poetic. There are no monsters or flesh eating viruses. And the Antichrist in question is not of the “Omen” variety. 

“Antichrist” is ripe with ostentatious imagery that claws at the screen and burns some nasty shit in your head that you won’t soon forget despite wanting to. Trees, hills, grass, animals, acorns, man made tools and of course the historical pictures depicting man persecuting women throughout the ages. The symbolism, allegories, Biblical metaphors, Freudian signs, surrealist imagery or whatever else you want to call what von Trier is doing here is handled with a most heavy hand but not unsuccessfully applied if you take the whole film into account. The story will be moving along in its own peculiar way and all of a sudden Trier will cut to a slow motion tableau or dissonant visual balled. Williem Dafoe for instance will be talking a walk in the woods while on the way to the couple’s cabin and, wham, his beautifully ugly mug (Trier makes great use of the actor’s amazing features) is now staring at the camera (and by extension us!) as the film cuts to strange and off-putting images of, say, a female deer giving birth as it trots away or a fox eating itself or a baby bird falling to its death. As these disturbing (in ways we can’t always place or consciously articulate) images wash over us the film further adds to the rich-to-a-point-of-choking atmosphere by cueing menacing, David Lynchian sound chords. These alienating, distorted and perhaps hallucinatory asides that characters experience occur more and more frequently once the couple in in their cabin until a point comes where the viewer realizes that the asides are now the norm because the weird shit has taken over the film completely. The film and its characters become consumed by the sadistic and controlling artist. So, then, let it be said that Trier is the monster of this horror spectacle.

The film has been called misogynistic and that is… bull shit. Film academics are so politically correct these days that if a film disturbs us we scramble to dismiss it or classify it as something outmoded or the work of an “angry white male” and, thus, unworthy of serious consideration. That’s sad because it prevents a real dialogue from taking place. Yet all this film wants is for such a thing to take place. Every second is a prod to the viewer be it a pin prick to our intellectual side or a full frontal assault on our sensitivities; Trier plays with the viewer’s instinctual impulse to both look away and yet also sneak a peek a horrible things. Like the fox consuming its own self from head to tail, its almost as if “Antichrist” wants the viewer denounce it because that only proves its point. At Cannes this year the film got an anti-award for its horrible views towards women. Okay, but the jury then awarded Charlotte Gainsbourg, the wife, with a best actress award (and rightfully so). So which is it, fuck-wads? While bad things happen to a woman, bad things also happen to a men and, I must add, women do bad things to men and men do bad things to women. In other words: bad things happen to people! 

If I haven’t referred to the characters by name it’s because they don’t have them: she (Gainsbourg) is called Her while he (Dafoe) is called He and the two make life a living and literal hell for each other. That’s practically the thesis of this piece! The film in other, simpler words, is in one sense about the evils we do to each other but is really about the evil we have inside us innately. In one intense scene (aren’t they all?) Gainsbourg says that nature “is the devil’s playground” and this theme is consistently evoked by Trier through the mise en scene. Pine cones drop like a-bombs, animals watch as if emissaries of the devil and dirt hits buried bodies like with w real feeling of organic weight. Like some twisted Werner Herzog film, nature does indeed have plans for the two. Nature is beauty and all-giving (a female trait) but it also destroys and kills (male). Above all, the film makes us see and FEEL that, while human nature is a force of darkness, its also natural. Humans at their core, and if viewed with human constructs such as logic and morality, are evil. If nature is the devil’s playground then human are the devil itself. The Jeckle and Hyde horror movie twist is that the monster was inside us all along.

During one of the many day dreams we experience a fox, after eating its own tail, turns to Williem Dafoe and actually speaks. ”Chaos reigns” he growls. I laughed at the ridiculousness of this absurd moment (which are not uncommon by the way) but at the same time was haunted by the lasting impression it left–one of surreal hopelessness and total consumption at the hands of the chaotic void from which we all spring from and perpetuate. As the final shot (which appears at first to be ants walking up a hill… except they’re not ants, they’re people–women to be exact) fades the parting line of the film is a dedication to Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky. I laughed again here because it should have been David Lynch.

Grade: A

• What’s Good: A bright and fun zombidy. Funny horror films are making a comeback and that there’s the best cinematic trend of 2009.
• What’s Not: Way too short. The film is so fun I wanted more. Though I really feel the amusement park final act could have been reworked or even rethought.   

Mah zambah eeeeett harmanz brahnz…nerrrgggg….orhhh, nnnnnh brahnz thhhhann uurrr thhhheennn goooo merveeee urrr waaaacchhh….lkkee ehhhhttt loooot… almmm aaaa gooooo aaaa brahnz.

I’ve never seen a zombie movie in which characters squirt on some hand sanitizer after smokeing a gaggle (what is the plural term for a zombies anyway?) of undeads. I’ve also never seen one in which the cause of the zombie plague is revealed to be bad hamburger meat. “You’ve heard of mad cow? well this is mad human” the protagonist states in the most casual, matter of fact manner possible. I once thought that the splendid and, at the time of their release, refreshing combo of Max Brooks’ deadpan “historical” zombie fiction satire novel “World War Z” and the only Romero approved post Romero zombie film ever, ”Shaun of the Dead,” was the logical end-point for outre zombie humor. But, like a glistening appitezing nugget of brain matter, newcomer Ruben Fleiscer’s palatable, instantly/insatiably enjoyable ”Zombieland” has come along to prove that not only is it not the end of zombie humor but that there may be no end in terms of comic possibilities. Zombies are funny: this film laughs at them.

This may be the best zombie movie ever made that, on the diegetical surface, adds almost nothing new or notable to the genre except for that whole mad human virus origin. There’s nothing really original about the film but, like a lot of simple but fun comedies, there doesn’t need to be. This isn’t a parody either, which would have been quite easy if the influx of trendy zombie student films is any gauge. Like any post-human meal, the film is all parts: the humor of “Shaun,” the last stand guts and bravado of “Dawn of the Dead,” and the fourth wall breaking aesthetics of the Russian horror cluster fuck ”Night Watch.” The nebbish, irritable bowl surviving protagonist, who is the kind of character that would result if Woody Allen had an ass baby with Holden Caulfield, learns to live by the creed of a boorish new partner he encounters on the road to nowhere, that of ”enjoy(ing) the little things” in an existence full of pants shitting dread (and I mean that literally). He’s right, and why not apply that dime store philosophy to the film because once you as the viewer stray off the path to look at the big things (like structure, plotting and the entire second half of the film) you see how unremarkable “Zombieland” actually is. The little stuff  –consisting of mostly the main character describing details of his world, quick one liners and sight gags– though, it’s got covered and covered so well that you aren’t even aware of anything else.

The film stars Jesse Eisenberg who was in ”Adventureland, of which “ZombieLAND” is nota sequel though oddly enough it is also set in an amusement park, and ”The Squid and the Whale.” In a welcome turn of events, Eisenberg is the new Michael Cera for people who don’t think Michael Cera is all that in terms of range or humor or, uh, range of humor. Eisenberg is fantastic because its not often we get to see a horror movie protag spazzing (as opposed to shooting) his way through a zombie apocalypse. This kind of fragile, self effacing personality works really well within the usually rigid confines of this subgenre. Woody Harrlson is the aforementioned partner who gets a lot of laughs out of his hillbilly act of shooting first and asking dumb questions later (ah, I love Woody). Playing a mix between father figure and frat buddy, Woody steals the show and doesn’t even have to try that hard to push the laughs as I suspect he’s just naturally funny. Like that squirrel from “Ice Age,” the running subplot where Woody searches high and low for one of the last remaining Twinkies on earth is perfect in its genus stupidity. Another big time show stealer is a cameo that I won’t mention even though it will very quickly grow become legend–the thrill of not seeing this cameo coming added so much to the experience of watching “Zombieland.” The film also stars Emma Stone, who is Mila Kuntis for people who don’t think Mila Kuntis is all that which, admittedly, is not as many people as Cera but… getting sidetracked, sorry. Her partner is played by the significantly better actress Abagael Breslin and the two gals, in another nice genre/character twist, are the masculine troublemakers who constantly one up the male duo. Breslin and Harrilson, the film’s “real” stars, ironically take a back seat to the lesser knowns but the formula works better that way. I am tempted to say this is a pivotal performance for young Breslin who proves here to be totally able to escape the soul crushing clutches of kid actor-dom.

This is not just a zombie movie but a zombie road trip movie. We don’t get many of those even though it seems like an obvious setting. Sure, to some degree, almost all Z movies start off all road trippy but most if not all settle into a semi-logical narrative holding pattern where the running characters find themselves cornered by the horde of flesh eaters in a house or bunker or tall building or barn or take your pick. This film starts on the road and stays on on the road and if it can be faulted for anything it’s that it isn’t long enough! ”Zombieland” really could have used a longer middle section –more random zombie bashing fun or weird antidotes or, my favorite, zombie “kill of the week” flashbacks– but I think the writers and director felt like they had to cram in an obligatory plot when that is the least interesting and/or essential part of what makes “Zombieland” so entertaining.  

Getting back to the road, I am reminded of one of my favorite current run graphic novels called ”Walking Dead” by Robert Kirkman. That sprawling series, however brilliant it tends to be, has zero sense of humor about zombies or the absurd situations humans find themselves in a world run by them. This film on the other hand contains a lot of humor and even lot of heart but not much else. The writing does a fine job of relaying the first two aspects and doesn’t even bother with trying to establish anything else. Again, it has not obligation to so it won’t be faulted. The directing is also interesting in that it starts off in the vein of Zach Snyder–the slow motion zombie attack on fat people, business people, old people etc. opening credit montage (a stylized hoot) and a manic introduction to the ways of world we now live in implies that the film is going to hit us with a flurry of style and gore but it wisley levels off into a more standard, unobtrusively made horror comedy that allows great sight gags and character moments to be the real focus.

Is this movie a zombie classic? I’m not sure. The jokes, often too clever by half but clever nonetheless, need some time to settle with me (will it hold up on a second viewing… I think so) but I feel this one has a good shot of enduring and, now that it’s made some money, hopefully even becoming a series. As I said in my “Drag Me To  Hell” review. we could use more humor in our horror.

grade: B

P-o-n-y-o!!! Ponyo, Ponyo, Ponyo in the sea, Ponyo for you, Ponyo for me! Okay, so the theme song may suck, but that’s the only thing abou the film that does. I love living in a world where this film exists. The innocence to be found in this movie about a boy and a, um, fish girl thingy who wants to be human is almost alarming. Certainly something unique in a genre Pixar dominates with its constantly “on” sense of humor and constantly showy technical know how. While there’s no arguing or uprooting Pixar’s place as the dominate force shaping kids (and adults!) imaginations in this country, I find the work there to be at times hollow and usually too sly and clever for its own good. Produced and distributed and nurtured by Pixar’s own John Lasseter (and lets give the guy credit for knowing who to bow to), Hayao Miyazaki, a god amongst men, provides an antidote to all things Disney while at the same time upholding the magic of that company.  

With a cool and breezy hand drawn style that is gentle at all times but forceful when it needs to be (the underwater and storm sequences are exceptional), this is Miyazaki most kid friendly and fun loving feature. The film is about two sets of worlds struggling to coexist, that of nature and civilization (the sea and the city) and that of youth and adulthood. As forces of nature attempt to join or in one case fuse (the eponymous protagonist is a hybrid creature that is anything but creepy and unnatural) and meet each other half way, I loved how Miyazaki has made a film about the environment and about childhood without bludgeoning the viewer with a blunt message in the way, say, “Happy Feet” or “Wall-E” did. Once again, the attention to detail in a Miyazaki film is amazing as every cubic inch of this film is teeming with a life of its own. If you’ve ever looked at sea water under a microscope you will find a world of strange and wonderful life that exist without us ever being aware of it. This film brings that alien world to life with great color and inventiveness. Nothing ironic here, nothing excessive and nothing even remotely dangerous for young viewers. Just… a really nice feeling that grabbed me from the first sea-set shot and reminded over and over me of what kids movies use to be and what they can be. A-

While “Away We Go” and “Paper Heart” were hipster death traps that many (but not nearly enough) were able to avoid, the hipster offering that worked, “(500) Days of Summer,”worked well. Worked for the reason other films of its ilk don’t: it’s emo nature is sincere rather than used as some sort of agenda or used for its own sake (look how in touch we are, look how COOL we can be without even trying). Its use of music is part of the film’s character’s worldview rather than the director showing off. A story that spans the rise and eventual fall of a doomed-from-the-start relationship, “Days of Summer” is gimmicky and sometimes too ambitious for its own good (the alternate reality moments are silly and unnecessary) but reminded me of a modern “Annie Hall” and worth it for the performance by Jason Gordon Levit, who is now forgiven for (a) being in “G.I. Joe,” (b) getting his lame male stripper turned “actor” Channing Tatum (this guy is now in our lives?!) to be in “G.I. Ho.” B

• What’s Good: A genuine vampire film that ranks among the best. It innovates as it celebrates.  :-F
• What’s Not: Pacing issues make it hard to watch but they are essential in building the slow tedious tension that makes up these creatures never ending (but wish they did) lives.
• Faux Peter Traverse Quote: This film delivers the scares! It will suck you dry! Watch out, it bites!

Zombies out, vamps in. The fanged ones have not just reemerged from the darkness but redefined what they are and how they live. In that vein (ha!) this is one of the best vampire films ever made. The reason is in the approach. Imagine “Oldboy” with vampires–something totally original yet eerily familiar. Chan-wook Park, one of maybe two or three notable directors/auteurs from this decade (good god, that few?), approaches vampires from a new perspective; one that is eye opening in its symbolic/mythological richness. The reason Park is one of the few notable new directors around is for the simple reason that, when faced with a new genre, he is able to define for himself what Vampires are rather than borrowing from past films and stories. There are so many different angles to approach the film and, then, so many different ways to read it that I am reminded of the equally brilliant “Let the Right One In.”

Park jumps into the shoes of a newly turned vamp with great results. The vampire noob is a priest (Kang-ho Song) who, hoping for martyrdom, signs himself up as an experimental test patient for a rare disease that only usually affects westerners (a nice wink to the racial preference past vampire lore). Instead of dying a bloody death his body reacts… differently. After Song’s performances in “The Host,” “Memories of a Murder,” “The Good the Bad and the Weird,” he’s one of the best actors around. Though the film is funny, his performance is something of a miracle in that’s is dead serious and at time tragic but not a drag. Anyway, he becomes a national celebrity, a Lazareth-like figure, who, since he survived, is believed to be a saint. Well, as he comes to find out… he’s not. I love this biological angle because here is a man who has not only become a vampire but has to do so alone and with no guidance, spiritual or otherwise; I mean, being a vamp’s not so bad when you got Tom Cruse showing you the ropes. Even during his transformation he works at a hospital, helping the dead and dying as he is both. One day a woman begs him to help her son. He enters her house and family and this chance encounter changes the flow of the entire film. He goes on to meet the unhappy wife (co-star Ok-vin Kim) to an inept husband to the wretched mother. Thinking he’s going to hell anyways, Father Sang (played by Song–trying my best to keep the names straight) then enters the world of sexual expression, except for him sex is very close to blood sucking and he even does both at the same time. That’s a central motif. There are these fabulously set up shots of lovers sucking each others extremities (mouth to thumb, toe to mouth), a kink that is totally new to the genre, and this eventually turns to the mutual parasitic sucking of each other’s blood. Blood in most vampire films are more a function of set design and decoration than story development, splashes of color as it were, but here it has weight and context and value. When it’s shared and when it’s spilled it means something!

This cursed, diseased creature is not dead and loving it. He’s not even romantic. Just confused. Existentialism takes on a whole new meaning for this priest and for vampire films as a whole. Though the film could be called a “vampire romance” (not to be confused with the generic “Twilight” stuff which is fine but, lets face it, pap) Park’s thesis is much darker and more subversive. The notion of vampires/vampyrism in this film is a metaphor for not only one’s search for faith but human relationships. Two people find each other and while the blood is really flowing at first, it takes on a torturous, soul sucking configuration where the notion of spending an eternity with your mate becomes hell on earth. As the couple in this film suck each other dry, “Thirst” can be called the “Sid and Nancy” of vampire films without any irony. And I love the notion that the man of faith figures, KNOWS, he’s going to be in hell forever because he’s a man of faithwhile his lover, who has no faith, will simply turn to dust before facing the void of nothingness. The Priest’s religion, in that sense, is even more tragic because he believes in a concept that damns him. That’s such a sad but profound concept. The film critiques the role of religion in Korea as well. What Park does here is a similar thing he did in the underrated “Sympathy for Lady Vengeance.” Religion is both superstitious and silly but also a moral compass that seems to exist only as a gauge for how far from grace his protagonists fall. A priest turned vampire is not just a cute gimmick but a heartbreaking reality under Park’s direction.

The film takes the most unexpected turns. It’s rhythms are strange and offputting but kind of wonderful too. Expect the film to run long (especially in the middle) but the unuasually stretched plot helped me feel for how awkward and unnatural this guy’s life became. One thing doesn’t so much lead to another as much as they happen for unknown or soon to be known reasons. When the priest “becomes” a vampire we don’t get the usual montage. When he is about to have sex for the first time we don’t get the sex scene we expect. When he DOES have sex, we doget a steamy scene but it goes on for so long and extends so far past its welcome that sexyness gradually transitions into disturbing. When he feeds for the first time, it’s not a thrilling moment of moral I-can-do-anything-ness liberation but an awkward and humorous moment where he latches onto the floor like an inverted bat and sucks from the IV of a brain dead fat man (this, for some reason, reminded me of the mosquito that drank from Uma in “Kill Bill”). The plot also doesn’t do what’s expected. It’s funny when it should be said (a vamp lifts up a comotosed woman, and the chair she sits on, in front of company), thrilling when it should be romantic (the priest grabs the girl and goes roof jumping) and a thriller when it should be, er, whatever. The last twenty minutes, set in the tortured girl’s childhood home (now painted all white with TVs projected recorded shots of the street as if it was a window), owe more to Hitchcock than any Asian vampire thriller. So many surprises!

Don’t come to “Thirst” for something enjoyable. Come to it for something different. Something great.

Grade: A-

More than being well made, “District 9″ is incredibly well conceived. Like the alien protagonist and his pint sized larva of a son the ambitious film shoot for the stars and almost get there! This is a deliberately made and didactic told polemical sci-fi tale in the vein of “Alien Nation,” “Enemy Mine” (both underrated) and TV’s “Battlestar Galatica” that examines and reworks the notion the subaltern (aliens) and imperialist tendencies where, in a nice update, humans both black and white take on the role of the oppressor. By the end I found myself cheering for the death of us awful human creatures, then cheering at a film that has the nerve to have me cheering for the defeat of my side. There’s a lot to grab on to as “District 9″ is also an intense handheld or mock documentary thriller on par with ”Rec”/”Quarantine” and ”Cloverfield,” a B-movie, a monster movie, an edgy political comedy, a sci-fi adventuer that Spielberg would get off on (little boy alien = Spielberg smiling), a messy and sadistic horror film that Peter Jackson would get off on and, by the end, a mech robot action movie that Michael Bay would get off on. A lot of getting off in other words.

The plot, consisting of mysteriously sick aliens landing on Earth and hovering above South African for months only to become intergalactic illegal alien refugees in need of government assistance and affirmative action, is loaded with with gooey allegorical meanings. That’s  noble and all but the political reading you may, make that must, apply is never far from the surface and, beyond that, not really necessary to explore or debate with other viewers because there is nodebate about it. What you see is what you get. Same goes for the plot reversal where alien and human DNA are joined into a vessel as the human side begins to loose out to the dominant Otherness of the alien inside–hum, what could that symbolise? And why shouldn’t this stuff be overtly stated… to a point of intellectual bludgeoning. Why not just call it “Alien Apartheid is EVIL BAD BAD STUFF NO GOOD BE NICE: The Movie!” Whether this preachy approach is good or bad remains to be seen (I’m on the fence–no pun intended) but, either way, while the message at hand (or claw, or tentacle) is cool if not subtle, the way the message is handled within this genre piece is what’s cooler. Neill Blomkamp’s slumdog special effects are handled with technical ease (he is an FX guy after all) and unassuming integration and they are more visually interesting than the entirety of, say, “Transformers 2?” The difference is that one cost over $200 million and the other only $30. There’s a lesson there.

As they are reduced to sifting through rubbish and clicking at each other while wearing earthly rags (one has a pink bra on, hehe) and being handed eviction notices because, after all, ”they have no concept of ownership” (::rolls eyes::), the alien threat moochers are, in a word, masterful creations that work both visually and within the story world. This is one of those rare instances where freaky looking aliens are not here to destroy us but dependon us and the film is about how humans, through their mistreatment, have lost their humanity. The aliens are very pratical creations, believable in some strange way, and given a full set of cultural values and native quirks but at the same time they are always elusive and distant. They are more advanced than us but also kinda dumb in their inability to tell humans “look, help us get off your planet and we’ll be outta your hair,” and, oh yeah, they love catfood: we don’t know why, they just do. On one hand I like that the film lets mystery surround these strange and unknowable cultures (reminds me of “The Host”), on the other I felt the deliberate deferment of explanation at certain times (especially when it comes to the logic and motivation of the alien species and most importantly the reason behind the all important hybrid) is a bit of cheating, narratively speaking. I guess its easier to say “oh, we don’t know why that happens, they’re aliens, you see, erm, and technology does stuff, okay!” than to actually provide a payoff.

The humans of “D9″ are a lot more uncomplicated and as such nowhere near as memorable. Nearly all supporting performances are down right crappy truth be told (especially the Stone Cold Steven Austen looking bad guy), rarely amounting to anything more than one dimensional figures who have little to say (“I will get you!” is a line that is repeated in one hammy way or another) but a lot to do–the bad corporate guy, the bad army guy, the bad drug guy, the weeping wife, etc. Thankfully, one human –the one that counts– is anything but routine. Newly appointed UKNR (a gov organization responsible for “handling” the alien “problem”) Chief Correspondent, a worm of a character played by first time actor Sharlto Copley (picture a creepier version of Spike Jonez), is the unlikely star of the film. He goes from retarded to renegade, from racist to remorsful in a pretty kick ass (if not logical) plot turn. In fact, I don’t even want to explain the character away too much because seeing his fate play out it’s such a treat. Now, this is more of a feat on the performance side of things than the writing but I’ll take what I can. Copley turns in a breakthrough performance on par with Sigourney Weaver in “Alien” because he starts off so unassuming, cliched (i.e. the nerd put in charge when everything goes wrong), and, well, un star-like. For the first twenty minutes I was waiting for this creepy suit to get eaten or blown up in a funny manner (a la “Tropic Thunder”) so that the real hero could emerge. That doesn’t happen. Actually, it does: Copley is the hero and his transformation (in more ways than one) is one for the books.

If there’s a flaw its that the film has so many good ideas and so many interesting ways of implementing those ideas that, two thirds of the way through, everything seems to stall and it shifts into just an action movie where the clear cut good guys are racing against the clock while clear cut bad guys chase them with big guns, bellowing out lines like “you’re going to pay!” Honestly, it feels like a video game (fittingly, this was producer Peter Jackson’s make-up prize to Blomkamp when his “Halo” project fell apart) which I mean as both a compliment and a put down. A compliment because I believe that video games are vastly superior to cinema these days but a slight diss because, well, this isn’t a game, this is a film that is trying oh so hard to be profound and not always succeeding. Still, integrity has a way of hanging on through the mindless action, unambiguous moralizing, humans being out-acted by CGI characters and wonky dialogue.

We’ve seen all the components that make up this before but never quite in this way. “District 9″ is an unusual film that breaks a lot of ground. Now, it does not break new ground so much as old ground but, again, that’s not a put down because at least somebody’s attempting breaking something in this dying cinematic genre that moved to, you guessed it, video games a long, long time ago in a galaxy far way.

Grade: B

• What’s Good: Like the Iraq War genre, Kathryn Bigelow can’t be counted out after this film. ”Hurt Locker” is a breakthrough effort and the only truly successful Iraq War 2 film ever made.
• What’s Not: Some nagging loose ends. At times the film is a bit too ragged and unorganized. The film is tense but it’s not always as tight as it could be.

Army Guy1: Pretty much, the bottom line is that if you’re in Iraq, you’re dead.

Sergent: Would you shut the fuck up!

I heard about, read about about and eventually saw Kathryn Bigelow’s “The Hurt Locker.” This is a film that I saw, but saw under protest because, from where I’m standing, every Iraq War 2 film ever made –and even every Iraq War 1 film except for “Three Kings”– has failed in one epic way or another. So despite its seemingly tired yet scathingly topical subject matter, the word-of-mouth on this one could not be ignored even by me. So… I saw it and I’m so glad I let this one slip in because it’s not going to be slipping out anytime soon.

“The Hurt Locker” is not a great film so much as it is a great force. This film takes such a virtuosic look into wartime maters that it cannot be ignored and even less can it be written off as “just another…” by people like me. The reason is that unlike all Iraq-set war dramatic films, “The Hurt Locker” –like any great story– exists as a film before it does a “war film.” I would not call it a political war film and yet would also not call it a apolitical war film; it’s action film and even a thriller before it’s those things. You watch and you forget where you are and who you are. When the smoke settles –and there’s a lot of smoke– there is just the content and the characters. It’s that good. The story, about Bravo Company, a bomb squad squadron (or whatever they call themselves) that, like Firemen, head into danger as everyone else, including soldiers, are fleeing it.  When the story opens the gang has 39 days left in their rotation, “38 if we survive today” is a great line uttered by one of the three primary characters and one that looms in the dry desert air throughout the film. War (and cop) films with that X-amount-of-days-left structure are contrived by nature but “Hurt” man’s up and survives any claims of narrative banality. In fact once you see the film the countdown to this notion of “the end” of their tour is totally absurd because what comes after “the end”? Certainly not the war. Perhaps only death. The intense action and emotional fallout is true to the material rather than overly polemical (“Stop-Gap”) or calculated (De Palma’s “Redacted”) or robotic (take your pick of the almost weekly Iraq war documentary).

Jeremy Renner, and you will know that name soon, stars as Staff Sergeant William James, the new addition to Bravo. The last one (Guy Pierce) got blown to shit and Renner comes in at a particularly terse time for the squad, the army, and that damned country. James breaks protocol his first mission out involving an IED is nessled in some trash on the side of the road. To divert attention from all sides he sets off a smoke bomb and heads into the cloudy blast zone –slow motion of course– and I was instantly reminded of a man walking into purgatory. What gets me is how Renner walks in with a smile that is as devilish as it is hollow. He comes back alive but, in the process, rubs his company the wrong way. Probably because he cares about his job (we learn, perhaps tragically, it’s the one thing in life he loves) more than going home. Who can blame him? But who can blame his team! Each day finds the squad in a similar scenario and the film’s episodic narrative structure, while not for everyone, is a handy way to approach such a sprawling subject matter.   

Sergeant James is backed by Sergeant JT Sanborn (Anthony Mackey) and Specialist Owen Eldridge (Brian Geraghty, also in “Jar Head”) the whole movie and, yes, they could also be called three kings. While the two are “normal” soldiers, skilled yet reasonably disturbed and depressed, Renner does not play James as the tortured Martin Sheen type (done to death) or theguy with a death death wish or a war dog but… something else. A combination perhaps but, more accurately, a complex character that war films rarely, if indeed ever, see. James is funny and sad but always pragmatic, that is when he’s not a headstrong “wild man.” When removing a shrapnel barrier that blocks his barracks window so that he can enjoy the sun, this man is totally in touch with the land and at the same time resigned to whatever fate he may meet. If he dies he dies and that’s all there is to it. He may not fear death like normal soldiers but this is not because he’s scared or stupid but, rather, because “I just don’t think about it.” Simple, yet, not. I have to mention that Renner is doing a similar thing here as he did in the underrated “28 Weeks Later” (he also played a ballsy American solider in that film) except instead of zombies it’s Arabs (big diff). I fully expect, or at least, hope Renner (along with the film and director) get major awards recognition.

The casting really makes this film shine. Besides Renner and his crew four cameos kick (Sergeant Major) ass. Pierce as the first bomb guy opens the film and the scene where he attempts to diffuse a bomb sets a mood that the rest of the film picks up on–gravity over melodrama and not totally humorless. David Morse is also effective as a Colonel who sees Renner’s actions and mock the hell out of him, asking the hot shot bomb guy how many bombs he’s diffused with a wide, fuck you grin and a “oh, wow!” when he hears the astronomical answer. Next is Colonel Cambridge (Christian Camargo–the evil bro from “Dexter”) as the Army Psychiatrist who lives in an academic bubble until one day he decides to join Bravo on a mission. Interesting how this man’s humanity, as depicted by his treatment of the “locals” as people instead of enemies, ends up being, well, unwise. It’s also swell to see Kathryn Bigelow reunited with Ralph Finnes because, for one, it reminds me of “Strange Days” one of my favorite films and one of the best made films of the 90s. The two must be good luck for each other because they’ve done it again! In this film Finnes plays a British soldier of fortune who crosses paths with Bravo as they get caught up in a desert shoot out (because what other kind is there in Iraq?). They come under sniper fire and his prisoners flee. He shoots them right in the back because the reward money is earned dead or alive after all. Here, the film swiftly, and without warning, launches what may be the best sniper showdown ever or at least one rivaling the previous champ “Enemy at the Gates.” Bigelow captures the sniper-to-sniper action not with a sniper’s precision (the industry standard for that kind of scene) but through a fogged out, blurry and out of focus lens. The effect is disorienting–a shot will be fired followed by a few seconds of pregnant pause followed by a puff of smoke from a mile away. Intense stuff.

Kathryn Bigelow is a fantastic director and its nice to finally see her output finally catch up with her talent. Here, she turns a perfectly fine but not earth shattering script (it kind of formless) into something of a dreamy experience. She has not made a condescending, violin playing political critique or some contrived wartime poem (the wretched “Waltz with Bashir”) because that would be too easy as we’ve seen before. She instead treats the film, as one of the hustling Iraqi children would tell Renner, “straight up, nigga.” Straight up is the best description! The feeling that anyone can die and in so many different ways gives the film permanent paranoia but also a permanent combat high. The drama is not manipulative but neither is the action, this is one of the more honest action movie’s I’ve ever seen. 

Especially creepy is the way the director captures the Iraqi civilians who, when things go wrong, are seen watching the fumbling-in-the-dark U.S. like ghosts. From our point of view (not to mention the soldiers) that’s scary because we know that all it takes is one of those watchers and one button or call or nod to end everything in sight. Yet we also know they’re not all bad. The feeling of “we shouldn’t be here” is the perfect thematic emotion the film evokes time and time again because it applies to the situation at hand and as a whole. The result is something as exciting as any action movie that will be released this year. Yeah, I know how dare I, one must never write that about something as SERIOUS as America’s War in Iraq. But, really, how much sanctifying on one side and, um, whatever on the other can we endure before telling both sides to shut it. In its own way, this film does. By simply existing, it does.  

“War,” we are told by the war junkie Sergeant James, “is a drug.” This country’s is high on it, the Middle East is all to happy to provide it and on we go. If you’re in Iraq, you’re dead.

Grade: A

• What’s Good: The best “Potter” film to date. By far. Directing, cinematography and the adaptation must all be singled out for praie. Same goes for many of the performances. Slughorn, Snape, and young Tom Riddle excel.
• What’s Not: Michael Gambon’s Dumbledore does not. I’ve never responded to his flat characterization.

A good “Potter” film needs to balance four things. Humor, horror, fantasy (magic) and sexual angst. As simple as the formula and cut/paste writing style of the books may be (Rowling is no literary giant but she’s Hagrid sized next to Stephanie Meyer), “Potter” films always struggle with those tonally varied themes because their 100 pages scripts must accommodate 1000+ source material. Some get the magic part right (the dual in “Order of the Phoenix” is a high point), some the lightness and sense of fun of being a wizard (“Stone”), and some, by attempting to do everything, end up doing nothing (the god awful “Goblet of Fire”), etc. But none did any sort of justice to all four traits until now. The odd part is that, as a book, “Half Blood,” is not the most popular or the most memorable or much of anything except a long bridge that gets us to the fantastic final chapter. This film changes that. It is not only the first “Potter” film since the first one that feels new but it is also a film I have no problem calling the “Empire Strikes Back” of the Potter-verse.

“Half Blood’s” success owes everything to director David Yates, writer Steven Klovis’s return and cinematographer Bruno Delbonnel. The film has a lot of style and just as much feeling, more so than the fan-favorite “Prisoner of Azkaban” which is considered the best as it happened to be directed by a, um, actual director. Now David Yates must also be called that for his work here defines what a “Potter” film should be. This one’s a beaut and a great leap forward from Yates’ safe-playing but competent work on “Order of the Phoenix.” His second effort “Half Blood” comes alive with equal parts intrigue and whimsy. What’s cool is that stylistically it owes as much to the ”Lord of the Rings” movies as it does to past “Potter” films. Dark color pallets dominate the frame but are stabbed by serenely stark points of source light (usually emanating from a wand) and even the abundance of comedy and relationships subplots retain their sense of innocence and fun will remaining enmeshed in darkness. There’s a scene where Harry comforts Hermione (in lourve with Ron, who apparently just discovered that chicks are a lot more interesting than Harry) in some forgotten corner in Hogwarts. This may be a small moment but its captured with a lot of heart and detail–the moss on the ground, the open window, the golden hues and the birds she unceremoniously launches against the wall at the end of the scene.

While beautiful, the colors are a bit too saturated at times. When Harry and Dumbledore head into a cave to find Big V’s horcrux it’s almost black and white! I’m not complaining though because the aesthetics are a wonder.
Negotiating flaws are tricky, perhaps even futile, seeing as how I’m a fan of the books and to a (much) lesser extent the films. Unlike the last “Potter,” which I feel took a long book and focused in on what worked, this version runs longer but were it not so it would be faulted for being too short. Again, the film series can’t win. The middle chunks of this film feels like a WHOLE one (the fiery attack on Weasley’s farm house or whatever is a conceptual failure) and I kept looking at my watch, waiting for the meaty flashbacks (Voldermort’s mum and such), and Harry/Albus horcrux quest to kick in. They never fully did get into the flashbacks save a few key ones. I loved, for example, Frank Dillane who, as 16-year-old Tom Riddle/Voldermort, is more effectively creepy and mannered than Ralph Finnes (this kid’s going places). Also, the (re)introduction of horcruxs (ever the deus-ex-magica) felt like an afterthought but seeing as how “Potter” and co. have a lot more horcruxs to track down in the final installment(s) (are you ready for “Tent: The Movie”?), the next film(s) is going to suffer from too much of that so maybe it was wise to delay and tighten ”Half Blood’s” denouement. Another issue (but not really) is that, even though they are indeed balanced brilliantly, the tonal shifts are as skittish as a snitch. A single scene (like the one I mentioned with Harry and Hermione) can start funny then turn really sad then end with a blast of magic.

The film’s all over the place but in a good way because I liked all the overs it goes to. Amazingly, the film assigns a great deal of priority and weight to the teen’s sexuality (SNOGGING!) and throwaway moments of random humor (I heart Luna) as much as it does the main plot thread consisting of uncovering the Death Eater’s plot to kill Dumbldore and subvert the Wizarding community as they make way for you-know-who. That Yates and co. allow for the serious stuff to coexist so well with the warm humor and sexual hook-ups/hangups is is why it ranks as the best or, if not that, than the most enjoyable. Professor Slughorn (a famewhore who holds Voldermort’s big soul sucking secret) as a character, is, I think, the lynchpin for why the plot elements hold together so well. He is not only a very funny character that interacts with the young wizards but also connects the darker elements of the past. It helps that Jim Broadbent not only handles this character with a squinty-eyed charm and a priceless awkwardness that no other “Potter” side character has ever approached, but he actually makes Slughorn more vivid than he ever was on the page.

Michael Gambon does the opposite. Yeah, I must once again (and for the last time thank the gods) bitch about Gambon’s Dumblebore. While this may be the character’s best non-Richard Harris entry into the films (I liked his early scenes with Potter and the random moment where he picked out a Knitting magazine from Slughorn’s squatting quarters) but he’s still far too cold and apathetic to ever be considered a great film character. I never felt he gets or, now, got the character. I understand the secret burden placed upon Dum-Dum must be secret (der) but even clandestine actions and frustratingly veiled half-truths/instructions he imparts to young Harry (and Snape with his parting double-edged “please” line) come across as exasperation more than emotional exigency. Alan Rickman’s Snape, on the other hand, nails the same dualisms with just a glance and I can’t wait to see what he does with “Deathly Hallows.” Upon hearing Rowling’s fantastic social twist when she outed Dumbldore after his wizzard in love flash-backs in Book 7 (funny, I knew he was gay from Book 1), I had hoped that might add some layers to this performer’s approach to the guy (like Ian McKellen’s Gandalf the Gay) but no, aside from the usual creepy hugs and “I don’t think you know how much Dumbledore reeeeeeeeeealllllllyyyyyy liked you, Harry” lines this is the same old wizard.

Grade: B+