“The White Ribbon”

DVD, Blu-ray Movie Review

Written and directed by Michael Haneke, 145 minutes, rated R.

By Christopher Smith

Michael Haneke’s terrific film, “The White Ribbon,” is unshakably good, particularly at the end, when the disease destroying the core of the story (that would be humanity at its lowest depths of depravity) has gone on to fully reveal its dysfunction, its divisiveness, its backhanded brutality and its overall rotten awfulness.

The film observes the collapse of a small town on the eve of World War I. We’re in Germany. The film is shot in black and white. The images are bleak, cruel and stunning, not unlike the movie itself. Haneke (“Cache”) wrote the script, and just as his fans expect, he works by evasion, leading audiences to a well the reflects nothing back. Instead, we’re offered a deep sink into a bottomless darkness.

“The White Ribbon” is satisfying in its complexity, rich in its ambiguity. It’s a movie that demands you walk around it, circle it, trying to figure out exactly what’s going because there’s no way that Haneke is going to tell you. For those who like their movies spelled out for them, this isn’t for you, in spite of the subtitles. For those who appreciate the grace of a director who employs narrative discretion, this absolutely is for you.

The film opens with a man on a horse racing toward his house. Since the movie is told in flashback by way of the village’s now-elderly schoolteacher (Ernst Jacobi), we know the man is a doctor and that he breaks his arm when his horse trips over a hidden wire somebody strung between two trees. But who strung the wire? And why do they have it in for the doctor? Men show up in an effort to understand what happened, but there are no clues, no answers, and the doctor is taken away to a hospital far away so he can mend. Could somebody have benefited from his absence? Maybe. Maybe not.

To Haneke, it doesn’t matter. Braced against his own coldness, he presses on--there are others to undo in this village of grim-looking people. Look, for instance, at the dead woman ground up at the mill. What happened to her? Or look at young boy with Down’s syndrome who is savagely beaten and left to hang in a forest with a bag on his head. Why? Or the barn that is set ablaze in the middle of the night. Or the pet bird whose throat is slit. Or the doctor’s midwife, housekeeper, receptionist and mistress (Susanne Lothar), who is told by the doctor (Rainer Bock) while she’s masturbating him to stop. Finished with her, he delivers one of the most cutting rebukes caught on film this year.

“Why do you want me to stop?” she asks.

“To be truthful, you disgust me,” he says. “You’re ugly, messy, flabby and have bad breath. Don’t sit there looking like death warmed over. I can’t go on with this. I’ve really tried to think of another woman while making love to you--one who smells good, who’s young, less decrepit than you--buy my imagination can’t manage it. In the end, it’s you again, and then I feel like puking, and am embarrassed at myself. At the hospital, I forgot how tiresome you are. One grows sentimental when in pain.” He glares at her. “Why don’t you just die?”

Death is, in fact, everywhere in this movie--it’s alive and well and swallowing the living whole. People are ridiculed and reduced to nothing. Children are beaten and scorned, particularly the children of the village’s pastor (Burghart Klaussner), two of whom provide the film its title in that they are forced to wear white ribbons of purity until he believes that he can trust them again (just why we’ll leave for the screen). Those children are Klara and Martin (Maria-Victoria Dragus and Leonard Proxauf, each outstanding), and you’ve never seen such a mean-mouthed duo, the lot of which reflects their father’s own rage, which he repeatedly takes out on them.

And what about that? What does such abuse do to a child? Does it carry over to them? In this movie, the children move in marching groups; you’d swear they were a gang if they weren’t so polite to the adults they come upon in town. And yet there’s something about them the film only brushes against--are they the cause for the village’s atrocities? Could children be capable of such violent acts?

As a young man, the schoolteacher (Christian Friedel) questions Klara and Martin when something else happens to the boy with Down’s syndrome. Klara is older and smart and direct--she’s a force. Martin is younger and cagey. The schoolteacher’s questions are relentless, and soon they leach over to the children’s father, the pastor, who preaches God’s word and sips from his cup, but who is one of the most ruthless, unkind people in the movie.

He’s so defensive when the schoolteacher laces him with the same questions that he threatens to have him thrown out of his house and into prison. Could the pastor be responsible for all that has happened, or is he just protecting his children? And how about the doctor, who suddenly has rushed out of town? Why did he run off?

Who knows?

Shot superbly by cinematographer Christian Berger, “The White Ribbon” is stark and haunting, expertly acted and directed, morally corrupt and memorable for all of it. It’s framed as a mystery, but really, Heneke’s sights are on his characters, the evil inherent in people, and how that evil, when organized, has the potential to grow into something more repellent if left uncapped, as it is here. The white ribbons in this movie are meant to signify purity, but what we don’t see in this film is the power of another color--red--and how, years later, it would come to define another generation of Germans in another war waiting to bloom on another horizon.

Grade: A

View the trailer for "The White Ribbon" below. What are your thoughts?

“The White Ribbon”

DVD, Blu-ray Movie Review

Written and directed by Michael Haneke, 145 minutes, rated R.

By Christopher Smith

Michael Haneke’s terrific film, “The White Ribbon,” is unshakably good, particularly at the end, when the disease destroying the core of the story (that would be humanity at its lowest depths of depravity) has gone on to fully reveal its dysfunction, its divisiveness, its backhanded brutality and its overall rotten awfulness.

The film observes the collapse of a small town on the eve of World War I. We’re in Germany. The film is shot in black and white. The images are bleak, cruel and stunning, not unlike the movie itself. Haneke (“Cache”) wrote the script, and just as his fans expect, he works by evasion, leading audiences to a well the reflects nothing back. Instead, we’re offered a deep sink into a bottomless darkness.

“The White Ribbon” is satisfying in its complexity, rich in its ambiguity. It’s a movie that demands you walk around it, circle it, trying to figure out exactly what’s going because there’s no way that Haneke is going to tell you. For those who like their movies spelled out for them, this isn’t for you, in spite of the subtitles. For those who appreciate the grace of a director who employs narrative discretion, this absolutely is for you.

The film opens with a man on a horse racing toward his house. Since the movie is told in flashback by way of the village’s now-elderly schoolteacher (Ernst Jacobi), we know the man is a doctor and that he breaks his arm when his horse trips over a hidden wire somebody strung between two trees. But who strung the wire? And why do they have it in for the doctor? Men show up in an effort to understand what happened, but there are no clues, no answers, and the doctor is taken away to a hospital far away so he can mend. Could somebody have benefited from his absence? Maybe. Maybe not.

To Haneke, it doesn’t matter. Braced against his own coldness, he presses on--there are others to undo in this village of grim-looking people. Look, for instance, at the dead woman ground up at the mill. What happened to her? Or look at young boy with Down’s syndrome who is savagely beaten and left to hang in a forest with a bag on his head. Why? Or the barn that is set ablaze in the middle of the night. Or the pet bird whose throat is slit. Or the doctor’s midwife, housekeeper, receptionist and mistress (Susanne Lothar), who is told by the doctor (Rainer Bock) while she’s masturbating him to stop. Finished with her, he delivers one of the most cutting rebukes caught on film this year.

“Why do you want me to stop?” she asks.

“To be truthful, you disgust me,” he says. “You’re ugly, messy, flabby and have bad breath. Don’t sit there looking like death warmed over. I can’t go on with this. I’ve really tried to think of another woman while making love to you--one who smells good, who’s young, less decrepit than you--buy my imagination can’t manage it. In the end, it’s you again, and then I feel like puking, and am embarrassed at myself. At the hospital, I forgot how tiresome you are. One grows sentimental when in pain.” He glares at her. “Why don’t you just die?”

Death is, in fact, everywhere in this movie--it’s alive and well and swallowing the living whole. People are ridiculed and reduced to nothing. Children are beaten and scorned, particularly the children of the village’s pastor (Burghart Klaussner), two of whom provide the film its title in that they are forced to wear white ribbons of purity until he believes that he can trust them again (just why we’ll leave for the screen). Those children are Klara and Martin (Maria-Victoria Dragus and Leonard Proxauf, each outstanding), and you’ve never seen such a mean-mouthed duo, the lot of which reflects their father’s own rage, which he repeatedly takes out on them.

And what about that? What does such abuse do to a child? Does it carry over to them? In this movie, the children move in marching groups; you’d swear they were a gang if they weren’t so polite to the adults they come upon in town. And yet there’s something about them the film only brushes against--are they the cause for the village’s atrocities? Could children be capable of such violent acts?

As a young man, the schoolteacher (Christian Friedel) questions Klara and Martin when something else happens to the boy with Down’s syndrome. Klara is older and smart and direct--she’s a force. Martin is younger and cagey. The schoolteacher’s questions are relentless, and soon they leach over to the children’s father, the pastor, who preaches God’s word and sips from his cup, but who is one of the most ruthless, unkind people in the movie.

He’s so defensive when the schoolteacher laces him with the same questions that he threatens to have him thrown out of his house and into prison. Could the pastor be responsible for all that has happened, or is he just protecting his children? And how about the doctor, who suddenly has rushed out of town? Why did he run off?

Who knows?

Shot superbly by cinematographer Christian Berger, “The White Ribbon” is stark and haunting, expertly acted and directed, morally corrupt and memorable for all of it. It’s framed as a mystery, but really, Heneke’s sights are on his characters, the evil inherent in people, and how that evil, when organized, has the potential to grow into something more repellent if left uncapped, as it is here. The white ribbons in this movie are meant to signify purity, but what we don’t see in this film is the power of another color--red--and how, years later, it would come to define another generation of Germans in another war waiting to bloom on another horizon.

Grade: A

View the trailer for "The White Ribbon" below. What are your thoughts?

Movie Review

“The Wolfman”

Directed by Joe Johnston, written by Andrew Kevin Walker and David Self, 91 minutes, rated R.

By Christopher Smith

The new Benicio Del Toro movie, “Hirsute and Hatin’ It” (okay, “The Wolfman”), is so ripe with the stink of fouled fromage, it should have taken place in France instead of Victorian England. But here we are, wet and slumming it, and while the set decoration is excellent, the same can’t be said for the film itself.

If you follow movie news, you know this beauty has been delayed and tweaked for months by its studio, Universal, which allowed its 1941 classic film of the same name (sort of--it was called “The Wolf Man” then) to be bastardized by director Joe Johnston, the man responsible for such crowd-pleasures as “Jumanji” and the forever-memorable “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.”

Johnston’s remake was supposed to howl in theaters last year. The irony? It became a howler in theaters this year. Sure, that’s a cliché and a bad joke, but it’s also a community service. If that line didn’t take you down, you should know that it has nothing on the several cringe-inducing moments in “The Wolfman.”

Just for the hell of it, let’s first point our fingers at screenwriters Andrew Kevin Walker and David Self. They are, after all, the people who saddled audiences with the film’s trite, boring script, and who failed to strike a balance between a serious horror movie and one tinged with elements of camp. While that was handled with finesse in John Landis’ terrific 1981 cult movie, “An American Werewolf in London,” here the two collide and then collapse in their strained effort to come together.

About the story. It’s been changed. For instance, instead of being an astronomy student in California, as Lon Chaney Jr. was in the original, we now have Del Toro as Lawrence Talbot, a Shakespearean actor in New York circa 1891 who returns to England when word comes that his brother has gone missing and then is found murdered. And by murdered, we’re talking torn apart. By what? Lycenthropy! Determined to find his brother’s killer, Lawrence takes to the woods and starts his dumb search. Naturally, he has a nasty brush with the werewolf who killed his brother, and he’s bitten. Cue the moon.

Larry’s questionable father, Sir John (Anthony Hopkins, employing every accent in his deep bag of tricks, not the least of which are elements of the character from which he apparently never can escape, Hannibal Lecter), is a sorry replacement for Claude Rains, who had the capacity to elicit sympathy. Hopkins doesn’t--at least not here, where he’s featured as a cold caricature with a feasting heart, in which is tucked a secret that sucker-punches the movie. It won’t be revealed here, but what were they thinking?

Providing a bodice and a trembling bottom lip is Emily Blunt, who should have returned to her livelier role in “The Young Victoria.” Here, Blunt is Lawrence’s dead brother’s former intended. Who wants to bet she takes a moonshine to Lawrence? Also in the movie is Hugo Weaving, who plays a detective from Scotland Yard.

Now, about the gore. Here’s a tip--don’t eat before watching the movie because here’s what’s on the menu--severed heads, ropes of entrails, kidneys ripped free from messy midsections, and the transformation of Lawrence into the Wolfman himself. The movie actually excels here, offering its best scene as Lawrence is questioned about his current state of being only to go bananas for bloodshed while screaming “I will kill all of you!” He’s not joking. The scene has what much of the movie lacks--tight action, nice editing, and some genuine chills as Lawrence gets down to the gutting.

Too much gutting, actually. “The Wolfman” is filled with so much over-the-top gore, you have to wonder whether Johnston knows how to build suspense at all. You want to take his hand, pat it, and say, “Less is more, Joe.” But no. His heavy-handed approach harms a movie that should have been ensconced in Lawrence’s confusion and self-loathing, not blood for the sake of blood. It’s a choice that costs the movie plenty, beginning with its soul.

Still, in the end, at my screening at least, the best part of the show had nothing to do with what was onscreen. Instead, somewhere in the theater, one inspired audience member let out a “boo” midway through that lasted for about 10 seconds and sounded amusingly like a werewolf howling, complete with a pitch that increased to the heavens. Whoever did it, bravo.

Grade: D+

View our preview of "The Wolfman" below:


View the trailer for "The Wolfman" below. What are your thoughts of the movie?

Movie Review

“The Wolfman”

Directed by Joe Johnston, written by Andrew Kevin Walker and David Self, 91 minutes, rated R.

By Christopher Smith

The new Benicio Del Toro movie, “Hirsute and Hatin’ It” (okay, “The Wolfman”), is so ripe with the stink of fouled fromage, it should have taken place in France instead of Victorian England. But here we are, wet and slumming it, and while the set decoration is excellent, the same can’t be said for the film itself.

If you follow movie news, you know this beauty has been delayed and tweaked for months by its studio, Universal, which allowed its 1941 classic film of the same name (sort of--it was called “The Wolf Man” then) to be bastardized by director Joe Johnston, the man responsible for such crowd-pleasures as “Jumanji” and the forever-memorable “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.”

Johnston’s remake was supposed to howl in theaters last year. The irony? It became a howler in theaters this year. Sure, that’s a cliché and a bad joke, but it’s also a community service. If that line didn’t take you down, you should know that it has nothing on the several cringe-inducing moments in “The Wolfman.”

Just for the hell of it, let’s first point our fingers at screenwriters Andrew Kevin Walker and David Self. They are, after all, the people who saddled audiences with the film’s trite, boring script, and who failed to strike a balance between a serious horror movie and one tinged with elements of camp. While that was handled with finesse in John Landis’ terrific 1981 cult movie, “An American Werewolf in London,” here the two collide and then collapse in their strained effort to come together.

About the story. It’s been changed. For instance, instead of being an astronomy student in California, as Lon Chaney Jr. was in the original, we now have Del Toro as Lawrence Talbot, a Shakespearean actor in New York circa 1891 who returns to England when word comes that his brother has gone missing and then is found murdered. And by murdered, we’re talking torn apart. By what? Lycenthropy! Determined to find his brother’s killer, Lawrence takes to the woods and starts his dumb search. Naturally, he has a nasty brush with the werewolf who killed his brother, and he’s bitten. Cue the moon.

Larry’s questionable father, Sir John (Anthony Hopkins, employing every accent in his deep bag of tricks, not the least of which are elements of the character from which he apparently never can escape, Hannibal Lecter), is a sorry replacement for Claude Rains, who had the capacity to elicit sympathy. Hopkins doesn’t--at least not here, where he’s featured as a cold caricature with a feasting heart, in which is tucked a secret that sucker-punches the movie. It won’t be revealed here, but what were they thinking?

Providing a bodice and a trembling bottom lip is Emily Blunt, who should have returned to her livelier role in “The Young Victoria.” Here, Blunt is Lawrence’s dead brother’s former intended. Who wants to bet she takes a moonshine to Lawrence? Also in the movie is Hugo Weaving, who plays a detective from Scotland Yard.

Now, about the gore. Here’s a tip--don’t eat before watching the movie because here’s what’s on the menu--severed heads, ropes of entrails, kidneys ripped free from messy midsections, and the transformation of Lawrence into the Wolfman himself. The movie actually excels here, offering its best scene as Lawrence is questioned about his current state of being only to go bananas for bloodshed while screaming “I will kill all of you!” He’s not joking. The scene has what much of the movie lacks--tight action, nice editing, and some genuine chills as Lawrence gets down to the gutting.

Too much gutting, actually. “The Wolfman” is filled with so much over-the-top gore, you have to wonder whether Johnston knows how to build suspense at all. You want to take his hand, pat it, and say, “Less is more, Joe.” But no. His heavy-handed approach harms a movie that should have been ensconced in Lawrence’s confusion and self-loathing, not blood for the sake of blood. It’s a choice that costs the movie plenty, beginning with its soul.

Still, in the end, at my screening at least, the best part of the show had nothing to do with what was onscreen. Instead, somewhere in the theater, one inspired audience member let out a “boo” midway through that lasted for about 10 seconds and sounded amusingly like a werewolf howling, complete with a pitch that increased to the heavens. Whoever did it, bravo.

Grade: D+

View our preview of "The Wolfman" below:


View the trailer for "The Wolfman" below. What are your thoughts of the movie?

Movie Review

"Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief"

Directed by Chris Columbus, Written by Craig Titley and Joe Stillman, 120 minutes, Rated PG.

By our guest blogger, Rob Stammitti


With the "Harry Potter" film series coming closer and closer to an end, there are going be a good deal of teen fiction adaptations coming out in hopes of starting another successful franchise. It hasn't worked too well for the "Narnia" series, but either way, the studios are giving it a go with "Percy Jackson and the Olympians," a book series about a teenage demigod named Percy Jackson who discovers he's the son of Poseidon.

The plot is a pretty blatant rehash of the typical "coming-of-age hero" tropes. Percy (Logan Lerman) is young. He feels as if he's different from everyone else, but he can't quite figure out how. His home life leaves a lot to be desired. One day, he randomly gets attacked by a mythical beast and he's told by mythical hero-trainer Chiron (who has been disguising himself as Percy's history teacher) that he is the son of Poseidon and therefore has the powers of a demigod. He is then sent to a special school where he can train to be a good demigod, but then he finds out there are greater things in store for him when he is falsely accused of stealing Zeus' lightning bolt and must journey with his two friends to find the truth.

Sound familiar? Yeah, we've heard this before, in "Harry Potter" and even back in stuff like "Star Wars," or "Lord of the Rings" and "The Hobbit." It's nothing new. The film serves a mix of a pseudo Greek and Roman mythology lesson (I say pseudo because, like Disney's "Hercules," it definitely doesn't mind throwing ideas around and putting monsters and gods where they don't belong doing things they'd never do) and a tired adventure story.

We get the whole rogue's gallery of mythological creatures here. Medusa (played by Uma Thurman), the many-headed Hydra (a scene which is nearly an exact replica of the Hydra scene in "Hercules"), the Underworld (with the really inspired casting of Steve Coogan as Hades), and even the land of the Lotus Eaters from "The Odyssey." The latter is one of the most unique and creative sequences in the film. The "land of the lotus eaters" is a casino in Las vegas where Percy and his companions eat "lotus flowers" (weird cookie things here) and have a sort of acid trip to Lady GaGa songs. Certainly one of the more bizarre things I've seen in this kind of film.

If this review appears overtly negative, don't get the wrong idea. Despite how derivative the film is, director Chris Columbus (who actually directed the first two "Potter" films) brings a lot of energy and fun to the proceedings, the casting is pretty spot-on, and the dialogue is generally quite clever and intelligent for this kind of thing.

I might go so far as to say this is better than the majority of the "Potter" series. It's not spectacular by any means, but it's a lot more fun and it moves pretty quickly. Of course, the quick pacing also gets rid of a lot of character and plot development--it feels as if Percy doesn't even get a chance to understand this new world before he starts venturing into it--but it never drags, and that's something the "Potter" films or even the "Narnia" films can't honestly say.

"Percy Jackson" may not end up being the next huge and successful franchise, but at the very least, it was an honest and amusing two hours.

Grade: C

View the trailer for "Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief" below. What are your thoughts?

Movie Review

"Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief"

Directed by Chris Columbus, Written by Craig Titley and Joe Stillman, 120 minutes, Rated PG.

By our guest blogger, Rob Stammitti


With the "Harry Potter" film series coming closer and closer to an end, there are going be a good deal of teen fiction adaptations coming out in hopes of starting another successful franchise. It hasn't worked too well for the "Narnia" series, but either way, the studios are giving it a go with "Percy Jackson and the Olympians," a book series about a teenage demigod named Percy Jackson who discovers he's the son of Poseidon.

The plot is a pretty blatant rehash of the typical "coming-of-age hero" tropes. Percy (Logan Lerman) is young. He feels as if he's different from everyone else, but he can't quite figure out how. His home life leaves a lot to be desired. One day, he randomly gets attacked by a mythical beast and he's told by mythical hero-trainer Chiron (who has been disguising himself as Percy's history teacher) that he is the son of Poseidon and therefore has the powers of a demigod. He is then sent to a special school where he can train to be a good demigod, but then he finds out there are greater things in store for him when he is falsely accused of stealing Zeus' lightning bolt and must journey with his two friends to find the truth.

Sound familiar? Yeah, we've heard this before, in "Harry Potter" and even back in stuff like "Star Wars," or "Lord of the Rings" and "The Hobbit." It's nothing new. The film serves a mix of a pseudo Greek and Roman mythology lesson (I say pseudo because, like Disney's "Hercules," it definitely doesn't mind throwing ideas around and putting monsters and gods where they don't belong doing things they'd never do) and a tired adventure story.

We get the whole rogue's gallery of mythological creatures here. Medusa (played by Uma Thurman), the many-headed Hydra (a scene which is nearly an exact replica of the Hydra scene in "Hercules"), the Underworld (with the really inspired casting of Steve Coogan as Hades), and even the land of the Lotus Eaters from "The Odyssey." The latter is one of the most unique and creative sequences in the film. The "land of the lotus eaters" is a casino in Las vegas where Percy and his companions eat "lotus flowers" (weird cookie things here) and have a sort of acid trip to Lady GaGa songs. Certainly one of the more bizarre things I've seen in this kind of film.

If this review appears overtly negative, don't get the wrong idea. Despite how derivative the film is, director Chris Columbus (who actually directed the first two "Potter" films) brings a lot of energy and fun to the proceedings, the casting is pretty spot-on, and the dialogue is generally quite clever and intelligent for this kind of thing.

I might go so far as to say this is better than the majority of the "Potter" series. It's not spectacular by any means, but it's a lot more fun and it moves pretty quickly. Of course, the quick pacing also gets rid of a lot of character and plot development--it feels as if Percy doesn't even get a chance to understand this new world before he starts venturing into it--but it never drags, and that's something the "Potter" films or even the "Narnia" films can't honestly say.

"Percy Jackson" may not end up being the next huge and successful franchise, but at the very least, it was an honest and amusing two hours.

Grade: C

View the trailer for "Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief" below. What are your thoughts?

Movie Review (2010)

"Valentine's Day"

Directed by Garry Marshall, Written by Katherine Fugate, 125 minutes, Rated PG-13.

By our guest blogger, Rob Stammitti

There are so many A-list stars in "Valentine's Day." One has to wonder how such a collection of actors and actresses, young and old, was conceivably collected. The size of the cast, however, speaks very little for the quality of the film. In fact, it's almost as if the filmmakers had so little faith in their cliched and bland material that they thought filling it with recognizable people would somehow make it better. They weren't completely wrong, but this still isn't a very good film.

This ensemble film follows a countless supply of Los Angeles citizens throughout Valentine's Day. There's Holden (Bradley Cooper), who meets Kate (Julie Roberts), a US Army captain on leave for this special day. They chat on a plane as it approaches Los Angeles. Then there's professional florist Reed (Ashton Kutcher), who proposes to his girlfriend (Jessica Alba) in the morning and then has to go deal with the heavy business his flower shop is sure to get throughout the day; his co-worker and friend, Alphonso (George Lopez), is there to help. Reed's other friend, a teacher named Julia (Jennifer Garner), plans to fly to San Francisco to surprise her boyfriend, Harrison (Patrick Dempsey), but she's unaware he's married and she's his mistress.

Julia's young student Edison (Bryce Robinson) desperately tries to have flowers sent to his school crush, but things keep getting in the way. Edison's babysitter, Grace (Emma Roberts), is preparing to have sex with her boyfriend for the first time. Edison's grandparents, Edgar and Estelle (Hector Elizondo and Shirley MacLaine), deal with secrets that are just coming out 30 years into their marriage. Sports reporter Kevin Moore (Jamie Foxx) is forced to go about the town and interview people about their thoughts on Valentine's Day. One particular couple he interviews are Tyler and Felicia (Taylor Lautner and Taylor Swift), an ignorant but happy high school couple.

Then there's football star Sean Jackson (Eric Dane), who deals with his approaching retirement age with his publicist (Jessica Biel) and agent (Queen Latifah). And finally, there's receptionist Liz (Anne Hathaway) and her new boyfriend, Jason (Topher Grace), who doesn't know quite everything about her.

That doesn't even cover the vast supporting cast. The fact is, regardless of all of those names and faces and stories, there hardly is anything of note in this film. You'd think these actors would be hired to suit specific and diverse roles, but pretty much every character and story is the same, and you know where each story is heading every step of the way. Of course, most of the performers have that special charm that has got them where they are in Hollywood in the first place. Such is particularly obvious with the Bradley Cooper and Julia Robert's story, which works despite being cliche because of how great their performances are. And the ending of their particular plot is simply great.

Such can't be said for all of them. Most of the actors are just going through the motions, especially most of the female performers and also Foxx.  They're all reasonably talented people who seem stuck in a film they don't want to be in. Kutcher is another exception. Despite his weak track record since "That 70s Show," he always has been a rather likable guy, and his charm really comes in handy here, picking up the film in a lot of the draggier moments.

Most of all this film fails simply because it's attempting to cover so many stories, but none of them distinguish themselves and none of them say anything unique about love, relationships, friendship or anything. It's like a Valentine's Day card put on screen--it's vaguely quotable, sweet, occasionally clever--and totally vanilla.

Which basically means it'll make the perfect date movie for this Valentine's Day.

Grade: C-

View the trailer for "Valentine's Day" below. What are your thoughts?

Movie Review (2010)

"Valentine's Day"

Directed by Garry Marshall, Written by Katherine Fugate, 125 minutes, Rated PG-13.

By our guest blogger, Rob Stammitti

There are so many A-list stars in "Valentine's Day." One has to wonder how such a collection of actors and actresses, young and old, was conceivably collected. The size of the cast, however, speaks very little for the quality of the film. In fact, it's almost as if the filmmakers had so little faith in their cliched and bland material that they thought filling it with recognizable people would somehow make it better. They weren't completely wrong, but this still isn't a very good film.

This ensemble film follows a countless supply of Los Angeles citizens throughout Valentine's Day. There's Holden (Bradley Cooper), who meets Kate (Julie Roberts), a US Army captain on leave for this special day. They chat on a plane as it approaches Los Angeles. Then there's professional florist Reed (Ashton Kutcher), who proposes to his girlfriend (Jessica Alba) in the morning and then has to go deal with the heavy business his flower shop is sure to get throughout the day; his co-worker and friend, Alphonso (George Lopez), is there to help. Reed's other friend, a teacher named Julia (Jennifer Garner), plans to fly to San Francisco to surprise her boyfriend, Harrison (Patrick Dempsey), but she's unaware he's married and she's his mistress.

Julia's young student Edison (Bryce Robinson) desperately tries to have flowers sent to his school crush, but things keep getting in the way. Edison's babysitter, Grace (Emma Roberts), is preparing to have sex with her boyfriend for the first time. Edison's grandparents, Edgar and Estelle (Hector Elizondo and Shirley MacLaine), deal with secrets that are just coming out 30 years into their marriage. Sports reporter Kevin Moore (Jamie Foxx) is forced to go about the town and interview people about their thoughts on Valentine's Day. One particular couple he interviews are Tyler and Felicia (Taylor Lautner and Taylor Swift), an ignorant but happy high school couple.

Then there's football star Sean Jackson (Eric Dane), who deals with his approaching retirement age with his publicist (Jessica Biel) and agent (Queen Latifah). And finally, there's receptionist Liz (Anne Hathaway) and her new boyfriend, Jason (Topher Grace), who doesn't know quite everything about her.

That doesn't even cover the vast supporting cast. The fact is, regardless of all of those names and faces and stories, there hardly is anything of note in this film. You'd think these actors would be hired to suit specific and diverse roles, but pretty much every character and story is the same, and you know where each story is heading every step of the way. Of course, most of the performers have that special charm that has got them where they are in Hollywood in the first place. Such is particularly obvious with the Bradley Cooper and Julia Robert's story, which works despite being cliche because of how great their performances are. And the ending of their particular plot is simply great.

Such can't be said for all of them. Most of the actors are just going through the motions, especially most of the female performers and also Foxx.  They're all reasonably talented people who seem stuck in a film they don't want to be in. Kutcher is another exception. Despite his weak track record since "That 70s Show," he always has been a rather likable guy, and his charm really comes in handy here, picking up the film in a lot of the draggier moments.

Most of all this film fails simply because it's attempting to cover so many stories, but none of them distinguish themselves and none of them say anything unique about love, relationships, friendship or anything. It's like a Valentine's Day card put on screen--it's vaguely quotable, sweet, occasionally clever--and totally vanilla.

Which basically means it'll make the perfect date movie for this Valentine's Day.

Grade: C-

View the trailer for "Valentine's Day" below. What are your thoughts?

DVD, Blu-ray Movie Review

“Zombieland”

Directed by Ruben Fleischer, written by Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, 81 minutes, rated R.

By Christopher Smith

Ruben Fleischer's "Zombieland" is a spoof on the zombie genre, and it literally and figuratively is killer. It’s laugh-out-loud funny, the gore is beautifully over-the-top, Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick’s wicked script is laced with a cutting wit, and the acting across the board is superb.

Yes, superb. Whenever you’re dealing with a genre that walks the line between two genres--horror and comedy--don’t underestimate the talent it takes to successfully pull that off. It’s not as easy as it seems. Essentially, you’re asking your cast to play it up when the humor is high, and to keep it reasonably serious when the gutting gets rough.

All involved do that here, which is trickier than you might expect especially since nobody here shows their hand. Unlike, say, the “Scary Movie” franchise, the actors in “Zombieland” keep their tongues planted firmly in cheek. They never wink at the screen, and that alone gives the production a boost.

The film begins in a post-apocalyptic world in which most of the human race has been overcome by zombies. Hungry zombies. Well-fed zombies. A hot-mess slew of zombies, none of whom ever would qualify as a MENSA candidate, but all of whom score points for their robust appetites and, in many cases, their impressive cardio vascular fitness.

Naturally, some humans survive, starting with a young man we come to know as Columbus (Jesse Eisenberg), because that’s his hometown. We know a few things about him. He’s had a sorry homelife--his parents were shut-ins. He’s something of a dork--but a shrewd survivor armed with a handful of life-saving rules. He’s also a virgin who has yet to make it to first base--and he’s eager to put a stop to that.

Next up is Tallahassee (Woody Harrelson, neatly reviving his career), a Twinkie-loving cowboy who comes along Columbus and reluctantly decides to share the troubled road with him. Meanwhile, two scamming sisters enter the picture in Wichita (Emma Stone) and Little Rock (Abigail Breslin), who have their share of trust issues, as Columbus and Tallahassee find out when the two duos form a team.

Surprises abound, particularly in an inspired cameo that won’t be revealed here. Action drives the movie as swiftly as its hot undercurrent of humor, with some of the best scenes taking place at a California amusement park, whose rides offer plenty of clever ways to kill the zombies--but also to become trapped by them. And yet what really moves the movie forward and allows it to gel into something special is the cast, all of whom have such undeniable chemistry (you’ll never look at Breslin the same way again), we can only hope for what must come next: “Zombieland II.”

Grade: A

View the trailer below. What are your thoughts?

DVD, Blu-ray Movie Review

“Zombieland”

Directed by Ruben Fleischer, written by Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, 81 minutes, rated R.

By Christopher Smith

Ruben Fleischer's "Zombieland" is a spoof on the zombie genre, and it literally and figuratively is killer. It’s laugh-out-loud funny, the gore is beautifully over-the-top, Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick’s wicked script is laced with a cutting wit, and the acting across the board is superb.

Yes, superb. Whenever you’re dealing with a genre that walks the line between two genres--horror and comedy--don’t underestimate the talent it takes to successfully pull that off. It’s not as easy as it seems. Essentially, you’re asking your cast to play it up when the humor is high, and to keep it reasonably serious when the gutting gets rough.

All involved do that here, which is trickier than you might expect especially since nobody here shows their hand. Unlike, say, the “Scary Movie” franchise, the actors in “Zombieland” keep their tongues planted firmly in cheek. They never wink at the screen, and that alone gives the production a boost.

The film begins in a post-apocalyptic world in which most of the human race has been overcome by zombies. Hungry zombies. Well-fed zombies. A hot-mess slew of zombies, none of whom ever would qualify as a MENSA candidate, but all of whom score points for their robust appetites and, in many cases, their impressive cardio vascular fitness.

Naturally, some humans survive, starting with a young man we come to know as Columbus (Jesse Eisenberg), because that’s his hometown. We know a few things about him. He’s had a sorry homelife--his parents were shut-ins. He’s something of a dork--but a shrewd survivor armed with a handful of life-saving rules. He’s also a virgin who has yet to make it to first base--and he’s eager to put a stop to that.

Next up is Tallahassee (Woody Harrelson, neatly reviving his career), a Twinkie-loving cowboy who comes along Columbus and reluctantly decides to share the troubled road with him. Meanwhile, two scamming sisters enter the picture in Wichita (Emma Stone) and Little Rock (Abigail Breslin), who have their share of trust issues, as Columbus and Tallahassee find out when the two duos form a team.

Surprises abound, particularly in an inspired cameo that won’t be revealed here. Action drives the movie as swiftly as its hot undercurrent of humor, with some of the best scenes taking place at a California amusement park, whose rides offer plenty of clever ways to kill the zombies--but also to become trapped by them. And yet what really moves the movie forward and allows it to gel into something special is the cast, all of whom have such undeniable chemistry (you’ll never look at Breslin the same way again), we can only hope for what must come next: “Zombieland II.”

Grade: A

View the trailer below. What are your thoughts?

DVD, Blu-Ray Movie Review

“The Hurt Locker”

Directed by Katherine Bigelow, written by Mark Boal, 127 minutes, rated R.

By Christopher Smith

Katherine Bigelow’s “The Hurt Locker” is just out on DVD and Blu-ray disc, which offers an opportunity for those interested in seeing one of last year’s best films and especially for those who follow the Academy Awards. Considering that the movie almost certainly will snag nominations for Best Picture and Best Director when the nominees are released on February 7, now is a good time to see the movie--and to understand why it’s generating such a buzz.

Bigelow based the film on Mark Boal’s script, and what they created is an uneasy insight into war and the American soldier that isn’t the norm, but the exception.
The film’s focus is on Staff Sgt. William James (Jeremy Renner in an Academy Award-worthy performance), who has a girlfriend (sort of) and a child back home, but who comes to the Iraq war pumped for what it might offer him--a rush on one level, certain death on the other. While James never acknowledges either in the movie, the reckless way he behaves as a man who defuses bombs suggests someone on a pleasurable suicide mission.

James joins Sgt. JT Sanborn (Anthony Mackie) and Spc. Owen Eldridge (Brian Geraghty) after their team leader (Guy Pearce) dies from an explosion in the film’s opening moments. Almost immediately, when the first set of bombs present themselves to James and his company, he eschews protocol. Sure, he goes through the motions of gearing up in a protective suit, but once he’s far enough away from his team and is upon the bombs he must diffuse, off comes the suit, out comes the ego, and James is in there snipping at wires as if his life didn’t depend on a successful outcome.

The suspense Bigelow wrings from James’ carelessness is impressive in its intensity, particularly since surrounding the men are a growing number of locals who hate Americans. Any one of them could hold the detonator that would blow up the bombs. As such, Bigelow is alive behind the camera. She weaves between the crowds, catching glimpses of contempt while a seemingly oblivious James does his thing--and while a worried and furious Sanborn and Eldridge try to handle a mounting situation that could be fatal for them all.

And yet it isn’t--at least not this time--which complicates matters beyond reason. Is there a method to James’ madness--is he a genius? Or is he just mad and lucky as hell? It doesn’t matter, not even when Sanborn rails at him. Soaked in an adrenaline high, James is fully alive. He treats each scene in which he puts his life in danger as if he’s mainlining the greatest drug in the world--war.

And that’s the crux of Bigelow’s film. At home, James’ life is depicted as sterile, meaningless, dull. How can he get excited by the cereal aisle when he knows he has the skills to repeatedly cheat death? In Iraq, it’s no video game. The bombs and the bullets are real, and for him, there’s nothing better. As he plays with his infant son in one of the movie’s key scenes, he shares with him a truth: He has only one love in his life. Only one thing matters to him.

Nobody should think it’s the child.

Grade: A

View the movie trailer for "The Hurt Locker" below. What are your thoughts?

DVD, Blu-Ray Movie Review

“The Hurt Locker”

Directed by Katherine Bigelow, written by Mark Boal, 127 minutes, rated R.

By Christopher Smith

Katherine Bigelow’s “The Hurt Locker” is just out on DVD and Blu-ray disc, which offers an opportunity for those interested in seeing one of last year’s best films and especially for those who follow the Academy Awards. Considering that the movie almost certainly will snag nominations for Best Picture and Best Director when the nominees are released on February 7, now is a good time to see the movie--and to understand why it’s generating such a buzz.

Bigelow based the film on Mark Boal’s script, and what they created is an uneasy insight into war and the American soldier that isn’t the norm, but the exception.
The film’s focus is on Staff Sgt. William James (Jeremy Renner in an Academy Award-worthy performance), who has a girlfriend (sort of) and a child back home, but who comes to the Iraq war pumped for what it might offer him--a rush on one level, certain death on the other. While James never acknowledges either in the movie, the reckless way he behaves as a man who defuses bombs suggests someone on a pleasurable suicide mission.

James joins Sgt. JT Sanborn (Anthony Mackie) and Spc. Owen Eldridge (Brian Geraghty) after their team leader (Guy Pearce) dies from an explosion in the film’s opening moments. Almost immediately, when the first set of bombs present themselves to James and his company, he eschews protocol. Sure, he goes through the motions of gearing up in a protective suit, but once he’s far enough away from his team and is upon the bombs he must diffuse, off comes the suit, out comes the ego, and James is in there snipping at wires as if his life didn’t depend on a successful outcome.

The suspense Bigelow wrings from James’ carelessness is impressive in its intensity, particularly since surrounding the men are a growing number of locals who hate Americans. Any one of them could hold the detonator that would blow up the bombs. As such, Bigelow is alive behind the camera. She weaves between the crowds, catching glimpses of contempt while a seemingly oblivious James does his thing--and while a worried and furious Sanborn and Eldridge try to handle a mounting situation that could be fatal for them all.

And yet it isn’t--at least not this time--which complicates matters beyond reason. Is there a method to James’ madness--is he a genius? Or is he just mad and lucky as hell? It doesn’t matter, not even when Sanborn rails at him. Soaked in an adrenaline high, James is fully alive. He treats each scene in which he puts his life in danger as if he’s mainlining the greatest drug in the world--war.

And that’s the crux of Bigelow’s film. At home, James’ life is depicted as sterile, meaningless, dull. How can he get excited by the cereal aisle when he knows he has the skills to repeatedly cheat death? In Iraq, it’s no video game. The bombs and the bullets are real, and for him, there’s nothing better. As he plays with his infant son in one of the movie’s key scenes, he shares with him a truth: He has only one love in his life. Only one thing matters to him.

Nobody should think it’s the child.

Grade: A

View the movie trailer for "The Hurt Locker" below. What are your thoughts?

DVD, Blu-ray Movie Review

“Extract”

Written and directed by Mike Judge, 89 minutes, rated R.

by Christopher Smith

Mike Judge's “Extract,” now on DVD and Blu-ray disc, stars Jason Bateman as Joel Reynold, a rich, likable shmuck having one of those weeks in which he can’t get a break.

He can’t get it on with his wife, Suzie (Kristen Wiig), who won’t sleep with him; he finds himself under fire at the factory he owns when a mishap partially castrates a co-worker named Step (Clifton Collins Jr.); and he has a friend in Dean (Ben Affleck) who insists that he use all sorts of drugs, which over the course of the movie extracts from Joel’s life almost any chance of him getting it back on track.

Judge wrote the movie, which is the flip side of his funnier 1999 film, “Office Space.” Here, instead of the staff being pounded by life (they get their share of it, but they aren’t the focus), it’s the boss who must wade through a minefield of mishaps.

For example, while under the influence, Joel hires a gigolo (Dustin Milligan) to sleep with his wife so he can feel better about putting the moves on Cindy (Mila Kunis), a saucy con artist who works at Joel’s factory, where she scams wherever she can.

One of the key people in her sites is Step, who initially only wants to settle out of court with Joel until Cindy befriends him, flirts with him, and then hires for him an aggressive lawyer (Gene Simmons, just right in the role) to take Joel down. Cindy’s idea is clear. She’ll coax Step into falling in love with her, and then she’ll take part of the millions he’s almost certain to receive.

About those millions. If Step wins his case, it will bankrupt Joel’s business, which is about to be bought by a much larger corporation. Or will it be, particularly given the pending lawsuit?

What ensues is smart and affable, but not laugh-out-loud funny. Some of the film’s brighter moments involve Joel and Suzie’s interactions with their nosy, nightmarish neighbor Nathan (David Koechner), who has nothing to do with driving the plot forward, but who is so good here, he still lifts the movie. So does J.K. Simmons as Joel’s screwy manager, and also Bateman himself, whose Everyman performance is as grounded as the film’s direction.

Trouble is, a comedy shouldn’t be as grounded as this--you want it to fly. What you hope for in “Extract” are a run of keen, silly laughs--it does, after all, come from the creator of “Beavis and Butt-Head” and “King of the Hill.” But the storylines fail to create an unhinged comedy. Instead, you come away feeling as if somewhere along the way, Judge also was neutered.

Grade: C+

View the trailer for "Extract" here:

DVD, Blu-ray Movie Review

“Extract”

Written and directed by Mike Judge, 89 minutes, rated R.

by Christopher Smith

Mike Judge's “Extract,” now on DVD and Blu-ray disc, stars Jason Bateman as Joel Reynold, a rich, likable shmuck having one of those weeks in which he can’t get a break.

He can’t get it on with his wife, Suzie (Kristen Wiig), who won’t sleep with him; he finds himself under fire at the factory he owns when a mishap partially castrates a co-worker named Step (Clifton Collins Jr.); and he has a friend in Dean (Ben Affleck) who insists that he use all sorts of drugs, which over the course of the movie extracts from Joel’s life almost any chance of him getting it back on track.

Judge wrote the movie, which is the flip side of his funnier 1999 film, “Office Space.” Here, instead of the staff being pounded by life (they get their share of it, but they aren’t the focus), it’s the boss who must wade through a minefield of mishaps.

For example, while under the influence, Joel hires a gigolo (Dustin Milligan) to sleep with his wife so he can feel better about putting the moves on Cindy (Mila Kunis), a saucy con artist who works at Joel’s factory, where she scams wherever she can.

One of the key people in her sites is Step, who initially only wants to settle out of court with Joel until Cindy befriends him, flirts with him, and then hires for him an aggressive lawyer (Gene Simmons, just right in the role) to take Joel down. Cindy’s idea is clear. She’ll coax Step into falling in love with her, and then she’ll take part of the millions he’s almost certain to receive.

About those millions. If Step wins his case, it will bankrupt Joel’s business, which is about to be bought by a much larger corporation. Or will it be, particularly given the pending lawsuit?

What ensues is smart and affable, but not laugh-out-loud funny. Some of the film’s brighter moments involve Joel and Suzie’s interactions with their nosy, nightmarish neighbor Nathan (David Koechner), who has nothing to do with driving the plot forward, but who is so good here, he still lifts the movie. So does J.K. Simmons as Joel’s screwy manager, and also Bateman himself, whose Everyman performance is as grounded as the film’s direction.

Trouble is, a comedy shouldn’t be as grounded as this--you want it to fly. What you hope for in “Extract” are a run of keen, silly laughs--it does, after all, come from the creator of “Beavis and Butt-Head” and “King of the Hill.” But the storylines fail to create an unhinged comedy. Instead, you come away feeling as if somewhere along the way, Judge also was neutered.

Grade: C+

View the trailer for "Extract" here:

Movie Review
“Where the Wild Things Are”

Directed by Spike Jonze, written by Jonze and Dave Eggers, 100 minutes, rated PG.

Out of all the ways “Where the Wild Thing Are” could have gone wrong, it didn’t. Spike Jonze’s film adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s beloved, 1963 illustrated children’s book, which consists of a mere 338 words, takes its subject seriously, which is critical to its success.

Childhood, after all, is serious. It’s not Romper Room. It’s not all playtime with the Playstation 3. The world is a scary place--it still is, maybe even more so when you’re an adult--and so what Jonze achieves through his and Dave Eggers’ script is a movie that fleshes out Sendak’s book, but which does so in ways that are thoughtful, meaningful and real in spite of the story’s underlying elements of fantasy.

This is the movie Ron Howard should have created in his botched adaptation of “Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” But Howard, eager for a big box-office opening, ruined that movie because the serious undercurrent running through it didn’t lend itself to the bloated piece of excess he wanted to press upon the masses.

Jonze gets it right. He sees childhood for what it is right now--fractured families fraught with divorce, unhappy children unable to fully sort out feelings of anger and rage, growing pains tossed in with fleeting moments of happiness--and he taps into the unrest that stems from this.

He has, in a sense, deepened the work that came before it. Some are so close to the book that they’ll disagree with that notion, but by taking Sendak’s core themes and reflecting them upon what’s happening now with children in the increasingly fractured family unit, he actually has made those themes more timely and relevant.

Handheld camera in tow, Jonze follows Max (Max Records, terrific), a boy who just wants to be a boy (he’s a bit older here than in the book), but who is becoming undone by the pressures surrounding him. His mother (Catherine Keener) is divorced and dating (Mark Ruffalo). His older sister is of that age where older sisters have zero time for younger brothers. And so, in the face of his stinging loneliness--and all the other feelings assailing him--Max acts out, at one point biting his mother, which causes a reaction that leads to his running away from home.

Here, the switch from reality to fantasy is seamless. On a boat, Max sails across fantastic waters that lead him to another land. It’s a wild journey, but it’s nothing compared to what comes next--the enormous Wild Things themselves, all beautifully realized and voiced by James Gandolfini, Catherine O’Hara, Paul Dana, Chris Cooper, Lauren Abrose and Forest Whitaker. They’re an unhappy bunch--not unlike Max’s own family--and so when he is deemed their king when he lies about possessing special powers, he realizes that he now must try to make them happy. For awhile he succeeds, but nothing lasts forever. And what is Max to do when he realizes that he’s let these enormous beasts down, and fooled them along the way?

Life lessons unfurl in “Where the Wild Things Are,” but not to the point of whacking audiences over the head with them. Jonze is more subtle than that. He always has been sort of childlike himself, and so he allows Max his difficult mission of self-discovery by observing him with unforced insights that are revealed in his multitude of mistakes.

Grade: B+

Movie Review
“Where the Wild Things Are”

Directed by Spike Jonze, written by Jonze and Dave Eggers, 100 minutes, rated PG.

Out of all the ways “Where the Wild Thing Are” could have gone wrong, it didn’t. Spike Jonze’s film adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s beloved, 1963 illustrated children’s book, which consists of a mere 338 words, takes its subject seriously, which is critical to its success.

Childhood, after all, is serious. It’s not Romper Room. It’s not all playtime with the Playstation 3. The world is a scary place--it still is, maybe even more so when you’re an adult--and so what Jonze achieves through his and Dave Eggers’ script is a movie that fleshes out Sendak’s book, but which does so in ways that are thoughtful, meaningful and real in spite of the story’s underlying elements of fantasy.

This is the movie Ron Howard should have created in his botched adaptation of “Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” But Howard, eager for a big box-office opening, ruined that movie because the serious undercurrent running through it didn’t lend itself to the bloated piece of excess he wanted to press upon the masses.

Jonze gets it right. He sees childhood for what it is right now--fractured families fraught with divorce, unhappy children unable to fully sort out feelings of anger and rage, growing pains tossed in with fleeting moments of happiness--and he taps into the unrest that stems from this.

He has, in a sense, deepened the work that came before it. Some are so close to the book that they’ll disagree with that notion, but by taking Sendak’s core themes and reflecting them upon what’s happening now with children in the increasingly fractured family unit, he actually has made those themes more timely and relevant.

Handheld camera in tow, Jonze follows Max (Max Records, terrific), a boy who just wants to be a boy (he’s a bit older here than in the book), but who is becoming undone by the pressures surrounding him. His mother (Catherine Keener) is divorced and dating (Mark Ruffalo). His older sister is of that age where older sisters have zero time for younger brothers. And so, in the face of his stinging loneliness--and all the other feelings assailing him--Max acts out, at one point biting his mother, which causes a reaction that leads to his running away from home.

Here, the switch from reality to fantasy is seamless. On a boat, Max sails across fantastic waters that lead him to another land. It’s a wild journey, but it’s nothing compared to what comes next--the enormous Wild Things themselves, all beautifully realized and voiced by James Gandolfini, Catherine O’Hara, Paul Dana, Chris Cooper, Lauren Abrose and Forest Whitaker. They’re an unhappy bunch--not unlike Max’s own family--and so when he is deemed their king when he lies about possessing special powers, he realizes that he now must try to make them happy. For awhile he succeeds, but nothing lasts forever. And what is Max to do when he realizes that he’s let these enormous beasts down, and fooled them along the way?

Life lessons unfurl in “Where the Wild Things Are,” but not to the point of whacking audiences over the head with them. Jonze is more subtle than that. He always has been sort of childlike himself, and so he allows Max his difficult mission of self-discovery by observing him with unforced insights that are revealed in his multitude of mistakes.

Grade: B+

Movie Review
Whip It

Directed by Drew Barrymore, written by Shauna Cross, 111 minutes, rated PG-13.

The new Drew Barrymore movie, on the other hand, proves that not all child stars are without talent behind the lens. She’s no Ron Howard (yet), but based on the strength of her roller derby dramedy “Whip It,” there’s no question that Barrymore has a promising career ahead of her if, you know, that acting thing of hers doesn’t work out.

From Shauna Cross’ script, which she based on her novel “Derby Girl,” “Whip It” is Barrymore’s directorial debut, and what she has crafted is a film not unlike her own persona. The movie is moody, quirky, light, winking and rebellious, a flick about a young woman who never quite fit in until she found the right people to guide her into someone more substantial and confident.

Here, that character is Bliss (Ellen Page), whose mother (Marcia Gay Harden) once dolled her up and trotted her out to compete in beauty pageants, but not for long. Bliss eventually does a 180 by joining a cut-throat roller derby squad called the Hurl Scouts.

The lot of them are tough, big-hearted losers (Eve, Kristen Wiig and Zoe Bell co-star), but since Barrymore has learned a few things from her former director Steven Spielberg, there’s no way they’ll be losers for long.

Neither will Bliss, who goes by Babe Ruthless in the ring, which is perfect since a mean beast on an opposing team, the fearsome Iron Maven (Juliette Lewis, loose as ever), is determined to undo her.

Unlike “Couple’s Retreat,” what’s curious about “Whip It” is that its predictability doesn’t spoil it — the movie is having too much fun darting toward its happy ending, the likes of which won’t surprise anyone who witnessed the revealing trailer and television campaign.

You don’t admire the movie for the chances it takes — it doesn’t take any, really. Instead, you admire it for the care that went into fleshing out its characters, the camaraderie that grows between them, and the thrill of watching a few harrowing turns around a skating rink — all while watching Bliss grow up and find herself thanks to it.

Grade: B

Movie Review
Whip It

Directed by Drew Barrymore, written by Shauna Cross, 111 minutes, rated PG-13.

The new Drew Barrymore movie, on the other hand, proves that not all child stars are without talent behind the lens. She’s no Ron Howard (yet), but based on the strength of her roller derby dramedy “Whip It,” there’s no question that Barrymore has a promising career ahead of her if, you know, that acting thing of hers doesn’t work out.

From Shauna Cross’ script, which she based on her novel “Derby Girl,” “Whip It” is Barrymore’s directorial debut, and what she has crafted is a film not unlike her own persona. The movie is moody, quirky, light, winking and rebellious, a flick about a young woman who never quite fit in until she found the right people to guide her into someone more substantial and confident.

Here, that character is Bliss (Ellen Page), whose mother (Marcia Gay Harden) once dolled her up and trotted her out to compete in beauty pageants, but not for long. Bliss eventually does a 180 by joining a cut-throat roller derby squad called the Hurl Scouts.

The lot of them are tough, big-hearted losers (Eve, Kristen Wiig and Zoe Bell co-star), but since Barrymore has learned a few things from her former director Steven Spielberg, there’s no way they’ll be losers for long.

Neither will Bliss, who goes by Babe Ruthless in the ring, which is perfect since a mean beast on an opposing team, the fearsome Iron Maven (Juliette Lewis, loose as ever), is determined to undo her.

Unlike “Couple’s Retreat,” what’s curious about “Whip It” is that its predictability doesn’t spoil it — the movie is having too much fun darting toward its happy ending, the likes of which won’t surprise anyone who witnessed the revealing trailer and television campaign.

You don’t admire the movie for the chances it takes — it doesn’t take any, really. Instead, you admire it for the care that went into fleshing out its characters, the camaraderie that grows between them, and the thrill of watching a few harrowing turns around a skating rink — all while watching Bliss grow up and find herself thanks to it.

Grade: B

Movie Review
Couples Retreat

Directed by Peter Billingsley, written by Vince Vaughn, Jon Favreau and Dana Fox, 105 minutes, rated PG-13.

The new Peter Billingsley movie, “Couples Retreat,” is a comedy about avoiding divorce. In its sights are Jason (Jason Bateman) and Cynthia (Kristen Bell), two miserable, boring shills with energy to spare, but for reasons not worth exploring here, can’t conceive a child. And so, you know, they kind of hate each other for it.

Isn’t that funny? It gets better.

Fueling the laughs even harder are the six people duped by Jason and Cynthia to join them on an island getaway.

The idea they present to their friends — two couples nearing divorce, one couple whose male counterpart recently divorced and now is dating a slinky young woman years younger than himself (she could be his child) — is the opportunity to relax in a tropical clime. Trouble is, when they get there, all find out what’s going down — they’ve been tricked into couples counseling. And really, what’s funnier than couples counseling?

In the right hands — say, Woody Allen’s — the answer would have been “plenty.” But here, it’s a resounding “zip!”

Billingsley, who once played Ralphie in 1983’s “A Christmas Story,” should have picked up that old BB gun of his and blown the hell out of the script before he ever signed on to make a movie out of it.

About that script. It hails from Vince Vaughn, Jon Favreau and Dana Fox, it’s riddled with cliches, and so what Billingsley mines from it is just what you’d expect — a movie cramped with them. That’s a disappointment, not only because of the film’s sorry lack of laughs, but also because it squanders the potential of its premise, not to mention the talent driving it.

Beyond Bateman, who has been on a roll lately, the movie stars Vaughn as Dave, Kristin Davis as Lucy, Jean Reno as the ditzy putz behind this tropical throwdown, Favreau as Joey, Malin Akerman as Ronnie and Faizon Love as Shane. Given the right roles, every one of these actors has proved they can sustain laughter. But here? At my screening, the audience might as well have been extras in a silent movie.

Grade: D+

Movie Review
Couples Retreat

Directed by Peter Billingsley, written by Vince Vaughn, Jon Favreau and Dana Fox, 105 minutes, rated PG-13.

The new Peter Billingsley movie, “Couples Retreat,” is a comedy about avoiding divorce. In its sights are Jason (Jason Bateman) and Cynthia (Kristen Bell), two miserable, boring shills with energy to spare, but for reasons not worth exploring here, can’t conceive a child. And so, you know, they kind of hate each other for it.

Isn’t that funny? It gets better.

Fueling the laughs even harder are the six people duped by Jason and Cynthia to join them on an island getaway.

The idea they present to their friends — two couples nearing divorce, one couple whose male counterpart recently divorced and now is dating a slinky young woman years younger than himself (she could be his child) — is the opportunity to relax in a tropical clime. Trouble is, when they get there, all find out what’s going down — they’ve been tricked into couples counseling. And really, what’s funnier than couples counseling?

In the right hands — say, Woody Allen’s — the answer would have been “plenty.” But here, it’s a resounding “zip!”

Billingsley, who once played Ralphie in 1983’s “A Christmas Story,” should have picked up that old BB gun of his and blown the hell out of the script before he ever signed on to make a movie out of it.

About that script. It hails from Vince Vaughn, Jon Favreau and Dana Fox, it’s riddled with cliches, and so what Billingsley mines from it is just what you’d expect — a movie cramped with them. That’s a disappointment, not only because of the film’s sorry lack of laughs, but also because it squanders the potential of its premise, not to mention the talent driving it.

Beyond Bateman, who has been on a roll lately, the movie stars Vaughn as Dave, Kristin Davis as Lucy, Jean Reno as the ditzy putz behind this tropical throwdown, Favreau as Joey, Malin Akerman as Ronnie and Faizon Love as Shane. Given the right roles, every one of these actors has proved they can sustain laughter. But here? At my screening, the audience might as well have been extras in a silent movie.

Grade: D+

“The Exorcist: The Version You’ve Never Seen”

In 1973, smack in the middle of a tumultuous political environment that saw the fall of a U.S. president and our country caught in the throes of war, came William Friedkin’s “The Exorcist,” a horror film like none other that would go on to be denounced by Billy Graham, championed by the Catholic church, embraced by film critics and finally by the Academy Awards, where it won two of 10 nominations.

The film came during the last golden age of Hollywood--a time when it wasn’t rare for artistry to take precedence over box office receipts--and it was groundbreaking, a movie that shook audiences with its depiction of Regan (Linda Blair), a sweet 12-year-old girl whose soul is gradually--then violently--possessed by the devil.

“The Exorcist,” recently re-released on Blu-ray with 11 minutes of additional footage, is about the discovery of one’s religious faith--that’s its core. Everything that happens to Regan--the head spinning, the projectile vomiting, the levitations, the infamous “spider walk,” those blasphemous, bloody plunges with the crucifix and her remarkably raunchy mouth (beautifully dubbed by Mercedes McCambridge)--is windowdressing.

This film isn’t so much about Regan’s transformation as it is about the transformation of her mother and the priest who eventually comes to help them.

Played superbly by Ellen Burstyn, Regan’s mother, Chris MacNeil, a popular movie star shooting a film on location in Georgetown, is a woman who finds herself caught between the concrete world of medical science and--to her--the more foreign world of religion, which she only turns to once she’s sought the help of “88 doctors” and is desperate to try anything to save her daughter.

When it’s suggested to her that Regan should have an exorcism, Chris, stunned, turns to Father Karras (Jason Miller), a man fighting his own demons after his mother died alone in her home. With its relationships established, the film then becomes Chris and Karras’ journey into themselves with Regan’s possession used as the catalyst for change and personal reawakening.

Besides the performances, which are uniformly strong, especially Linda Blair’s, which borders on brilliance (consider the range she displays as Regan), what’s so terrific about “The Exorcist” is how the film is in no hurry to get to the meat of its horror. It isn’t exploitative. First and foremost, it’s about its characters, people we come to care about before their lives are viciously torn apart on screen.

This is one of the reasons the film became a classic. Before Regan ever blew pea soup out of her mouth or flipped about on a bed, audiences had a strong sense of who she and her mother were. For those who believed in what they were seeing--and there were those in 1973 who absolutely believed--there was the lingering, creepy sense that this could happen to them. There is a real sense of terror here, which was absent from the recent Rob Zombie disaster, “Halloween II.”

Like so many of today’s “horror” films, that film only cared about the glitz (in the case, the butchering) while “The Exorcist” cared about what mattered--the story and those affected by it.
It changed movies forever and it remains a rare original.

Grade: A

“The Exorcist: The Version You’ve Never Seen”

In 1973, smack in the middle of a tumultuous political environment that saw the fall of a U.S. president and our country caught in the throes of war, came William Friedkin’s “The Exorcist,” a horror film like none other that would go on to be denounced by Billy Graham, championed by the Catholic church, embraced by film critics and finally by the Academy Awards, where it won two of 10 nominations.

The film came during the last golden age of Hollywood--a time when it wasn’t rare for artistry to take precedence over box office receipts--and it was groundbreaking, a movie that shook audiences with its depiction of Regan (Linda Blair), a sweet 12-year-old girl whose soul is gradually--then violently--possessed by the devil.

“The Exorcist,” recently re-released on Blu-ray with 11 minutes of additional footage, is about the discovery of one’s religious faith--that’s its core. Everything that happens to Regan--the head spinning, the projectile vomiting, the levitations, the infamous “spider walk,” those blasphemous, bloody plunges with the crucifix and her remarkably raunchy mouth (beautifully dubbed by Mercedes McCambridge)--is windowdressing.

This film isn’t so much about Regan’s transformation as it is about the transformation of her mother and the priest who eventually comes to help them.

Played superbly by Ellen Burstyn, Regan’s mother, Chris MacNeil, a popular movie star shooting a film on location in Georgetown, is a woman who finds herself caught between the concrete world of medical science and--to her--the more foreign world of religion, which she only turns to once she’s sought the help of “88 doctors” and is desperate to try anything to save her daughter.

When it’s suggested to her that Regan should have an exorcism, Chris, stunned, turns to Father Karras (Jason Miller), a man fighting his own demons after his mother died alone in her home. With its relationships established, the film then becomes Chris and Karras’ journey into themselves with Regan’s possession used as the catalyst for change and personal reawakening.

Besides the performances, which are uniformly strong, especially Linda Blair’s, which borders on brilliance (consider the range she displays as Regan), what’s so terrific about “The Exorcist” is how the film is in no hurry to get to the meat of its horror. It isn’t exploitative. First and foremost, it’s about its characters, people we come to care about before their lives are viciously torn apart on screen.

This is one of the reasons the film became a classic. Before Regan ever blew pea soup out of her mouth or flipped about on a bed, audiences had a strong sense of who she and her mother were. For those who believed in what they were seeing--and there were those in 1973 who absolutely believed--there was the lingering, creepy sense that this could happen to them. There is a real sense of terror here, which was absent from the recent Rob Zombie disaster, “Halloween II.”

Like so many of today’s “horror” films, that film only cared about the glitz (in the case, the butchering) while “The Exorcist” cared about what mattered--the story and those affected by it.
It changed movies forever and it remains a rare original.

Grade: A

Written and directed by Rob Zombie, 105 minutes, rated R.

Dear Rob Zombie:

First off, may I call you by your first name? Rob? Robert? Or would Mr. Zombie do? I’m assuming Robbie is out, though given the inherent alliteration Robbie Zombie presents, you might consider adopting it for future use. You know, for marketing purposes. That sort of thing.

Anyway, it doesn’t really matter, as it’s unlikely that we’ll be friends after this.

I recently saw your latest effort behind the lens, “Halloween II,” a remake of Rick Rosenthal’s 1981 horror movie with Jamie Lee Curtis as Laurie Strode, and feel well enough now to pass along a few thoughts on its risible execution as well as a few regrets for all of that unfortunate explaining you now must be saddled with.

That last part has to be a drag. I mean, how do you explain away unparalleled incompetence on every level? Sure, you can just nod and smile politely while you grind your teeth into bloody posts. Or, if you’re of another mind (and I have to believe you are), perhaps you could use a helpful hand gesture if you’re not in the mood to practice good manners (and I have to believe you aren’t).

Still, no matter how you handle it, trying to get people to understand that you’ve made the year’s worst film has to be trying. And for that reason alone, I feel sorry for you. Sort of. OK, not at all.

About your movie. It’s just a bloody windbag of exploding cows, butchered bodies, nasty necrophiliacs, bloodletting gone berserk and madness running rampant, isn’t it? As John Carpenter proved in the original “Halloween,” most of this could have been handled with a measure of finesse, sustained suspense, violence that was implied instead of exploited, and a core character — Laurie Strode (now played by the grating Scout Taylor-Compton) — who you come to care about. All of that is lacking here just as it was in Rosenthal’s weak sequel. As a result, your movie is a crude, scattered, disjointed mess. It’s a pandemonium of the pathetic.

Let’s talk about Laurie for a minute. In Carpenter’s hands, she was the good girl with the clean mouth and the bad hair who loved children and carved them cute little pumpkins before Michael Myers wreaked havoc on her life and turned her into a screaming banshee. In Rosenthal’s hands, she essentially only reprised the role to be on the run from Michael while providing her share of shrieks. In your hands — literally, since you dictated the script (to an illiterate?) — Laurie now sounds as if she’s graduated magna cum laude from the four-letter school of hard knocks.

What a mouth on that one! Your Laurie is about as likable as a fist in the face — her presence in a room could turn pale walls into shades of black — and so the key element missing from your movie is someone to root for. I could have cared less about your Laurie. In fact, I kind of hated her.

Same goes for the story. Just so we’re on the same page, remaking a horror movie doesn’t have to be a horror show. All one has to do is look to Zack Snyder’s “Dawn of the Dead,” John Carpenter’s “The Thing,” Werner Herzog’s “Nosferatu” and Philip Kaufman’s “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” to see that it can be pulled off with panache. In your movie, you’ve essentially run a knife through the franchise’s gut. And then you do it again and again. Rinse and repeat. Hammer away and hammer hard.

Thing is, beyond the ongoing sense of confusion you generate onscreen, you feel nothing in “Halloween II.” The whole movie is a misreading of what makes a horror film good — attention to the main characters (Malcolm McDowell’s performance as Dr. Loomis is a Razzie in the waiting), and especially attention to designing a landscape that allows suspense to roam and mount. Instead, you overwhelm with a barrage of gore while stuffing in a stupid back story that revisits — through hallucination, no less — why Michael Myers became the serial killer, Michael Myers (Tyler Mane).

With broad nods at Freud (that’s deep), this apparently involves the use of a gleaming white horse and the ghostly vision of Michael’s mother (your real-life wife, Sheri Moon Zombie). Some will remember that Michael’s mom was a pole stripper in your last movie, 2007’s “Halloween,” also a bum remake, but here, she’s aglow with empty eyes, vapid dialogue, a white wicked witch wig, and plenty of mean ideas. I’d say that’s an improvement. Also, it must be noted that the mere fact that you featured this talentless never-was in another movie suggests a healthy marriage and true love. So, let’s toast to that.

What we can pour our drinks over is your movie. Please don’t make another.

All best,

Christopher

Grade: F-


I M A  C GI VE A W A   Y!

Written and directed by Rob Zombie, 105 minutes, rated R.

Dear Rob Zombie:

First off, may I call you by your first name? Rob? Robert? Or would Mr. Zombie do? I’m assuming Robbie is out, though given the inherent alliteration Robbie Zombie presents, you might consider adopting it for future use. You know, for marketing purposes. That sort of thing.

Anyway, it doesn’t really matter, as it’s unlikely that we’ll be friends after this.

I recently saw your latest effort behind the lens, “Halloween II,” a remake of Rick Rosenthal’s 1981 horror movie with Jamie Lee Curtis as Laurie Strode, and feel well enough now to pass along a few thoughts on its risible execution as well as a few regrets for all of that unfortunate explaining you now must be saddled with.

That last part has to be a drag. I mean, how do you explain away unparalleled incompetence on every level? Sure, you can just nod and smile politely while you grind your teeth into bloody posts. Or, if you’re of another mind (and I have to believe you are), perhaps you could use a helpful hand gesture if you’re not in the mood to practice good manners (and I have to believe you aren’t).

Still, no matter how you handle it, trying to get people to understand that you’ve made the year’s worst film has to be trying. And for that reason alone, I feel sorry for you. Sort of. OK, not at all.

About your movie. It’s just a bloody windbag of exploding cows, butchered bodies, nasty necrophiliacs, bloodletting gone berserk and madness running rampant, isn’t it? As John Carpenter proved in the original “Halloween,” most of this could have been handled with a measure of finesse, sustained suspense, violence that was implied instead of exploited, and a core character — Laurie Strode (now played by the grating Scout Taylor-Compton) — who you come to care about. All of that is lacking here just as it was in Rosenthal’s weak sequel. As a result, your movie is a crude, scattered, disjointed mess. It’s a pandemonium of the pathetic.

Let’s talk about Laurie for a minute. In Carpenter’s hands, she was the good girl with the clean mouth and the bad hair who loved children and carved them cute little pumpkins before Michael Myers wreaked havoc on her life and turned her into a screaming banshee. In Rosenthal’s hands, she essentially only reprised the role to be on the run from Michael while providing her share of shrieks. In your hands — literally, since you dictated the script (to an illiterate?) — Laurie now sounds as if she’s graduated magna cum laude from the four-letter school of hard knocks.

What a mouth on that one! Your Laurie is about as likable as a fist in the face — her presence in a room could turn pale walls into shades of black — and so the key element missing from your movie is someone to root for. I could have cared less about your Laurie. In fact, I kind of hated her.

Same goes for the story. Just so we’re on the same page, remaking a horror movie doesn’t have to be a horror show. All one has to do is look to Zack Snyder’s “Dawn of the Dead,” John Carpenter’s “The Thing,” Werner Herzog’s “Nosferatu” and Philip Kaufman’s “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” to see that it can be pulled off with panache. In your movie, you’ve essentially run a knife through the franchise’s gut. And then you do it again and again. Rinse and repeat. Hammer away and hammer hard.

Thing is, beyond the ongoing sense of confusion you generate onscreen, you feel nothing in “Halloween II.” The whole movie is a misreading of what makes a horror film good — attention to the main characters (Malcolm McDowell’s performance as Dr. Loomis is a Razzie in the waiting), and especially attention to designing a landscape that allows suspense to roam and mount. Instead, you overwhelm with a barrage of gore while stuffing in a stupid back story that revisits — through hallucination, no less — why Michael Myers became the serial killer, Michael Myers (Tyler Mane).

With broad nods at Freud (that’s deep), this apparently involves the use of a gleaming white horse and the ghostly vision of Michael’s mother (your real-life wife, Sheri Moon Zombie). Some will remember that Michael’s mom was a pole stripper in your last movie, 2007’s “Halloween,” also a bum remake, but here, she’s aglow with empty eyes, vapid dialogue, a white wicked witch wig, and plenty of mean ideas. I’d say that’s an improvement. Also, it must be noted that the mere fact that you featured this talentless never-was in another movie suggests a healthy marriage and true love. So, let’s toast to that.

What we can pour our drinks over is your movie. Please don’t make another.

All best,

Christopher

Grade: F-


I M A  C GI VE A W A   Y!