The Da Vinci Code (2006)

Here’s my deal with “The Da Vinci Code,” the box-office smash based on the Dan Brown best-seller. Legions of Christians gnawed their fists off because book and film dared shove an Easter Egg history shocker that Jesus Christ was married to Mary Magdalene inside a ridiculous 10-cent thriller about a professor of (snooze) symbology. But why? Both open thusly: At the Louvre, an albino monk  assassin (!) point-blank shoots an old man in the stomach, but grandpa rises and walks about, no blood, moving artwork and leaving arcane blue-light clues for the professor hero, and THEN strips naked, and sprawls out Da Vinci Vitruvian Man style, and dies without moving a twitch. If you can get past any of that to get pissy over Jesus’ sex life, than you need prayer. And brains. And I just touched on the plot holes. Some say “Code” attacks faith. Bull. It attacks thought. The Bible, with all its wonder, is more logical. Ron Howard directs on autopilot, Tom Hanks is adequate as the hero, and Audrey Tautou (“Amelie”) tries out English as the heroine. The sole highlight: Hans Zimmer’s fantastic score. It works miracles. D+

My Week with Marilyn (2011)

Playing Marilyn Monroe is no small feat. She’s the definitive Hollywood icon of sex and tragedy, 40-plus years after her death. Yet, Michelle Williams nails the part with astounding skill, and not just of Marilyn Monroe, but the way Marilyn played “Marilyn” for cameras, for hangers-on, and adoring, endless fans. A role that seemingly even confused herself, according to the screenplay. The lyric “I’m not broken but you can see the cracks,” from U2, comes to mind. In 1957, Monroe arrived in England to make a film with Sir Laurence Olivier (Kenneth Branagh, eerily good), and the screen goddess created an instant clash with her wayward, unreliable off-screen ways. The “My” in the tile is Colin Clark, a young assistant director who befriends, and so much more, the star. A guy named Eddie Redmayne plays him. True story? Don’t know. If the real Colin lied in his books, he didn’t fib big, because he and Marilyn don’t go there. This is Williams’ film. It’s dull whenever she’s not onscreen. It’s a drama and a morality tale, so, yes, drugs are bad. Williams is a pure goddess on screen. Bravo, miss. B+

Anonymous (2011)

“Anonymous” plays on the theory that Shakespeare wrote no play, poem, sonnet, or even a letter to mom. Here, he is portrayed as an alcoholic half-literate naïf actor. The real author of “Romeo and Juliet,” et al – according to this Roland Emmerich-directed flick -- was Edward de Verve, a Brit royal who dare not put his name to literature, then marked as heretical by the Protestant Church. The film is densely plotted as we start in present day, jump to the 1500s, following Edward’s shuffled deck tragic life, and back again. The edit jumps and myriad of characters are too numerous, and the script shreds many facts to oblivion, especially concerning Christopher Marlowe, and Edward’s alleged anonymity, which actually isn’t true. Another grind: The film smacks of elitism, arguing that middle-class Shakespeare could never have the talent of a rich royal. Really? But it’s a juicy, well-staged conspiracy drama that scores when showing how then-audiences cheered, booed, and stormed the stage in rage at the plays we know well, and its portrayal of the Church as a power-mad entity unsurpassed in corruption. Rhys Ivans plays Edward with a striking sadness, a man eternally haunted by hunchbacked men of God. B-