The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (2014)

Everything wrong that Sony is doing with Spider-Man screams loud in the end credits of “The Amazing Spider-Man 2” with the now-standard stinger tease all of us have become accustomed to in superhero flicks. This is different. We get not a peek at a new or undead villain, but (sigh) a long, random, unexplained “X-Men: Days of Future Past” clip. 

The scene hits the viewer, hit this viewer, like an error by the projectionist. A blip from the movie playing down the hall. 

There’s no connection to Spider-Man. It’s an ad. Chicken feed to answer a studio contract. A disconnected film. Money.

And, that, folks is what this whole sequel smells of, contract obligations and a studio desperate to launch sequels, spin-offs, toys, and soda pop tie-ins at Subway. 

This fast-tracked sequel to an unneeded 2012 remake of the 2002 “origin” film shows not story-telling prowess or a love of the Marvel comics stories that thrilled my childhood, but movies as sausage. Ground, not links.

Director Mark Webb and his writers give us the great Paul Giamatti as a rampaging psycho thief during an opening truck/car chase through Manhattan then drops the actor until a third-wheel finale with a tacky CGI head of the man in a robotic version of the well-known comic book character Rhino, one that oddly hints of a lost Transformer. 

What studio makes those films? Why the Rhino here and now? Action figures at Target? 

In between it all, Giamatti’s two scenes, we do get Andrew Garfield as Spider-Man, battling both Electro (Jamie Foxx, doing a loser nerd bit until he goes all angry nerd as a guy with electric-controlling powers) and a new Green Goblin in the form of Peter Parker childhood pal Harry Osbourne (Dane DeHaan, stealing the film with intensity that unsettles). Don’t forget hints of other comic book staples Black Cat, Doctor Octopus, and the Vulture. Oh, Venom, too, I think. Blink, miss, you get the idea. Keep a chart.

Even for a comic book geek and likely target of all this name dropping and play, the film lurches and crawls, stuffed with excess, and I have not even yet mentioned all the back story hoopla of Peter’s sad dead parents … which, in the sloppy end, does not mean much. 

(If you're not a comic book geek and lost in this review, sorry, I can't explain a Green Goblin to the unknown.)

I deeply enjoy the main cast here –- Garfield is fantastic, and Emma Stone as girlfriend Gwen Stacy plays smart before sexy –- far better than the first trilogy of Spider-Man films, but Giamatti is sadly wasted. Foxx works hard to make a character bite that has no teeth, or form. Chris Cooper has two scenes as Norman Osbourne –- father of Harry, and a Green Goblin in the books -– but they also smack of a wasted talent, a headline-grabbing name grabbed and tossed in. Why him in that part? 

Plot? Peter has graduated high school and over a long summer finds himself mixed up again in Oscorp, the evil corporation that figured in film one, and once employed his dead father. He’s also fumbling at a relationship with Stacy, whose cop pop previously made Peter (as Spider-Man) promise to keep away from, before succumbing to fatal injuries. Pete cannot keep that promise, though. He loves Gwen too much, and she him. 

Comic book fans know what happens as closely as Christians know how it turned out for Jesus. But when the moment comes, it’s a mixture of awe –- that’s happening in a big summer film, gutsy –- and exhaustion as we have seen two super villains crash in, and there’s that third and fourth and who knows else coming down. Mourn? Sorry. No time.

I will give Webb and company credit for the changes they made to Electro: The comic book outfit of the yellow face mask would never work on screen. So, they retooled the character from scratch. Nice move. Even if Electro is one of the shrug characters in the books. Where art thou, Kraven? OK, thank the gods they did not actually toss in Kraven. 

Less can be more, films can breathe. This “Spider-Man” ends gasping for air, and with a headache. Is it the disaster of “Spider-Man 3” (2007)? No. But only by a web’s width. 

Garfield is by far miles better than Toby Maguire, who hit a weepy whiny ditch and never got his ass out. He deserves a better movie to play in. I hope he gets it, soon. C+

Turbo (2013)

“Turbo” must have started from a resentful marketing meeting at Dreamworks, one where all the writers, animators, and ad guys took a resentful look at Pixar’s much-celebrated filmography and figured, “Let’s mash some shit up.” So “Turbo” is a “A Bug’s Life” crossed with “Cars,” the tale of a lonely garden snail (Ryan Reynolds, in voice, not a costume, silly) who dreams the life of a race car driver before an accident – he’s doused with nitrogen oxide from a hot rod -- makes him as fast as a lightning bolt. And it’s off to the races for him, his Debbie Downer brother (Paul Giamatti) on his tail, literal and figurative. Along the way, our snail boys meet up with two Hispanic taco vendor brothers (Michael Pena and Luis Guzman) who share a mirrored relationship, one dreaming big, the other always ready to down every hope. Let it be clear: I love that a major animated film stars American immigrant characters, but, really, taco vendors? Taco vendors?!? OK. Breathe. My nephew loved it. Does my Debbie Downer take matter? Well, yeah. The animation and voice talent (Giamatti!!) hit big, but this tale is as predictable as left turn, left turn… B

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+

The Hangover Part II (2011)

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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

Win-Win (2011)

Paul Giamatti once again proves he is the perfect Regular Guy in “Win-Win,” a comedy-drama about an elderly-care attorney who tries to pocket a few thousand dollars by pretending to play guardian to one of his clients (Burt Young, always “Paulie” to me). See, Mike Flaherty is barely sliding by financially. When the old man’s previously unknown teenage grandson (Alex Shaffer) shows up unannounced, things get complicated. Amy Ryan is Mike’s wife, and Bobby Cannavale plays the best pal, a guy so far in the closet, he’s hiding under the Christmas decorations. Director/co-writer Thomas McCarthy made two good films with “Station Agent” and “The Visitor,” but here he scores a home run. The drama is set on low, the comedy is pure human folly. When the old man’s estranged drug-addicted daughter (Melanie Lynskey) appears, we learn she is just as scarred as anyone else. Many laughs come from Mike’s stint as a wrestling coach, a sport the boy is quite apt at. Giamatti again creates a man who you want to see succeed but love watching fail, thinking, “That could be me.” A-

Cold Souls (2009)

Paul Giamatti is known to us as an eccentric worry wart, an unkempt guy who can’t stay happy. Or so that’s the impression. He has a long list of misfits and oddballs on screen, for sure. The comedy-drama “Could Souls” plays on this apparent perception. Giamatti plays “himself,” as he struggles through a production of famous downer “Uncle Vanya.” Through a “New Yorker” article, Giamatti learns of a soul storage business. Naturally, he figures no soul equals more freedom to act. Despite misgivings, he gets de-souled, save 5 percent. In pure irony, his soul ends up smuggled to St. Petersburg, Russia. This is a quirky little movie in line with “Being John Malkovich.” Like any good Russian story, “Cold” spills much suffering. But writer/director Sophie Barthes has enough tricks up her sleeve to make the oddities go down smoothly. The best of the sharp jokes: Giamatti acting indignant when told his soul is less valuable than Al Pacino’s. Giamatti must be the coolest guy on the planet. For real. B+

Barney’s Version (2010)

Everyone knows a lovely and amazing woman who’s married to a schlub of a husband. We stare and say, “What does she see in him?” Paul Giamatti is the actor who can play these guys and make you realize, “Now I see … kind of.” Giamatti’s Barney is a selfish, alcoholic, vulgar, hockey nut who runs a white-trash Canadian TV studio. Among the women attracted to Barney’s “ambiance” is a radio host named Miriam (Rosamund Pike, so damn good). He falls in love with this dame at his own wedding. See, a schmuck. That’s the main plot of this comedy-drama that spans 30 years: Barney woos Miriam but also is accused of murder when his best pal (Scott Speedman) goes missing. This is a well-written and funny, heartfelt story about a man who destroys his own live in spectacular fashion, an entertaining jolly when Ben Stiller is not involved. Giamatti poses godlike powers. He makes Barney not just human but endearing. A bit long, and containing a major death that is foolishly sitcom-like, but this is a tale well worth seeing. If you actually believe Barney’s version. B+

‘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+

American Splendor (2003)

If Tom Waits was a nerd who never got around to playing music and opted to write comic books instead, he would have been America’s much-needed Harvey Pekar before Harvey Pekar ever filled the vacant position. Thank God that Waits is God and became a musician, correction, the musician, and Harvey – who died last week at 70 as I write this – turned his life into a comic book.

See, Pekar turned an art form dedicated to super heroes and monsters on its ass, and then stuck his thumb up it. His basic rule: Saving the world? Fuck it. Hell, living in it is difficult enough. He had artists such as R. Crumb to fill in the art work. This brilliant fourth-wall cracking 2003 adaptation celebrates this genius-oddball-file clerk by breaking down the rules of film, it’s at once a straight-forward biopic with Paul Giamatti as Pekar and Hope Davis as his third wife, Joyce, and a documentary featuring interviews of the real people on stages, and an interactive comic book come to life. There’s even a scene where the Giamatti and Davis as Mr. and Mrs. Pekar watch a play with actors (Donal Logue and Molly Shannon) playing a scene we just witnessed. No film has ever been made like this, them or since.

By celebrating Pekar, directors and writers Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini celebrate the best intention of this whacked, sinful, exuberant land we call America: That anyone can rise above the muck. Even briefly. You just have to have the will. And the luck. Or the bad bad luck that others find inspiring, in a twisted way. American Splendor, indeed. Oh, best first date ever committed to film. Hands down. Giamatti is a genius here, getting Harvey's mannerisms down cold. My favorite film of 2003. Giamatti should have capped an Oscar. The film, too. A

The Last Station (2009)

Leo Tolstoy wrote “War and Peace” and “Anna Karenina.” But I never read his books. Boo-hiss on me. So I’m flying blind on “The Last Station,” a fine drama about the famed Russian writer’s last days, marked by a wild/loving marriage and scores of disciples. Tolstoy preached Christ-type stuff such as feed and clothe the poor, foregoing wealth and property.(Smoke that, Sarah and Glenn.) Facing death, he wanted to give all he had away, yet knew that doing so could ruin his wife. Yet he did it. Christopher Plummer plays Tolstoy and Helen Mirren is his long-suffering, patient Sofya. When these two actors are on screen, there’s nothing else better to watch. They are magic. The Tolstoys are run up the walls by Vladimir Chertkov (Paul Giamatti), an agent/confident who has the soul of George Steinbrenner. James McAvoy also has a big role in this large cast as a young follower. The extra characters are fine, but never truly compelling, and every scene without Plummer and Mirren makes you long for them. The dialogue is amazing. B+

Duplicity (2009)

In “Duplicity,” Clive Owen and Julia Roberts play operatives for, respectively, MI-6 and the CIA, who meet not-so-cute in the film’s opening, have sex, and years later end up involved on opposite sides of a multi-million dollar game of cat-and-mouse between two giant health care products companies. Or, so it all seems. Tony Gilroy’s film is a game a spry one-lines and one-uppers, quite the opposite from the burning-down-the-house drama “Michael Clayton” he made several years ago. The game here is on the varying characters and the audience. There’s a fractured time structure to this cute/funny film that’s not nearly as cute/funny as Gilroy thinks it is, and one never forgets that we’re watching actors play variations of countless past parts. The real fun must have been had off camera. Rome actually looks better here than it did in true life. B-

Fred Claus (2007)

"Fred Claus" has an original concept for a Christmas movie, a rare commodity indeed. In this comedy, ol' Saint Nick (Paul Giamatti) has an older ne'er do well brother, Fred (Vince Vaughn), who feels, let's say, slighted, by his brother's good work.

Whilst Nick rules the North Pole, Fred is barely scraping by in Chicago as he struggles to keep his girlfriend (Rachel Weisz) and raise enough cash to open a gambling joint in Chicago's finance district. Santa, meanwhile, has problems of his own as he tries to please a fascist efficiency expert (Kevin Spacey) from a never-explained holiday supervising committee. When a freshly jailed Fred comes to the North Pole, Nick's world is in trouble.

It's a funny film, and a sly take on Santa Claus being saddled with the same familial problems that almost everyone has. A climatic blow-up fight between Nick and Fred is particularly amusing, as is a Siblings Anonymous meeting with Frank Stallone, Steven Baldwin and Roger Clinton. But, as different as this Christmas movie is in its own genre, it's still just another viewing of Vaughn's endless take on the overgrown frat boy with a scam in his head but a sack of gold in his heart from director David Dobkin ("Wedding Crashers"). Fred is a bore to watch quite frankly.

There still are plenty of treats in this stocking, though. Giamatti is a magical actor even behind a fat suit and a ton of makeup. Spacey provides a ruler-straight spoof on his boss from "Swimming with Sharks" and Lex Luther from "Superman Returns." (Superman figures in several scenes throughout.) But the hypnotic Weisz is the shining star here as she elevates a ho-hum role to steal the film, and reminds us why the recent "Mummy" film proved disastrous with her absence. B-