Saving Mr. Banks (2013)

The story of Walt Disney’s struggle to make the 1964 classic “Mary Poppins” has often been told during the past 50 years. Author P.L. Travers fought Disney on every word during production and loathed the movie (the latter is outright squashed). This cleaned-up squabble is the basis for “Saving Mr. Banks” which shows how Travers (real name Helen Goff, played by Emma Thompson) was won over by Disney’s (Tom Hanks) charm, and explores why the children’s book author was so harsh -- mainly her haunting Outback youth. This is a Disney film, though, and from the opening logos, it works to make the audience smile and cry, damn the facts. It succeed, mostly. But “Banks” is grossly off point. Walt himself woos Travers with his own uneasy childhood tale, but it’s for naught. Yes, Walt had it hard, many do, but Travers’ parents were non-functioning adults riddled by alcoholism and mental illness that reached the act of suicide. (Worst offense: Mistaking dad’s drunken fatherly doting and kindness for actual doting and kindness.) No talk from a nice old guy or spoonful of sugar can remedy that. Still, the happy tunes and sunny spirit are difficult to resist. Disney magic, that. B-

Captain Phillips (2013)

Great directors re-tell history through image. Paul Greengrass puts viewers inside history, as if the drama is happening in real time. His 9/11 tragedy “United 93” buckled me. “Captain Phillips” reaches higher -- despite clunky family babble talk at the opening -- at every moment and then after the action ends, our director lets the stench of violence smother as our hero (Tom Hanks) openly sobs in shell shock. You know the story: In 2009, four Somali bandit pirates took command of a U.S. cargo ship off the horn of Africa, and when their shit hijack plan went south, they jumped in a lifeboat with New Englander and freighter captain Richard Phillips (Hanks). Assured as death, the men invite the full force of the U.S Navy. Don’t fuck with America. Greengrass shows the pirates as desperate men out for mere money, clueless to the animal they unleashed, and Americans as trapped in first-world glory. Intense and highly claustrophobic, Greengrass captures the terrible, unknowable toll of crime -– terrorism, whatever you call it -– on body and soul. As the pirate leader, American immigrant and film newcomer Barkhad Abdi equals Hanks’ astonishing performance. His character may be outgunned. Not the actor. A

Jason and the Argonauts (1963)

“The greatest film ever made.” Says Tom Hanks of “Jason and the Argonauts.” Damn it, he might not be right, but he’s not far off. How can you argue? This is absolute movie magic beauty: Giddy childish wonder watching wide-eyed as a group of men take on the gods and battle skeletal beings risen from the ground, all for honor. The director is Don Chaffey, but this is Ray Harryhausen’s gem: The special effects guru dreamed up those skeletons and the myriad giants and monsters and living ships that make up this classic. Screw CGI, this is the stuff of a boy (and girl’s) deepest imagination. The plot veers way off the Greek religious record as Jason (Todd Armstrong), lost son of a dead king, captures the Golden Fleece to –- unknown to him -– reclaim his rightful throne in an adventure that should spawn 100 sequels. Along the way, Jason finds a ship, Argo, brave warriors, and adventure and love, and monsters, and I will stop. Ditch Jason. The hero is Harryhausen. Dig those skeletons battling men to the death. This is what it meant to be young in 1963! A

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+

Cloud Atlas (2012)

“Cloud Atlas” is 2012’s Must See’s Big Screen Glory. That few people will ever see. I say this not for the greatness or splendor of this wunderkind time-hoping epic of faith, art, love, souls, and reincarnation, but because “Atlas” is also a train wreck of all those things, careening out of control like nothing before it. That in itself is glorious.

Written and directed by the Wachowskis -– Andy and Lana (formerly Larry), who gave us “The Matrix” and also its diminishing sequels –- and Tom Tykwer (“Run Lola Run”), “Cloud” is an endlessly fascinating and just as perplexing tale of time. My gut reaction falters and dodges, swooning from absolute devotion to flippant disregard. Joyous, no? Is this not what the best of art does? This is a film to watch again and again, ranking among “Gangs of New York” and “A.I. Artificial Intelligence,” flawed modern masterpieces.

Based on the celebrated 2004 novel by David Mitchell –- which I have yet to read -– “Cloud” follows six interconnected stories across roughly 500 years: A privileged and gravely ill lawyer on a Pacific Ocean voyage in 1849 who is awakened to the horrors of slavery, a pre-war 1930s London as a young and deeply troubled gay composer lands a dream-job-turned-nightmare under a retired and senile musical maestro, then onto 1970s San Francisco as an African-American reporter investigates dirty dealings at a nuclear plant.

Deep breath. We’re only halfway through.

In modern England, 2012, a nerdy book editor runs afoul of a gangster and his own twisted, vengeful brother. In 2144, Seoul, South Korea, a very “Blade Runner”-like replicant-type waitress makes a break for freedom and realizes her human masters are most inhumane, with our final story in the 24^th century where much of the world rests obliterated under the oceans, and the last few humans live as primitives, except those who escaped Earth for distant worlds. This last story spans decades out, book-ending the film as a narration.

In the book, the stories follow chronologically, unbroken. In the film, they have been broken and scattered about, chunks and tidbits each flowing into the next and back. The movement is seamless, never off-putting, as smart and careful edits allow us to flow from the rush of a man or a horse, into the rush of a car or train. A birthmark is marks a reincarnated soul coming back tine and again to get it right. The lover of the ’30s composer turns up as an elderly and doomed man in the ’70s nuclear plant investigation. 

If anything, “Atlas” isn’t about reincarnated souls trying to get their own souls right in a lifetime, but get society as  whole right. The efforts, of course, as they must, lead to murder, accidents, and suicide. It also, of course, is how all people are connected, each influencing and setting a path for another. Trite? Maybe. But we need this film now, I do. There is no Tardis, btw.

Here, also, is where Wachowskis and Tykwer truly shine as they show how art influences our lives, not just misery and failed salvation, and allows us to live on for infinity via our creative mind. The lawyer’s life journal is published in a book to be read by the gay youth whose music the reporter obsesses with whose own novels will one day flow into another story. The film “Soylent Green” briefly appears in the background of one chapter, and comes up horrifically ugly later. In the Korean scene, a movie adaptation of the book editor’s life plays and power drives the plot forward. The film thread is a fabric with a sense that the world of 2350 overlaps into 1850. (Note: Nearly all of the main players are creative artists, not, say, a sad plumber whose name will be lay forgotten.)

Also connecting these stories is the cast, a hefty lift itself: Tom Hanks, Halle Berry, Ben Whishaw, Keith David, Jim Broadbent, Hugh Grant, Jim Sturgess, Doona Bae, Susan Sarandon, James D’Arcy, and Hugo Weaving. Almost all of the actors appear in every chapter, a stunt ingenious and yet a sharp double-edged sword as it turns too comedic, and one of the reason why the film derails and crashes, only to rise again.

Hanks plays a doctor in 1850, a hotelier in 1930s England, a nuclear engineer in the 1970s story, the gangster with a vendetta against the book editor in the 2012 chapter, an actor on TV playing the book editor (previously played by Broadbent) in the Korean segment, and a simple farmer in the last chapter. Throughout Hanks wears heavy makeup, as do all the actors in every nearly scene, and as with the makeup, which ranges from deft and extraordinary to purely off-putting and uncomfortably laughable, the acting soars and dives. This is a movie of many parts, all moving at different speeds in different orbits.

As the scientist, Hanks is soulful and romantic, heroic and stalwart, and he’s grand. As the gangster, he crashes bad with the worst comedic “SNL” guest skit he’s never done, seemingly parodying Bob Hoskins’ bloody killer in “Long Good Friday.” How far the crash? When Hanks as the mobster kills a man, the audience laughed. I groaned. That’s not the reaction I imagine the directing team was going for. If it was, they clearly misaimed.

The makeup and alternating actors ensemble also interrupts the film’s flow as I could not help but play I Spy while watching the drama unfold. Oh, look Weaving as an assassin, then a (I kid you not) leprechaun, as a slave-owner dandy, as a bulbous female nurse straight out of “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” and -– here’s where the makeup borderlines on but never crosses the line of offensive –- a Korean autocrat. Weaving looks ridiculous, like a melted candle, in Asian-like latex, and it distracts. The viewer, me, is no longer watching characters in a startling, long, multi-layered epic, but a series of coming and going actors playing for Oscar or ham.

Berry is at her best donning a slight wig as the journo out for a scoop, but terribly awkward -– she looks pained and terribly self-aware –- as a WASP Brit in the 1930s segment. Hanks playing an old version of the farmer, looks like the makeup truck came by and shat on his face. Sometimes, more so than not, less is more. It is true here.

Berry and Hanks, in that latter segment, also speak a gibberish English that takes time to dip into. It’s alternately inspiring -– of course language would evolve or devolve dependent on the winds of culture, but it also has the slight whiff that they are doing a dead serious impersonation of Jar Jar Binks in the film that shall not be named. You know the one. Indeed, writing this, I realize how much of the acting is mere mimicry. And, yet, I wonder if that’s part of the tale, life imitating art and art imitating life. Art as life eternal. As circular as the movie’s story.

But that does not take away from the absolute passion on screen here. Every scene, every segment and sidestep, and inside joke (the music score we hear as part of the soundtrack is vital inside the story of the film, and yet is declared lost and unimportant by some characters) needs to be here. It’s fully apparent: Tykwer -– who composed the unforgettable music, FYI — and the Wachowskis had to make this movie, or they would burst. 

It’s as exhilarating and breathlessly paced in sections as “Matrix” and “Lola,” and bloody as a grim historical film a la “The Mission” with mass slaughter in the future, where Grant -– in his best turn in years -– plays a wordless tribal chief who has gone full-on cannibal. The scenes in Korea –- directed by the Wachowskis -– may be my favorite as they pulse and vibe like a rocket ship, filled with spectacular effects and action, and a romance that recalls “Star Wars” and “Blade Runner,” mixed with a Terry Gilliam hallucination of futuristic life. The book editor comedy with Hanks as Hoskins, not so much. Car mishaps anyone?

Financed out of Germany with little Hollywood involvement, “Atlas” also recalls the gone-glory days of Tinsel-Town spectacles with larger-than-life drama and action (“Ben Hur” and “Lawrence of Arabia,”) and massive power-cast epics (“The Longest Day”) before every big film became about superheroes and boy wizards. These directors are hitting for the stands, they are not fooling around or scraping by bored with a summer spectacle.

Along with “Lifeof Pi” -– another big screen wonder of immense beauty that falls short in the end -– “Atlas” also touches on the existence of God Himself. Nowadays, a rare occasion itself. Not mockingly or with dead-eyed Pat Robertson cult adoration, but mystery, who is He? What does He want?

And that may be the great question of the film: What did I just watch? It’s a mystery I hope to unravel with future viewings, the secret thrill: I may hate or love this film next depndent on how I feel that day. The very prurpose of art, no? Temporary grade: B

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (2011)

“Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” is a feel-good 9/11 movie. It opens with a body falling pretty-like from the World Trade Center, and ends with a similar motif, intercut with a boy on a swing. It’s made with Oscar in mind with Stephen Daldry (“The Reader”) behind the camera, and Tom Hanks, Sandra Bullock and Viola Davis on screen. The boy is Oskar Schell, a boy with Asperger’s Syndrome (he claims the tests were inconclusive) grieving the death of his beloved father (Hanks). One day Oskar finds a key in his father’s closet and sees it as a last gift from dad, who used scavenger hunts to bring the boy out of his shell. Schell. Get it? So the boy hunts, seeking an answer as to why dad died that Worst Day. The story is intriguing, but halfway I near bolted. Oskar clearly is in desperate need of psychological care – he fears everything and self-tortures his own body -- but the movie treats his illness as a quirky plot device, worsened by clueless, impossible-to-exist adults. As Oskar, newcomer Thomas Horn shines with majestic soul, but that doesn’t make anything here OK. A feel-good 9/11 movie is not quirky, it’s insulting. The grade is for the boy. C-

Toy Story 3 (2010)

*SPOILERS ABOUND* You will mourn every lost or thrown out toy in your life after seeing “Toy Story 3,” the final chapter in the wildly popular, vastly successful Pixar franchise. I did. And I still am, days after seeing what has to be the best “third chapter” film ever made. (Even “The Godfather” series could not pull off that trick.) This gem packs an emotional wallop like nothing ever made by Disney. It is about nothing more than the need to be wanted and remembered, a child crossing into adulthood, and the notion that throwing your cherished toys out is akin to sending them to hell. And there’s a literal inferno at the film’s end. All in a "G" movie.

The story of this “Story”: Young Andy is now 17 and looking toward college, leaving home and packing away all his childish belongings to the attic, donation, or … the trash. Andy hasn’t touched his toys – stashed in a trunk -- in years. Many, including Bo Beep, have been, for lack of a better term, killed: Thrown out. Woody, Buzz, Jessie and the rest, fear the same fate. Ten minutes in, this animated CGI film is aiming for the adults in the audience, even as children laugh at the jokes and thrill to the action. It got me.

But I digress. The plot thickens: Woody, Buzz and pals end up at a daycare. There, countless children will play with them and cherish them, and the toy world is run by a soft pink bear that smells of strawberry. Heaven? Not so. The children are wild beasts who torture their toys, and Lotso Hugs Bear is a dictator, a vengeful, angry Tennessee Williams character stitched onto the cold-as-ice warden of “Cool Hand Luke,” dangerously sweet Southern accent and all.

Woody, of course, wants to go back to Andy. But is that the best course of action? After a daring escape from Sunnyside that tips its hat to “The Great Escape,” the toys find themselves at a garbage dump, inches away from a blast furnace. Hell. And, by God, I knew all was going to be OK in this film, but as Woody, Buzz, Jessie, etc., all face death, and hold hands as they sink toward flames … wow. I got verklempt. I haven’t done that in a film since “E.T.” in 1982.

The animation is perfect, crystal clear and yet subdued. At every chance, a lesser animated film would go for the brightest effect, but Pixar pitches this “Toy Story” perfectly. Tom Hanks and Tim Allen are, of course, perfect. And the new cast members bat with equal gifts: Michael Keaton as Ken, Ned Beatty as that dastardly pink bear, and Timothy Dalton as a toy named Mr. Pricklepants. The music is priceless.

“Toy Story” 1 and 2 had their own layers of story and themes: jealousy, growing up, wanting to be wanted. But this is a whole new ballgame. If having a relative throw your old vertically enhanced Spider-Man action figure (it was not a doll) into the trash is sending it to hell, then giving it to another child to play with is heaven. And what better heaven is there than a child’s imagination? My childhood mashed the worlds of Star Wars, G.I. Joe, The Black Hole and the Six Million Man in perfect, epic battles, and it made sense to me. To think most of those toys are in a trash dump somewhere is heartbreaking. My 8-year-old self would be furious with the adult who didn’t care enough to save much of anything. (My favorite toys: A set of Coca-Cola trucks, and anything “Star Wars” or G.I. Joe.)

The final scene is perfect. Andy has his toys back and, unwittingly pushed by Woody, hands over his treasures to a young girl who lives nearby. As Andy drives off, I thought of the finale of “E.T.”, where the wrinkled alien left Elliot behind, to go off to his own world. Here, it’s the boy that leaves for a new world, knowing that the joy of a small girl outweighs his need to hold onto the physical past. He always will remember his toys. As Woody and Buzz and all stay behind, they grow up as well. Andy is not God. They are not here on Earth solely for him. If anything is “God” to a toy, it’s the limitless imagination of a child’s mind. Any child’s. The themes are akin, even without a glowing finger pointed at a boy’s chest: “I’ll be right here.” It’s unspoken. But, wow. Our toys will be always with us. And, in some weird way, us with them. Pixar is a masterful film studio, and a master story teller. A

Toy Story 2 (1999)

“Toy Story 2” may not quite top its predecessor. But it’s pure Pixar joy. Here, after toy owner Andy leaves for summer camp, well-loved Woody (voiced by Tom Hanks) finds himself accidentally included in a (horror!) yard sale. Before one can say, “Ride ‘em cowboy!,” this plastic poke is swiped by a fat bastard bent on selling Woody to a museum in Japan. Buzz (Tim Allen) and the gang go to the rescue, with hilarious results. That’s it, basically, for plot. But there’s so much heart to this sequel: The film rests on the fact that children will reject their toys as the former grow up, with no need for the latter. But the toys remain committed nonetheless, knowing time is not on their side. Take it as you will: Rejection of parents by newly independent children, or just a fun, brilliant animated story. Bonus points to the creators for allowing Woody to become a jerk, and a full-rounded character, midway through. Best scene: The old man from the short film “Geri’s Game,” gives Woody a spit and polish. The scene is pure art. A

Polar Express (2004)

"The Polar Express" is the traditional Christmas-season kick-off movie in our house. My wife loves its joy, innocence and animation. Me, I'm a Scrooge. See, it's the damn eyes. I can't get past the lifeless, dead-as-a-marble stare of every CGI character in this Robert Zemeckis-directed tale of a boy who travels to the North Pole. I'm not a total hater. The story is fantastic for children, especially with the brilliant Tom Hanks providing most of the voices, and the music by Alan Silvestri is pure joy. I love whole chunks of the animation, including the train's journey up and down mountains, across frozen bodies of water and through a wonderfully designed elf village that looks like a New England factory town. But watching CGI department store mannequins attempt feeling is not my idea of Christmas magic. Bah humbug. C+

Toy Story (1995)

"Toy Story" was the first feature length film from Pixar, and remains the studio's best film. It's my favorite animated film, save only "Pinocchio."

I was inspired to dig this film out from my DVD collection to enjoy it again after watching the new masterpiece from Pixar (now part of Disney), WALL-E. That 2008 release, like this 1995 release, doesn't rely on humans as the catalyst, but seemingly inanimate objects that are full of life. The story: pull-string cowboy Woody (Tom Hanks) is Andy's favorite toy. The boy's whole imagination revolves around Woody's adventures. All this changes when Andy receives Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) for his birthday. With one swoop of the arm, Woody is tossed to the floor and Buzz gets the prime real estate: Andy's bed.

So seemingly simple, but director John Lasseter and his team dig deep into this story about rejection, growing up and adopting to change. I could wax on about how the toys represent children and Andy's playing is parental love, but that's all apparent. What continues to dazzle about this film is the new world that Pixar created, both within the story and from the technical animation standpoint. I never noticed, or maybe I forgot, the subtle way the animators introduce the viewer to the toy world as seen through Woody's eyes -- sliding down a banister, being swung around in a chair, placed aside for pizza. It's a perfect intro before Woody first stands up and speaks with Hanks' voice.

As far as these toys are concerned Andy's room, with its scuffed up walls and floors and general disorder, is the world, and the rest of the house and outside the window is a mix of outer space and Dante's Inferno. All of this is captured in rich detail: Andy's cloth, the sheen of plastic, wall scuffs, etc. (OK, the humans never looked real, but this is ground-breaking work nonetheless.) The film opens a thousand what if questions, as every kid I know thought their toys came to life, too. It makes you think back to the time a toy seemingly disappeared or moved from a spot between times you came into the room. Did little brother get to it, or did it move on its own? Lasseter also has the guts to put surprising wrinkles into his characters. Woody is petty, controlling, heroic, daring, funny and caring. Buzz is egotistical, heroic, dumb and, yet, the more sympathetic of the two leads. Andy, a sweet boy who loves his toys, is paired against Sid, a young toy torturer who lives next door. There's no reason to believe these two kids ever met, but their two sides of the same coin. And I had both their traits. But even in Andy's innocence and goodness, he does toss Woody aside to play with Buzz, and it's something every child has done. And adult. The way Andy mixes his toys together, Woody versus Mr. Potato Head, and Sid dissects and reassembles his toys, is spot on.

More than any animated movie, this film not only captures a slice of childhood, it captures what it's like to be a child, and how children see the world. How a lost toy is the absolute pinnacle of soul-crushing heartbreak. Likewise, the joy of opening a gift as a child is perfectly captured. And, yet, we know that Andy will one day leave all this behind, just like American children (and adults, too) left cowboy series behind for space dramas during the days of Sputnik. It's this magical, sad and wonderfully joyful foundation that makes "Toy Story" a classic. A+

Road to Perdition (2002)

"Road to Perdition" is as far from a comic book movie as one could get, but it's nonetheless based on a graphic novel by Max Allan Collins and Richard Piers Rayner. With a brilliant cast that includes Tom Hanks, Paul Newman, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Jude Law, Stanley Tucci and a star-making turn by Daniel Craig, it's a great film that could one day gain classic gangster film status.

Hanks plays Mike Sullivan, the enforcer of John Rooney (Newman), a small-city gangster who seems to rule his berg like a wise, old and content Al Capone. But the mad, immoral Connor Rooney (Craig) is grabbing for pop's power, and in the process Sullivan's family, save for his oldest child (Tyler Hoechlin), are murdered. Then the chase is on: Mike and son flee to Chicago for help from Frank Nitti (Tucci). Following is a psychopathic assassin/photographer (Law).

The film just isn't about the mafia, guns and murder, although there's plenty to go around. It's about fathers and sons, and the constant loss communications. The Michaels must bond, and learn to trust one another. And John Rooney, who sees Mike as the son he wished he had, rages and then protects the one he was dealt. This was one of the Newman films I watched after his passing, and it's a great final big screen bow. Newman is brilliant, full of fire and evil as a man who knows he's going to hell for his sins, but must bury himself further in a sulfur pit to keep Connor alive. Newman doesn't have many lines, he lets his body language -- sometimes stiff, sometimes slack, sometimes withered, other times in full violent rage -- do the work. He plays the man as powerful, but broken to the core.

Craig, one of a few actors who can almost match Newman on charisma, is a stunner as the evil adult child. Sam Mendes, coming off "American Beauty," has made a great film. Props to Thomas Newman's top-notch score and the rural, open setting of most of the film. A

Charlie Wilson's War (2007)

"Charlie Wilson's War" is one of those rare must-watch films. To explain its plot might put some folks to sleep. That's a shame since it's one of the finest and smartest political satires of our time. And it's all based on a true story.

Tom Hanks, Julia Roberts, Amy Adams and a scene-stealing Phillip Seymour Hoffman headline the top cats in this Mike Nichols film. Here's the rundown: In late-'70s America, Congressman Charlie Wilson (Hanks) learns of the hopeless fight native Afghans are waging against infringing Soviets. The Muslims use rifles to fight armored tanks and helicopters that slaughter all in their way. Wilson learns from watching "60 Minutes" while sitting in a Las Vegas hotel Jacuzzi with a Playboy bunny, two strippers and a TV producer, all of whom are using coke. True story, folks.
A now determined Wilson soon uses a right-wing, anti-communist millionaire (Roberts) and a CIA operative (Hoffman) to funnel money and weapons to the Afghans in a top-secret op.

This is a brilliant story well worth telling, and screenwriter Aaron Sorkin provides some of the best political dialogue in ages. ("Why is Congress saying one thing and doing nothing?" "Well, tradition mostly.") The film drives home an important lesson as we all know that many of these same Afghans we helped save soon turned to the Taliban, and we know where that led. The film damns America's constant stance of abandoning those who it most needs to help. And it's beautifully acted. A-

Angels and Demons (2008)

Ron Howard’s “Angels and Demons” is a vast improvement over his previous Robert Langdon film “The Da Vinci Code.” It’s also a sharper, better version of the over-stuffed, preposterous Dan Brown book from whence it came. So, all told, it; is just mediocre, not brain-drill dead piss. It dials the BS from 700 on a 10-scale to about ... 475. (If you are dumb enough to believe a single word Brown writes, then lack of faith in God is the least of your problems.) The plot: Harvard symbol guru/professor Langdon (Tom Hanks, just OK) is called to Vatican City to help track down a mad man who has killed a scientist in Switzerland, kidnapped four candidates for pope, and planted a massive anti-matter bomb somewhere in the holy city. All in one day. Busy fucker. Dan Brown never strays far from his blueprint, every thing in “Code” is here. There are more holes in the book/film than gold coins and raped boys in the history of the Catholic Church, but Howard’s use of on-location Rome shots and ingenuous visual effects to recreate the Vatican take us inside a forbidden locale. The is pure all make-believe hokum. Just like church. C+