Zookeeper (2011)

See Kevin James. See Kevin James play Kevin James-ish fool with romantic woes. See Kevin James talk to the animals. See Kevin James take a gorilla on a man date to TGI Fridays. Hear Nick Nolte voice said gorilla. See “Zookeeper.” Or not. Look, James vibes as the nicest guy in the world, a heart of gold and a grand man. I shall not malign him. But this romantic-comedy/talking-animals film, starring James, is shit. When Adam Sandler playing a monkey extols the virtues of flinging poop at the one you love, I got what he meant. He’s been doing to his audience for years. Sandler produces. James stars. Rosario Dawson looks sad. The opening gag is funny. James’ personality shines. But, duck, the shit is flying. And it stinks. Do better, Kevin James, do better. D+

Martha Marcy May Marlene (2011)

“Martha Marcy May Marlene” left me dead cold. That is a compliment. This Sundance hit is a dark psychological drama-cum-thriller about a young woman (Elizabeth Olsen, younger sister of toddlers-turned-tabloid stars Mary Kate and Ashley) who runs from an upper-New York State cult/farming commune and reunites with her estranged sister (Sarah Paulson of “American Horror Story”) at the latter’s posh lake-front home. There, our girl of many names and pains unravels as a scared, paranoid and wounded woman who will wonder into a bed during sex, and yet fear a falling pinecone. Martha declares herself a “leader and a teacher,” but who is talking? She, or the vile/musician/ rapist/father figure (John Hawkes, again mesmerizingly sinister) who ruled her life for two years? Newcomer writer/director Sean Dirkin leaves no easy answers as his jump editing, changing film stock, and inscrutable screenplay leaves the viewer aloof and, in the final shot, horrified. Its best trick is to equal the rich, capitalist “green” American consumer as a cultist all their own. Ms. Olsen is a phenomenal actress, leaving us unbalanced as victimized (sinister?) Martha Marcy ... A-

Margin Call (2011)

“Margin Call” is an end-of-America disaster flick with a Too Big Too Fail Weapon of Mass Destruction: Lehman Bros., slightly fictionalized. The harbinger of doom is a literal rocket scientist turned stock market shark (Zachary Quinto) who discovers his firm is a monstrous pig gorged on a diet of bad mortgages, and a heart attack just hit. His revelation sets off a chain bomb up the corporate ladder, from the floor manager (Kevin Spacey) to the CEO (Jeremy Irons at his most “Dead Rigner”ish). The reaction is not a heroic effort, but a scam far more sinister than anything in “Glengarry Glenn Ross,” another great F.U. to the Capitalism at All Costs mantra that fuels America. (GOP cheer!) A guy named J.C. Chandor makes his writing/directing debut, and he plays as if a decade-old pro as “Call” races like a thriller, and sports an acidic wit (no one in charge understands math). Quinto produced, and is a major star here, not just through massive-high-IQ acting, but because he lets the lions (Spacey, Irons and Demi Moore among them) rule the den. Sick twist: It all happened. A

Hugo (2011)

Leave it to Martin Scorsese to not just set a new high bar for children’s films, but all 3D movies. “Hugo” is a – superlative! -- masterpiece, a tale of an orphan boy (Asa Butterfield) in love with machines, cinema and stories, living in a Parisian train station as a clock master. Thid 3D gem glows with a boundless joy of movies and books beloved by Scorsese, making his best film in years, and his brightest, most wide-eyed adventure in ... forever. Hugo – this will upset Fox viewers – is poor, and steals food and drink to survive. (Call Newt!) That thievery puts him at odds with a short-fused toy shop owner named Georges Melies, who you well know if you know cinema. The plot kicks into glorious gear when Georges (Ben Kingsley) confiscates a notepad from Hugo, not knowing it once belonged to the boy’s dead father (Jude Law). I will say nothing more of the plot, watch and enjoy. Everything in “Hugo” – from the scenery and special effects to the actors and words -- is for proudly childish dreamers of all ages, all the ones who ever held a film camera or took pen to paper and thought, “What world can I create today?” Amazing from start to finish. A

Page One: Inside the New York Times (2011)

Is there a better hero for “Page One: Inside the New York Times” than David Carr? He is the guy every young journalist – myself included – has met and envied. His voice cracks like a car compactor chocking on a tank, and his body says north of 80, but he’s maybe 50. He has burned years and brain cells on booze and drugs, and yet come back fighting. Their real drug, though, was and is getting the big story. The quote. Nailing the Big Bad Wolf. I was an addict. Shit, that man is cool.

Carr is the “New York Times,” according to Andrew Rossi, director of this documentary. If Carr can rise from the ashes, then the “Times” can. And the paper has seen its share of ash. The Jayson Blair scandal. Management upheavals. Advertising and revenue wilting as the economy falters. The real kick in the balls: A vastly changing media landscape courtesy of the Internet, 15, 20 years young and far more powerful than the centuries-old printing press. All the news in the world one click away. No more wait for home delivery or newsstand runs. How is The Gray Lady (and the entire newspaper industry) going to get back fighting again? The answer is, of course, the Internet.

Rossi follows more “Times” staffers than Carr, including a war reporter who can file stories from a fox hole, and the new media kids on the block who spit out Tweets like reporters of old sucked down cigarettes. It isn’t easy. A longtime obituary writer is laid off, and anyone who has worked in news will cry for her. I did.

There’s something ironic about the title “Page One.” Having worked at newspapers, I well know the plans – sometimes weeks ahead – of what goes on the front. What is the “face” of the day? Sad death reports. Angry piss at corrupt bureaucrats? Happy features on three-legged dogs? The very idea of such is going away as websites change out the headlines hourly. For the better? No one knows. “Page One” touts meaningful investigative journalism, and shits on an upstart website that treats shocking poverty and war as some ironic gag. Is this what we want? Are we as a nation more interested in the Kardashians than the economy? If that’s the future, we are doomed.

“Page One” isn’t perfect. The ending – where the “Times” wins several Pulitzers in a major staff announcement – is a fumbled climax to a race I didn’t know was occurring. Another sticker: We see a heap of talking guy heads, all as white as me. That is not the modern “New York Times,” or modern journalism, or modern America. Still, a must see for anyone with ink running through his or her veins, and who fondly recalls the rumble of a massive printing press starting up as a magical childhood memory. Every newsroom scenes rock, Rossi film nails the banter and slams, and the editor who calls the liar, “liar.” B+

Hanna (2011)

Here’s a fairytale the Grimm Brothers dare not have imagined: A 16-year-old girl, raised in full isolation and trained to be a ruthless assassin by her golden knight father, is set out onto the world to exact revenge against the wicked witch who killed mommy. “Hanna” is not that bluntly supernatural, though. Daddy (Eric Bana) is an ex-CIA agent who we think is nutty paranoid until we learn he is rightfully so. The Wicked Witch (Cate Blanchett) is his CIA boss, a soulless Texan obsessed with material goods. Yes, it’s a commentary. Director Joe Wright is clearly having fun by squashing logic and ending his taut thriller at a derelict amusement park, with Blanchett walking out of the mouth of the Big Bad Wolf. This would all be laughable were it not for Saoirse Ronan, who ruled over Wright’s “Atonement.” As Hanna, she effortlessly bounces from a teen with no memory of women, and no idea of TV or music or cars, to a killer on a dime. She’s a better heroine than the girl from “Twilight.” Very “Never Let Me Go, Jason Bourne.” B

Ides of March (2011)

See “Ides of March” for its standout cast. Ryan Gosling. George Clooney. Paul Giamatti. Philip Seymour Hoffman. Jeffrey Wright. Evan Rachel Wood. A Giamatti and Hoffman face off? How cool is that? They need a better movie. This grim political drama should torch the screen. It barely sparks a flame. It’s about a suave campaign director (Gosling) devoted to his governor boss (Clooney) who is eyeing the presidency. And then – bam! – our hero learns his boss is a loose cock. Shocker? Not to the audience. But to Gosling’s Stephen Myers, yes. In modern America!?! Go on, watch. See if you can pick up motives I did not. Why does the governor reek of a trite symbol and not a person, and his wife (Jennifer Ehle) barely human at all? Did Wood’s intern eye Stephen with an agenda? She must have. How can anyone as smart as Stephen still believe in the whole candidate-savior crap at age 30? The dialogue should sting “Sweet Smell of Success” style, but it slumps. Clooney directs, with grey skies, dark bars and kitchens. Shakespearean? No. Melodrama? From start to finish. The high grade is for the cast alone. B

The Muppets (2011)

My childhood has a pop culture Holy Trinity: “Star Wars,” Superman, and “The Muppets.” So, a new film – after a long silence following the 1999 dud “Muppets from Space” -- is massive in my life. Ask my wife. (No. Don’t.) So, is this rebooted comedy-musical farce, with Jason Segal and Amy Adams as the human leads, all it can be? No. Devout to classic Muppet spirit? No. But it is a start. The plot concerns the old gang -- Kermit, Miss Piggy, Scooter, Fozzie, Gonzo, etc. – reuniting to save not just the rundown Muppet Theatre, but their felt bodies and ping-ball-eye selves, and souls, too. And these things have souls. Better than CGI. It is daft, and spends far too much time on its human stars and has too many fart-shoes jokes that seen unwise, but it’s a blast. As with the TV show and original films, guest stars abound. Jack Black leads the pack. Heaps of hip comics. But no Steve Martin, who knows his Muppets. I wanted that. But I loved seeing Scooter again, and hearing “The Rainbow Connection.” Just wow. I can’t wait for more. RIP Jim Henson. Oh, Chris Cooper raps. Hilariously awkward. B+

Immortals (2011)

The first shots of “Immortals” are breathtaking in their 3D glory. We open on a massive stone cube and we then swoop in to see black-grime-covered men, lined up perfectly, their heads held in metallic clamps, their teeth clenching rods. It’s another startling image from director Tarsem Singh, the visual artist who made “The Cell,” a flick that took us inside the mind of a serial killer. There’s not much on anyone’s mind here, just insanely buff guys clanging swords and spears – hey, nothing gay here – during the ancient days of Greece. You know the tale: After his family dies, mad King Hyperion calls war on the gods and slays thousands of people as an attention grabber. The brave peasant Theseus -- who is the son of an earthly woman and a god, does that sound familiar? -- must stop him. The talking bits are ridiculously serious and full of blowhard boasts, especially when our hero rallies his troops “Braveheart”-style, but the blood-soaked action is something to behold. Henry Cavill, soon to be Superman, is the stalwart hero. Mickey Rourke is Hyperion, a bit too cool and ironic. From the makers of “300,” but not nearly as bloodily cathartic. B-

Beverly Hills Ninja (1997)

Chris Farley as a ninja. No one can hate on that. It’s too deliciously ludicrous. And yet 1997 gave us just that, “Beverly Hills Ninja,” with the “SNL” comic whirlwind as a clumsy white guy raised in a Japanese ninja commune who visits … well, you know. Look, it’s negative IQ dumb and smells of an alcohol (or worse) induced joke come alive, but there’s a what-the-hell fun zeal to it as Farley stumbles, falls and generally acts like a buffoon. He did that well. I heartily laughed at the bits where characters fly to a transcendental hand-drawn cartoon world to chat philosophy, and at a running gag with our fearless warrior losing his shoes. Farley had an unquenchable appetite for drugs, and yet he always came off as a big kid with a kind heart, even in his worst films. A trace of sadness lingers, but I laughed. C+