Salt (2010)

“Salt” is a 5-Hour Energy Drink revamp of Cold War super-spy thrillers with Angelina Jolie as Evelyn Salt, a CIA agent who’s actually a Russian assassin tasked with doing in the U.S. of A. But, and this is no spoiler: She’s the hero. This is Jolie, after all, superstar and mother of no less than 14 children. Also, even with dozens of feds on her shoeless Soviet heels, Salt goes out of her way to leave her puppy with an African-America girl who lives nearby. Lee Harvey Oswald never did that. Oswald, by the way, figures into the film’s myriad plot twists and shockers, orchestrated by Phillip Noyce (“Patriot Games”). Yet all the “gotchya” moments are for naught. I pegged the real bad guy just by casting. Yet, I liked “Salt.” The action is wildly over the top but enjoyable, and Jolie is the match of Willis, Gibson or McQueen. One can always see the wheels turning behind her eyes: Dig the scene where Salt escapes from police, and she appears to plan every single move in one instant. And I'll take Jolie in action any day over sob stories such as "The Changeling." For summer flicks, this is good stuff. It’s high-time we get a cinematic female hero again. B

Hero (2004)

Yimou Zhang's "Hero" is about nothing less than the story behind the idea and the man who would become founder and first emperor of China, some 2,000 years ago. It also is one lush, gorgeous film from frame one: Landscapes recall Monet paintings and David Lean films, warriors clash in palaces decorated with huge flowing banners. Yet, I was unmoved. Bored. How many times can a person watch fantasy-laden martial arts warriors chase after each other, swords clanging, legs reaching like ballerinas, over lakes and tree tops ala "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon"? Too many, for me. I'm long past the gimmick. Jet Li stars as Nameless, a prefect who gains audience with the King of Qin to tell how he slew three assassins out to kill the ruler. But is Nameless there just to tell stories? The answer is very "Rushamon." Li is so stoic heroic, he's lifeless, and Ziyi Zhang is wasted in a ho-hum role. Yes, this film has beauty and colors galore, but it lacks blood – both in passion and violence – and skims the heart and brain much like its heroes skim lakes. Always over. Never diving in. B-

Exit Through the Gift Shop (2010)

Is “Exit Through the Gift Shop” a true documentary or a prank by all involved? I don’t know. I’ve never seen another documentary with so many one-liners, where even an old lady dishes out a LOL hilarious comment on a piece of street art. Ninety percent of this flick’s joy comes from wondering what’s real, what’s fictional, and where and when the satire comes and goes. The gist: French-American retailer and OCD video camera freak Thierry Guetta becomes obsessed with illegal street art and eventually crosses paths with the illusive and infamous artist Banksy (always in shadow). Guetta proposes a documentary film. Banksy agrees. But tables are turned, and Banksy turns the cameras on Guetta, who himself turns artist. Guetta is a fascinating character. I admired his passion for daredevil artists, hated his dismissal of wife and children, and laughed out loud at his brash pride at ripping off dead artists. Yet, all this may be a jokey stab at eccentric artists and the rich elite who pander to them. Deadpan narration by Rhys Ivans only adds to the intrigue. A

Inception (2010)

Christopher Nolan’s “Inception” is not for every movie-goer. It is a brain-expanding, mind-blowing trip so far down the hole of human consciousness it makes “Alice in Wonderland” and “The Matrix” seem quaint. This is a film for cinema lovers such as myself who obsessed over “LOST” because it wasn’t easy just entertainment, it required handing ourselves over body and soul to a unique visionary’s imagination, a story, and becoming part of a puzzle. This isn’t a film to ask, “What’s it about?” The question is: “What do you think it’s about?” As with "LOST" or David Lynch's best works, the answers are wide, complex and likely unanswerable.

As director and screenwriter, Nolan returns to the themes of his earliest films: “Following,” “Memento” and “Insomnia.” The plot is hung around a very basic genre concept – here, the haunted criminal on one final job – and turns the box inside out, and upside down. The mystery here lies in the seeker, the film’s protagonist, not in whatever crime he is trying solve, undo or commit. Even “Batman Begins” and “The Dark Knight” were warm ups to this game. Nolan asks the audience with “Inception,” What makes us us? Our memories, our past sins, or our dreams? All those together? Can a person’s dreams become so solidly entrenched in his or her mind, they become as real as the memories of schoolyard games and or one’s wedding? Take over his life? Swallow him whole?

Leonardo DiCaprio is Dominick Cobb, a thief who breaks into people’s minds as they dream while sedated, and sets out to trick or force their subconscious into letting loose vital secrets, data and ideas. He works for and against multi-billion dollar corporations, apparently for the highest bidder. Among his team are Joseph Gordon-Levitt (“G.I. Joe: the Rise of Cobra”) as a planner and Lukas Haas (“Witness”) as a dream architect, with Tom Hardy (“Bronson”) as a “forger” and weapons man.

The film opens with Dom and his crew targeting a wealthy Japanese business man (Ken Watanabe), who quickly turns the tables on the crew. The corker: He hires the group to usurp a rival up-and-coming tycoon (Cillian Murphy). The plan is not to steal an idea, but covertly plant one. Hence, inception. This is all just the set-up. The payoff cannot be described.

As with “Memento,” there is no central villain. The hero’s mind is a scrambled mess, and that is enough of an obstacle to overcome. Dom’s wife is dead, and he is self-exiled from America, where his young children live with his former in-laws. Nolan slowly pulls back the layers of Dom as his own memory-warped dreams smash into the custom-designed dreams of his targets. His wife (Marion Cottilard) appears, alternately seductive, desperate and completely unstable. When a train appears to crash out-of-control through L.A. traffic, it is only a hint of what’s going on inside Dom’s head, where his grip on reality is tenuous at best. Ellen Page (“Juno”) playa an alternate architect, who knows Dom’s troubles.

With the freedom of the unlimited dream-state imagination, Nolan creates cities that fold onto themselves as if they were paper boxes, entire buildings move and twist and tumble as the dreamer’s body is thrown about a moving car. Thankfully, he avoids the crappy, acid-sucking ruin of the dream-heavy "What Dreams May Come." In the movie’s tour-de-force action sequence, Gordon-Levitt fights several gunmen in a hotel hallway where the rules of gravity do not exist. Nolan also plays with time, knowing that the sleeping brain’s timer does not adhere to real, defined time. The further one sinks into dream states of subconscious -– three, four, five levels down -- time crawls. Minutes are decades, and can drive a man -– or a woman -– mad.

With “Memento,” Nolan shattered the rules on how a story can be presented, creating a murder mystery told backward and then sideways, from the perspective of a man with no apparent short-term memory. He shatters the rules again here, picking up on the unfulfilled promise of “The Matrix,” by making the characters on screen, and the audience as well, not only question the “reality” on screen but that of our own existence.

Hanz Zimmer’s buzzing, thumping score and the ironic use of Edith Piaf’s “Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien” as a major plot device further breaks down the walls of reality on screen. Cottilard won a best Actress Oscar for playing Piaf in a French-language film. As well, a mysterious series of numbers – 528491 – take on the importance of those hatch numbers in “LOST.” As with that now-gone show, Nolan does not see the need to provide answers. Let the puzzle lay unsolved. DiCaprio’s most recent role in “Shutter Island” adds a weird layer as we grapple with trusting our protagonist in the first place.

All of this is mixed in with massive decaying cities, mind games and a snow-bound action sequence worthy of 1970s-era James Bond. With a sharp edge that is constantly off balance. Multiple viewings, I think, are required. The very final image will be debated among hardcore movie fans (nerds?) for years. The kicker isn’t the image itself, though. It’s the idea of the image. Love it or hate, or don’t get it, Nolan uses “Inception” to burrow deep inside our own heads. The movie isn’t about inception, it is an Inception. I've seen in three times, and still am awed. A

Tooth Fairy (2010)

Bill Murray, playing a dying Bill Murray, is asked in “Zombieland” if he has any regrets. He replies, “Garfield.” I predict that if Dwayne Johnson is ever asked that question on his death bed, he may offer “Tooth Fairy.” An equally baffling, terrible film. More so, maybe. The moment he’ll most dread: When his jerk hockey player character, wearing fairy wings and a blue satin outfit as the Tooth Fairy, shrinks and then flushes himself down a locker room toilet to avoid his teammates. I knew this one-joke comedy might be awful, but I never guessed the Rock-as-Fairy plot would be more "believable" than the romance subplot involving Ashley Judd as a single mom. Johnson’s stick man cruelly belittles her older son and steals money from her 6-year-old daughter, and Judd’s mom keeps taking him back. Even when he shows up at night to take the boy out, wearing … fairy wings and a blue satin outfit. Really, mom? The film credits the screenplay to six people, all of whom must have lost their brains along with their baby teeth. D

Finding Nemo (2003)

Pixar’s underwater adventure film “Finding Nemo” is another pearl in the studio’s collection. Here, a father clown fish (Albert Brooks in splendid Defcon 4 Meltdown) searches the Pacific Ocean for his only child, Nemo, who has been taken by an underwater diver. The captured boy fish is kept in a tank and befriends other sea creatures, quickly growing up away from his father’s helicopter parenting ways. Well, OK, so the plot riffs close to “An American Tail.” This is far better. “Nemo” has a pack of sharks forming a vegan support group, Ellen DeGeneres as a fish with a “Memento” problem, and a visual concept so marvelous, it’s a treat just to watch. The textures of the fish skins change in and out of water, and as they float, the body’s weight and fins are flawlessly rendered. I also dig Alexander Gould as Nemo, a scared boy with a damaged fin. In perfect child sync, Gould trips over many of his lines, barely able to get the words in order. In Pixar fashion, story and character still top the effects. Magical. A

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (2010)

I dreaded “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.” The previews looked terrible: Nicolas Cage as a sorcerer? The only thing he’s been able to conjure up for the past 10 years is crap movies, save a wicked role in “Kick-Ass.” But here’s the deal, this film, from the folks who gave us the “National Treasure” films, ain’t half bad. Don’t get me started on the silly plot schematics. Look far away from the plot. See, this has a magical Disney ’70s vibe to it, mixed in with favorite ’80s kid’s fare such as “Young Sherlock Holmes.” Its goofiness is its charm. The “Apprentice” is college geek David, a meganerd with the voice of a miniature Gilbert Gottfried, who is deemed by Cage’s magic dude to be Merlin’s long-awaited successor. David is played by Jay Baruchel (“Tropic Thunder”) in a performance so hilarious one is never sure if our hero will save the world or destroy it just getting his shoes on. Cage looks like a guy you want to walk waaay around at Times Square at midnight. He wisely abdicates the film to Barachel. Yes, there are magical walking mops. This is Disney. Bonus points: The world’s end begins at Wall Street. B-

No County for Old Men (2007)

“No Country for Old Men” is top-notch, dark-hued Joel and Ethan Coen Whiskey, equal to “Miller’s Crossing” and “Blood Simple.” This thriller turned morality tale burns going down, with pulses of humor so dark, one feels guilty for laughing. It’s also a wild companion piece to “There Will Be Blood.” If that classic is about America’s twisted love of capitalism and religion, this tackles America’s love for killing.

Based on the Cormac McCarthy novel, “Country” follows three men: Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin), a Vietnam vet; Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones), a Texas sheriff from a family of lawmen; and Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem), a near-silent killer with a ’70s Hulk hairdo and an obsession with fate. The film is one long chase, the prize being a satchel of money. The genius kick: Author and filmmakers don’t care about the chase or the money. As “Men” churns along, the graphic violence all but slips off screen, and a philosophical tone on morality takes over. Boring? Grow up. Cormac rips story-telling rules. Coens kill movie rules.

Jones gives a career-best performance, including a stellar monologue that refers to the 23rd Psalm, without mentioning God. That’s a McCarthy trademark. Barden is freaking amazing. I could ramble on for hours. I love this film. (The book is amazing.) I love the sound design (the unscrewed light bulb) and lack of music, and Kelly Macdonald’s stoic blast-of-truth housewife. Genius. A+

American Splendor (2003)

If Tom Waits was a nerd who never got around to playing music and opted to write comic books instead, he would have been America’s much-needed Harvey Pekar before Harvey Pekar ever filled the vacant position. Thank God that Waits is God and became a musician, correction, the musician, and Harvey – who died last week at 70 as I write this – turned his life into a comic book.

See, Pekar turned an art form dedicated to super heroes and monsters on its ass, and then stuck his thumb up it. His basic rule: Saving the world? Fuck it. Hell, living in it is difficult enough. He had artists such as R. Crumb to fill in the art work. This brilliant fourth-wall cracking 2003 adaptation celebrates this genius-oddball-file clerk by breaking down the rules of film, it’s at once a straight-forward biopic with Paul Giamatti as Pekar and Hope Davis as his third wife, Joyce, and a documentary featuring interviews of the real people on stages, and an interactive comic book come to life. There’s even a scene where the Giamatti and Davis as Mr. and Mrs. Pekar watch a play with actors (Donal Logue and Molly Shannon) playing a scene we just witnessed. No film has ever been made like this, them or since.

By celebrating Pekar, directors and writers Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini celebrate the best intention of this whacked, sinful, exuberant land we call America: That anyone can rise above the muck. Even briefly. You just have to have the will. And the luck. Or the bad bad luck that others find inspiring, in a twisted way. American Splendor, indeed. Oh, best first date ever committed to film. Hands down. Giamatti is a genius here, getting Harvey's mannerisms down cold. My favorite film of 2003. Giamatti should have capped an Oscar. The film, too. A

A Haunting in Connecticut (2009)

“A Haunting in Connecticut” is one of those “based on a true story” haunted house flicks that takes 5 percent of a barely credible story and runs with it. Ghosts. Bodies every where. A serial killer. Blood seeping up from the floors. Yet, this film works. Even with the clichés such as the ill, but wise beyond measure priest (Elias Koteas). Maybe it’s the film’s focus on a family (led by Virginia Madsen) dealing with a son with cancer, and how the script plays with the idea that if the boy cops to strange visions – say, a dead guy – then he could be taken off the meds that may save his life. Director Peter Cornwell goes 111 on the creepy-crawly-nasty scenes, leaving nothing to chance that one might think this is a hallucination. For a low-budget horror, it’s entertaining as hell, with great makeup and effects. B

Meet the Parents (2000)

I have a soft spot for “Meet the Parents.” Why? The Robert De Niro character, Jack Burns, is a strange combination of many aspects of my father-in-law and father. (Many, not all.) When the film came out, I had just proposed to my now wife. Literally, a couple weeks before. My proposal had its own comic elements, most of my doing, but it didn’t play out like this. Burns is an old-fashioned, uptight former CIA spy with secrets who probably never didn’t vote Republican and guards his grown daughters with religious zealotry. Ben Stiller is the good-hearted male nurse who can't keep his trivia mouth shut, probably always votes Democrat and can’t help buy muck up everything he touches. Much like me. All the jokes center on the suitor’s name, Gaylord Focker, so the jokes come easy and play thisclose to juvenile-level crudeness. “Parents” also is a film of many “lasts” for me. It’s the last time I saw a decent film with De Niro’s name attached to it. It’s the last film I’ve seen headlined by Stiller where I didn’t want to throw something at the screen, screaming bloody murder. Good film. B+

New in Town (2009)

“New in Town” is one of those dreadful rom-coms about the hoity-toity career-track city gal (Renee Zellweger) who is sent by her bosses to live with country bumpkins in Small Town, USA, for some obscure job task. She hates the town and locals. But then – big shocker -- she falls in love and stays. This is set in rural, dead-of-winter Minnesota, so it plays more like a rom-com version of “Fargo” without the body count, wit, etc. And who ever asked for that? The local folks talk funny, say “darn tootin” a whole bunch, ask strangers if they’ve found Jesus yet, and ice fish. And darn anyone who makes fun of these proud Americans. But the filmmakers do exactly that. (Personal note: One day I’d love to see a film like this end with the city slicker giving middle fingers to the townies, and jetting out for home.) Zellwegger has zip personality here. Shove this film in the wood chipper and hit “Start.” D

Please Give (2010)

“Please Give” is a very New York film about New York women (and one husband) living in the Big Apple and grappling with life, death, love and, most of all, guilt. Guilt for being successful while so many other people are homeless or hopeless. Guilt for not being able to help one’s dying grandmother as she continues to slips away. Not everyone here, though, knows guilt. One woman feels … nothing, while a teenage girl is -- as all teenagers are – “the center of her own attention,” as Eddie Vedder sang. Catherine Keener, always so damn good, has the lead role of mother/wife/owner of high-end second-hand store in this story, written and directed by Nicole Holofcener. Oliver Platt is the husband, a decent guy until he starts an affair. The only tangible “plot” is Keener and Platt’s desire for the next-door apartment, owned by dying grandma, as a place to expand their tiny chunk of NYC. That’s the beauty of this film. There are no bad guys, no disasters, no huge climax, nor a moment where the orchestral swells as all of life’s problems are settled. I felt as if I spent 90 minutes with real people. No guilt there. B+

Funny People (2009) and Grown-Ups (2010)

One weekend, two Adam Sandler movies. I was bored. Foolish. I want my five hours back.

First I watched “Funny People” on DVD. In writer/director Judd Apatow’s comedy/drama, Sandler plays George Simmons, a comedian amazingly similar to the former Operaman, who learns that he is dying of a rare blood disease. Star of dumb comedy blockbusters, Simmons goes way dark, appearing at stand-up clubs, denouncing life and singing, “You won’t have me forever.” Seth Rogen co-stars as a low-level comedian who lands a job as Simmons’ assistant and joke writer. A mostly decent guy, Rogen becomes Simmons’ conscious, an overweight, curly-haired Jiminy Cricket, if you will.

Yes, Apatow and Sandler go dramatic and spell out the unfunny side of comedy, but they fear the real dark side of a dying man. Simmons obviously uses comedy as a cover, but he never lets that cover down. He never truly rages or weeps. Vomit scenes are handled with kid’s gloves. At the halfway mark, fortunes are reversed and as Simmons recovers, the film goes to hell, and then drags on for an hour more.

“Funny” is an uneven mess, with far too many extraneous characters and stories. (Jonah Hill, please go away. Please.) The movie obviously was inspired by Warren Zevon’s stellar 2003 album “The Wind,” made as the genius musician was dying. The record is directly referenced in one of the movie’s strongest and funniest scenes as Rogen’s well-meaning fool makes a playlist to encourage Simmons. It includes the tear-jerker “Keep Me in Your Heart.” Simmons gets furious. More of that humor, please, less dick jokes.

Apatow (“The 40-Year-Old Virgin") is a man in need of an editor. “Funny” rings in at freakin’ 2 hours and 30 minutes. Roughly 50 minutes too long. The best comedies, such as “Young Frankenstein,” know exactly when to quit. I’ve yet to see an Apatow film where I didn’t start checking my watch, thinking about laundry or staining the deck, and beg for an end. His, mine, anyone’s. C

Now here I really went wrong. I -– in a state of “must find some place to go with air-conditioning” -– saw “Grown-Ups” as a way to maybe get a laugh. Blow off a slow, hot Sunday. I should have stained the deck. In the tradition of family summer comedies such as “The Great Outdoors,” Sandler and several “SNL” alums – David Spade, Rob Schneider and Chris Rock – play childhood BFFs who reunite for a funeral and rent a favorite cabin for the July 4 weekend. Kevin James takes on the role seemingly made for Chris Farley. And that’s one reason why this weak comedy doesn’t even muster a pulse rate beyond 10 bpm. Every damn actor plays the same damn role they have done so for 15 years. It’s deadly boring.

Sandler is the successful goodhearted man’s man. Schneider is the dweeb freak. Spade is the redneck pervert. Rock … hell, I don’t know what he is doing, but he looks so dull-eyed, I wasn't sure he was awake. James plays the kind, fat klutz with a hot wife. A daring role, no? The actors have a great kinship, and they interact as if they were childhood best friends who regret not having seen each other for years. But I desperately wished for anything interesting to happen, a spark of the early-1990s “SNL.” Remember when Sandler would milk an outlandish routine to crack a fellow cast member up, on stage, live on TV? That’s gone. Everyone here is running on fumes. Nothing more. Pee jokes are the tops.

Every good laugh was killed in the trailer. OK. I laughed out loud once. The wife (Maria Bella) of James’ character breastfeeds her 4-year-old son. The other characters stare, wide-eyed. I remember once visiting a friend of a friend, years back, and she whipped out her breast when her 3-plus-year-old son came to her and said, “Meelk, mommy.” One of the oddest moments of my life. This cracked me up.

What else is there to pick apart? Salma Hayek plays Sandler’s wife, a wildly successful fashion designer who realizes her life’s work/passion is too much work and passion, and she must trash it all to keep her hubby and kids happy. The guilty mother? Really. As with the film, this sexist – and mean – cliché was tired in 1995. Welcome to 2010, guys. I mean, take a look at Sarah Palin. Love or hate her, and I detest her Bible-thumping conservatism, but she’s more of a woman than anyone involved here has ever met. D+

Toy Story 3 (2010)

*SPOILERS ABOUND* You will mourn every lost or thrown out toy in your life after seeing “Toy Story 3,” the final chapter in the wildly popular, vastly successful Pixar franchise. I did. And I still am, days after seeing what has to be the best “third chapter” film ever made. (Even “The Godfather” series could not pull off that trick.) This gem packs an emotional wallop like nothing ever made by Disney. It is about nothing more than the need to be wanted and remembered, a child crossing into adulthood, and the notion that throwing your cherished toys out is akin to sending them to hell. And there’s a literal inferno at the film’s end. All in a "G" movie.

The story of this “Story”: Young Andy is now 17 and looking toward college, leaving home and packing away all his childish belongings to the attic, donation, or … the trash. Andy hasn’t touched his toys – stashed in a trunk -- in years. Many, including Bo Beep, have been, for lack of a better term, killed: Thrown out. Woody, Buzz, Jessie and the rest, fear the same fate. Ten minutes in, this animated CGI film is aiming for the adults in the audience, even as children laugh at the jokes and thrill to the action. It got me.

But I digress. The plot thickens: Woody, Buzz and pals end up at a daycare. There, countless children will play with them and cherish them, and the toy world is run by a soft pink bear that smells of strawberry. Heaven? Not so. The children are wild beasts who torture their toys, and Lotso Hugs Bear is a dictator, a vengeful, angry Tennessee Williams character stitched onto the cold-as-ice warden of “Cool Hand Luke,” dangerously sweet Southern accent and all.

Woody, of course, wants to go back to Andy. But is that the best course of action? After a daring escape from Sunnyside that tips its hat to “The Great Escape,” the toys find themselves at a garbage dump, inches away from a blast furnace. Hell. And, by God, I knew all was going to be OK in this film, but as Woody, Buzz, Jessie, etc., all face death, and hold hands as they sink toward flames … wow. I got verklempt. I haven’t done that in a film since “E.T.” in 1982.

The animation is perfect, crystal clear and yet subdued. At every chance, a lesser animated film would go for the brightest effect, but Pixar pitches this “Toy Story” perfectly. Tom Hanks and Tim Allen are, of course, perfect. And the new cast members bat with equal gifts: Michael Keaton as Ken, Ned Beatty as that dastardly pink bear, and Timothy Dalton as a toy named Mr. Pricklepants. The music is priceless.

“Toy Story” 1 and 2 had their own layers of story and themes: jealousy, growing up, wanting to be wanted. But this is a whole new ballgame. If having a relative throw your old vertically enhanced Spider-Man action figure (it was not a doll) into the trash is sending it to hell, then giving it to another child to play with is heaven. And what better heaven is there than a child’s imagination? My childhood mashed the worlds of Star Wars, G.I. Joe, The Black Hole and the Six Million Man in perfect, epic battles, and it made sense to me. To think most of those toys are in a trash dump somewhere is heartbreaking. My 8-year-old self would be furious with the adult who didn’t care enough to save much of anything. (My favorite toys: A set of Coca-Cola trucks, and anything “Star Wars” or G.I. Joe.)

The final scene is perfect. Andy has his toys back and, unwittingly pushed by Woody, hands over his treasures to a young girl who lives nearby. As Andy drives off, I thought of the finale of “E.T.”, where the wrinkled alien left Elliot behind, to go off to his own world. Here, it’s the boy that leaves for a new world, knowing that the joy of a small girl outweighs his need to hold onto the physical past. He always will remember his toys. As Woody and Buzz and all stay behind, they grow up as well. Andy is not God. They are not here on Earth solely for him. If anything is “God” to a toy, it’s the limitless imagination of a child’s mind. Any child’s. The themes are akin, even without a glowing finger pointed at a boy’s chest: “I’ll be right here.” It’s unspoken. But, wow. Our toys will be always with us. And, in some weird way, us with them. Pixar is a masterful film studio, and a master story teller. A

Predators (2010)

A marvelous opening: A body falls from the sky, thousands of feet in the air, and suddenly comes to freaked-out life. The man – it’s Oscar winner Adrien Brody -- panics, screams, flails his legs and arms, and then his hands find and yank the ripcord to the parachute on his back. Just in time. The chute opens, and the man crashes to the ground of a jungle. Boom -- the title card “Predators” screams across the screen liken an out-of-control fireball. To paraphrase another 1980s-born action franchise, "Yippee-ki-yay monkey farmer!"

This, I thought, is the bad-ass sequel I’ve long wanted for 1987’s “Predator,” the bloody way-cool Arnold Schwarzenegger action flick about tough men in a jungle, hunted by and hunting a massively big, killer alien with a squid face. (“Predator 2” was an absolute dud and is not relevant here. Thank goodness.)

Produced by Robert Rodriguez (“Desperado”) and directed by Nimrod Antal, “Predators” plays on that theme, with a heaping of “Guys, where are we?” intrigue from “LOST” and the classic “The Most Dangerous Game” short story. The “guys” are seven men and one woman, all military Special Forces, assassins, gangsters, mass murderers, war criminals and … a clean-cut surgeon from California, plucked from their lives and dropped on a jungle planet with several moons and a sun that does not move. Alice Braga, Danny Trejo and Topher Grace round out the cast.

In line with its first sibling, the characters die one-by-one as the aliens attack. I was stoked for some summer fun. But halfway through, this fire goes out of this hell ride. It stays out. In a tip to Marlon Brando’s crazed Col. Kurtz in “Apocalypse Now,” Laurence Fishburne (who starred in that war classic) pops by for a cameo as a stranded survivor gone native, and whacked. But here’s the deal: Larry’s fat. I mean I-think-the-SOB-ate-Keanu-Reeves-after-that-last-shitty-Matrix-movie huge, and his character just fails. He’s a joke. Then Rodriguez pops a character reveal so ludicrous and clichéd, I and the entire audience burst out laughing. The movie never recovers. I sat there bored.

As the moral-free “hero” of the piece, Brody might not be “Ahnuld” tough but he brings a keen intelligence to the story, and I dug Braga’s character, this is a warrior woman who has never seen high heels. High hopes dashed fast, that’s the score here, though. Final thought: “Predator” gave us two future U.S. state governors. Any political leaders here? Sit down, Topher. Sit down. C+

El secreto de sus ojos (The Secret in their Eyes) (2010)

From Argentina comes “El secreto de sus ojos,” an Oscar-winning crime drama about a retired federal agent (Ricardo Darín) unable to let a decades-old bungled rape/murder case slip from his mind. It’s also, and this seriously works wonders, a story of unrealized love. The detective has turned novelist, but has no ending for his book on this one crime, so he seeks out his former supervisor (Soledad Villamil) then the widower (Pablo Rago) of the victim and, finally, the killer (Javier Godino). It’s no shock that everyone in this film has a secret, the title says it all. But director Juan José Campanella deftly lays the cards on the table one by one with skill, never drawing a joker. I loved the details: A crap typewriter with a bum “A,” the use of photographs, how quickly a man can sober up when faced with a choice of heroism or cowardice, and the meaning of justice to a devastated romantic. A-

W. (2008)

Oliver Stone’s “W.” is a draft screenplay looking for a reason to exist. This portrait of George W. Bush (played by Josh Brolin) was released in theaters well before the 43rd president handed over the White House keys to Barack Obama. Why the rush? Rather than go bare-knuckle serious and deep as in “Nixon,” this desperate satire tosses stale “SNL” jokes at the audience, hoping for a giggle. The “humor” consists of Bush getting rat-fucked at a college party and later choking on a pretzel as the Prez. Stone has nothing substantial to say, and treats his title character as a dumb-struck audience member to his own life. The lame attempts at dream psychology are middle school at best. Shockers are the juice of Stone’s best work. Yet there are none here. Conspiracies about oil grabs, Bush marching to God’s drum, or Cheney’s plans for a world ruled by an all-powerful America, like Rome before Christ, are nothing new to anyone with a New Yorker subscription in 2006. Stone treats each revelation with hushed awe. I yawned. The cast is stellar, especially Richard Dreyfuss as a Cheney, and barely save the film. C-

X2: X-Men United (2003)

“X2” -- Bryan Singer’s sequel to 2000’s “X-Men” -- goes deeper, darker and more politically blunt with barely veiled references to discrimination, imprisonment or murder of any group (Muslims, gays) deemed “dangerous” and “subversive” by right-wing flag waivers. In a LOL scene, a mom asks her super-powered son: “Have you ever tried not being a Mutant?” Nearly all of the heroes and villains of the first chapter return and reluctantly bond when threatened by a third party, a wild horse Army Special Ops guru named William Stryker (Brian Cox, making sinister look easy). Tones of faith, religion, trust, and the lure of evil are mixed in with a strong plot that further makes Professor X (Patrick Stewart) into an MLK Jr. figure and Magneto (Ian McKellen) into an early Malcolm X gone evil, while pushing the story forward. Hugh Jackman rocks as Wolverine, tough guy and babe magnet. I still hate the title: There’s not much uniting here. A-

It’s Complicated (2009)

Meryl Streep is lovely in “It’s Complicated,” a comedy about a divorced businesswoman/mother who has an inexplicable affair with her re-married ex-husband, all while being wooed by a newly single architect (Steve Martin). Alec Baldwin plays his unbeatable comedy talents and that odd sleaze streak he has as the ex-hubby, turning the role of a heel into divine inspiration. The art direction is pure “Better Homes & Garden” come to life and nearly outshines the A-list cast, and Martin’s charmer only remains a one-dimensional “nice guy” who doesn’t get nearly enough screen time. But with Streep at the center, why gripe? The hilarity of this love triangle recalls “Broadcast News” with its romantic-minded mantra that life rarely offers answers, only more questions. B+