Man on Wire (2008)

“Man on Wire” is many films in one: Heist-like flick, a stunt film that makes “Jackass” seem quaint as Quakers, a documentary with talking heads, and a history/celebration of the World Trade Center and American inspiration. The story is true: In 1974, French daredevil high-wire artist Philippe Petit and some co-conspirators scammed their way inside the world’s tallest skyscrapers, and for some 45 minutes, Petit traipsed a wire strung between the two buildings. The plan was and is mind-shattering; the images – the reality – more so. Director James Marsh lays out a brilliant film, using interviews, old film, still photos, printed police reports, TV snippets, brilliantly acted reconstruction and even animated maps, to tell this tale. Petit is mesmerizing, and his surname ironic. This heroically foolish guy stood on air in the middle of the Twin Towers. Amazing! Marsh never mentions 9/11. Thank God. Why give homage to mass killers? This is a celebration of life, lived on the edge, and between the edges. A

In Cold Blood (1967)

No film can top or even equal Truman Capote’s “In Cold Blood,” one of the greatest American nonfiction books ever printed. Yet in 1967, a film of “Cold” rattled America’s nerves with unprecedented harshness and profanity.

Writer/director Richard Brooks, using stark black and white cinematography, lays out an almost journalistic take on the massacre of a Kansas farm family by two low-level crooks (Robert Blake is Perry Smith, and Scott Wilson is Richard Hickcock). We follow the killers, the family and the police, with some vibrant editing as the actual shootings are put toward the end.

The movie is wildly faithful to the book except in one key area – Capote’s self-involved writer has been replaced by a crusty old alpha-male reporter. A homophobic slap against Capote? I don’t think so. As demonstrated in more recent films (“Capote”), the very short guy was larger than life. No, this film works. This needs a reporter to melt into the walls, not bang over the camera. This is about a senseless crime committed by two lost guys, who can just as easily give a ride to a stranded grandpa and a young boy on the road.

The performances are amazing, the judgments harsh all around, with violence that still shocks despite being off screen. A

The Secret of the Kells (2009)

I may have missed the unique, Irish children’s tale “The Secret of the Kells” if it had not landed an Oscar nomination for Best Animated Feature for 2009. Thank goodness it did. “Kells” boasts some of the most innovative, out-there animation I’ve ever seen. The story is simple, playing like a first chapter: A young orphan boy is kept within the village walls by his paranoid, shockingly tall uncle. Young Brandon wants to visit the forbidden forest, and with the help of an elderly scribe, he does just that. I shall give away no more. Directors Tomm Moore and Nora Twomey have made one beautiful film. “Kells” pops with artwork inspired by ancient Bible margin art, Cubism, Expressionism, Japanese inks, water colors, chalk drawing, kaleidoscopes, etc. Inspired. Not charted to exceed CGI 3-D box office records. The dialogue is great and slyly funny, the themes dark and magical, the music hummable and ... what else is there to say? I’m ready for more Kells. A-

Wendy and Lucy (2008)

“Wendy and Lucy” is a short story of a film, which provides no pretense or even a clear future. Michelle Williams is Wendy. Lucy is her dog. Wendy is a 20-something woman making her way from Indiana to Alaska, stuck in Oregon. With no past, we only know that Lucy is desperate to stay off the grid, has precious little money and her car just died. Then Wendy is arrested in a sorry attempt at shoplifting. The next ax? Lucy goes missing. That’s it, but enough. This struggle of one woman is plenty drama enough, and damn heart-tugging, especially her interaction with a grandfatherly security guard. (And that dog!) Director/co-writer Kelly Reichardt never pushes any envelopes, even during a tense seen with a man in the woods at night, but shows life as it is … unknowable, confusing and harsh, but also quite nice when a stranger provides kindness. Williams is amazing. A-

Food Inc. (2009)

“Food Inc.” is unshakable. I almost became a vegetarian. A Farmer’s Market, buy local, vegan. I still may. Thank God it mixes hope with much horror. The horror is the food on our collective dinner tables, provided by multi-billion dollar corporations that have turned eating -- the essence of humanity – into a commodity with no value for life. A military industrial complex. To wit: We’re paying companies to kill us slowly through food that is not real: X-Men chickens, lab-made soy beans and tomatoes reddened with God knows what. Director Robert Kenner and his narrators, Michael Pollan and Eric Schlosser, show us the slaughterhouses and detail the grueling death of a toddler by food poisoning, but they also introduce a Virginia farmer who loves the land, and wants to do right by people and animals. Stellar interviews and vignettes go a long way in teaching us who we are, because as the cliché goes, we are what we eat. See this now because the big corps say it’s a lie, and see it before we follow the GOP/Tea Party into handing the keys of the kingdom over to companies that have no values but for stocks. Price, that is, not animal. A

Gamer (2009)

“Gamer” is the poster child for a Hollywood bankrupt of any new ideas and one remote soul. My God, I sound conservative. (Help!) Gerald Butler (“300”) scowls as a violent convict/loving poppa who is a pure and innocent soul who must fight his way to freedom via a world-televised bloodbath version of “Every Bad Futuristic Action Movie Ever Made.” No cliche is left unturned, and is, in fact, repeatedly groped and man-handled in the dark of this dark and seedy story. The sorriest attempt at wit in this witless shit-fest has Butler chug a fifth of vodka before battle, so he can later drunkenly vomit and piss the liquid out into a truck’s fuel tank. For his getaway. Because that works. Directors Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor pretend to damn a world that enjoys watching rape and murder on TV and in film, yet take joy as their jackhammer camera hovers over a woman’s pelvis as she is sexually assaulted and uses slow-motion for every bloody flying skull and toe. Relentlessly vulgar, and not remotely interesting. D-

Defiance (2008)

Director Edward Zwick (“Glory”) has an amazing true story in “Defiance.” In 1939, two Belarusian brothers named Bielski (Daniel Craig and Liev Schreiber) lead a gun-and-blade rebellion against Nazi invaders, while shepherding hundreds of fleeing Jews deep into the dark forest to hide. At first only a handful of Jews come. Then hundreds arrive. For three years. The masses have much else to fear with disease, inner-rebellions, winter and matter-of-fact starvation hovering constantly, also promising death. Those are glorious origins, haunting and heroic, but Zwick still doesn’t trust this story enough. He plays Whack-a-Mole with war movie clichés, including an eye-roller scene where Mr. Bond rides a white horse (!) before his followers, bellowing aloud a maudlin “Braveheart” speech. My face turned blue. An “Exodus”-like retreat ends with our heroes using rifles to battle a full Nazi tank division, and thus history is truncated for “Red Dawn” stunts and action. C+

Troy (2004)

Imagine a film about Christ with no virgin birth, no miracles and no resurrection, nothing that requires belief. That is “Troy.” On my second viewing of this “Illiad”-inspired sword-and-sandals epic about Achilles and the Greek invasion of Troy, I realized that director Wolfgang Peterson (“Das Boot”) and his screenwriters never believed in this story. They scrap -– kill, if you will -- the Greek gods, the chess masters of this classic tale, for pompous romanticism and speechifying about evils of war, immediately before clicking into battle porn shots of half-naked men fighting and women fainting. As the now too-human Achilles, Brad Pitt is too many tics and longing glances ala “Legends of the Fall” to be a warrior, and his lofty dialogue (“It's too early in the day for killing princes”) doesn’t help. Two action scenes rock: A night attack involving flaming balls of straw, and Pitt vs. Eric Bana, all pumped up. The rest of the time, it’s hammy acting, obvious CGI and a giant wooden horse that holds no surprises inside. What a heel. C-

Pandorum (2009)

In space, no one can hear you sigh. “Pandorum” is one of those giddy sci-fi flicks where some monstrous species hunts the crew members of a vast ship, promising thrills, blood and madness. We start off smart with a claustrophobic nightmare as astronaut Bower (Ben Foster) awakens from hyper-sleep in a tube that resembles a coffin. He’s panicked, covered in dead skin tissue and his memory is a wiped-out mess. With the help of his equally dazed and confused commander (Dennis Quaid), Bower learns two things quickly: The ship is a last-ditch haven for the human race, and (!!!) they are not alone. Alas, the dye is cast the second Quaid recalls a story about previous space travelers wigging out crazy after hyper-sleep. Director Christian Alvart and his writers serve up 30-year-old shitty leftovers, from the self-sacrificing minority to the “shocker” betrayal that was obvious an hour before. I love the art design and the penultimate climax with Foster crawling to salvation, but in the end it’s all sighs, few screams. B-

The Sweet Smell of Success (1957)

“The Sweet Smell of Success” sizzles with the best dialogue -- “You’re dead, son. Get yourself buried”-- ever put to screen, a funky jazz score by Elmer Bernstein, and a sleazy night-owl view of New York so vibrant, it burns the eyes. It’s a pitch-black film noir about corruption, fame and journalism run amok even more relevant in 2010. Tony Curtis is Sidney Falco, a soulless PR hack slaved to J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster), a famous/vile newspaper Winchell-like columnist who spreads lies, innuendo and pure bullshit, all wrapped up in false American patriotism. He’s the Glenn Beck of his day, his own God. Hunsecker won’t print Falco’s news unless the latter breaks up the columnist’s kid sister and her musician lover. Hunsecker, you see, wants his sister so damn bad. Perv. Spineless Falco obliges and suffers greatly. Lancaster makes one scary demagogue, while Curtis blows his role out of the water. You can see the lies form in his mind before they slither out his mouth. Alexander Mackendrick’s direction is razor sharp, and the Clif Odets/Ernest Lehman screenplay draws blood. A+