Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn (1982)

William Shatner breaks bad in “Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn,” the best entry of the “Star Trek” films. That it followed dullsville “Star Trek: The Motion Picture” is amazing. Here, Admiral Kirk is retired from starship command and slowly collecting dust in his antique-filled home. He is bored and old. But way out in space, the villainous Kahn -– a character in the old TV show -– returns from exile to dish out revenge in heaps. Despite some outlandish coincidences to get Kirk and his crew on the Enterprise and some stilted acting, this “Trek” dishes out too-cool-for-school drama, scores of battleship close calls and a heroic sacrifice. Shatner as Kirk digs into anger and obsessive streak not displayed enough for my taste, and Ricardo Montalban as Kahn effortlessly steals the film. Kahn and his crew are far too buff to be stragglers left marooned on a dessert planet 15 years prior, and their outfits are pure “Road Warrior” crossed with “CATS,” but the man nails the role like he’s doing McBeth or Ahab. This isn’t the stellar 5-star winner I recall from years ago, but for a sci-fi fix, it does quite nicely. A

Earth (2009)

Similar to the recent “Babies,” the Disney/Discovery/BBC documentary “Earth” is critic proof. Its 90 minutes of absolute wonder as cameras roam around Earth from the North Pole to Antarctica to Africa, Canada and India, as we follow simple stories of animal survival – happy and sad – unfolding during the course of a year. The voice of James Earl Jones takes us through each story, with the perfect pitch to each occasion, again happy or sad. If there is a gripe -- and it’s futile -- to make, it’s that the narration warns us of man-made dangers to the Earth, but the only on-screen humans we ever see are the camera crews during the end credits. A little commentary, a nudge, a slight finger to the ribs, for humanity to wake the hell up before it’s too late, is needed. Especially in these dark Gulf of Mexico days. A-

Babies (2010)

“Babies” is an irresistible documentary film about … babies. It tops even “March of the Penguins” in the “awww” factor. There’s no Morgan Freeman voiceover, though. Editor Thomas Balmes uses no narrator, nor does he have any agenda to put forth. The camera simply rests and watches as these babies nurse, coo, discover their reflections and their toes, and take first steps. It’s a four-part story told from around the globe – a buzzing Tokyo, a simple farm in Mongolia, Namibia’s staggering Third World poverty, and a hippie townhome in San Francisco. No one upbringing is better than the other. They just are. Balmes asks us to re-set our CGI-drunken brains to witness real miracles on screen: A baby opening its eyes for the first time, the magical self-realization when a toddler finally stands on her own, and the funniest scene I’ve seen all year: A devious 3-year-old pushing his baby brother in a stroller outside the family hut into a nearby cow pasture, and walking away triumphantly. Awesome side note: Many young mothers brought their infants to the screening I attended, and the babies babbled and cried, and made this audience member smile at the best surround sound system ever created. A

The A-Team (2010)

“The A-Team” is a great B-movie, full of stunts and action so outlandish they make “The Rock” seem as dead serious as “Schindler’s List.” I expected nothing more. This re-make is, after all, based on a 1980s TV show so silly even at age the age of 10, I knew I was watching candy corn being pelted at my noggin. Case in point here: Our heroes “fly” a tank -- falling from the sky -- by blowing off shells in exact succession. The vehicle crashes in a lake, and out it rolls, without a scratch. Candy corn? No. This is the TV show after it injected a bag of liquid sugar, and downed 10 5 Hour Energy shots.

This update takes the same characters and general plot, and injects high-end CGI effects and comic-book violence. As before, the “A-Team” is comprised of four Army rangers framed for a crime they did not commit. We have John “Hannibal” Smith (Liam Neeson, replacing the late George Peppard), Templeton “Face” Peck (Bradley Cooper, in for Dirk Benedict), B.A. Baracus (Quinton “Rampage” Jackson, taking up Mr. T’s mohawk) and “Howlin’ Mad” Murdoch (Sharlto Copley, picking up the crazy from Dwight Schultz). The men are un-killable, quick on wit and have exact timing for every movement down cold. And they smoke. Big fat cigars.

The first 10 minutes of film are a mess as director Joe Carnahan and his crew of screenwriters needlessly spell out how the A-Team met in Mexico after a two-man job by Hannibal and Face goes wrong. It includes a meet-cute involving B.A. and Hannibal that involves a gun and mutterings about fate that plays weirdly homoerotic. Thankfully, the film kicks snaps into focus post-credits as the men get their gym socks pulled over their heads after a mission involving stolen U.S. mint printing plates goes terribly wrong. You can figure out the rest: The team breaks out of prison, nail the bad guys, commits unfathomable wreckage, smile and smoke cigars. End credits. No spoilers here.

In the hands of lesser actors, the film could be an abysmal failure. But Neeson has made far worse films (“Taken”) shine on charisma alone, and he makes Peppard seem old and, well, dead. Ditto for Cooper, playing up his “Hangover” charm as clever womanizer Face. Jackson holds his own, even if he can’t top Mr. T’s boldness. But who could? Copley, so good in “District 9,” is sacked with the least interesting role as pilot Murdoch, and still glides by on funny voices. It ain’t his fault. Carnahan and the writers never tap into the character’s rattled brain, and he spends the climax literally on his ass, a bag over his head.

The OTT climax? It makes the flying tank escapade seem quaint, yet dazzles. Throwing shots at this film is like ripping a child’s drawings, the stray marks and inanity of it all is the point. Any try at figuring out the triple-crossing gaggle of villains only kills more brain cells. These are action scenes strung together en masse. And that’s OK. That was “The A-Team” in its glory days of old. This isn’t the summer movie of 2010, but it’s a placeholder. And like its source, it’ll probably play well on TV. More like "The B Team."

The Road (2009)

Some books are just not filmable, and yet they get the Hollywood treatment anyway. I thought Cormac McCarthy’s spectacular novel “The Road” fit the profile: It’s a devastatingly bleak story about the end of civilization, a dying father who loves his son so much he’s willing to kill him, and the light – “the fire,” it is written – that the child holds within him. Biblical themes explode on the page, and to this reader’s eyes, define the book. The film version is surprisingly good, but soul-sucking bleak, with no saving grace from McCarthy’s prose to pull us through the muck and mire. Muck and mire and ash abound as an unnamed father (Viggo Mortensen) and son (Kodi Smit-McPhee) travel through a dead America toward the Atlantic Ocean. They flee cannibals and thieves, while finding the occasional straggler to help. It is the boy who always wants to help for the father trusts no one. Director John Hillcoat (“The Proposition”) paints a vision of hell on earth like no other I’ve seen before, and the acting is shockingly realistic, with Mortensen looking starved, ragged and near-dead. If the last scene is a bit disjointed, sudden and weirdly happy, it is because what is written cannot always be shown. It simply must be read. And only read. B+

Caddyshack (1980) and Caddyshack II (1988)

“Caddyshack” well may have been the first “R”-rated movie I ever saw, back in the early 1980s on HBO, then the only way a child got to see forbidden movies. I didn’t get 90 percent of the jokes, but I laughed hysterically at the gopher and Bill Murray’s grungy assistant groundskeeper. I’m older now, but I still adore that puppet and Murray’s stoner wiseass, and that random Baby Ruth incident. Heck, the entire film is random, packed with adlibs from Murray, Chevy Chase, Ted Knight, Brian Doyle-Murray and Rodney Dangerfield, plus a gaggle of horny youth. Its bare-bones plot tracks a series of characters in and around a snobby golf course and country club, focusing on balls of both the greens and sheets, and drugs and booze. Some scenes soar, others fail. I’ve known many rich, white, golf clubbing, country club bigots who love this fully and openly un-PC film, but have no idea they are the butt of every gag. B+

In “Caddyshack” everyone thought a Baby Ruth candy bar in a pool was a piece of shit. They bolted. No mistake about “Caddyshack II,” though. It is shit. Anyone with brains from the first film got out of the pool after reading the script to this laugh-free snoozer. Not Chase. He stayed. Idiot. Dan Aykroyd replaces Murray, while Jackie Mason tries to be Dangerfield. Both give performances too awful to discuss. A fiasco with a capital F.

Toy Story 2 (1999)

“Toy Story 2” may not quite top its predecessor. But it’s pure Pixar joy. Here, after toy owner Andy leaves for summer camp, well-loved Woody (voiced by Tom Hanks) finds himself accidentally included in a (horror!) yard sale. Before one can say, “Ride ‘em cowboy!,” this plastic poke is swiped by a fat bastard bent on selling Woody to a museum in Japan. Buzz (Tim Allen) and the gang go to the rescue, with hilarious results. That’s it, basically, for plot. But there’s so much heart to this sequel: The film rests on the fact that children will reject their toys as the former grow up, with no need for the latter. But the toys remain committed nonetheless, knowing time is not on their side. Take it as you will: Rejection of parents by newly independent children, or just a fun, brilliant animated story. Bonus points to the creators for allowing Woody to become a jerk, and a full-rounded character, midway through. Best scene: The old man from the short film “Geri’s Game,” gives Woody a spit and polish. The scene is pure art. A

Lilo & Stitch (2002)

“Lilo & Stitch” eschews classic Disney fairy tale foundations for an irrelevant slap-stick film about a Hawaiian girl (Lilo) who adopts a dog that is actually a spastic blue alien fugitive from space (Stitch). Lilo is a friendless girl being raised by her older sister, both orphaned after a car accident killed their parents. The sisters need no more stresses in life, but Stitch is nothing but stress – he destroys, eats and flattens everything and everyone in his path. Will this demon Smurf calm his soul? Zzz. The feel of the 2-D hand-drawn art is groovy water color paints and all cool tones. Yet this plays like a long Saturday Morning Cartoon that stumbled into theaters, with flat characters (sorry, Stitch is no “E.T.”) and ho-hum musical filler. Most Disney animated films leave me walking on sunshine for days. “Lilo” never gets my -- or its -- feet off the ground. B-

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2010)

“The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” is a two-and-half-hour, subtitled serial killer thriller from Sweden that ought to carry an NC-17 rating. It is a dark, grisly, great film. Based on the popular book and boasting the original European on-screen title of “Men Who Hate Women,” this is the most disturbing and deep crime film I have seen in ages. Director Niels Arden Oplev pulls no punches in depictions of murder, hangings, rapes and crime scene photography. This puts the word “horror” back in the genre, a reminder that films about killers and mass death must not glamorize crime. Even a young girl kills here.

The plot follows newly disgraced left-wing journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Michael Nyqvist) as he bolts from Stockholm for a one-shot gig at helping an elderly billionaire solve the case of his murdered niece. The girl went missing 40-odd years ago, and the dying man suspects none and all of his family. Meanwhile, a young punk hacker named Lisbeth (Noomi Rapace) who was hired to investigate Mikael continues to follow him, fascinated by the man’s mettle, even as she is horribly violated by her parole officer. Lisbeth is no wallflower. She is as powerful as the fire-spewing dragon inked on her back, and has a devastating past only hinted at, leaving me desperately curious: Who is this woman? She is the mystery here, fascinating to watch. (Rapace rules the film in a star-making act.)

“Dragon” is the rare thriller that focuses on character flaws, gifts, demons, nightmares, shortcomings, and they way these people bounce off and well, kill, each other. No cartoon teenagers, or whacked out masked killers here, nor heroic SWAT teams knocking doors down, nor are miracle heroics involved. It’s more similar to “Zodiac” (2007) with its depiction of investigative tactics, paperwork and the grinding brain work required in criminal cases. Mikael is a regular guy scared for his life. It’s Lisbeth who has the active hero role. (Update/August 2010: Lisbeth is much more the active heroine here at the climax than the book, a rather odd sex fantasy book for men that left me cold.)

A major gripe: Having “Girl” in the American book title and the onscreen subtitle translation implies a certain sexism. If this were about a 20-something man, this would not be the “The Boy with the Dragon Tattoo.” A silly move. I daresay Lisbeth is the most complex female snoop I have seen on screen since Jodie Foster starred in “The Silence of the Lambs.” There’s an American remake in the works by David Fincher of “Se7en” and “Zodiac” fame. He is the only American director alive that can pull off a re-do of this material. This “Dragon” will be a major trick to top though. A

Iron Man 2 (2010)

“Iron Man 2” is not as good as the 2008 installment that made one of my favorite childhood superheroes -- a second-tier Marvel character -- a household name across America and put Robert Downey Jr. back on top of the “A” list. Let’s face it, sequels always toss in innumerable side characters to expand the plot, rarely cover new ground and, generally, feel like an after party. This falls into the same traps: The combination of Mickey Rourke as psycho-villain Whiplash and Sam Rockwell as evil industrialist Justin Hammer are potent, but not nearly as grounded or menacing as Jeff Bridges’ lone bad guy in film one. Bridges rules. Also, the story is ... smoke.

Here’s the gist: Self-appointed superhero Tony Stark (Downey) as Iron Man has pushed the world toward peace, he’s adored in America and overseas, has women falling at his feet, and … has an out-of-control ego bigger than the BP oil catastrophe in the Gulf of Mexico. He’s also drinking heavily, and watching his power-battery chest apparatus poison his blood. Oh, and the happy American military government? It wants the suit. Helmet to boots.

Then there’s Russian baddie Ivan Vanko/Whiplash, who nurses a long-held family drudge against Stark, plus Hammer, a snarky, nerdy Stark-wannabe who covets being the Pentagon’s pet supplier. Also on deck: federal agent Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson); the femme fatale named Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson); best pal Jim Rhodes (Don Cheadle, taking over for Terrance Howard) who becomes the second Iron Man; love interest Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow); and less-than-subtle hints to fellow superheroes Captain America and Thor. This is one packed house. Frat party style.

Despite thinking I want that damn name chart from "Shutter Island," to track all this, not much actually happens. This is a film of scenes, rather than plot or story. Thankfully there’s plenty of action, including a knock-out fight scene between our Iron Men, Black Widow wiping out a small army of tough guys, and then a closing battle in the old World Science Fair Park. That final fight stops just short of CGI overload. But only by inches. It doesn’t hit the high-note of the first film’s showdown. Is it the replacement of Howard by Cheadle? The lack of Bridges’ presence? I don’t know.

What pushes “Iron Man 2” into silver (not gold) territory is the dialogue. The patter and off-the-cuff remarks are so pure, they seem made up on the spot. Take this line from Rockwell describing a terrible self-built bomb: “If it were any smarter, it'd write a book. A book that would make 'Ulysses' look like it was written in crayon ... It's completely elegant, it's bafflingly beautiful, and it's capable of reducing the population of any standing structure to zero. I call it 'The Ex-Wife.'" If it’s too clever, then fine, I’ll take it.

Yes, the armor nor the story isn’t as strong this second visit, but I’m game for “Iron Man 3.” And "The Avengers"? Ohh, man. Can't wait. Hey, I'm a herd. I have standards. But I am a nerd. B

Waltz with Brashir (2008)

Picasso’s “Guernica” has come to life. The Israeli animated documentary film “Waltz with Brashir” is the first cartoon (too light a word I know, I can’t think of another) that has left me absolutely speechless with horror and sadness over man’s constant desire to kill because his God is better than the other guy’s God.

“Waltz” is told from the perspective of writer/director Ari Folman, a veteran of the Israeli Army, who fought and killed in a 1982 war with neighbor Lebanon. While there, Folman witnessed a massacre of hundreds of Muslim men, women and children by vengeful Christian militants and his own troops, but doesn’t recall it.

That’s the peg of this film: Recalling the seemingly unforgettable. It’s a disturbing, beautifully told and painted tale with a hard “R.” As fellow veterans and then Folman speak of their memories, we see war action rendered in vivid, bloody detail, with chucks of almost expressionist imagery filling the screen. Blood, too.

Is the film accurate? I don’t know. It makes no bones about the tit-for-tat violence that religious zealots of all stripes visit upon each other, and even suggests that Israel’s war crimes can be compared a certain 20th century war demon.

That Folman fades to live action in the finale to show real unfathomable carnage – bullet-riddled, desecrated women and children and old men in piles – is a shock almost unbearable too watch. With “Presopolis,” the animated film genre has made some mind-bending strides in recent years. This is one of the best. A

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs (2009)

These 3-D CGI kids films are just falling from the sky. “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs” is a tongue-in-cheek tale of an inventor (Bill Hader) who creates a gizmo-thingy machine that turns a cloud into a food factory. Thick, juicy hamburgers fall first. Then pizza, ice cream, hot dogs, and all sorts of foods kids love to munch on. No asparagus here, and the whole plot rests on how nasty sardines are to eat, smell and touch. The film is perfectly pitched toward young children, who ought to delight in the preschool color scheme and Play Doh textures. The plot lags and sputters to reach 75 minutes, with an over-the-top climax that grates, but silly gags and a huge serving of parental love trounce any shortcomings. James Caan as Dad steals the show. B

Dragonslayer (1981)

How do you know the sorcerer you hired to kill the nasty dragon terrorizing your village sucks? He has a perm haircut, weights 110 pounds and can’t even move a table. Magically or by hand. And he’s played by Peter MacNicol. “Dragonslayer” swaps plot from Beowulf, magic from “Excalibur” and a bit of whiny-ass hero from “Star Wars,” but flames out. The film is saddled with an incoherent start, a villain never explained, and sets and costumes bought wholesale from “Monty Python.” Food for thought: In a village where young virgin women are sacrificed to the cruel dragon, you’d think every teenage girl would fuck any man or boy alive to, you know, not be a virgin. Not so. The smartest girl dresses as a boy, and the rest become BBQ. Are these people worth saving? No. Unintended laughs -– MacNicol on a horse -- abound, making this watchable, but for the wrong reasons. C-

Legion (2010)

God takes a beating in “Legion,” an End of Days thriller that turns the Creator’s angels into metal-winged warriors from “Gladiator,” but with a penchant for machine guns. Paul Bettany plays Michael, God’s bad-ass angel who is going rouge to protect the human race after sourpuss God calls quits and orders killer angel Gabriel (Kevin Durand) to destroy humanity. The remaining humans are led by Dennis Quaid and bottomed out by some chick whose name I didn’t catch as the girl carrying the savior of the human race in her belly. See the “Terminator” reference? No clichés remains unturned as we get redemption galore and two black guys sacrificing themselves for the greater good. The makeup effects rocked, and I just dug wall-crawling demon granny. Bettany is a commanding screen presence, as always. What he’s doing in this brainless flick with a limp ending God only knows. If He cares. C

Shrek (2001)

After nine years, “Shrek” still is Dreamworks’ best animated film. Here’s a tale that can play in the same park as MVP Pixar, even as the filmmakers (many ex-Mouseketeers) give a swift, knowing and hilarious kick to Disney’s sparkly animated shins. Every animation junkie young and old knows the plot backward: Shrek (Mike Myers, going Scottish) is a green ogre who finds himself on a classic fairy tale princess rescue mission as part of a deal to get his swamp back from a tiny tyrant (John Lithgow, deliciously sinister). “Shrek” spoofs and dissembles every fairy tale even as it gleefully plays by the genre’s rules. It also is the only Dreamworks film I’ve seen that builds a story on and around strong characters, ones with heart and brains, not just lazily hangs a plot on snarky cynical jokes. Eddie Murphy as Donkey is genius. He’s firing on all cylinders and having a blast. How can that not be infectious? A

The Blind Side (2009)

It’s impossible to hate “The Blind Side.” It has a story so uplifting it could make Sarah Palin and Barack Obama fist bump and hug if they double-dated on movie night. The movie’s “based on a true story” tag is the sweet honey in the hot tea. Oh, and it’s got sports. I also saw apple pie in one scene. Hand to God.

The story is well-known: Vastly wealthy Memphis couple Leigh Anne and Sean Tuohy (Sandra Bullock and Tim McGraw) are wildly wealthy conservative Christians with a hugely successful Taco Bell franchise and memberships with the NRA. One cold rainy night, they take in wondering homeless black teen Michael Oher (Quinton Aaron). The boy has never had a true family, a sit-down holiday dinner or even a bed to sleep in. This family is a savior. He needs them. They grow to need him, too.

This story kicks every “rich Republicans are racists” cliché in the teeth. Without a “tsk-tsk” to be heard. And folks like these aren’t normal Hollywood movie fare. Even as a proud liberal, I know the conservative Christian class of America is vastly, wholly underserved by the entertainment community. No wonder the film, directed by feel-good master John Lee Hancock, was a smash hit Oscar winner.

But I digress. Because of the Tuohys’ fortune and compassion, Oher is able to remain at a solid school, obtain a personal study tutor, play high school football and work his way toward college. University, of course, leads to the NFL’s Ravens. (If this is a spoiler, than I welcome you to Planet Earth.)

But it’s equally impossible for me to love “Blind Side.” The screenplay always, without exception, goes for cute, sweet or funny. Even during a major automobile crash. I get it, it’s a movie. An uplifting, “life is beautiful” Hollywood movie lost from the 1950s. But having a skinny-ass 8-year-old white boy running a 300-pound-plus black teen through football scenarios and calisthenics may be LOL funny and aww-so-sweet to some. I found it just damn icky as hell. And I don’t care if everyone swears its fact. It's bull. Throughout, Oher’s character is sidelined for such hi-jinks. Why? This is his story.

Bullock is truly a hoot to watch. She commands the screen as a headstrong woman with the tenacity and will power of a runaway train, who wears boutique clothing to the projects, pistol in purse. Did she deserve the Oscar? Ehhh. No. But you can’t deny it’s a good show she puts on. The real Lynette Twohy apparently is just as thrillingly alive. McGraw, wisely, ducks and covers and just smiles as the husband.

Sadly, the film does the same. B-

Art of the Steal (2010)

My hometown of Philadelphia takes a beating in “Art of the Steal,” a documentary on how the City of Brotherly Love snatched a $25 billion art collection from its “over-my-cold-dead-body” owner. Alas, Albert Barnes is cold and dead. His detractors? Alive and powerful. They want his art. The collection? Chock full of Van Gogh, Cezanne, and Matisse. Swoon. Stuff to make an art lover weep. The problem: Barnes wanted the works outside the city in a rural estate, surrounded by tranquility. He hated the Philly tourist zoo and the rush-job visit so many take at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Director Don Argott absolutely takes Barnes’ side and pisses on Billy Penn’s well-shined face. And … so what? This tale has fascinating talking heads, a gripping pace that left me wondering what happens, even though I knew, and leaves room to scream, “No!” and take the side of the city commissioners and nonprofit Godzillas. Just to see the art on camera is a treat. I want to see the real deals pronto. A

Daybreakers (2010)

In “Daybreakers,” Ethan Hawke gets the starring role he’s been destined for since “Reality Bites.” He plays a vampire. It just fits. Dude has looked as pale as a corpse for ever and a year. In this alternate future, vampires rule the government, business sector and military. Humans are on top of both the endangered species list and the daily menu. Hawke’s vamp’s heart beats (well, not really) for humans though, and he uses his mad science skills to help. Directed by some guys named the Spierig Brothers, “Daybreakers” is a brief, bloody and intriguing film that plays games with technology. How would a vampire drive during the day? The film gets sorry-ass lost amid a vampire cure plot, obvious riffs on the “Matrix” and a climax that sadly ditches logic for cold-cuts carnage. But it’s never less than entertaining. I actually dug this flick in these dark days of sappy teen soaps that bite ass, not neck. Quick thought: What the heck is it with these brother director teams? Are there any sister director teams out there? B-

Fletch (1985)

Chevy Chase is in nearly every scene of “Fletch,” a guy-and-a-dame gumshoe spoof done far better and deeper in “The Long Goodbye” a near-decade earlier. But this has a slice of Woodward/Bernstein-tweaking journalism. Chase is “L.A.Times” reporter Irwin Fletcher, a master-of-disguise undercover star reporter with a Jane Doe byline. His recent gig has him on the path of drug-dealing beach bums until he’s sucked into a murder-for-hire scam that will take him all the way to exotic Idaho. The whole plot is a screwball joke. There’s a good deal of laughs as Chase dons disguises or just balls-out improvises his way through interviews, mostly with dumb people, snatching and stealing info for his story. I wish the film had more spark or life, but it happily glides from start to finish, just as Fletch glides through deadlines. Chase’s seemingly effortless deadpan work is riotous. B+

Death at a Funeral (2007)

“Death at a Funeral” is a perfectly British comedy, and perfectly horribly vulgar as only the British can get away with, so wickedly, gleefully well. It is a light-as-spongecake gem about a FUBAR family, a dead father, a gay dwarf, ingested psychedelic drugs and nudity. The beauty of this film is not just in the one-liners, the zingers, the absolute silliness of it all, but the performances: Matthew Macfadyen as the surpassed son, Rupert Graves as the famous son living in NYC, Alan Tudyk as the accidental drug user, Andy Nyman as a one-upper germ freak who is literally shat on, and Peter Dinklage as the conniving man of challenged height. Not even a full 90 minutes, the film leaves one desiring more. That’s my mark for a good comedy. A point Judd Apatow could well learn. It also gives hope to the directing career of Frank Oz, post “The Stepford Wives” remake. A-