Birdman (2014)

When we first see Michael Keaton as a has-been Hollywood actor at the opening of tar-black fable “Birdman,” he is floating in midair as the intimidating voice of his once big-screen superhero alter ego -– see the title -– talks aloud inside his own head. That’s the start of this wondrously warped story. Yes, Keaton, who played comic book hero Batman, plays an actor who played comic book hero Birdman. Meta comedy is promised and delivered. Plot: Keaton’s Riggan Thomas is determined to reset his relevance by staging a Broadway play. The impossible task consumes Riggan: His lead actor is a prickish actor played by infamously prickish actor Edward Norton, and Riggan’s daughter (Emma Stone) teeters on drug relapse. Stone, of course, plays Spider-Man’s girlfriend. Spider-Man appears as a mocking taunt. Brilliant. Questions pop: Mainly, Will Riggan escape Birdman? Director Alejandro G. Inarritu serves a must-rewatch film about a man more scared of obscurity than death and a damning of the Marvel Movie Universe ruling cinemas and then flames his own film as Marvel-like action plays out. More than the art-house deep-thoughts comedy, this strange film is pure wicked fun to watch unspool. A

Only Lovers Left Alive (2014)

Art House Golden Rule: One must love Jim Jarmusch, he of “Night on Earth.” But his latest film is “Only Lovers Left Alive,” a vampire flick that itself seems eternal, a dark slog made for Gen Xers who covered their dorm walls with Trent Reznor posters, and still have only one weekly load of laundry: Black and very, very dark gray. I squirmed as 120+ minutes ticked by. Oh, Jarmusch spins amazing ideas on death of innovation -– music, poetry, the American car –- in a world of YouTube fame. Mass consumerism is the true mark of the undead. But, damn, how many slo-mo shots do we get of Tilda Swinton stalking down Tangiers alleyways as fat guys leer? She and Tom Hiddleston (Loki from “Thor”) are husband and wife, her living in North Africa with books, he in Detroit with his music, bemoaning the death of the once-thriving metropolis that gave us Chevys. I tried to bite and drink, but the Jack White as a vampire joke? Wooden stake. “Only” only comes alive when luminous Mia Wasikowski appears as a bloodsucker with no self-control. She’s sent packing too soon. C+

Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)

Ethan and Joel Coen again trade up genres with “Inside Llewyn Davis,” a morbid, often hilarious musical biopic unlike those about Johnny Cash or Ray Charles. See, Llewyn Davis –- played by Oscar Issac in an Oscar-worthy performance –- does not strike it rich, land the girl, and get a celebrity to play him in a big movie. This is the guy who doesn’t make it. He’s among the hundreds of crooners whose records sit unpurchased, him on a street corner playing between car horns. Davis is a folk singer in 1961 New York who pisses on success and press coverage, yet rues his laughable inability to gain a foothold to be heard. The character is indeed fictional, but his story rings more true than that of Bob Dylan (who can be heard at the finale). Some critics dumped on “Davis” because they see the Coens as torturing their hero for sick laughs. Wrong. They love this guy despite all his incredible blundering errors. They just cut the bullshit and remind us in our “American Idol” instant-celebrity era, that no, not everyone gets that happy ending. They get punched. Issac is fantastic, as an actor and musician. And good to see John Goodman again. A-

Twenty Feet from Stardom (2013)

“Twenty Feet from Stardom” is a music lover’s dream. If you have ever rocked to the Rolling Stones, David Byrne, Ray Charles, Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, Diana Ross, or Sting, you know their songs – “Gimme Shelter” and “Young Americans” are two – infect the soul as much from the backup chorus as the lead singers. “Twenty” is the story of those background voices. For me, the faces and names of Darlene Love, Judith Hill, and Merry Clayton have glimmers of faint recognition. But their voices -– “Rape! Murder! It’s just a shout away!” from “Shelter” -- vibe in me forever. These women never reached fame or riches, one even takes to cleaning houses. Their careers were sidelined by sabotage or bad luck, or by choice. Each woman recalls memories, and they and eat together, and their talents are praised by the likes of smitten men Mick Jagger and Gordon Sumner, and director Morgan Neville shows these ladies in a divine light. Too much so. The hedonism of rock n’ roll is vaguely referenced, but never explored. These women stood close to stardom, but also madness. Oddly, those stories are left off stage. A-

Rock of Ages (2012)

Worst fuckin’ episode of “Glee” I ever watched. And it lacks anyone half as cool as Chris Colfer. Blockbuster wannabe “Rock of Ages” tosses Tom Cruise, Alec Baldwin, Russell Brand, Bryan Cranston, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Paul Giamatti, plus two shiny youths -- Julianne Hough and Diego Boneta –- in an insipid mix-tape, mashed-up, lip-sync heavy rock story (sound familiar?) about fame and love that leans slightly more dangerous than “Bye Bye Birdie.” If “Birdie” were set in 1987. That’s the year “Ages,” based on a Broadway hit likely snipped of its balls on its way to the screen, takes place, when Poison, Def Leppard, and Jon Bon Jovi ruled MTV, radio, and record stores. Tone deaf from frame one with a sing-along Night Ranger bus ride, “Ages” sock hops between celebrating rock n’ roll big hair hedonism and giving a mocking F.U. finger to anyone who longs for vinyl records. Not that it matters. Our rock stars here drink, but never get drunk. Flirt and strip, but never screw. Drugs? No. Never. This is Wal-Mart rock, scrubbed clean for the kids who once listened to Quiet Riot, but now vote Romney, and party in PG-13 style. D+

Fame (1980 and 2009)

“I’m gonna live for ever. I’m gonna learn how to fly.” Those words are the soul and theme of 1980’s “Fame.” It is the almost-prayer that students at the N.Y. School of the Performing Arts send up as they dance impromptu atop cars and trucks in the busy streets. The reality, though, is harsh: Failure is more likely, or a desperate late-night abortion, or a self-imposed exile worthy of Michael Corleone. The young actors, especially Gene Anthony Ray as a homeless dancer, are amazing. The remake serves up synthetic fluff so square it wouldn’t disturb a single moral at a Family on the Focus meeting. In 2009, there are no open gays at a drama/arts school. Seriously. The young actors are OK, hired more for their magazine cover appeal rather than gritty talent. The teachers (Megan Mullally especially) rule the roost. Both films suffer from a rushed auditions-to-graduation timeline and a myriad of plots that get lost in the kitchen sink pace. 1980: B+ 2009: C-