Sherlock Holmes (2009)

I had no literary prejudices going into the new big-screen “Sherlock Holmes,” starring Robert Downey Jr. as the fictional sleuth. I’ve (sadly) yet to read a Sir Arthur Conan Doyle story. That said, gritty director Guy Ritchie serves us a “new” Holmes who is an underground boxer prone to dark rooms, not bathing and sleeping on the floor. He is gruff and dirty, as is the 1890s London around him. He’s like no Holmes I’ve seen before, and Downey is wonderful in the lead. The standard plot, which gallops but never breaks into a full run, has the duo of Holmes and Watson (Jude Law, wonderful) unmasking a dark arts master (Mark Strong) bent on world domination in line with a Batman villain. Ritchie provides brilliant scenes where Downey as Holmes mentally breaks down an action – say, a fistfight – before seeing it through. But as the climatic fight arrives, the trick is dropped. And it’s a bit disappointing. This is a fairly solid movie that is more of a franchise set-up then full-fledged film. Moriarity appears in shadow, and it got my head spinning about who will play him. I’d love to see Russell Crowe take the part. That would be a helluva match up. B

Monty Python’s Life of Brian (1979)

God bless each and every member of the Monty Python. After taking on the Holy Grail in 1975 and giving us one of the greatest comedy of all time, the British (and one American) lads take on a most holy target – Christianity and religious fanatics of all kinds – in “Life of Brian.” The results are wicked hilarious, every bit equal to “Grail.” I don’t care a whit if it’s blasphemous, it only makes me love it more. (It isn't by the way.) The Brian (Graham Chapman) of the title is a chap born in a stable two over from the one holding the Son of God. Brian is no savior, though. He spends his life running from his iron-will mother and smack into the path of crazy prophets drunk on their own loud voices, crazier followers who think him the Savior, and the Romans, and a cross. By God, the scene involving separatists (led by John Cleese) denouncing Rome (”What have they ever given us?”) had me crying. Chapman is brilliant as the straight man, while Michael Palin again proves he can play more than a dozen characters in one film and hit a homer every one. Christ is treated with revered awe. Graham Chapman is poor Brian, hung out to sing. A miracle of satire. A+

Capote (2005)

Watching “Capote” is almost dizzying: It’s a film based on a nonfiction book that documents Truman Capote’s research and writing of the ground-breaking nonfiction book “In Cold Blood,” which was later turned into a celebrated 1960s film. The twist here: Not only was a Kansas farm family butchered in cold blood for roughly $50, but Capote (Philip Seymour Hoffman) reported on the initial crimes and then manipulated the subsequent trials to his own liking, in (ice) cold blood. Capote is played as the ultimate self-centered artist: Everything and everyone is in service to his convenience. When he sees the farm family bodies in their coffins, the moment of horror is about his reaction; after he gets the killers new trials, he panics that he won’t have a solid ending by deadline; he scoffs at the success of friend/co-researcher Harper Lee’s “To Kill a Mockingbird.” This is a fascinating, layered tale of a man who, biblical cliché alert, loses his soul to the gain the world (or the world’s admiration) and seems to realize it. Or does he? That Hoffman manages to not only humanize Capote, but make him a victim of his own ego is a wonder. A-

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989)

The “Vacation” films with Chevy Chase as Clark Griswold are a mixed batch: “European” and “Vegas” are trash. The first “Vacation” is wonderful, and I adore “Christmas Vacation.” Here, the Griswolds stay home while parents, great aunts and cousins visit. Utter fantastic, wonderfully funny mayhem ensues. I love Chase in these films, he has the gleam of a hap-hap-happy psychopath in his eyes, one bent on not murder but fatherly perfection. But it’s Randy Quaid who walks away with the film as a redneck from hell, with an RV and raccoon-eyed children in tow. “Merry Christmas! Shitter was full!” he says to yuppie neighbors as he empties a chemical toilet into a street sewer grate. Priceless. Penned by John Hughes in his glory days, this reminds us that family can be hell, but we all need a little hell now and then. A

A Serious Man (2009)

The title is almost off-putting: “A Serious Man.” It sounds terribly depressing, right? But this dark, tiny thinker of a comedy is the Coen Brothers’ razor sharp version of Monty Python’s “The Meaning of Life.”

Here a 1967 Midwest Jewish physics professor named Larry Gopnick (Michael Stuhlbarg) stands in the middle of life’s highway as misfortunes run him down one truck after another. Larry’s wife wants a divorce so she can marry a widower named Sy, who in turn wants to be Larry’s BFF. Larry’s son is smoking pot and considers not getting a clear picture for “F Troop” an emergency. Larry’s freak brother is gambling and dabbling in illegal sex. Larry is up for tenure. The hits keep coming, and as our hero cracks, the Coens ask “What does it all mean?” and “What is God’s will? Does He even have a will?”

Don’t expect safe answers from the men who gave us “Fargo” and “No Country for Old Men.” (One rabbi insists life’s answers are in the parking lot. Another flatly says there are none. Both scenes are priceless.) An actor not known in Hollywood circles, Stuhlbarg is brilliant in the lead role.

The final scenes are jaw-dropping cruel stunts that only the Coens can get away with. They hit the viewer like an unforgiving truck. A-

The Hangover (2009)

“The Hangover” is the funniest, most insane and out-there Hollywood comedy I’ve seen in years. The plot: Four L.A. guys (headed by Bradley Cooper of “Alias”) arrive in Vegas for a honeymoon bash. Only three of the men awake the next morning with a chicken, a hungry tiger and a screaming infant scattered about their $4,000 per night suite, with a stolen police cruiser waiting outside and a missing groom God only knows where. I’ve just scratched the surface, not even mentioning the naked, gay Chinese gangster. In a genius move in line with the heist in “Reservoir Dogs,” director/co-writer Todd Phillips doesn’t even try to explain how all these pieces came together or fell apart. The jokes – crude and rude, and consisting mostly of “I can’t believe I did that” jaw-droppers – come fast and must require multiple viewings to fully intake. The kicker: “Hangover” is weirdly sweet riff on the lengths friends will drive to protect their own, whilst avoiding the rage of a bride. Zack Galifianakis is the stand out as an oddball with a “Rain Man” fetish. A

The Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009)

With “The Fantastic Mr. Fox,” Wes Anderson has made not only a jewel that pays homage to 1960s stop-motion classics such as “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” it looks as if it were made 40 years ago and stored in a wine cellar until now. As the characters move and speak, you can see odd ticks that seem old-fashioned but flourish with personality. Anderson, director of the infinitely smart and cool “Rushmore,” has turned Roald Dahl’s classic story into a clever heist comedy, a coming of age tail (bad pun intended), and a satire on – get this – real estate markets and capitalism run amok. Anderson’s “Fox” is played as a live-action film, envisioned by the smartest, coolest kids in art class. How many other animated films’ have scenes involving lawyer consultations and the woes of new home repair? The voice cast -- George Clooney, Meryl Streep, Bill Murray, Owen Wilson and Jason Schwartzman – are a delight. Another high mark in a year of stellar animated films (“Up,” “Coraline” and “Ponyo”). A

Gomorrah (2009)

“Gomorrah” breaks the mold of gangster films. It takes what we know from the glimmer and cool factor of mob classics such as “The Godfather” and splatters seemingly real-life blood and guts in our face. The Italian-language drama feels so authentic, so you-are-there journalistic, it’s startling to re-read the “Martin Scorsese presents” title card on a second viewing. Directed by Matteo Garrone and based on a expose book that earned its author death threats, “Gomorrah” is a multi-arch/character epic focusing on the bagmen, peripheral workers, wannabes, mothers, and children living and dying under the thumb of a new mafia. The rules of old are gone. The Godfather has left the building. The one true mob boss we meet is bed-ridden and unaware that his time is over. It’s every man for himself. Stand outs include two gun-crazy youths (Marco Macor and Ciro Petrone) addicted to violence and the banter of DePalma’s “Scarface,” but fully unaware of true consequences, and a tailor (Salvatore Cantalupo) who crosses racial boundaries. The violence is startling and whiplash fast, and the story written so large and complex, it takes at least two viewings to fully encompass. An amazing work of art. A

Four Christmases (2008)

Do you secretly dread Christmas because you know visiting family results in bickering, forced church outings and rehashed childhood crap that you have strived to forget? And you fear the stress will make you fight with your S.O.? If not just living all this shit, but paying to watch other people live it, is appealing, then “Four Christmases” is for you. Count this Grinch out. Vince Vaughn and Renee Witherspoon play a seemingly happy couple who normally jet out to wild vacations at Christmas. But the gods deal the couple a cruel card that force a visit to all four parents in one day, resulting in brats, bad food, wrestling, falling off roofs and – I kid you not – a rerun of the Vaughn’s awful “The Breakup.” Shudder. I laughed when Vaughn blabs that there’s no Santa to a roomful of children. That's my kind of dumb move. But even at 88 minutes, watching “Four Christmases” felt like enduring four Christmases. It made me want to stick my head in a lit chimney. C

The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

There is no finer, happier old-fashioned Technicolor classic Hollywood romp than “The Adventures of Robin Hood.” It follows – of course – Robin Hood (Errol Flynn) as he battles Prince John (Claude Rains), woos Maid Marian (Olivia de Havilland, never lovelier) and defends King Richard, God and country. Yes, Flynn was a creep, a drunk and quite possibly a pedophile, but his screen charisma is undeniable – he is the quintessential movie hero. “Robin Hood” feels like the beginning, the alpha if you will, of every action/adventure big-screen film that Hollywood has ever made -- cliff-hangers, kidnappings, chases, the hero about to be (gasp!) hanged and a plethora of sword fights. It still hasn’t been topped. I’m sure the gay innuendo (Prince John is beyond fey, Will Scarlett is far too happy to Robin’s, umm, wingman) was apparent to the discerning eye during the “innocent” time of this film’s release, and that might make this another first -- the ironic Hollywood film. Oh, and Basil Rathbone (what a cool name) as Sir Guy of Gisbourne – nearly steals the movie in that final sword duel. Just awesome. A+

Die Hard (1988)

There’s nothing I can say about “Die Hard” that hasn’t been said before. It’s not only the action classic that set in motion an entire subgenre (remember when every 1990s action film was “Die Hard” on a …), it’s my favorite Christmas flick not involving a child’s air rifle. Or Jesus. Scratch that, it is my favorite Christmas flick. period. Don’t like that? Yippee-ki-yah ... You know the rest. I need not go into plot, if you don’t know how wonderfully Bruce Willis kicks ass in a L.A. skyscraper against a rogue group of terrorists-as-thieves, than you’re under age. Or ignorant. Alan Rickman, in his big screen debut, is hands down the coolest villain ever. His voice. The suit. The glint in his eye. Even as I root (every time) for Willis’ bleeding barefoot all-too-human scared-shitless cop John McClane, there’s never been a viewing where I don’t think, “If I were bad, I’d be Rickman’s Hans Gruber.” The dickering around to paint cops/feds as dicks is a unneeded crock, was in 1988, and still is the case. But the Everyman Hero, that elevator shaft, the helicopters, the C4, the way Michael Kamen turns Christmas tunes pitch dark, and the final confrontation and “Yippee-ki-yah” – drool. Best. Action. Film. Ever. A+

Pirate Radio (2009)

The British comedy “Pirate Radio” was called “The Boat That Rocked” during its original release in the United Kingdom. Nerd news accounts indicate the film not only was re-titled but re-edited on the trip over the Atlantic. And I can see where: Despite the best soundtrack since “Almost Famous,” this Richard Curtis-directed film is more pop, than rock.

“Pirate” follows a boatload of (mostly true?) Brit radio DJs who blast the Devil’s Music – The Who, Rolling Stones and Kinks -- toward shore from an old fishing vessel, much to the chagrin of proper English pricks on land. The ragtag radio crew includes Bill Nighy (“Underworld”) as the leader, Rhys Ifans as a cooler-than-thou DJ god and Philip Seymour Hoffman as an American away from home. The scenes with these blokes and their groupie fans all are a blast, if not a bit coy. For 1960s hellions, these guys and gals are tame compared to, say, the cast of “Gossip Girl.”

The boat ride truly goes all stop when it hits shore to document the English pricks, mainly a fascist bureaucrat (Kenneth Branagh) and his lapdog assistant (Jack Davenport). The lapdog’s surname actually is Twatt. Ugh. It’s that kind of film – marketed to adults, but written for teens who might not even fully get that joke. Worse, Branagh says the surname to infinity and beyond, “I like Twatt!” and then follows it up with 30 lines where he means to say he’ll dispose of the radio jocks, but ends up spilling out Freudian descriptions of gay sex. Yadda yadda ... y'know.

The gorgeous look of the film, the killer soundtrack – classic after classic rock song played out end to end -- and the top notch cast having a blast make this film hard to hate. But it’s equally difficult to love a film that had me thinking, “Ohh, I gotta Netflix the real version.” B-

Underworld (2003)

“Underworld” is the fourth “Matrix” film that no one – well, not me – ever wanted. The entirety of this vampire versus vs. werewolf action film rips and duplicates the DNA, soul and central nervous system of the 1999 sci-fi classic. Verbatim. Down to the sunglasses and stunts. Originality is not on the menu. The inconsistencies alone will suck your brain dry. Mainly, why is the city locale teeming with citizens in the film’s opening but wholly deserted thereafter – especially during a train station massacre? Director Len Wiseman pushes the pace fast enough to almost cover such glaring holes, and Kate Beckinsale -- basically playing Carrie-Anne Moss playing Trinity -- has charismatic boldness to spare. And, hell, it’s actually better than the third “Matrix” film by a mile. But that ain’t saying much. C

The Twilight Saga: New Moon (2009)

I am glad that a big-budget Hollywood event film can be focused on a young female protagonist and also be directly targeted to girls and young women, so it feels almost cruel to dump on “New Moon.” After all, boys have had the run of the brainless, witless blockbuster cinema sandbox for decades. Yet, “Moon” is a romantic drama dud, and sends a horrible message of submission for women and girls.

A sequel to the 2008 hit film “Twilight” and based on the second book in the famed literary series, “New Moon” is a painfully hokey “SOB!” drama that has a desperately depressed 18-year-old Bella (the always good Kristen Stewart) longing for her MIA vampire boyfriend (Robert Pattison) while – possibly, maybe, oh, who am I kidding, not a fhkin’ chance – cozying up to her boffo buff BFF Jacob (Taylor Lautner), who is secretly a giant werewolf (!) who’s not so secretly in love with her. (What are the chances, eh?)

This is literally the film: Dumped by undead poet stud Edward, Bella sits in a papasan for months glumly staring out a window and wakes up every night screaming from her violent, thrashing sleep. Then, after several miserable months, Bella realizes if she commits suicidal stunts, she will see Edward’s worried pleading “image,” and he will rescue her. So she pushes the edge, waiting for him to show. She’s sooo in love with Edward that’ll she die to see him. Cliffs and traffic and what not. And why not? He recites “Romeo & Juliet” and spouts gems such as “I just couldn't live in a world where you didn't exist.” (Was junior high creative writing this bad? Uh, maybe.)

Let me skip onward. Yes, Bella has to save Edward’s (literal) glittery butt from some other vampire pack, but it comes after two hours of watching the most spineless, man-love-obsessed female film character I’ve witnessed since Meg Ryan gave her soul and fortune up for crooked Kevin Kline in “French Kiss.” I hated that movie.

And that’s what kills this sequel. What I liked about the first film – the teen awkwardness, the magic of first flirts, Bella’s curiosities – turns ugly. She literally has no interest – art, music, engineering, law, medicine, sports or anything else – except Edward. Further, Bella’s daddy, nor the filmmakers (Chris Weitz directs) nor can I guess the author don’t seem to realize Bella’s months-long depression signals her need for psychiatric help. Not a werewolf or a mummy. And if teen girls say such reactions are normal, they need to seek psychiatric help. Right away.

I get that this is a fantasy film, that some girls want to live to love and be loved by a brooding slightly dangerous man, to be the center of his entire existence, and he of hers. That nothing else matters. Not even personal satisfaction. It’s no more silly or farfetched than boy fantasies such as Spider-Man or Batman or “Die Hard,” where guys get to bludgeon, beat and blow up a world they can’t control, and they are thanked and celebrated for their literal actions. I get it.

Yet, few, if any, boys will ever get a chance to kill a terrorist, be bitten by a radioactive spider or build a batcave. But with this other shoe … well, it’s easy to figure out. I can only hope “Eclipse” (Part 3) shows Bella growing into an woman who can live her own life, find successes in school and career, and do so while loving, and being loved by, her undead glittery man. Y’know, something she can call her own. Take up cooking. Professionally, I mean. But, I have feeling she’s going to end up barefoot and pregnant, cooking a blood-soaked meatloaf for her man. If so, then count me out.

Oh, and this whole “don’t make me choose” melodrama. Really? With Bella's unstable Edward fixation, did anyone think the Jacob – including the BFF himself – had a chance? This ending was the sorriest “shocker” I’ve seen since “Signs.” Alas, it doesn’t help that Jacob constantly threatens: “Do not get me upset!” What hilarious horrible writing. I wished just once Jacob would turn Hulk green and sport a bad 1970s wig. But he never did. Just a hairy CGI werewolf.

Ahh, the ‘70s. Diane Keaton would have kicked both these boys to the curb and marched out of town her head held high. That seems like the fantasy film now. Part 1 was cute. This is crap, what's next ... D+

Underworld: Rise of the Lycans (2009)

“Underworld: Rise of the Lycans” is a dark prequel to the previous two vampires vs. werewolves films before it: “Underworld” and “Underworld: Evolution.” Dropping Kate Beckinsale, the film goes way back to show … well, the Rise of the Lycans. Much like the Rise of Cobra in the recent “G.I. Joe.” Hey, after the sophomoric pouting of “New Moon,” I welcome this. And I welcome the bloody gore and frenzied pace. The story focuses on anti-hero Lucian (Michael Sheen), who rises from baby to child slave to warrior to bad-ass rebel who sports skintight leather pants and a long leather coat. Who knew Old Navy existed thousands ago in what looks like Dark Ages Eastern Europe? Such WTH questions bog the film down, but don’t kill it outright. C+

Monsters vs. Aliens (2009)

“Monsters Vs. Aliens” follows the exact sandwich construction of many a Dreamworks production: Lots of sight gags piled on top of film spoofs piled on sight sags, with the story as garnish.

It is funny, and the animation is delightful (dig the fur!), but I spent more time guessing the famous voices (Rainn Wilson!!) of the moment than taking any real interest in what was happening on screen. Two days later, I had to IMDB the film to make sure it wasn’t called “Aliens Vs. Monsters.” It’s that memorable.

Here, a bride (Reeese Witherspoon) is struck by a meteor on her wedding day and grows large, Large, LARGE before her fiancé and family. Now a freak -- a monster -- she is captured by Uncle Sam and tossed into a Monster Mash military prison with a glob, a talking man-sized insect and a lizard dude from the Black Lagoon. Enter the aliens (Wilson is the leader), cue the hero Monsters, and we have ourselves a story idea. Add in a “Close Encounters” music gag, and we have a film.

In a stellar year for animation (I love “Coraline,” and “Up” is another Pixar gem) being funny and well-animated no longer cuts it. Not unless it’s Saturday morning TV. Watching most any Dreamworks film (not all) is now akin to watching a child drag his plastic chair to the adults table for dinner. Even if he can look everyone in the eye, he still can’t keep up with the conversation. B-

G.I.Joe: The Rise of Cobra (2009)

Upfront admission: Much of my childhood was dedicated to Real American Hero G.I. Joe and evil terrorist organization Cobra. I do not lie when I say hundreds of hours of my life and that of younger brother James (now serving in the U.S. Army) were dedicated to this Hasbro toy line/cartoon series/comic book mini-world. James was the good guy, collector of G.I. Joe. I happily volunteered to collect the villains. I was a serious Hasbro acolyte. For the love of God, I scripted war “battles.” I made character charts. James must have rolled his eyes the whole time. Poor kid. End admission.

“G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra” is a dull-witted, DOA live-action take on the popular 1980s pop culture icon. What looked great in pen and ink to my childhood eyes is wretched in real big-screen life. Terribly so. It can’t even sink/rise to the level of “Flash Gordon” genius awfulness. I was dead bored at the 90 minute mark, and had a half-hour more to go.

For those not in the know: the G.I. Joes are America’s (international in the film) leading military force. The Cobras are a nonpolitical/ nonreligious/ nonsensical terrorist group bent on world rule. G.I. Joe’s mission: Stop Cobra. The story: As the film literally is about Cobra’s origin, we have shady international arms dealer James “Destro” McCullen (Christopher Eccleston of “Dr. Who”) as the main baddie, fighting for control of a set of nano-mite warheads that expel tiny metal-eating robots. That he built. Among the metal victims: The Eifel Tower. Leading the Joes is General Hawk (Dennis Quaid). Battles ensue. That’s it, really.

The half dozen writers and director Stephen Sommers (“Van Helsing” and two of the “Mummy” films) try to spruce up the script with laughable character back stories. For instance, good guy Duke (Channing Tatum) once was engaged to wall flower turned deadly villain Baroness (Sienna Miller) before her brother Rex (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) – Duke’s BFF -- died in battle on his watch. (All the characters have code names.) Each flash back -- some taken from the comic books, some newly created for film, it doesn’t matter -- is not only a relentless bore but a time killer.

One minor old-time fan nitpick: The silent, black-masked Snake-Eyes, by far the most interesting character in the comics, is here relegated to Lassie status. He points, waves jazz hands, and everyone gets what he’s saying automatically. Even engineering techno-babble. He doesn’t bark, though. It’d be funny (and interesting) if he had.

The film obviously is made for young boys, as are the “Spider-Man” and “Iron Man” films, and I have no doubt my 7-year-old nephew would salivate at the underwater climax. And I’d feel bad for him, because one day he’ll realize he’s been suckered by Hollywood suits spending the GDP of a small country ($170 million) in order to … what? Sell toys. Numb us?

Like the “Transformers” sequel (also based on a Hasbro toy), there is nothing there here. “Iron Man” had Robert Downey Jr.’s tortured soul to ground it. “Spider-Man” had a love for New York City. The explosions, Paris in ruins, characters who die, everything in “Joe” is empty.

Despite the budget, the CGI effects pale next to an average Wii game. Bad dialogue (“The French are very upset!”) and flat (Tatum) or over-the-top acting (Gordon-Levitt under all that makeup) kill any chance of mild enjoyment. D+

Surveillance (2009)

Jennifer Lynch -- daughter of David -- directs “Surveillance,” a grisly mystery set in a speck of a New Mexico town. The film opens with some daddy trademarks … coffee pouring, small town landscapes and shocking violence, but Ms. Lynch spins toward “Se7en,” with solid “B” movie intensions. The plot: FBI agents (Bill Pullman and Julia Ormond) arrive in a small town to help local police investigate a mass murder. The sun-baked cops are snarky, and at least two are psychopathic. The film is tense, dark and stuck in my head all night. Red herrings abound as almost every character is over-the-top nuts or appears to have secrets, and that hurts the film. Whether you catch the ending before Lynch pitches it depends on what weirdo has your attention. I missed it. What won me: Pullman and Ormond in black suits, white shirts and oozing badass appeal. Great actors. B

Favorites: Superhero movies

The Best
1. The Incredibles (2004)
2. The Dark Knight (2008)
4. Superman (1978)
5. Flash Gordon (1980)
6. Iron Man (2008)
7. Spider-Man 2 (2004)
8. Hellboy (2004)
9. Batman Begins (2005)
10. X2: X-Men United (2003)

The worst
1. Batman & Robin (1998)
And in no order, and not all inclusive: Batman and Robin (1995), Catwoman (2004), Daredevil (2003), Ghost Rider (2007), The Punisher (1989), Spawn (1998), Zoom (2006), Superman III (1983), and Superman IV: The Quest for Peace (1987).

2012 (2009)

Roland Emmerich’s latest world-ender “2012” is a helluva lot like his previous efforts “The Day After Tomorrow” and “Independence Day” – humankind ignores glaring signs of cataclysmic event/big attack and suffers for it. Immensely. Billions die. Most of our heroes and their dog (where's the cat, man??) live. The end.

“Tomorrow” was heavy-handed leftist crap and silly. “Independence” was clever – and I kid you not – the best sci-fi genre satire ever made. (I have erased “Godzilla" from memory, only recalling that I wished every character on screen would die. Bloodily.) “2012” falls in the middle, jumping off the age-old premise our number is up in two-plus years.

It has all the eternally re-rehashed Emmerich elements – the father, his estranged child(ren), the ex-wife, the brilliant scientist, the tough president, the a-hole bureaucrat, blah, blah, blah. John Cusack stars. I need not go into details. OK – one detail – Woody Harrelson is the guy with the scoop of being dead-on correct smothered under 40 gallons of crazy glue. Harrelson looks like he couldn’t wait to get on set every morning. He’s a delight.

As long as the dim-witted chore “Transformers” sequel, “2012” mostly squeaks by all the science and logistical plot holes and “come on!” scenes where characters walk around in freezing temperatures but the actors barely seem slightly chilly. The special effects are seriously top-notch, and let’s face it -- this film exists for no other reason than to wow people with special effects. Consider me wowed.

Yet, the film irks, even past the Emmerich standards. There are long moments where - despite the thrills – I’m watching billions of people die and skyscrapers fall. For fun. I got the feeling Emmerich watches news footage of earthquakes, terrorist attacks and tsunami’s with one eye for mild concern and the other glazing over with an “I smell movie” high. The movie snob and liberal inside me winces. The other part of me, who laughed his way through the most tragic scenes in “Independence Day” (and got mean glares for it), stares in awe. For awhile.

Like the film’s long climax, "2012" is a washout. B-

1991: Best and Worst

The Best
1. The Silence of the Lambs
2. JFK
3. Beauty and the Beast
4. Boyz in the Hood
5. Truly, Madly, Deeply
6. Terminator 2: Judgment Day
7. Dead Again
8. Barton Fink
9. Thelma and Louise
10. The Fisher King

The Worst
5. Hook
4. Bill and Dead's Bogus Journey
3. Not Without My Daughter
2. Mortal Thoughts
1. Hudson Hawk

1992: Best and Worst

The Best
1. Unforgiven
2. Reservoir Dogs
3. The Crying Game
4. Malcolm X
5. The Player
6. Aladdin
7. Glengarry Glen Ross
8. The Last of the Mohicans
9. Howards End
10. A Few Good Men

The Worst
5. The Bodyguard
4. Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me
3. Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot
2. Consenting Adults
1. Toys

1993: Best and Worst

The Best
1. Schindler's List
2. The Piano
3. Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas
4, (Tie) Jurassic Park and The Fugitive
5. In the Name of the Father
6. The Remains of the Day
7. Cronos
8. Romper Stomper
9. Short Cuts
10. Groundhog Day

The Worst
5. The Real McCoy
4. Son of the Pink Panther
3. Body of Evidence
2. Striking Distance
1. Last Action Hero

1994: Best and Worst

The Best
1. Pulp Fiction
2. Natural Born Killers
3. Heavenly Creatures
4. Once Were Warriors
5. The Lion King
6. Quiz Show
7. Hoop Dreams
8. Ed Wood
9. Bullets Over Broadway
10. The Shawshank Redemption

The Worst
5. Maverick
4. Interview With a Vampire
3. (Tie) Junior & North
2. The Air Up There
1. On Deadly Ground

1995: Best and Worst

The Best
1. Toy Story
2. Dead Man Walking
3. The Usual Suspects
4. Heat
5. Apollo 13
6. Se7en
7. Twelve Monkeys
8. Nixon
9. Sense & Sensibility
10. A Little Princess

The Worst
5. (Tie) First Knight and Cutthroat Island
4. French Kiss
3. Congo
2. The Scarlet Letter
1. Up Close and Personal

1996: Best and Worst

The Best
1. Fargo
2. Breaking the Waves
3. Trainspotting
4. Swingers
5. Independence Day (yeah, really)
6. Big Night
7. Sling Blade
8. Secrets & Lies
9. The English Patient
10. Fly Away Home

The Worst
5. Space Jam
4. In Love and War
3. Jack
2. The Fan
1. The Island of Dr. Moreau

Green Street Hooligans (2005)

Elijah Wood puts down his Hobbit sword and picks up his fists in the violent and fascinating, but ultimately heavy-handed, “Green Street Hooligans,” a film about a Yank sucked in by English football firms. But football, I mean soccer. By firms, I mean street gangs that battle royale for their teams.

Wood plays Matt Buckner, a Harvard journalism major bounced out of university for drugs. Matt’s a patsy: Taking the hit for his dorm roommate, a rich boy with political power. Matt sulks his way to England to visit his sister (Claire Forlani), who has a husband, a baby and a spectacular home. She also has brother-in-law (Charlie Hunnam) who is a firm leader.

Matt tags along with Pete for a football match, and before the day is through, finds himself brawling. “Who do you hate,” asks Pete of Matt, who knows who he hates. Matt bleeds. Matt draws blood. Matt’s hooked. For the first time Matt feels like a man alive, his own personal double-decker “Fight Club” vacation. With warm beer and whiskey.

“Green” excels at showing a world I’ve never seen: Lower-class blokes who are poor, lonely or tragic, and place their passions and lives into a sport. Crazy? Yes. But it’s all they have. Alas, the film goes sentimental.

A grisly finale is accompanied by a sappy song, and Wood reads some narration – there’s a time to fight and a time to run – that is older than soccer. Sorry, football. Rich boy gets his comeuppance, of course. But the plot strand is tired: The guy is one of those smarmy coke-head country club Republicans that were cliché when John Belushi started a food fight. Wood makes the film work, remarkably so, making Matt a believable guy you’d meet in a bar. Just don’t call football soccer. B

The Boondock Saints (1999)

In “The Boondock Saints,” two devout Christian brothers (Norman Reedus and Sean Patrick Flanery) believe themselves ordained by God to kill Boston gangsters, pervs and riff-raff. Their guide is a Z-grade ex-gangster stooge (David Della Rocco) who bears an unmistakable resemblance to Jesus. To further clarify, a dead ringer God appears as six-gun-strapped assassin (Billy Connolly). Director/writer Troy Duffy leaves no cross unturned in making his brothers into holy-roller Reservoir Dogs, to borrow from Tarantino. And Duffy does borrow, from Q.T., Scorsese and Woo in the most clichéd ways. Slow-mo jump shooting, anyone?

Vigilantism is an entire cathartic genre onto itself. Everyone has wanted to play Dirty Harry or Batman. It’s human nature. But Duffy’s celebratory right-wing beat off to guns and God is painful. His virulent hatred of gays and women is worse. Willem Dafoe – gagging from scenery chewing -- plays a self-loathing gay detective who prances, preens, cross dresses, and ridicules every homosexual who meets his path or bed. Every woman is a brick-faced lesbian, addict or whore. One woman has “Jesus” stick a gun in her face. Look, I love some mean films where mean people do mean stuff. "Romper Stomper" is one. But the sadism is framed. Not here. This is God's "work."

I’d give this cult hit film an “F,” but Duffy has one major card: The brothers. Reedus and Flanery brim with spark, laughter, anger and utter lifelong devotion; I rechecked the DVD box to see if the actors were brothers. They’re not. Ace actors. Bullocks film. Some part of me hoped it was all a satire of male bravado. But that takes wit. There's no wit here. D-

Paranormal Activity (2009)

The hype machine has pegged the ultra-cheap and literally homemade “Paranormal Activity” as Scariest Film of All Time. Is it? Nope. That crown is worn by “Rosemary’s Baby,” a film so terrifying it makes Charles freakin’ Gordon scary as hell. And he plays a puppy dog doctor in the film. But, I digress, “Activity” does provide biting jolting scares and is a treat to watch, and it's low-budget birth should be celebrated.

Shot in first-person, young San Diego couple Mikah Sloat and Katie Featherstone (who play “themselves”) begin to investigate the noisy whispering demon/ghost that is in their home. Katie is convinced the spirit is tied to her – and a found old photo may prove that notion. Micah straps a camera to his body, because that’s what guys do. (Really. I know some. One is named Jim. The other: Granddad.)

Much of the action takes place in the couple’s bedroom, and I mean that without being dirty. As Micah taunts the “thing,” the reactions are notched upward – swinging doors, billowing sheets, then Katie sleepwalking and then – in the best scene – literally being yanked from her bed in a scene of sudden terrifying violence.

This was all down by a guy named Oren Peli for roughly $11,000, in his own house. Wow. And that ultra cheap budget, lack of makeup and hair stylists, and the no frills acting and commonplace house all make this horror film closer to “reality” than any Hollywood big budget starring a CW actress of the month.

Peli smartly reminds us the truest scares in film are never from what’s on screen, the big CGI or gore effect, but from what we think is on screen, and what’s in our head. A creaking house and slamming door, when nerves are frayed, is freakin’ scary. (That said, let me insert a fully hypocritical statement: I dug “Drag Me to Hell” far more.)

At a brisk 86 minutes, the film has a few scenes (craft time??) that could have been lost, and one is never sure how day-trader Micca trades in the day. Definitely a film to watch in the dark. B+

Total Recall (1990)

“Total Recall” is a classic mixing of Arnold Schwarzenegger, the unstoppable action giant, and Paul Verhoeven, the outlandish director of satirical over-the-top grisly violent films.

Schwarzenegger plays Douglas Quaid, a construction worker who knows he’s meant for something “special,” more so than being married to Sharon Stone. (Only in movies.) A subway car ad promises Quaid an “ego trip” to Mars courtesy of the company Recall. See, the trip is all in your head. Don’t leave home without it. Quaid jumps at the chance, but (!!) wakes up mid-session realizing his cover as a secret superspy from Mars has been blown and everyone is out to kill him. “Get down!”

Nearly 20 years on, “Recall” kicks ass, especially that pounding music score and those bulging eyes. It has more brain than 10 Michael Bay films, satirizing grisly gun porn flicks even as it plays out as one, and giving a kick to unchecked American and British colonialism. It’s also a great comedy: Watch how minor characters repeatedly stop the action to tell Doug (and us) what exactly will happen next, and it all comes true.

Bonus points: The whole production could be a trippy trick. Is all the action inside Doug’s head, as Recall promised? I absolutely think so. My wife disagrees. Giddy nasty debatable fun. A

A Matter of Size (2009)

The Israeli-Hebrew comedy smash “A Matter of Size” borrows, steals and mimeographs from the “The Full Monty” to tell the story of obese chef Herzl (Itzik Cohen) and his bid to become a sumo wrestler and woo the plus-size girl of his dreams. First up is the instant punch line: Scottish blue collars dancing in “Monty,” sumo wrestling in the Holy Land here. There’s the awkward scene where manly guys shove and grip each other while nearly naked. There’s the gay toughie. There’s the guy with the bad marriage, etc. Even the rom-com are verbatim. Yet, “Size” wins on the merit of its charismatic leads and the cool factor that –- get this Hollywood -– overweight people can be happy, fall in love and have sex. The latter scenes are treated with a loving humor and are undeniably sweet. It’s not just girth here that’s large. B

1997: Best and Worst

The Best
1. L.A. Confidential
2. The Sweet Hereafter
3. Boogie Nights
4. Titanic
5. The Apostle
6. The Game
7. (Tie) Men in Black and Dark City
8. Donnie Brosco
9. In the Company of Men
10. Insomnia



The Worst
5. She's So Lovely
4. Hoodlum
3. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
2. Speed 2: Cruise Control
1. (Tie) Batman & Robin and Spawn

1998: Best and Worst

The Best
1. Saving Private Ryan
2. Shakespeare in Love
3. The Truman Show
4. Enemy of the State
5. Pi
6. A Simple Plan
7. The Thin Red Line
8. Rushmore
9. American History X
10. Gods and Monsters

The Worst
5. Godzilla
4. Snake-Eyes
3. Hurly-Burly
2. Psycho
1. (Tie) Patch Adams and The Avengers

1999: Best and Worst

1. Being John Malkovich
2. The Matrix
3. The Insider
4. Toy Story 2
5. Following
6. Galaxy Quest
6. The Straight Story
7. Boys Don't Cry
8. The Sixth Sense and Fight Club
10. Three Kings

The Worst
5. Wild, Wild West
4. The Boondock Saints
3. 8 Millimeter
2. Bicentennial Man
1. The Mod Squad

2000: Best and Worst

The Best
1. Requiem for a Dream
2. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
3. Traffic
4. Almost Famous
5. Gladiator
6. Dancer in the Dark
7. Best in Show
8. Erin Brokovich
9. Bamboozled
10. Into the Arms of Strangers

The Worst
5. Dungeons & Dragons
4. Shaft
3. Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2
2. Mission to Mars
1. Battlefield Earth

Moon (2009)

How’s this for a compliment: Duncan Jones’ 70s paranoia twister “Moon” is the sci-fi mind screw that David Cronenberg never made, or hasn’t yet made. And I love me some Cronenberg. "Moon" -- as with Cronenberg's best -- will be a cult fave years from now.

The entire film takes place in the distant future on the lunar body and focuses on one Sam Bell (Sam Rockwell), a mid-30s contract worker overseeing energy excavation for use back on Earth. Sam has been alone for nearly three years, apparently hoping for a big payday that will help save the marriage to his estranged wife. His only reliable source of comfort: The robot Gertie (voiced by Kevin Spacey) that runs the moon base’s computer operations. Sam deals. He talks to himself. A lot. He talks to his plants. A lot. He obsessively details a diorama of his hometown. For 987 hours. More or less. He cries. A lot.

Then one day after an accident, Sam finds himself. Literally. He finds himself. There are two Sams. This is where the Cronenberg duality vibe kicks in. You will wince, and be in awe of the path we fall on.

One-person films live and die on the actor/actress, and “Moon” has found a great solo pilot. Rockwell is awesome as a man who learns whole new meaning of learning to live with yourself, and wears a good bit of nasty makeup quite well. (This film has some Cronenberg-like gore too.) Spacey, in voice only, provides goose bumps galore as a robot whose mantra is “I’m here to keep you safe. I’m here to help you.” Gertie can only be seen as a happy face, a sad face, etc., and it’s funny and off-putting. You think, what is this robot thinking?

Jones, son of David (ne Jones) Bowie, provides a slow-burn fascinating film about what it really means to look yourself in the eyes. He answers nearly every nagging question, such as why on moon is Sam watching “Bewitched” and “Mary Tyler Moore,” and why is he alone? A bold, unsettling, quiet, mind-blowing film that’ll make you think twice about what makes you you. All set in space. One of the year's best.A

Big Fan (2009)

What a time to watch the dark comedy “Big Fan.” It follows an obsessed and unhinged New York sports fan with no life outside of rooting for his home team and dumping on the city he loathes: Philadelphia.

This isn’t baseball, though. It’s football. And Paul Aufiero (Patton Oswalt) is a mid-30s parking deck attendant who only lives and breathes for his New York Giants with no cares for women, family or career. His bedroom walls are adorned with a poster of his idol -- the Giants lead QB (Jonathan Hamm). Paul sleeps -- and jerks off -- under a football-themed blanket from childhood. He scribbles fifth-grade-level “slams” into a notebook that he’ll later use for “impromptu” late-night calls to his favorite radio sports chat show. Flag on the play, he’s about to pop.

I won’t divulge writer-director Robert Siegel’s hilarious, creepy and strangely fascinating story, except to say that this filmmaker plays off the audience’s knowledge of “Taxi Driver” and “King of Comedy” – the loner obsessive finally snapping. The ending perfectly fits Paul, even as it slyly undermines audience expectation. A hint: Paul paints his face green and white in the City of Brother Love, wincing as he applies the makeup. Priceless.

Siegel knows his sports fan territory – he’s listened to the sports chat shows and seen the worshipful fans camped outside a stadium watching a game on TV because they can’t cop tickets. If you’ve lived in a sports town – and I have in Philly and Tuscaloosa – you know two or a dozen Pauls, the dream fan who’s made himself a slave to what he loves.

I wish Siegel had laid off the tired New Yawk stereotypes (the over-bearing mother, the older brother who’s an ambulance chasing lawyer with the crass wife) that heavily grate, having delivered a true-to-life screenplay about south New Jersey in “The Wrestler.” These play as well as any Southern barn dance stereotype in, say, “Sweet Home Alabama.”

Oswalt, permanently scarring any memory of his work in “Ratatouille,” brilliantly portrays a pathetic obsessive who sees nothing wrong with his life, lived under a child’s blanket, one ear to the radio, one hand down there, looking up at the poster image of the man he wishes he could be. B+

A Simple Plan (1998)

Between making the wonderfully sick “Evil Dead” films and three mixed-bag “Spider-Man” flicks, Sam Raimi made “A Simple Plan,” a supremely dark morality tale that could be the dead serious cousin to dark comedy “Fargo.” Both are set in a frozen white America where bodies stack higher than snow. Here, two estranged brothers (Bill Paxton and Billy Bob Thornton) and the one’s slovenly friend (Brent Briscoe) stumble upon a downed plane in the snowy woods of Minnesota. Inside the plane are a dead body and a duffel bag with $4 million in cash. The bag is opened, and lines are drawn. Guns, too. The trick of Raimi’s direction and Scott B. Smith’s screenplay (based on his own great book) is painting the loveless Jacob (Thornton, amazing) as the only person of conscious, and high-lighting just how far brothers can stray from one another. The dark thrill of “Plan” lies in watching just what pains people –- family -- will inflict on one another for wealth, while justifying every action. Money trumps blood, every time. A

Scanners (1981)

No one does sheer psychological horror quite like David Cronenberg. This 1980 cult horror film delivers all of Cronenberg’s dreaded goods, plus an exploding head. I don’t kid. Literally, a man’s head explodes in sick chunky pulp detail within 15 minutes. The headless man is – was -- a scanner, a person born with the power of telepathy. In Cronenberg’s world, though, telepathy isn’t just mind reading, it’s the ability for one person to tap into the central nervous system of another. Person hacking. Years before computer hacking. (Genius!) The film follows a confused and strangely emotionless scanner (Stephen Lack) railroaded by a doctor (Patrick McGoohan) into working as a spy for a mysterious corporation. The target: Revok (Michael Ironside) a psychopathic scanner responsible for that exploding noggin and many other deaths. Cronenberg’s film loses its suffocating tenseness at the climax as bad makeup effects take over, but the preceding buildup is intense. Ironside (“Total Recall”) is scarily creepy. If you know Cronenberg’s films, the shocker end reveal isn’t too shocking. “History of Violence” indeed. A-

The Skeleton Key (2005)

Set in New Orleans and focusing on Kate Hudson as a Hospice nurse to a couple (Gena Rowlands and John Hurt), “The Skeleton Key” is a supernatural flick that owes more to “Amazing Stories” or “Outer Limits” than traditional horror genre. With the location, one knows there will be hoodoo and a gothic Southern home, and “Key” plays by the rules. Yet, it’s a kick, from the clever reveals to the acting that shifts as … personalities do. Peter Sarsgaard once again plays the guy you can’t quite figure out, and that’s not a slam. Rowlands also rocks. Only one scene irks: Hudson heroically (but dumbly) stashes a sickly Hurt into her Volkswagen and tries to make off, but she ends up crashing the bug repeatedly. Unintended laughs follow. Thankfully the film gets back on track for a cool “gotcha” ending. Much silly spooky fun. B+

Conan the Barbarian (1982)

I saw “Conan the Barbarian” as a child. Loved it. It was grisly violent and had nude women. What more could a boy ask for? Well, I’m 35 and pickier. Arnold Schwarzenegger plays the title role of an ex-slave hell bent on killing those who massacred his family. Standard Greek drama/comic book fodder, can’t go wrong, right? Wrong. John Milius’ direction is painfully haphazard (an orgy has all the spark of a cricket match; a final battle fares no better) and the script (co-written by Oliver Stone!) reeks. In the early stages of mastering English while learning how to act, the film stops dead every time Ahnuld opens his mouth. He’s come a long way since, that’s for sure. James Earl Jones speaks at length, adding some validity as the lead villain. Sadly, JEJ resembles a KISS groupie. And his henchman? “Spinal Tap” roadies on horseback. The swords and weapons appear to be tin toys. The entire affair rings just as hollow. C-

Spirited Away (2002) and Ponyo (2009)

Until just recently, I had not yet seen a Hayao Miyazaki film. Shame on me. This brilliant animator is a reminder that hand-drawn can out ‘wow’ even Pixar’s best computer effects. Plus, his films have deep themes and wonderful characters to match the visuals. Wow.

“Spirited Away” is intricate, imaginative and beautifully bizarre, and even two viewings don’t do its themes justice. That the plot can’t be summed up in a movie poster tagline is a treat onto itself. Long story short: Whiny pre-teen Chihiro must grow up fast after she and her parents become trapped at a derelict supernatural theme park that is anchored by a mysterious bathhouse. The kicker: Chihiro’s parents have been turned into pigs, and she alone must save them. The animation is pure magic: Every scene has depth – rooms look full and packed, as do stairs and even a rail car, and when characters collide into each other or into walls, you can feel the impact. There’s blood, and it looks sinewy and real. As Chihiro becomes the hero, it’s a pleasure to be by her side. Hell, Miyazaki’s fascinating world made me want to be inside the action. The voice cast, even in the American dub, is flawless. An absolute gem of animation. A+

“Ponyo” is geared toward a younger crowd, but has such a joyful surreal bounce to it, that the ride is equally enjoyable for adults. Here, a young boy finds a fish by his ocean island home. But, this is no ordinary fish. Ponyo, once she tastes bloods, can turn into a human girl. The film follows the boy, his mother, toddler Ponyo, her father – a protector of the water, and her mother – a goddess of the ocean. Bold colors, wide eyes and “monstrous” waves with scowling eyes all sparkle like the best children’s picture book ever given life. It’s not a homerun, though. Two of the major celebrity voices in the English dub don’t work. Mainly, Liam Neeson as the fatherly protector of oceans. With an unmistakable sound of stern male authority, I never once believed his was the voice of such an oddball, clumsy antagonist. Equally, Cate Blanchett is playing off her “LOTR” elf while voicing the goddess. The effect distracts. A-

Where the Wild Things Are (2009)

“Where the Wild Things Are” is a rare, beautiful film. It well may be the best film of the year, and certain to bring on some hate. Similar to the Maurice Sendak book, this “Wild” film is about children, not necessarily for children. Nor is it for whimsical adults who lie to themselves and others that all of childhood is sweet, innocent and fun.

The very best scene in the excellent film comes early in the 100-minute running time. Young Max (Max Records) is building a snow fort and longing for his older sister to play with him. But she’s a teen now, and at nine, Max doesn’t get that she has moved on from childish goofing. When her teen friends visit, Max starts a snowball fight with the older boys. You can see the pure joy in Max’s eyes – the big kids are playing with him! -- even as he's pelted. Then one teen jumps onto the fort's roof, smashing it flat with the boy inside. Max rises, covered in snow, sobbing angry, devastated hot tears. Raging mad, and unable to do anything.

The scene devastates. I can remember being that upset child, and I can well recall that look on my younger brother’s face when I similarly did him wrong. I cannot recall a more realistic scene in a Hollywood film about children. Nor a more realistic boy. Max is impulsive, stubborn, bursting with insane energy and sudden snaps of lethargy, he demands attention from his busy mother (Catherine Keener) and can’t comprehend why she can’t give it, his moods swings from happy to sad in an instant. He hates frozen corn, saying it’s not “real corn” in perfect nonsensical child logic. This “Wild Thing” is absolutely true.

Nonsense? Find me one real moment in crap such as “Yours, Ours and Mine” or “Stepmom.” Those films tackle childhood struggles with saccharin and the false notion that if we just pretend everything is happy, then it is. Bull. Spike Jonze, director of “Being John Malkovich,” calls that bluff in a feat of miraculous bravery. He has created yet another masterwork that strikes the heart the further it twists the mind. It certainly follows no pattern of any other childhood-themed film I’ve ever seen. Neither did “E.T.”

If you’ve read the book, you know the story: Young Max acts many a mischief, and attracts the rage of his mother, who sends him to bed. Sans supper. There, he dreams himself as king of an island of wild, rampaging monsters … until he longs for his dinner, and his mother. When he wakes, dinner is waiting and still hot. (What a beautiful story about love, anger and forgiveness, by both mother and child.)

Jonze’s screenplay, co-written by Dave Eggers, uses the book as a launching pad. Each island monster has been fleshed out, with the leader (voiced by the magnificent James Gandolfini) standing in for Max’s temperamental, work-in-progress self. The other monsters fill out various personality traits – the big sister who’s found new friends and wants to leave home, the monster who feels ignored and alone, representing another part of Max. The boy in wolf’s clothing then takes on what he previously could not do: Build an indestructible fort. Alas, his monsters, similar to many a child, won’t follow rules. They wreck havoc with petty jealousies, misunderstandings and fragile feelings, and as children play with each other, rules and alliances change on a dime, sometimes with no logic involved. As in the book, Max needs to grow up to cope.

The island and the creatures bring to mind the late Jim Henson’s kiddie classic (and quite scary at age 10) “The Dark Crystal.” (It’s no mistake that Jim Henson’s creature shop built the monsters.) The creatures are absolutely believable (only their facial movements are CGI), and look “real” – as far as a boy’s imagination goes. The sets are wildly intricate affairs, crazily shaped and almost Seussian in nature, as if built by a child's imagination. This section of the film apparently stumped Jonze for two years as he squabbled with studio brass. None of those struggles show up on screen, though. The entire production, cinematography and music (by Karen of the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs and Carter Burwell) is a child-centric delight.

Max Records as the title character is brilliant. There doesn’t seem to be a false note in his performance, which is free of all the cute banter that gets dumped on most children in Hollywood films. (I really like “Home Alone,” but it's bunk.) When Max rages, I can see myself at various ages, smashing a truck built out of Legos against a wall because my older brother demands its parts, and taking hammers to Matchbox cars to make crash ups more “realistic.” And I sure as hell raged at my mother. Every kid has. Even when he’s comfortable snuggled in a ball at the bottom of a monster pile in pure child joy, Max seems real and in the moment. (I dearly love the book, falling in step is easy.) In a small, quick role, Keener is equally fantastic.

The final scene is just as heartfelt as the book’s. On the page, mom is never seen. Here, Max comes home from hiding place to find his mother frantic worried. (We don’t learn how long he’s been gone, an hour? Two?) As he eats that hot soup so important in the book, mom -- exhausted -- falls asleep at the dining room table. And Max watches her, silently. Like the book, it’s a beautiful scene about love and forgiveness, and trying to grow up. And Jonze and Eggers (who knows rough childhoods) know that none of this easy. Or perfect. Or pain free. But it can be magical. This is Hollywood at its best. A

500 Days of Summer and The Proposal (2009)

Rom-com double feature time, with one love that will last, another just a junk ring painted gold. The low-down: “500 Days of Summer”plays cool with the rules of its genre, while “The Proposal” is all about the rules. Straight jacket time. I saw both in one weekend, one stayed with me, the other, not. Here we go:

The trailer and opening scenes of “500” stipulates this is a boy meets girl, boy loses girl story. No romance here. Talk about a smack on the forehead. I love those. Shattering the traditional genre timeline, this tale is a roses-packing version of “Memento,” following a romantic dreamer (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) and a realist (Zooey Deschanel). The cracked time line is a beautiful disorder as the guy recalls his relationship with a gal named Summer, good, bad, ugly and all three together, to realize the truth about love. Do they stick? Do they break up? Watch it. Scenes are played out repeatedly, but with different insight, while others split the screen between “expectation” and “reality.” A near brilliant head and heart trip, it’s far more real than anything you’ll see elsewhere -- see below -- that includes a hilarious Hall & Oates rock-out complete with animated birds. It may be all overly hip and cool, but I loved it. A-

Alas, “Proposal” flies with every dusty romcom rule on autopilot, including the third-act airport dash. Does anyone ever actually do that? Yet despite its reek, stars Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds as the girl and the guy, and Betty White (God love her!) as the granny, raise this film to bearable restraint. Bullock hasn’t been this likable in years, and plays the standard role of bitch-career woman with verve and vulnerability. Although I hate the sexist stereotype. Ryan is the straight guy here, with perfect deadpan reactions. The pitch: Bullock ’s high-and-mighty NYC book editor faces deportment back to Canada for a green card violation, so she scams whipping boy assistant (Reynolds) into marrying her. He hates her. Off they go to Alaska to meet his nutty family to set the con in place. And, whattya know, they fall in love. Like I said. Dust. Autopilot. Boring. Thank God for Betty White, and the game leads. B-

Year One (2009)

There are a few laughs in Harold Ramis’ Old Testament spoof “Year One,” but only a few. I laughed at a “chase” between two oxen-pulled carts. ... And not much else. Leads Jack Black and Michael Cera play the same dudes they always do (Black = prankster devil, Cera = virgin nerd). Plot? Black’s knuckle-dragging Zed eats Eden’s forbidden fruit, gains knowledge, and with Cerra’s Oh in tow, stumbles into the book of Genesis. The Cain and Abel bits actually are quite funny, with David Cross and Paul Rudd playing the brothers. Hank Azaria is a nutty Abraham. Monty Python, on its worst day, took a 2x4 to religion. Ramis uses a damp dishrag. The whole thing ends in a Sodom that ought to be smote by God. Not for sin. But for boredom. C-

Quarantine (2008)

“Quarantine” is an American re-make of a European film called “Rec.” Rules stipulate that American remakes suck compared to their original foreign counterpart. There are exceptions: “Insomnia” for instance. And this film. (I have not seen the original. But will.) The set-up is simple: A TV news crew follows a firefighter company for a routine “you are there” news assignment. Yet a simple call – a medical distress – turns ugly, then horrifying and then hellish as a zombie virus spreads inside a cruddy apartment building. The entire film is shot from the view of the news cameraman (Steve Harris, barely seen). This trick gives the viewer an off-the-cuff hell ride, although the “random” placement of the camera gets a little too planned at the film’s climax. The violence is bloody nasty without being sickly, and the actors make fantastic work out of “I’m going to die!” roles. The lingering mysteries, unsolved fates and sparse facts add to the claustrophobia. For a “Z” genre flick, this gets a B+

The Soloist (2009)

Somehow “The Soloist” got bumped from an Oscar-contender winter 2008 release to a ho-hum spring 2009 release. It’s a shame, even though the film (inspired by a true story) doesn’t really hit the Oscar caliber mark that its creators were hoping for. But it’s damn good, despite some sappy heart-yanking moments where two soaring birds represent … the soaring sprits of two men. (Ugh!)

The unstoppable Robert Downey Jr. plays “Los Angeles Times” columnist Steve Lopez, who stumbles upon a homeless schizophrenic (Jamie Foxx) playing a two-string violin with the grace of God Himself. Lopez wants to help this street musician, but the questions – Can he truly be helped? Does he want help? – roar loudly. Forget the sap and the creaky ending (director Joe Wright made the same mistake in his “Atonement”), this is an actor’s film. Downey delivers.

As the talented Nathaniel, Foxx again fires on all cylinders, especially in flashback scenes depicting his crumbling while a student. The film wrecks the theory put forth by some (such as Rush Limbaugh) that the poor and homeless are lazy and need only “get a job.” Bastards.

Instead, “Soloist” suggests (despite a fumble or two) that the homelessness is a far more complicated problem than any newspaper writer, activist or movie can ever hope to solve. B

Dead Again (1991)

“Dead Again” is a pounding homage to Hollywood whodunits of the 1940s/50s, topped with a sly self-aware icing. The film bounces between post-World War II and present day Los Angeles as it follows a gumshoe detective (Kenneth Branagh), a damsel in distress (Emma Thompson), a frantic European composer (Branagh again) and his new wife (Thompson, naturally).

The plot’s 37 dozen cliff-hanger shockers and the scissors-as-weapons obsession get sillier and sillier as “Dead Again” (come on, even the title’s a laugh riot) races and leaps toward a climax that is both wonderfully over the top and a nod to early Hitchcock. No matter. Director-star Branagh stages shocker scenes with perfection – they leave your jaw hanging even as you (most of the time) laugh out loud. Patrick Doyle’s score practically knocks the characters off screen, happily so.

There are nitpicks: Two characters age 50 years, yet appear more covered in moldy cream cheese than elderly. And even by “spoof” standards, Branagh’s American accent is scissors-in-the-eyeball painful. No matter: This is back when Branagh and Thompson were the It Couple of Hollywood, and I dare anyone not to go around barking, “Dese are fer you!” for days on end. A classic thriller, I watched this constantly on VHS while a high schooler. A

Top 10 Reasons Why I Love “Flash Gordon” (1980)

10. Hero Flash Gordon (Sam J. Jones) wears a T-Shirt with his own name written on it. In large red letters. Just in case he or we forget his identity.

9. The entire production, from backdrops to flowing gold capes and that Sherwood Forrest planet, looks like a 1940s Technicolor Errol Flynn adventure film, rolled up in a well-read comic book, doused in LSD, and smoked by Salvador Dali.

8. Anytime Timothy Dalton (a future James Bond) gets to play a piss ant, there will be scenery chewing genius. No Brit does hissy fit better. (See “Hot Fuzz” for further clarification.)

7. Only this British/Italian production could get away with so much sexual banter in a children’s film. It’s like an outer space-set child's production of “Rocky Horror Picture Show.” With half-naked birdmen.

6. The delirious soundtrack by Queen. “Flash! Ah-ha! Savior of the universe!” … “Flash! Ah-ha! He’s a miracle!” The best rock-opera comic-book film score ever written.

5. Scenes like this: A co-pilot asks Flash for an autograph for his “son,” Buzz, before immediately being called “Buzz” by the pilot. Also, the across-the-galaxy telepathic scene where Flash, being seduced by an evil princess, tells his new girlfriend (Melody Anderson) to “hang up.” This is comedy done right.

4. As the titular hero, Jones is a block of lifeless granite. No expression. No blinking. And that flat, dull voice of his that sounds dubbed by another guy altogether? It was dubbed by another guy. I love super hero movies where the filmmakers beg you to root for …

3. The villain. Max Von Sydow, who previously played Jesus (“The Greatest Story Ever Told”) and a doomed priest (“The Exorcist”), has never been so good at being this bad as Emperor Ming. (“Are your men on the right pills? Maybe you should execute their trainer.”) Hail Ming!

2. The climatic wedding scene. The best scene in the film, and possibly funnier than the nuptials in “The Princess Bride.” Certainly more fatal. Who knew evil alien space emperors had priests on hand?

1. From the opening credits to “The End?,” this flick strives to be wonderfully, spectacularly, laugh-out-loud, jaw-dropping bad. And it does so brilliantly. Children get a perfect big-screen production of an adventure comic book come to life. Adults get a riotous sex comedy with not a little S&M tossed in. Both get silly action. It’d almost all be offensive, but it’s just too funny. For Greatest Bad Movies of All Time, “Flash Gordon” is the savior of my movie universe. A

Paul Blart: Mall Cop (2009)

“Paul Blart: Mall Cop” made $150 million at the box office in early 2009. Is America that bored? Kevin James stars as the fat hypoglycemic title character who desperately wishes to be a Jersey cop, but can barely stumble though a day at the mall without getting his ass kicked by a laaarge woman. (Every joke focuses on fat.) When gun-toting thieves take over the mall, Blart must grow a spine and save the day, even if it means eating a lollipop off the floor. “Die Hard” was funnier. Like its hero, the movie faints into embarrassing hypoglycemic sugar-starved fits for long periods of its 90-minute running time. Unlike the man, the movie never recovers. C

Insomnia (1997 and 2002)

“Insomnia” was first made as a Swedish/Norwegian crime noir in 1997 with Stellan Skarsgard, and then remade in 2002 as an American thriller with Al Pacino. Remakes suck, right? Well, in a rare miracle, maybe a one-time miracle, the remake is as nearly strong as its predecessor. Both will keep you up at night.

The 1997 film is bleak, moody and has an ambivalent ending that sticks to the inside of your brain. It also packs a powerful example of low-key, but excellent acting from Skarsgard. The 2002 version is equally stark yet takes us deeper into the cracks behind Pacino’s protagonist, and presents a more formidable opponent.

Both versions have the same set up: The murder of a teenage girl in a small burg near the Article Circle (Norway in 1997; Alaska in 2002) demands the experience of a big-city homicide investigator (Skarsgard; Pacino). Each town is experiencing what is known as midnight sun, therefore it is blazing daylight 24/7. The lack of darkness wrecks havoc on each detective’s already damaged psyche, and all senses crumble. Fast. A fatal FUBAR shooting during a stakeout empowers the respective murderer above the policeman and derails the investigation.

1997: Skarsgard plays Jonas Engstrom, a man with no apparent emotional attachment. When he speaks to a high school classroom about the need to bring forth information about the murder, he does so blandly. The only certainly in life, he tells the students, is that they will never see their dead classmate again. He shoots a dog point blank with a pistol. He shoots his partner. It gets worse. Engstrom also has eyes and hands for young girls. The man is repugnant, immoral, and the killer (Bjorn Floberg) quickly sniffs that trait out. As the investigation further crumbles and sleep alludes Engstrom, he becomes more cut off emotionally, stone silent, his pupils and his psyche shrink into nothing. Yet he’s still obsessed with the case, solving it to prove he can, to snag a better job, or to bring the killer to justice, or maybe all three. Director/co-writer Erik Skoldbjaerg creates a powerful and disturbing film, exploring the moral lines men cross, knowingly or unwittingly. A

2002: Christopher Nolan directs Pacino as lead detective Will Dormer and Martin Donovan as his partner, Hap Eckhart. Dormer is no junkie for young girls, but he is a shady, “F” the rules veteran cop about to barbecued by I.A. back in L.A. When Eckhart dishes that he’s going to sell Dormer to the bosses, their friendship shatters. On the stakeout for the killer, Dormer shoots Eckhart. By mistake? No. Just before firing, Dormer changes guns. That’s the murky ice pool that Nolan and screenwriter Hillary Seitz pushes us into. Pacino is all jitters, off-kilter senses and dropping eyelids. As in “Memento,” where the protagonist had no memory, Nolan plays with flashbacks, senses and truths. Images of past and present sins haunt Dormer like a killer. And Pacino looks hunted. Robin Williams, creepy as hell in a fine performance, plays the killer and game master. The definitive ending, good as it is, doesn’t forge inside the head as does the original’s murky question mark. And Hilary Swank's young cop is under-written, and a bit eager college girl for my taste. But, wow, a great film in its own right. A-

The Hurt Locker (2009)

*Update 29 March 2010. Third viewing.

No film in 2009 hit me as hard as “The Hurt Locker” did, and stayed with me as long. I’ve seen “Locker” no fewer than three times, waffling back and forth between the sheer magnitude of its emotional and gritty depiction of war and the jarring factual errors throughout. I first gave the film an “A” and had it at the top of my 2009 Best List. Then it fell, with a “B,” off the list. The third viewing, I was blown away again. What a great film, flaws and all.

What better recommendation can I give a film than to say it is, quite literally, unforgettable. Unshakable.

Since my third viewing, “Locker” has won Best Picture, Best Adopted Screenplay and Best Director. So, if you’re a film buff, you well know the story. Directed Kathryn Bigelow, who made once kick-ass action films such as “Point Break” and "Near Dark,” this nonpolitical (thank God) war film follows a U.S. Army bomb disposal unit in Baghdad in 2004, when the situation was grim as hell. To put it mildly, and non-politically.

In a white-knuckle opening, the unit (led by Guy Pearce) finds itself tracking an IED. The team must dismantle the bomb with careful precision, or risk leveling a city block. You can see the gears cranking away behind Pearce’s eyes as he carefully prepares his mission. It’s a near impossible task.

Unlike almost any previous war, though, the enemy here can be anyone within proximity, old or young, shopkeeper or bystander. And they need not carry a gun. Cell phones detonate bombs. Kites signal attacks or any myriad of deadly messages. A guy with a video camera is filming not for pleasure or YouTube, but for study in warfare. Like those football game reels that teams watch before meeting an opponent. The enemy. All this, or near all this, is communicated in 10 minutes. Maybe less. Brilliantly.

That’s the thrust of this film, back in my mind as one of the year’s best, and the tension never lights up.

Pearce’s character is slain within the first few minutes. And his replacement is William James (Jeremy Renner), a hot-head thrill seeker who does not grind the gears in his brain. The gears ain’t there. He just goes. No questions, no hesitation. He’s an adrenaline junkie, and if bombs or snipers don’t kill him and his unit mates (Anthony Mackie and Brian Geraghty), then that recklessness might. He loves war.

It’s a great character, the "Rebel Without a Cause" of today, and he is fully explored when James returns home – briefly – for a stay with his son and girlfriend (Evangeline Lilly of “Lost”). James can rip apart a bomb-laden car with shocking disregard for safety. It’s natural. Yet, picking cereal at a grocery is difficult. It’s a helluva tricky character, and Renner ("The Assassination of Jesse James") pulls it off with grace and cool. The guy is a star.

If the film states that American soldiers may have changed, possibly hooked on violence, it’s with good or understandable reason. The rules of war have not just changed. There are no rules. This is beyond urban warfare. Children are sliced neck to groin, and planted with C4 explosives. Or they might be trained to kill. Business men are kidnapped and strapped with bombs, and their pleading brings out sympathetic American soldiers to help. Or they might be trained to kill, and are great at acting. No one knows for sure. And “Locker” provides no answers.

How can anyone deal with these pressures and not fall apart? (This U2 lyric comes to mind: “I’m not broken, but you can see the cracks.”) That James has become addicted to this life is the true horror the film, and the riddle that wraps around your brain.

At the same time, writer Mark Boal makes sure that James is not representative of all U.S. soldiers. The soul of Pearce’s careful, concerned bomb disposal engineer seems to hover long after the character is killed. As well, Anthony Mackie's soldier is upright and brilliant. The younger unit member is scared for his life, and those of others.

Bigelow shows all of this with no need to politicize or point fingers. It blows my mind this woman is not cranking out quality films every year, especially in a world where Michael Bay has unlimited budgets and freedom, no matter if the end result is pure garbage. She deserved the Oscar. And more.

I know the film is not realistic of modern fighting and bomb disposal units in Iraq. And this is with my zero knowledge of combat. I'm a liberal weenie. My brother is the soldier, now in Iraq, God love him. I well know bomb disposal guys don’t clear buildings or play the part of sniper team. Other people have those tasks. For damn sure I know soldiers don’t ever sneak off buildings. And bomb units don’t go out alone on missions. Ever. Death, jail, capture or any number of terrible fates await such actions.

The film skates awful close to the dreaded territory of “CSI” and “Law & Order” that bastardize criminal investigators with false sci-fi equipment and cops who go ape freaky during suspect questioning.

The direction, acting, editing, cinematography and the drama all still excel. And it’s human truths scream real, too. Many classic films, war or crime, have taken liberties, while reaming true to the conflicting, changing human spirit, and they are on my all-time favorites list. Certainly “Platoon” skated close to more of a symbolic, Faustian story than absolute realism. Hypocritical? Bullshit? Maybe. I won’t say I’m not the first and full of the second. But I can’t shake this film. It’s too good. It's flat out, indeed, one of the year's best and most important film. Faults and all.

Many cameos up the star quota of the film: Pearce, Ralph Fiennes and David Morse. That their roles don’t distract is further testament to Bigelow. And Renner. A

The Stepford Wives (1975 and 2004)

More than 30 years on, the 1975 version of “The Stepford Wives” packs a huge punch. Unless you were raised under a rock or you actually are a Stepford Wife, you know the plot to this classic pitch-black Ira Levine satire: A married couple (Katherine Ross and Peter Masterson) and their children move from New York City to a seemingly perfect Connecticut suburb known as Stepford.

Lawns are perfectly manicured, houses impeccably clean and orderly, fantastic casseroles are the norm, even the sunlight is perfect, and almost every wife does nothing – literally nothing – but please their husband’s every single whim. The men laugh about it. Something’s wrong, and it ain’t the water.

Like “Rosemary’s Baby” – another Levine book turned film, and my favorite horror movie of all time – “Stepford” is a tale of women suffocating under the rule of men. Ross (“The Graduate”) is a brilliant heroine – she loves her family without question, but like any person who loves herself, or himself, she wants to be fulfilled in her own right, to be remembered. And she will bust your head with a fireplace poker if pushed too far. Even if she loves you.

The soul-killing husbands are scary because they are so matter-of-fact. As the film marches toward its dark ending, Ross pleads, “Why are you doing this?!?” The cold reply: “Because we can.” If it doesn’t boil your blood – woman or man – then you need to check if you still bleed. A-

I vividly recall the 2004 remake. Like a bout of tuna-inspired food poison. This version trades in the dark nature of the original for an ungodly fluffy comedy topped by a script so awful and contradictory, I still can’t believe I watched it to the end. A career worst for Nicole Kidman, who takes the role played by Ross in 1975, as well as director Frank Oz. F

X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009)

“X-Men Origins: Wolverine” is not a disaster. It is miles ahead of the lifeless dud “X-Men: Last Stand,” the finale in an otherwise stellar film series that concerns superheroes born with their powers, Mutants. But this is far from razor claw sharp. It is dull, all CGI razors, no steel, or that whatzit metal in our titular hero.

If you’re an X-Men fan, you know the details on Wolverine (Hugh Jackman). He has the ability to heal, doesn’t age, and can grow deadly sharp claws from his knuckles. Impressive, eh? After a long-ass set up, this prequel rockets to post-Nam America as Wolverine – a.ka. Logan – finds himself working for renegade Army colonel Stryker (a ho-hum growling Danny Houston). Crimes are committed. Bodies piled high. Logan quits in disgust. But half-brother Victor – a.k.a. Sabretooth, who has very similar powers with an evil streak -- loves the job. Liev Schreiber plays this role. If you are lost at all these names, just quit reading, save yourself the trouble, film and review are for fan-boys, and I presume the review is better, eh?

So, blah plot blah, Logan – having never seen a conspiracy movie or read a comic book – midway through the film stupidly commits to becoming a super soldier, and his bones are filled with a crazy-strong liquid metal that will make him not just unkillable, but the bane of TSA agents. This is where Wolverine truly is “born.” The film version of Wolverine, anyway.(More on that in a minute.) In an act so dumb it made me groan, Stryker, the obvious bad guy who Logan trusts like Mother Duck, loudly announces that he will erase Logan’s memory and make the mutant his bitch. Post surgery. We get lots of these logic lapses that occur for no other reason than they must for the plot to grind on. So, plot, Logan escapes, and seeks revenge.

“Wolverine” lacks many things, other than logic. But what this PG-13 flick most needs is blood. Grisly, eye-popping blood. I read piles of Wolverine comic books with our anti-hero slicing through armies of ninjas, the Hulk, or any number of opponents with animalistic glee. Wolverine was bloody, dangerous, unpredictable, and that was a nasty, fun thrill to read. Red blood was forbidden by censors, so comic book artists poured blobs of black ink onto the page to represent Wolverine’s wild carnage. I got that ink on my fingers.

Don’t get me wrong. There’s action aplenty and Jackman is game and wildly buff. A climatic fight involving Wolverine, Sabretooth and a Frankenstein-like Deadpool (Ryan Reynolds) has a somewhat cool Three Mile Island meltdown meets “Star Wars” mash-up that zings and pops. It’s a hint of the wild menace that should have been there from the film’s start. But back story should have been put on the back burner. C+

Public Enemies (2009)

I had high hopes for Michael Mann’s Public Enemies (2009). Maybe too high. But he’s one of the best directors out there: “Heat” (1995), “The Insider” (1999), “Manhunter” (1986) and “Last of the Mohicans” (1992) all are grade-A entertainment.

So, I’m left perplexed at this new gangster film from the great Mann and his brilliant cinematographer Dante Spinotti (who lensed the above Mann films, plus the wonderful “L.A. Confidential”). And how could it go wrong: The film follows famed bank robber and killer John Dillinger (Johnny Depp) as he does his thing, one or two steps ahead of the law (Christian Bale as FBI agent Melvin Purvis and a near-unrecognizable Billy Crudup as J. Edgar Hoover).

The sound, the costumes, the look of this film all demand Oscars, and if won, rightfully deserve them. The shoot outs have the visceral boldness of “Heat,” although the shoot-outs here still can’t match the jaw-dropping stunts of that classic DeNiro/Pacino caper. The acting is tops for the most part, although I never felt Johnny Depp’s Dillinger is a deadly sum-a-bitch to be feared.

The deal is we never get inside the head of Dillinger - - why’d he do all this? -- or Purvis (Bale is stoic and great). What “Heat” had, and “Public Enemies” doesn’t, is the absolute dangerous joy of mastermind criminals doing what they do best, and the lawmen who dedicate themselves to crashing the party. The shock of watching a man who steals and kills for a living, and laughs at the thought of his own death, ought to kick you in the stomach while it dazzles your eyes. “Public Enemies” merely gooses. B

Last House on the Left (2009)

I don’t think I got a full half-hour into “Last House on the Left,” a sadistic, nasty film that takes great lengths to show one teenage girl being gutted and another young woman be methodically raped. With the camera at ground level. I guess I’m not cut out to watch every film. If you can stomach it, let me know how. Or why. No Grade

Fargo (1996)

The Coen Brothers, whom I eternally adore, should have won an armful of Oscars for “Fargo,” a most excellent and most bleak comedy/thriller that doubles as a morality play so good, you could play it in church. If your place of worship allowed the screening of films were men are fed to a wood chipper. (Hey, it’s not like “Exodus” is squeaky clean, people. Roll with me.)

Set in northern Midwest, “Fargo” follows a loser car salesman named Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy) who hires two criminals (Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare) to kidnap his wife in order to get a ransom from his rich father-in-law. Even Buscemi’s dim bulb doesn’t get that device, asking: “Why not just borrow the money?” As Mutt and Jeff later flee with the kidnapped wife, they kill three people on an icy length of North Dakota highway. Thus enters whip-smart local Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand, who napped an Oscar) as a hugely pregnant police officer investigating the deaths.

The Coen Brothers clearly have their tongues firmly planted in cheek for most of this “true story” that plays like a grisly ode to Hitchcock’s best, and a satire of greed and stupidity. But damn if they don’t play the neatest card trick by having Marge and her painter husband (John Carroll Lynch of “Zodiac”) be the pinnacle of a moral, loving middle-aged couple. And then Marge gets to deliver a lecture on the senseless violence and greed that makes up much of the 90 minutes of plot. This kind of film can’t be duplicated. And many have tried. It was my favorite film of 1996.

The whole cast is top notch, but it’s Macy who stands out in a role that should have won him an Oscar. His Jerry is a clueless weasel who’s drowned even before he jumps into the swimming pool. And, yet, Macy makes it impossible to hate the man. His frantic emergency call to the old man is hilarious. A

Duplicity (2009)

In “Duplicity,” Clive Owen and Julia Roberts play operatives for, respectively, MI-6 and the CIA, who meet not-so-cute in the film’s opening, have sex, and years later end up involved on opposite sides of a multi-million dollar game of cat-and-mouse between two giant health care products companies. Or, so it all seems. Tony Gilroy’s film is a game a spry one-lines and one-uppers, quite the opposite from the burning-down-the-house drama “Michael Clayton” he made several years ago. The game here is on the varying characters and the audience. There’s a fractured time structure to this cute/funny film that’s not nearly as cute/funny as Gilroy thinks it is, and one never forgets that we’re watching actors play variations of countless past parts. The real fun must have been had off camera. Rome actually looks better here than it did in true life. B-

Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist (2008)

“Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist” is a quick, quirky comedy about the genre I’ve previously said bores me silly: the boy-meets-girl teen comedy. Except it actually shakes the genre up, and delivers genuinely funny entertainment.

First, Nick (Michael Cera) and Nora (Kat Dennings) are by no means matinee idol stars of beauty and great, polished one-liners. There’s no eye-bleeding talk of soul mates or “hooking” up. Nor is there a case of mistaken identity, or any semblance of some bet that leads the super cool person to love the nerd. Rather, Nick and Nora meet and bicker and talk about their greatest respective love -- independent rock music – until romance sparks. That’s it. Simple and wonderful.

The entire film is built on Nick’s geeky awkwardness, and Nora’s need for him to just shut-up about an ex. This is the kind of flubbed flirting that any man or women who’s actually lived outside of Beverly Hills has made.

Filmed in fantastic New York locales that would never make it into a Kate Hudson film, “Nick and Nora” almost has an off-the-cuff approach that allows one to feel like they’re along for the ride, not just spectator to unattainable beautifully lit models with perfect teeth. Oh, the soundtrack is cool. Even for a guy who can’t recall the last time he listened to the radio. B+

Inglourious Basterds (2009)

The last line of Quentin Tarantino’s “Inglourious Basterds” has a Southern hick-accented Brad Pitt -- with the utmost confidence and swagger -- exclaiming: “This may be my masterpiece.” He makes this brag staring directly at the audience. The screen goes black. It pauses. Then the now-legendary orange-font credit rolls; “Written and Directed by Quentin Tarantino.”

Wow. Only the man who made “Pulp Fiction” and “Reservoir Dogs” – two of the most defining movies of the 1990s – could have the nerve to end a film like that. And, yet, “Basterds” (the misspelling is on purpose) goes one further: **SPOILERS AHEAD** It literally re-creates history. In this World War II film, not only are there no gun battles or tanks or dogfights, but the entire Third Reich is slaughtered, blown up, and set on fire by the film’s end. By Jewish soldiers. Dig this fellow History Channel junkies: A young Jewish-American soldier (played by Eli Roth, director of several horror films) literally takes a machine gun to Hitler’s face, and blows that toothbrush mustache to bloody, chunky bits. In up-close gory detail. This is a fantasy film, by Yahweh. (Roth has said as much in interviews, saying countless Jewish boys have wished they could personally kill the Fuhrer.) When you enter Tarantino’s world, he is God. And the projectionist.

Oh, and David Bowie is on the soundtrack. Of a World War II film. Again, wow.

Despite all this, “Basterds isn’t quite Tarantino’s masterpiece. But damn close. It’s climax has a few creaky spots as we get a few dozen repeated shots of 300-plus Nazis laughing and cheering at a propaganda sniper film made by Joseph Goebbels. (He dies, too. The way he should have.) Move on, already. As well, there’s not much depth here. Tarantino progressed in the second “Kill Bill” film with some emotional baggage that ruled over the groovy soundtrack, visuals and blood. This is brownie-deep entertainment. (I love brownies. Eating one right now, in fact. I may have two.) Lastly, Mike “Austin Powers” Myers has a WTF cameo that is laughable, but not in a good way.

Still, “Basterds” is pure Tarantino adrenaline and wonderful word play. I loved it. It’s also more seeped in Italian and European film genres then the typical American World War II action film, like say “The Dirty Dozen” – which this film directly pays homage. And for that, I also love it. The credits begin “Once upon a time in Nazi-occupied France…”, and sets off on some Sergio Leone (“Once Upon a Time in the West”) cues of enemy soldiers slowly coming up a dirt road, long but fascinating conversations, side quests that dead end, and furious bursts of shocking violence. The music of the great Ennio Morricone is sprinkled throughout to further the effect of its Spaghetti Western origins. This really is a foreign film, with the French, German and Italian languages taking up most of the 150-minute running time.

Pitt, billed as the lead, is not the film's focus. That crown, arguably, belongs to Christoph Waltz as Hans Landa, an uber-suave and giddy Nazi who’s Sherlock Holmes as re-imagined by Satan. Landa makes drinking a glass of milk as evil as anything seen on screen in years. Man deserves an Oscar. He owns this film. Landa (and Waltz) speaks four languages fluently, a gift which will thrash the final mission of our titular heroes.

“Basterds” opens with a quiet scene that has Landa visiting a French dairy farmer, and after an insanely long interrogation, he fingers the man for harboring a Jewish family. The secreted family is killed where they hide, except for the daughter (Melanie Laurent), who escapes in a frantic, blood-soaked mess. She runs off screaming in a scene that brings to mind Wyeth by way of Dante’s Inferno. Damn straight she’ll turn up again. We then get introduced to the Basterds, a group of American and German Jews in occupied France who drill their way through the Third Reich during a three-year tour. Pitt is Aldo Raine, the lead Basterd and Southern American hick who demands 100 “Nah-zee” scalps from his motley team. Roth plays the “Bear Jew,” a baseball-bat wielding Ted Williams fan. All these players, and Waltz will meet at film’s end. Along with a spastic Hitler that would make Mel Brooks proud.

“Basterds” is a film of dialogue. Tarantino is a jackpot writer. In a scene that kills off several off several main players, he has Americans, Brits, and Germans in a basement bar playing “Guess Who?” over drinks. Tarantino draws the scene waaaay out like taffy, until it becomes unbearable. The audience is waiting for something, anything, to happen as “King Kong” and good Scotch is discussed. At just the point where the scene grows almost tedious, guns are drawn, and a blink and you miss it bloodbath ensues. I want to watch the film again just to see how Tarantino manages to pull off these hat tricks of suspense, film worship, and comedy.

And hands down this is Tarantino’s funniest film, despite the backdrop of World War II and the Holocaust. In a highlight scene of suspense and comedy, Landa meets up with Raine, two Basterds, and a German actress/spy (Diane Kruger) at a cinema owned by none other than Laurent’s vengeance-seeking runaway. Attempting to pass as Italian filmmakers, our heroes’ accent mangling sends Landa – and the also audience – into uncontrollable laughter. Landa keeps asking the men to repeat everything they say three, four times. “Graht-zeee,” Pitt says, sucking in his lower lip. Unaware he’s been busted.

On top of all the capital “T” Tarantino moments, the keen kick-ass joy of “Basterds” is its re-writing of history. This is the first World War II film that I have ever seen where I did not know the ending. This is thrilling, nasty, and often funny ride into an unknown past that should have been. Like this year's "Star Trek." Hitler popped himself in an underground bunker? How dull. Why not shot the fucker down. The last scene is gory as hell, and hilarious.

“Inglourious Basterds” won’t recreate cinema the way “Pulp Fiction” did in 1994. It’s not that great. But it’s one of 2009’s best films, for sure. I hate that Tarantino – known for creating strong female characters - kills off his leading ladies in gruesome detail. But he worships these women nonetheless. Against a churning, writhing snake’s head of deathly smoke, Laurent’s dead cinema owner screams from the grave to the dying Third Reich that she is the face of Jewish anger and vengeance. Pretty damn glorious to me. A

10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

“10 Things I Hate About You” succeeds as entertainment despite it’s being the most woeful of genres: The teen romance. Chalk it up to a smart screenplay that well-knows it’s messing with the rules (teachers swear and talk back in class) and the wow-power of Heath Ledger as a Down Under teen in the U.S. of A. God, what a talent. What a loss. Julia Stiles (where did she go?) plays with the standard movie “bitch” card as a smart girl who knows what she wants, and knows from past wrongs. Best thing: She never gives in her smarts or independence for a man (boy)’s approval. All in all, a great showing for a film type I flee from. B+

Away We Go (2009)

Sam Mendes had to make “Away We Go” after the nasty “Revolutionary Road.” In this drama/comedy, a couple (John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph) expecting their child travel the United States and a bit of Canada to find their home, and their future. They, of course, succeed while affirming their love for each other. Quirks and all. It’s a cute and lovable film that regularly crosses into blech "I wuv you!" cuteness. The best bits come from the supporting players of Jeff Daniels, Allison Janney, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Melanie Lynskey, among others, as eccentrics who have remain devoted to love despite all its hardships. Krasinski’s goofy behavior and wardrobe grate. B-

The Kingdom (2007)

“The Kingdom” is a helluva hybrid film -- thinking person’s political brain cruncher of all things Middle East/United States and a damn good action film. The very last of this 2007 thriller with Jamie Foxx, Jason Bateman, Jennifer Garner and the awesome Chris Cooper may be way too Hollywood, but it’s preceded by bare-knuckle big-screen entertainment. And nasty, true politics. Director Peter Berg and his writers provide a shot of whiskey that won’t be found in any other Hollywood film that would go for “can’t we all get along” easiness. This film dares suggest maybe we can’t get along. But that’s only part of the film. On the action side, an explosive highway chase delivers shocking thrills, and leads up to a shoot-out that is eye-popping, if not a bit silly. Hell, I’ll give it away: All our American heroes walk out alive from a vicious battle with dozens of bomb-throwing, machine-gun-totting terrorists. A big Bruce Willis-like slump for a film that opens with a shocking attack on Americans playing the most American sport of baseball. B+

Once (2007)

“Once” is a true feat: An original take on a tired standard (here, boy-meets-girl drama) that turns the table legs up, and provides a bit of magic for extra bargain. The magic here is the amazingly heartfelt, seemingly-off-the-cuff music created by the guy (Glen Hansard) and the girl (Marketa Irglova). The set-up is easy: Girl stumbles upon Guy as he sings passionately -- wildly so -- on a Dublin street corner. They talk music, and befriend each other, moving ever closer to … I won’t spoil it. Made on a shoestring budget and by-God seemingly shot on the fly and improvised, writer-director John Carney has made a startling new passionate film about adult love. If you’re looking for a mushy feel-good rom com, look elsewhere. This is the anti-“High School Musical” - a film about love, music and adults. Blissfully real, with an ending that will stick with you. The soundtrack - have I said this enough? - is amazing, and not a single bit American. A

2008: Best and Worst

The Best
1. Slumdog Millionaire. Danny Boyle's tale of love conquering absolute poverty and evil is a punch to the gut, and a kick to the soul. This was the story that we, as a world, needed in 2008.
2. WALL-E. This easily could be No. 1. Pixar's tale of robots in a post-Earth world is instant classic. Truly inspirational work.
3. The Wrestler. Darren Aronofsky's portrait of a burned-out wrestler would bring Hulk Hogan to tears. One helluva film.
4. Man on Wire. A documentary about a oddball 1970s "crime" so cool, so now, it makes any modern heist flick seem sadly lame.
5. (Tie) The Dark Knight and Iron Man. Comic book movies done right -- bold, big and as smart as any written text. Fully re-watchable.
6. Waltz with Brashir. A war film documentary told in full animation. All cartoon rules are dead. Awesome film-making.
7. In Bruges. A bloody marvelous drama/comedy about two hitmen, one reeling from an error so grievous, it burns his soul.
8. (Tie) Let the Right One In and  The Orphanage. Two European horror films done right, both centering on children, one  vampire, the other, an Elephant Man-type misfit.
9. Frozen River. Do you love your momma? Well, she ain't nothing compared to Melissa Leo's brave soul here.
10. Milk. The story of Harvey Milk, an inspiring, brave American killed by classic American hatreds.


The Worst
5. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skulls. Spielberg and Lucas trash one of the heros of my youth with CGI monkeys. No.
4. (Tie) 88 Minutes and Righteous Kill. Two reasons why Al Pacino and Robert De Niro are no longer Al Paciono and Robert De Niro.
3. The Love Guru. Was Mike Myers ever funny? From this film, the answer is ... No. Not a single laugh.
2. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas. The first and I hope the last Holocaust film made for children. It insults history.
1. Bangkok Dangerous. Even by the standards of bad Nicolas Cage flicks, this film excels in badness. A thriller with zero thrills.