The Town (2010)

Critics are falling over themselves to praise Ben Affleck’s “The Town,” his follow-up to the 2007 drama “Gone, Baby, Gone.” Me? Not loving it. It’s not Affleck’s direction –- tight and so localized, one feels like they just received a private, gritty tour of Boston’s Charlestown –- or even his acting. It’s the problematic script (co-written by Affleck) that dives from smart crime thriller into a contrived romance before falling into a vat of sentimentality. People who compare this film to 1970s gritty crime dramas need new eyeballs.

The story: Charleston, it is said, is home to the largest per capita population of bank and armored car thieves in the world. Children follow their fathers into a life of crime with no reservation. Doug MacRay is such a child, with an old man (Chris Cooper) in prison. The plot kicks off with Doug's group robbing a bank. In a panic, hot-headed leader Jem (Jeremy Renner) takes bank manager Claire (Rebecca Hall) hostage. She’s insurance, and once the guys are safely away, Claire is set free. But not for long. Jem decides to kill the woman. Doug, our Robin Hood, wants to save this distressed damsel. In the process, Doug falls in love with Claire. And she with him, not knowing her man was her captor. Meanwhile, an FBI agent (John Hamm) is on Doug’s tail. It all ends in a shoot out at Fenway Park and an eye-roller escape.

Look, the trailer laid out every plot detail to this film beforehand, so I have no problem dishing openly on the Bunker Hill-sized plot holes: 1) I did not buy the rich girl/poor boy relationship of Claire and Doug, nor its silly outcome. 2) Once Claire learns of Doug’s secret, she cries and yells, but then gives in. She loves this guy too darn much. Really?!!? 3) Once Hamm’s Fed gets wind of the tryst, he suspects Claire is an insider on the theft. “Get a lawyer,” he says. But the accusation is dropped. Not believable.

What saves “Town”? That local flair. The bartender, cops and the guys at an AA meeting are wonderfully true. This is no CW show full of anorexic models. These people don’t just know the Boston neighborhoods, they are the neighborhood. Renner, Cooper and Pete Postlethwaite rule in their roles, the last playing a crime boss florist who turns pruning roses into an act of menace. I also dug the car chases through Boston city streets. Every tight corner turn leaves a surprise for the getaway driver.

"Town" as a drama offers no such surprises. Affleck's Doug is too much an aw-shucks saint to make a full impact, and Hall –- a wonderful actress -– as Clarice is also too damn nice. Is it too much to ask for this woman to snap in seething anger? To claw out the eyes of the guy who robbed her, kidnapped her, lied to her –- and screwed her –- literally? Why must women in crime flicks be wilting wallflowers desperate for a man? I have large hopes for Affleck’s directing career, there’s much good here, and I dug “Gone, Baby, Gone.” But “Town” left me feeling robbed. B-

Devil (2010)

How long can a guy dig on a movie’s credit sequence without coming off as a bore? At the opening of “Devil,” a quickie horror film about Satan wrecking havoc in an office-tower, the camera races toward a topsy-turvy Philadelphia. Buildings hang above dark blue sky. The effect is gloriously spooky to a guy who calls The City of Brotherly Love home. Bravo! We quickly jump to the story: A cop (Chris Mencina) is nun-slapped by his AA sponsor into reaching out to God, just before the former is sent to investigate an odd death. We then jump to a stopped elevator, where five people – including a former Marine and a jerk salesman -- are trapped, Satan among and in one of them. The cases quickly cross paths as the audience and Detective AA race to figure out who is Number 666. M. Night Shyamalan (“The Sixth Sense”) provides the story, although he neither directs nor scripts. “Devil” is more giddy fun than scary, and has several dumb plot ticks, none more so than its treatment of religion. Non-believers are portrayed as blowhards destined to fail, while the sole Christian is played as a pansy who babbles like a whiny child. Still, better than I expected. B-

James and the Giant Peach (1996)

Stop-motion animation maestro Henry Selick gave us “The Nightmare Before Christmas” in 1993 and “Coraline” in 2009. Both are dark classics, more for child-like adults than children. Yet, his 1996 effort “James and the Giant Peach,” based on Roald Dahl’s book, has remained – sorry – a fuzzy memory. So, I gave it another watch. The set-up: Young orphan James (Paul Terry) escapes his cruel aunts via the giant fruit of the title, a massive, magical orb that houses friendly insects and spiders, and promises safe travel to New York City via land, sea and air. Selick surrounds this tale with a live-action opening and closing, both oddly foggy and painfully over-acted. But the animation is starkly beautiful – Selick takes us inside, around and over the peach, as puppet James and his friends cross the Atlantic. It’s the classic child-logic story every youngster, and some adults, wishes for. But “Peach” still is fuzzy, and never digs into the pit – sorry, again – of my brain. Jack Skellington appears in a good, scary bit. B

Paycheck (2003)

The joke is too easy. Why did Ben Affleck, Uma Thurman and Aaron Eckhart star in “Paycheck”? The money! (Crickets.) Based on a Philip K. Dick story, the plot follows Michael Jennings (Affleck), a square-jawed square who hires out his engineering skills to shady corporations. His job: Steal technology, reverse engineer it, and hand the results over. Upon payment, his memory is wiped. At a party, a mega-billionaire fiend (Eckhart) offers Michael a huge payday if he’ll give up three years to work on a secret project. Mike takes the job. He is told nothing will go wrong. Thurmon is the love interest who helps memory-wiped Michael after everything goes bad. John Woo directs with every cliché in his bag of tricks: Crossed guns, slow-mo birds and chase scenes that won’t quit. The three leads have zero spark, so maybe they did sign on for the cash. Only Paul Giamatti and Colm Feore have any presence. The plot is preposterous even for bad sci-fi. Ironically, “Paycheck” wipes from memory at film's end. C-

The Love Guru (2008)

Early in “The Love Guru,” Mike Myers appears to shove his head up his own ass. That is the perfect metaphor for this dismal comedy about America’s love for feel-good spiritual nonsense. Myers plays Guru Pitka, a India-raised Canadian who dives into the “heal thyself” shtick to meet girls. Ben Kingsley, always ready to befoul his “Gandhi” Oscar, is the mentor who makes his pupils fight with mops soaked in piss. That’s the level of humor here: Pee, poop, boobs, penises, fat people and everything else that makes third graders and Myers laugh. Jessica Alba, looking self-conscious, is the love interest. Myers can’t even find a point. Is he making fun of flakes like Deepak Chopra, or honoring them? Pitka is too idiotic to make any dent, while Chopra is treated as a star. Val Kilmer, Kanye West and Mariska Hargitay (whose name is a punch line) stop by for dead-air cameos. The entire film is tone deaf, and woefully unfunny. “Guru,” kill thyself. F

Shaun of the Dead (2004)

How long would it take a Londoner to realize his city has been taken over by zombies? In “Shaun of the Dead,” whole freakin’ days. Simon Pegg’s Shaun is a 29-year-old electronics retail clerk who is clueless about his girlfriend (Kate Ashfield) and best pals with flatmate Ed (Nick Frost), a fatty who farts on cue. The horror bits arrive ever so slow, a peek here, a fuzzy background shot there. Then the blood hits. Our heroes scramble, bicker and fight back. Director/co-writer Edgar Wright trashes everything about zombie flicks, London society and the media. Fantastic scenes abound: The best may be a fight where Shaun and Ed fling old records – but not their favorites – at two dead heads. I could drone on about my favorite bits: The “western bar” showdown, Bill Nighy as a (step!) dad who won’t let being dead marginalize his hatred of speed metal, and the not-subtle joke that Shaun is with the wrong girl. This satire plays smarter than most of the films it’s ripping. Pegg is brilliant as the exasperated hero. Whatever that means. A

The Dirty Dozen (1967)

World War II suicide mission classic “The Dirty Dozen” is mean, violent, carries enough cruelty and anti-PC credentials to offend everyone from patriotic zealots to liberal pacifists, and lays absolute waste to its stellar tough guy cast. The ass kickers include Lee Marvin, John Cassavetes, Jim Brown, Terry Savalas, Donald Sutherland and Charles Bronson. The puppet masters include Robert Ryan, George Kennedy and Ernest Borgnine. What a cast! This is the kind of film guys drink scotch – straight – to, and stare in awe. From the first scene of a weeping soldier being hanged to the raid-the-castle finale, director Robert Aldrich makes this action flick a subversive 1960s social drama: God takes a beating, Jim Brown smiles as he kills rich whites, all military brass are pompous idiots. We are essentially rooting for killers and scum to walk away free. The violence still plays tough, including a hairy scene where one of the 12 goes Judas bonkers. It seems common place now, but “Dozen” may be the first American film to say if you’re not dirty going into war, it’ll sure as hell grind you down into the muck and mire. Classic. A

‘The Illusionist’ and ‘The Prestige’ (Both 2006)

I saw the magic-themed “The Illusionist” and “The Prestige” back-to-back in 2006, on purpose. Just recently, I re-watched them within a week of each other by mere coincidence. My reactions remain just about the same.

“Illusionist” is a star-crossed love story about a wildly imaginative magician and the love of his life. Magic man Eisenheim (Edward Norton) and princess-to-be Sophie (Jessica Biel) loved each other as children, but life shit happened. They split. Decades later Eisenheim arrives in Vienna, ready to woo Sophie from the cruel prick Crown Price Leopold (eternal bad guy Rufus Sewell). To grind Eisenheim down, the prince has a lapdog policeman (Paul Giamatti) who is corrupt, but yet a fan of showmanship and art. This is Giamatti’s film. He outclasses everyone, without raising his voice or getting all puppy-eyed. Norton and Biel provide kennels full of puppy eyes. The film tosses out a “gotchya” plot that’s not nearly as clever as it wishes to be. Norton’s stage presence as Eisenheim is winning, even if the magic is too CGI-heavy. The much-praised cinematography is a pitch too arty even for me. B

“Prestige” is based on a favorite book, so it has a lot to live up to. The plot concerns two rival magicians in London who start as friends, but soon enter a game of one-upmanship and then deadly, bloody games on and off stage. The instigation: An on-stage death of one’s beloved. Angier (Hugh Jackman) is a stage natural, but needs help pushing the core of his trade. Borden (Christian Bale) is the opposite: He is genius at magic design, but a boorish stage presence. Merged in one body and soul, the men would make one hell of a talent. Director Christopher Nolan has a long obsession with what forms a person’s identity, or breaks it. The reveals of “Prestige” allow Nolan to play large. But this isn’t “Memento” or “Inception.” It’s too cold and calculated, and in need of magic dust. So to speak. Nolan avoids supernatural themes that ruled the book, and some acts don’t come off justified: When a major character commits suicide, it seems only blasé inevitable. B+

The American (2010)

At one point in “The American,” George Clooney’s cold-hearted assassin desperately asks his handler, “How did they find me!?!” Clooney’s Jack is talking about the relentless thugs gunning for his ass. I thought, “Cause, damn, man, you the only fhking American within 300 miles.” Indeed, killer-for-hire Jack is the only apple pie eater hiding out in a tiny Italian village. Every resident spots Jack from a mile away and yells, "Bonjorno American!" His enemies can’t not find him. (Why the hell not stay in Rome? I've been there. It's easy to get lost.) Jack is rightfully paranoid, frisky and ready to give up the job, but not before assembling a rifle for a mysterious hit-woman (Thekla Reuten) who -– as does Jack -– digs butterflies. Directed by Anton Corbijn, the photographer famous for U2 album covers, “American” recalls a dozen old French or Italian dramas about the thug who emerges from his self-made hellish life just before the clock stops. The film is nearly saved by gorgeous camera work and Clooney’s performance, all cold, raw and grounded. B-

Winter’s Bone (2010)

“Winter’s Bone” is as bleak as a film can get. It makes one long for the small joys found in such fare as “The Road.” Set amid the rural mountains of Missouri’s Ozarks, this is the tale of a 17-year-old girl desperately trying to crawl out of a hole of absolute poverty while dodging a constant threat of violence. It is a far-distant cousin to last year’s “Precious,” but without the lofty dreams. Don't let this opening be an interest killer. "Bone" is among the year's best films. It kicked butt at Sundance, and also should win some awards-time love.

Jennifer Lawrence stars as Ree Dolly, the teen who might as well be 35. Her meth-maker father is either dead or running from the law. Her mother is lost in a mental void, caused by stress or maybe bad drugs. There are no doctors to help. The Dolly family has two more children, six and 10. Ree is their substitute mother. The film follows Ree as she hunts her missing father’s whereabouts, going from one relative to another. In this forgotten landscape of America, everyone is related somehow by blood. But meth, cocaine and booze are thicker than blood. They count. Kin don't.

Ree is repeatedly told, “Don’t bother. Don’t look. Shut up.” She refuses. The first major threat comes from her uncle (John Hawkes), also a drug user/supplier. Ree is scared of this man, who could break her neck or set her on the path of a better life. There is no good life. Only shades of bad, and better than bad. (Hawkes of TV’s “Lost” is amazing in the role.) The men rule with absolute authority, to the point that women will visit violence upon one another to prevent their men’s rage from uncorking.

At one point a man tells Ree not to tell “stories” about him. She retorts: “I never talk about you men.” Ree knows her place, and that of all women, here. She is no fool. A clueless right-wing writer at “American Spectator” slammed the film as “feminist” and anti-man. Since when did a woman wanting to live and feed children become “feminist”? That doesn’t mean there is no commentary here. At the Dolly house, an American flag hangs forgotten and tattered. I think it’s meant to represent the American dream for such desperate people. This is not a red state/blue state issue. We have poor in both states, and in both political parties.

Few films capture how some people can crawl up or slide down the pole of humanity. Characters here move, grow and change. Director Debra Granik, who co-wrote the screenplay from a book, makes every detail real –cluttered houses, yards and emotions. She provides sinking-stomach suspense, with no tricky editing, music or gun play. A late-night car ride that climaxes in a cold river needs no such help. That a chainsaw is involved makes it all the more harrowing.

Lawrence gives a forceful but quiet performance. If a big name were in this film, much ink and 1s and 0s would be spilled over how Ms. X went grungy and starved to give the performance of a lifetime. Lawrence will never get such lofty accolades. Similar to Gabourey Sidibe in “Precious,” Lawrence is too unknown, real and convincing in her environment to let us see her “acting.” Her last line is a heart-breaker, but beautifully told.

“Bone” is no box office firecracker, but it’s a must-see for anyone interested in the most hidden parts of America and the people stuck there. A