Overlooked Report #4

Saturday is always the most solid block of films for the Overlooked Film Festival. The other days may hold some of the shiniest gems of the haul, but that Saturday bill is the most consistently impressive. That is why you will find filmmakers such as Andrew Davis, the director of the blockbusters “The Fugitive” and “Under Siege”, in attendance to screen his film “Holes” as the free family matinee; or independent auteurs Werner Herzog and Paul Cox on hand to show a couple of their films, Herzog as both director of “Stroszek” and an actor in Cox’s “Man of Flowers”; and the night will end with a live concert by Jim White, the guide of Andrew Douglas’s wonderful documentary “Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus”. Saturday is the day it all happens at the Overlooked.

Holes. “Holes” is kind of like movie appreciation 101 for the youth market. It is a story of adolescence, about a boy who comes from a family of mishaps. He is mistakenly convicted of stealing a pair of shoes from a famous athlete. He is sent to a juvenile detention camp in the middle of the desert, where unbeknownst to the authorities, the warden has all of the detainees digging holes in search of a buried treasure.

It is an almost typical setup for a young adult film, where kids are misunderstood and are pushed around by authority figures that either don’t deserve or have come to abuse their power. But the complexity of the story and its structure suggests a much more intelligent and engaging vehicle than can typically be found in the matinee features of the multiplex. The storylines of the characters are all interconnected in ways that are revealed slowly throughout the entire length of the picture, much like a Robert Altman film or even a good noir. It is necessary to follow many small details from the beginning of the story through to various points throughout, engaging the mind in a much more participatory way than a typical young adult film.

“Holes” also marked the official cinematic introduction to the rising star Shia LaBeouf, who recently has ruled the box office for multiple weekends in the thriller “Disturbia” and promises to trump that feat this summer as the primary flesh and blood star of the CGI robo-sci-fi mega-blockbuster “Transformers”. Although Labeouf is supported in “Holes” by some major adult talent, including Sigourney Weaver, Jon Voight, Henry Winkler and Tim Blake Nelson, and is directed by action guru Andrew Davis of “The Fugitive” fame; it is obvious that LaBeouf is a star to be.

Labeouf carries the entire movie, from far flung detail to the more obvious clichés of the genre. I imagine the only reason his star took so long to rise from his introduction here in 2003, is that he took his time to finish school before grabbing hold of that inevitable Hollywood career.

Stroszek and Man of Flowers. With this year’s Overlooked entries by German visionary Werner Herzog and Australian auteur Paul Cox, we venture into the realm of films that are often referred to by less versed cineastes as “difficult films.” This is a label that is not entirely an unwarranted disclaimer. Even when I’m enjoying a film by say… David Lynch, I find myself wondering just how he can expect any normal filmgoer to enjoy, let alone understand his work. But enjoyment is not exclusive to understanding and these are films that are not intended for the average movie audience.

While these two films do share some of the difficult traits of the majority of Lynch’s work, they each wind up with a clear understanding of the events they portray by their divine conclusions. But by that point in each film I had already achieved a great appreciation for what these films were exploring and the understanding became merely a bonus feature. There is such beauty in the way Herzog’s and Cox’s characters experience their lives and their surroundings that meaning becomes secondary.

In Cox’s “Man of Flowers” we are introduced to a gentleman, Charles, who is obsessed with flowers to the point where flowers and music are the only things that can arouse him. He pays an artist’s model to strip for him, but he never touches or speaks to her and even finds himself unable to watch her before she’s finished. When he is uncomfortable he goes to the church next door and plays horrific, yet beautiful melodies on the pipe organ.

The model, Lisa, is trapped in a relationship with a financially dependant artist, David, who was once considered great and now suffers through a drug habit. She likes Charles and eventually leaves the artist to pursue a relationship with a girlfriend, all the while remaining close to her flower man. David sees Charles as his opponent for Lisa’s love and when his drug money runs dry decides to fleece the money from the well-to-do Charles. Charles’s solution to the problem of David is inevitable, yet poetic and enlightening after the fact.

Of course this synopsis has just the opposite effect that the film itself has in the way its logic is impenetrable and dismantling until the resolution of the story. And instead of focusing on the “plot”, there is a beauty in watching how these people so desperately search for the meaning of their actions just as the audience does.

In Herzog’s “Stroszek” the meaning is not as elusive, but is still not the entire point of the exercise. Bruno Stroszek is released from a Berlin prison in the opening moments of the film, with no place left to go but his former life. Despite his problems with alcohol, which landed him in jail in the first place, Stroszek seems to be a thoughtful and sensitive man. He befriends a hooker, Eva, whose pimp is abusive to both her and Stroszek.

Eventually, Stroszek decides to make a new life in America, bringing Eva and his neighbor, who has relatives in Wisconsin, with him. The neighbor’s relatives set Stroszek up with a job and a plot of land in Wisconsin where he can put a mobile home and begin his new life. The “Land of Opportunity” does not prove as bountiful as its reputation however, and soon Stroszek sees his woman leave him for a life of selling her body once again, his mobile home auctioned off by the bank to the highest bidder, he cannot communicate with anyone since he hasn’t learned the language, and he can’t even seem to land himself into the familiar environment of prison.

Once again this synopsis makes the film sound a little more clear-cut than it actually is. But instead of Cox’s in depth dissection of his character’s motivations, Herzog is interested in painting a portrait of these character’s experiences through images. There is Stroszek in Berlin playing his accordion shows in the tenement court yard, the desolate Wisconsin landscape upon which the mobile home is placed and later removed, the rows and rows of semi-tractor trucks parked outside the truck stop where Eva waits tables, and the Native American themed amusement park with its totem pole chair lift.

Herzog prides himself as being able to capture the unique visuals that reflect life on our planet, and his gift is on full display here. His best image, providing the closing commentary on the entire film, is a dancing chicken that is compelled to keep starting the music to which it has been trained to respond. A policeman adds to his call for backup, “…and we can’t stop the dancing chicken.”

Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus. What a compelling and strange documentary is Andrew Douglas’s “Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus”. It is a dissection of the highly religious backwater communities of the ultra-rural south seen through the eyes of bluegrass musician Jim White, based on his 1997 album “The Mysterious Tale of How I Shouted Wrong-Eyed Jesus”.

White guides the film from the point of view of both outsider and one of the initiated. Having been born in California before moving to the Deep South, White was always an outsider in his community as a child and young adult; but with age and wisdom came an appreciation for what oddball perspectives these backwater communities offered their residents. White expresses a deep love for the people and lives of this depressed country.

That sense of depression is carried through the soundtrack of southern blues songs provided by White and other musical guests, including Johnny Dowd, Lee Sexton, and The Handsome Family. The film goes beyond documentary in it presentation of the music, which entails staged performances on location. There is one performance by The Handsome Family that takes place on a house floating down a river, blending the music intrinsically to the environment which surrounds it and it enhances.

“Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus” is like no other documentary I have ever seen. It is a document in mood and environment, rather than fact. Rarely does a film so wholly capture the true essence of the environment on which it is commenting.

I can’t help myself but provide two clips from this day’s wonderful line-up of films. The first is the Handsome Family performance mentioned above, the second is Herzog’s dancing chicken.

Overlooked Report #3

As the folks in Champaign-Urbana move into the third day of the Overlooked Film Festival, the mix of films and guest gets more eclectic, and I begin to wish even more that I was there to see the likes of Joey Lauren Adams and Scott Wilson, writer/director and actor respectively from the film “Come Early Morning”; film scholar David Bordwell and composers Steven Larsen and Joseph Turrin for the silent film presentation of “Sadie Thompson” with a live score performed by the Champaign-Urbana Symphony; Sony Pictures Classics’ Michael Baker with a pristine print of the Italian classic “La Dolce Vita”; and biographical documentarian Rudi Dolezal with a surprising look at the life of the late Queen frontman Freddie Mercury. At least this was the final day of replacement movies for my own home recreation of the Overlooked.

Miss Sadie Thompson. Alas, I will miss seeing the silent film presentation this year of the 1927 film “Sadie Thompson” starring silent legend Gloria Swanson and with a live score performance by the Champaign-Urbana Symphony. I take a little comfort in the fact that I won’t be missing one of the Alloy Orchestra’s wonderful accompaniment scores, but seeing the silent films at the Overlooked has really helped me develop a great appreciation for that bygone era in film.

I tried to get a copy of the film on DVD to my house for a screening, but a series of mail mishaps prevented it from arriving in time for me to view it before this report. As I despaired from having no film to watch for this Overlooked entry, I discovered “Miss Sadie Thompson”, a 1953 sound remake of the W. Somerset Maugham story starring Rita Hayworth. Maugham’s story told the tale of a prostitute trying to escape her past reputation in the Pacific islands, but she is discovered by a missionary who tries to compel her sense of morality to own up to her past. The missionary, Davidson, has his own moral dilemmas to deal with, however.

“Miss Sadie Thompson” updates the story, making the island the heroine ends up on a military base left to ensure stability in the Pacific in the days following World War II. The soldiers on the island haven’t seen any non-native women since their tours of duty began before the war had ended. Sadie’s presence on the island stirs up the GIs in ways they couldn’t even effectively hint at in this production because of the strict production codes of the time. As a result, the first half of the film acts merely as a vehicle for Hayworth to show off her aging beauty, vibrant personality and singing.

The conclusion of the film actually gets rather interesting as Sadie and Davidson must face their difficult moral choices. Sadie must own up to her past, which could mean surrendering to the authorities just when she has developed her first meaningful relationship with a man. Davidson, on the other hand, must realize that for all his moral platitudes, he has the same carnal desires of any man.

Davidson’s story concludes in a shocking, yet true to character manner. But the filmmakers sidestep Sadie’s fate with a happy ending that not only ignores the growth of Sadie’s character, but isn’t even developed. Her happy ending is merely tacked on in a way that betrays any investment the audience has placed in the film.

Come Early Morning. This is one of those films that makes a film festival like the Overlooked so special. “Come Early Morning” is the writing/directorial debut of Joey Lauren Adams. Some people would know Adams from the roles she has played in independent cult hits, such as Richard Linklater’s “Dazed and Confused” or Kevin Smith’s “Chasing Amy”; she played Amy. I always like Adams as an actress, but I feared for her career because she has such a unique character voice, so leading roles will be limited to independent film and even supporting roles in larger films will start to peter out as she ages. But after seeing what she is capable of as a writer and director, I no longer worry that this major talent will just disappear some day.

The film is also a milestone for actress Ashley Judd, who provides the best performance of her career as a woman who “doesn’t do well with relationships.” As Lucy Fowler, Judd portrays a 30-something who has gotten set in her ways. She’s a valuable worker to the construction company that employs her, but she spends her weekends in a pattern of drinking away her nights at a local dive and providing her family healing during the days. Her love life is a series of one night stands until she meets Cal (Jeffrey Donovan), who helps her believe in herself as a good person worthy of someone else’s love.

There is much more to Lucy’s story, but it is the simple way in which it is told that makes it so special. There is little emphasis on the melodrama inherent in this material by Adams, both as writer and director. And the observations of character and life in the south (the story is set in Arkansas) are accurate to the most minute detail and enlightening as to what drives the human spirit through lives that might be described as unexciting. I was reminded greatly of my all time favorite Overlooked film “Tully” while watching this picture; and it is an example of yet another film to which this event has introduced me that I will treasure all my life.

La Dolce Vita. Believe it or not, I had never seen a film by Italian director Federico Fellini until earlier this month. Perhaps the most universally well-known if the Italian neo-realist directors; Fellini’s impact on film is probably greater than that of his contemporaries because he eventually broke out of the neo-realist movement. He continued to make films of a highly biographical nature, yet became increasingly fantastical. “La Dolce Vita” is the 1960 film that could be sited as the turning point for Fellini from neo-realism into his bio-fantasies.

“La Dolce Vita” looks at a series of anecdotes in the life of a journalist, played by the dashing actor Marcello Mastroianni. Marcello is the embodiment of a playboy, and Fellini structures the entire picture around the free-spirited life of such a character, jumping from one sexual encounter to another throughout most of the picture. There are more serious moments of life that creep into the playboy’s life, such as a visit from his estranged father, and moments of psychosis from his possessive fiancée. But most of his adventure is lighthearted.

What starts out as a series of everyday life type of stories, eventually descends into more bizarre encounters, until finally our hero spends an evening of debauchery with a group of costumed partiers. The next morning, after the party has made its way to the beach, there is a moment where Marcello seems to be offered a chance to return to normalcy as a girl calls for him. He cannot hear her, or chooses not to hear her and rejoins the partiers.

I think it is at this point that Fellini leaves the neo-realists behind. Like his hero, he’d rather join the costumed circus of partiers. The fantasy life has set in, and he likes the taste.

I also enjoyed the taste. Not so much for the strangeness of it, but for the richness of Fellini’s world. It is clear his characters enjoy life, even revel in it. It is “the sweet life” indeed.

Queen: Live at Wembley Stadium. One of the more unusual entries in this year’s festival is a screening of the European television documentary “Freddie Mercury, the Untold Story”. As far as I know this hour-long doc has yet to be aired on U.S. television, therefore I have no idea what secrets it contains. As a replacement screening, I sought out a Queen concert. It seemed the most widely praised of the Queen concerts available on DVD was their famous 1986 concert at Wembley Stadium.

“Live at Wembley Stadium” is nothing outstanding in terms of concert footage, but it is an incredible document of the impressive presence and charisma of Freddie Mercury as a performer. Other than his famous over-bite, he comes across more like a European footballer than the frontman of progressive rock band from the ‘70’s. He commands the audience like a dictator leading his brainwashed followers. Few rockers could allow a stadium-sized audience to sing so many of their lyrics in time and in tune without prompting.

Watching “Live at Wembley”, I was transported to the time of my youth, when the British prog rockers like Queen and Yes were switching from symphonic accompaniment to the more modern power chords of the early ‘80’s, giving their music a new, more sonically powerful life. I remembered sitting in the movie theater during the opening credits of "Flash Gordon", one of the most highly anticipated movies for myself at the time. Today, Queen’s title theme for the film is about the only remnant of that movie that can still be looked at seriously. “Flash” was unfortunately and noticeably absent from the Wembley set list.

While certainly not living up to the quality of films which are the standard of the Overlooked Film Festival, I was glad to see “Live at Wembley Stadium”. It was a reminder of just why the late Freddie Mercury was such an icon and a reminder of a genre of music that once meant a great deal to me. I may just finally drop some money on a copy of “Queen’s Greatest Hits”, just so I can give myself a taste of a true rock classic whenever necessary.

Overlooked Report #2

Roger Ebert has apparently taken a lot of grief for his decision to actually attend his own film festival this year in light of the medical problems he faced over the past year due to a bout with salivary cancer. The biggest issue for his detractors it seems would not be his health, but his appearance. The Chicago Sun-Times ran an article by Ebert defending his decision today, and it is a good way to familiarize yourself with just what Ebert has been through during his writing hiatus and a nice thumb (not in his usual manner) in the face of celebrity paparazzi. Read it here.

The Weather Man. I have to admit that of all the films at the Overlooked this year, Gore Verbinski’s 2005 gift project “The Weather Man” was the one I was least excited about. Although I did enjoy this film about one man’s desire to be more than he is actually willing to be, it didn’t exactly blow me away. It was the one film I did not attempt some form of tribute to in my film screenings over the past month. I did not choose to watch it a second time or replace it with another film.

The performances by Nicolas Cage, as the titular underachieving weather man, and Michael Caine, as his father who is perennially disappointed in everything his son has, or hasn’t, done in his life, are worthy of a viewing in and of themselves. But the rest of this film, where life never seems to live up to what should be promised these characters, is a little too deprived of success to get excited about.

The fact that so little seems to work out for Cage’s character is really the point of the piece; but when things do turn around on the surface at the end of the film, even his apparent success seems undeserved. I almost wanted the character to fail completely at everything by the end of the film, because even in success he never lived up to his potential. But that is life, I suppose.

Moolaade. While “The Weather Man” was the one film I did nothing to celebrate, “Moolaade” was the film that I just couldn’t get a hold of or replace. Written and directed by the father of African cinema Ousmane Sembene, “Moolaade” is a 2004 Cannes Film Festival winner of a special jury prize and the Un Certain Regard Award and has yet to find any sort of distribution in the U.S.

It tells the story of the Senegal tribal tradition of ceremonial circumcision of girls. A woman shelters the village girls under the law of “moolaade,” a word meaning “protection.” No, it certainly doesn’t sound like a film that is a barrel of laughs, but in Ebert’s own review of the film he claims to be at a loss for words because he knows no description of the plot could even hint at the life and urgency of the film contained within.

These very foreign films of the Overlooked are often some of my favorites. Two years ago the Zulu language feature “Yesterday” was one of Ebert’s festival features that I was unable to see at the time of the festival, but I did catch it when it premiered on HBO and it wound up on my 2005 Top Ten list. And the adaptation of Friedrich Durrmatt’s play “The Visit”, aptly titled “Hyenes” (also from Senegal), from the first Overlooked I attended will forever remain one of my favorite films. I do hope “Moolaade” will soon be released in some format in the U.S., so everyone will be able to enjoy its treasures.

Run, Lola, Run. In the closing moments of 2006, when Oscar hype was on the rise and every film in release was fighting for prize recognition, German director Tom Tykwer quietly released his American directorial debut. Satrring Dustin Hoffman as a perfumer who discovers a boy with an amazing nose for odors, “Perfume: The Story of a Murderer” is based on a book that plays to Tykwer’s strengths of directing quirky thrillers. The boy (Ben Whishaw) is so obsessed with the perfection of the smell of women, he eventually turns to murder.

Ebert brought this film to his festival this year based on the amazing feat this story seems to have pulled off in each of the mediums which it has existed. A book that evokes the sense of smell so well is amazing enough, but Ebert was so impressed with Sean Barrett’s audio book performance, he would bring parties to a halt showing it off to guests. Tykwer seems to have impressed Ebert just as much with his film adaptation. Alas, for those of us not lucky enough to have seen it during its extremely limited theatrical run or without passes to the Overlooked, we will have to wait a few more months for it DVD release.

In its stead, I have chosen to watch the film that put Tykwer on the map, the 1998 German thriller “Run, Lola, Run”. Netflix describes this film as “a thrilling post-MTV roller-coaster ride.” I have to admit, I can’t imagine what the hell that statement is supposed to mean. It’s the whole “post-MTV” thing that’s throwing me off. But it is a non-stop kinetic, frenetic, balls-to-the-wall ride; that is for sure.

Have you ever wanted to be able to call a “do over” in life? Well, if you’re thinking about that when you’re trying to fix your lawnmower, try to imagine how much an action hero might want to utilize such a gift. Lola gets that chance in her movie. She and her boyfriend are having a very bad day. Lola is trying to get 100,000 marks to her boyfriend before he robs a grocery store to replace some money he owes to a gangster.

Tykwer employs a number of tactics to pump up the frenetic energy of his film, from animations, to stills with brief future stories for the people Lola runs into along the way, to jump cutting and extreme close ups. Every time things end poorly for Lola, Tykwer takes the audience back to the beginning until she gets it right.

This is the rare thriller that is joyous in its execution, rather than somber. Even when Lola’s story ends badly, it is hard not to delight in the events of this film. Plus, after one time through you get the concept that she’s going to get a chance to try it all again with a different outcome.

I’ve heard it compared to a video game, and I suppose that is true in the way Lola starts again from a certain point in her story after a poor choice leads her down the wrong path. But the added elements of dialogue and melodrama make this film so much more fun than watching your buddies work their way through a bunch of zombies, or whatever obstacles their particular choice of video game has to offer. And I can only imagine that playing this game a second or third time would only reveal more details and tidbit to delight and amaze.

Here is the trailer for Tykwer’s latest film “Perfume: The Story of a Murderer”.

Overlooked Report #1

Wednesday, April 25 marked the opening day of Roger Ebert’s 9th Annual Overlooked Film Festival in Champaign, Ill. It also marks my 3rd annual absence from the event, which I once promised I would never miss. This year’s excuse, I was in the hospital with a herniated disk when the passes sold out in a record two weeks of sales. Not to mention the fact that at that time I had no idea of what my financial, or even work, status would be when April rolled around.

Although, I am not there in body, as always my spirit is in attendance; and as has become my custom to try to replicate the experience in my own home, I have designed my own Overlooked Film Festival to enjoy throughout the month of April in the darkness of my basement. Over the past few weeks, with the help of Netflix, I have watched several films that are also on Ebert’s Overlooked schedule. For those films that are unavailable for home entertainment, I have come up with related replacements to fill in the gaps.

Ebert once again has culled together an incredible array of films that touch upon a wide range of subject matter and genre; from sci-fi noir, to music documentary, female circumcision to Southern hospitality, prostitutes making good to just living the sweet life. Even aroma inspired killers and underachieving weather men make it into the mix. The Overlooked has a little bit of everything, and all of it is the best that today’s most respected movie critic has seen.

Gattaca. Of course, I’d had plenty of time to accept that I would not be attending this year’s festival by the time Ebert finally announced his films in late March; but I could not have been more disappointed in my imminent absence as I was when I discovered that the opening film would be one that I consider to be one of the most overlooked films of the ‘90’s, Andrew Niccol’s debut sci-fi noir about a future when genetics allows us to customize our children before they are even born, “Gattaca”.

I was lucky enough to see Niccol’s visionary film when it was originally released in theaters, so I have not been deprived of its theatrical experience. However, I never would have guessed at that time that it had been directed by a first time writer/director. It is a movie that is very sure of itself, with a strong vision and an even stronger message.

The story follows Vincent (Ethan Hawke), a man who was not lucky enough to have been born with engineered genes, so he must accept the life of the underprivileged and work as a janitor at a training facility for astronauts being sent to Saturn. But Vincent has devised a plan to fake his identity by using the genetic makeup of Jerome (Jude Law), an engineered athlete who was paralyzed in an accident.

Niccol goes to great lengths to illustrate just how difficult a false identity would be to pull off in a society where an individual’s genetic code defines their standing. Millions of cells are shed from one individual in a single day. Vincent’s dream to fly through space requires extreme sacrifice to achieve from his position.

To go on describing the film, I could not hope to capture the power and scope of this incredibly intelligent film, which epitomizes the somewhat lost art of science fiction, combining genres and style to present a societal commentary that is as important to the age in which it is made as it is to the one which it portrays. But to see this film again, with an appreciative audience, would be one of the finest film experiences any lover of the medium could hope to have.

Meet the Robinsons / *** (G)

Featuring the voice talents of:

Lewis: Jordan Fry and Daniel Hansen
Wilbur: Wesley Singerman
Bowler Hat Guy: Stephen J. Anderson
Mildred: Angela Bassett
Fanny: Nicole Sullivan
Carl: Harland Williams
Uncle Art: Adam West

Walt Disney Animation presents a film directed by Stephen J. Anderson. Written by Jon Bernstein, based on the book by William Joyce. Running time: 102 min. Rated G.

Recently, my wife and I applied for an international adoption of a little girl from China. We did not do this because of Angelina Jolie, or because we wanted a real-life china doll. We did this because we both had felt all our lives that we had a spirit to offer a child, who may not be of our blood but will be of our hearts. We have two boys of our own, and we felt we would like to offer our love to another child who, without us, may never find out how special she actually is. This also happens to be what Disney’s latest CGI adventure “Meet the Robinsons” is about.

As a baby, Lewis was left at an orphanage doorstep. On the verge of turning thirteen, he has yet to find a family. Lewis is a very bright and determined young boy. He’s an inventor. Although his inventions rarely work and are often the reason why potential parents reject him, he doesn’t let this discourage him. Eventually, he constructs a device that will allow him to look into his own memory to see the image of his mother from when he was just an infant. His poor roommate, Goob, becomes his assistant by default.

He enters his invention into a science fair, but before he can see if it works, it is sabotaged by a man in a bowler hat. We will come to know this man only as the Bowler Hat Guy, thanks to the intervention of Wilbur Robinson, a boy about the same age as Lewis who claims to be from the future. When Lewis refuses to believe Wilbur, he throws Lewis into his time machine to prove it.

The future envisioned in this joyous fantasy film is one straight out of a young boy’s imagination. The popular mode of transportation is via soap bubbles. Buildings construct themselves instantly and bear a resemblance to those air-blown bouncing play stations found at carnivals. The vacuum tube has replaced the elevator for traveling within the confines of a single estate. And a man by the name of Cornelius Robinson is solely responsible for almost all of the technology.

The Robinsons as a family comprise a large assortment of goofball characters. The mother, Fanny (voiced by Nicole Sullivan, “Mad TV”), has trained a chorus of frogs to sing R&B. Grandfather Robinson likes to draw a face on the back of his head to throw people off. One of his brothers is married to a puppet. Uncle Art (Adam West, TV’s “Batman”) is a pizza delivery man who approaches his job as if saving the world. Another uncle’s obsession with canons has him firing everything from dinner meatballs to his own body out of gunpowder-packed tubes. The only sane member appears to be the wisecracking family robot (Harland Williams, “Rocket Man”).

As we are introduced to the Robinsons and their wacky household, we are treated to a loose form of storytelling that was much more popular in the days when Walt Disney himself was overseeing the feature films his studio was producing. There is a randomness and utter detachment from reality in the way this future world is presented that is jarring at first but becomes quite endearing. I was reminded of older animations, like “Pinocchio” and “Dumbo”, in the freeform nature the filmmakers allowed themselves to explore their ideas. At times, the film completely liberates itself from traditional storytelling in an explosion of incoherent imagination.

Lewis himself is an utterly likeable child; voiced, for no reason I’ve been able to discern, by two actors, Jordan Fry and Daniel Hansen. In fact, the freedom of the filmmakers’ imaginations very much carries over into the voice talent of the film. There are characters, such as the Bowler Hat Guy (voiced by director Stephen J. Anderson) and others, whose voices thrum toward extreme cartooniness. And several characters capitalize on the personalities behind them, like Laurie Metcalf’s (TV's “Roseanne”) Dr. Krunklehorn and West’s superhero-inspired delivery guy. There is even a surprise cameo voice that will inspire a chuckle if you can identify it.

The Robinsons’ tendency toward individual expression makes them a perfect family for Lewis’s misfit personality. Despite a proclivity toward kung fu showdowns at the dinner table in the Robinson household, Lewis is honored when they offer to adopt him. But secrets that cannot be revealed here make such a gesture impossible for Lewis to accept.

For all of its overabundance of imagination, “Meet the Robinsons” amounts to little more than a fun time at the movies; this is not necessarily a bad thing. My son Jack was engrossed from start to finish, and I believe even broke his own record for holding his bladder for the last twenty minutes. And besides being a fun time at the cinema, “Meet the Robinsons” does point its small spotlight on an issue that hasn’t been seen in popular films much since Little Orphan Annie made it to the big screen. In the Robinsons’ world, our individuality makes us all orphans in one sense, but it is through the bonding power of family that we get our strength.

Grindhouse / **** (R)

Cast listed for each feature individually below.

Dimension Films presents a double feature by Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez. Running time: 191 min. Rated R (for strong graphic bloody violence and gore, pervasive language, some sexuality, nudity, and drug use).

Ever since first hearing about this double feature project from Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez, I’ve been thinking about how difficult it will be to explain and review. Now that the moment is here, I realize that writing about it will be just as much fun as watching it, however guilty I may feel for enjoying it.

“Grindhouse” is Tarantino’s and Rodriguez’s ode to the ‘70’s exploitation pictures they both enjoyed during their formative years. Each director’s work has been heavily influenced by the exploitation genres of ‘70’s “grindhouse” cinema, films which were churned out by now defunct independent studios for little money to capitalize on the specialty market of filmgoers who fed off extreme violence and gratuitous sexuality.

As a film, “Grindhouse” is more than just a tribute to this particular market of genre films. It is a return to the entire experience of watching grindhouse films that goes beyond just ridiculous plots that merely act as excuses for graphic violence and voluptuous women; it goes so far as to mimic the poor production values and the scratches and color deterioration on the film stock. It even features four fake grindhouse previews made just for this double feature. What these filmmakers have created are not just a couple of movies, but an entire movie going experience.

I wrestled with what star rating I should award the film. It won’t appeal to a mainstream audience, nor does it try to. But as an exercise in exploitation cinema, “Grindhouse” is a phenomenal success. In essence, this film is a peek into what would result if some of the most innovative modern filmmakers were to tackle some of the worst Z-movie plots conceived. Apparently, it is not the material that makes a film but the men behind the camera who can turn anything into an entertaining experience.

Fake Movie Trailers

“Machete” directed by Robert Rodriguez.
Machete: Danny Trejo

“Werewolf Women of the SS” directed by Rob Zombie.
Franz Hess: Udo Kier
Eva Krupp: Sheri Moon Zombie
Gretchen Krupp: Sybil Danning

“Don’t” directed by Edgar Wright.

“Thanksgiving” directed by Eli Roth.
Tucker: Eli Roth
Judy: Jordan Ladd
Sheriff Hague: Michael Biehn

The four fake movie trailers are as much a part of the experience of this project as either of the feature films. “Machete” sets the mood for the entire experience with its ultra exploitational nature. In a plot that bares a striking resemblance to the recent “Shooter”, the titular character Machete (Danny Trejo, “Heat”) has a penchant for surviving an assassination frame up, a bevy of beautiful bare-chested women and, of course, the blades of his moniker. There was such a positive response to this fake trailer when it premiered on You Tube last week that Rodriguez is thinking about making it a reality for his follow-up project to “Sin City 2”.

Cult directors Rob Zombie (“The Devil’s Rejects”), Edgar Wright (“Shaun of the Dead”) and Eli Roth (“Hostel”) provide the three trailers which separate the two features, with each capitalizing on one particular exploitation trademark. Roth’s “Thanksgiving” imagines a teen slasher flick based around the titular holiday. If you think you’ve seen every shocking way in which teenagers can lose their life while having sex, Roth offers a few more imaginative suggestions, one of which had the entire theater groaning in disgust. Wright’s “Don’t” has fun with the marketing technique offered by the ultra simplistic title of this awful looking haunted house flick. And the title of Zombie’s “Werewolf Women of the SS” pretty much says everything it can about some of the ludicrous plots found in these exploitation films and the trailer lives up to everything the title promises.

Death Proof

Stuntman Mike: Kurt Russell
Zoë: Zoë Bell
Abernathy: Rosario Dawson
Kim: Tracie Thoms
Lee: Mary Elizabeth Winstead
Jungle Julia: Sydney Poitier
Arlene: Vanessa Ferlito
Shanna: Jordan Ladd
Pam: Rose McGowan

Written and directed by Quentin Tarantino.

I acquired a taste for exploitation cinema only later in life. Originally, my problem with the basic format was that while I was watching the movies for the gratuitous violence, their low budgets really didn’t allow for too many effects sequences. The talent was dirt cheap, so all the money was spent on the action sequences, but for all too many exploitation pictures that money did not stretch very far. So what would result would be two or three fun action scenes separated by long stretches of people who couldn’t act their way out of a garbage bag spouting dialogue from writers who weren’t any better.

With Tarantino’s “Death Proof”, a car chase thriller grafted with a sexy girl-power flick, we get a slasher flick structure filled with talented performers and long stretches of beautiful dialogue. Damn, Tarantino can write good lines. Here he gives us a lecherous baddie who says things like, “There are few things as fetching as a bruised ego on a beautiful angel.” Or, “This car is 100% death proof, only to get the benefit of it honey, you really need to be sitting in my seat!” Even simple dialogue exchanges seem to sparkle.

Pam: Warren, who is this guy?
Warren: That’s Stuntman Mike.
Pam: Who the hell is Stuntman Mike?
Warren: He’s a stuntman.

Or this one:

Mike: Do I frighten you?
[Arlene nods.]
Mike: Is it my scar?
Arlene: It’s your car.
Mike: Yeah, I know. Sorry.

Because Tarantino’s (“Jackie Brown”) script is as dialogue-driven as any of his work, “Death Proof” is the tamest segment of the “Grindhouse” experience. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get his chance to exploit the audience’s fears and visceral response to gore. Stuntman Mike is a sociopathic killer who hunts sexy young women and mows them down with his death proof stunt car. He kills one set of victims by smashing into them head-on on the open highway.

Mike meets his match in stuntwoman Zoë Bell, playing herself. This allows for some spectacular stunt sequences and a car chase that could go down as one of the greats. Tarantino has a blast empowering Bell, with her fearless stunt-driven personality, and her posse of friends, including the frank personalities of Kim (Tracie Thoms, CBS’s “Cold Case”) and Abernathy (Rosario Dawson, “Sin City”).

I suppose this could also qualify as a revenge picture. It’s quite a hoot to see Kurt Russell, the man who was Snake Pliskin in John Carpenter’s exploitation influenced “Escape from New York”, scream like a girl when a woman finally takes a shot at him.

Planet Terror

Cherry: Rose McGowan
Wray: Freddie Rodriguez
Dr. Dakota Block: Marley Shelton
Dr. William Block: Josh Brolin
JT: Jeff Fahey
Sheriff Hague: Michael Biehn
Abby: Naveen Andrews
Rapist: Quentin Tarantino
Earl McGraw: Michael Parks

Written and directed by Robert Rodriguez.

The zombie flick has been exploiting people’s fears of other people since the dawn of the horror genre. The sub-genre reached a new plateau of stomach churning when George A. Romero introduced the first of his “Living Dead” series “Night of the Living Dead” in 1968. Romero’s zombies fed off their human victims in full view of the camera, causing audience members to clutch their own stomachs in effort to hold on to their lunches.

Rodriguez (“Desperado”, “Spy Kids”) takes mutilation to a new level with “Planet Terror”. In his sometimes goofy, sometimes laughable, always gruesome and extremely clever zombie flick the protagonist has to deal with her own mutilation. The go-go dancer Cherry (Rose McGowan of TV’s “Charmed” in one of two roles in the “Grindhouse” project) loses a leg in an early zombie attack and spends the final scenes with a machine gun/grenade launcher as a pyrotechnic prosthetic.

As is often the case with viral mutilation plots, a military experiment has run amuck. On a base near Austin, Texas a rouge Army lieutenant (an uncredited Bruce Willis) has unleashed a gas which turns ordinary people into mindless zombies.

Rodriguez gathers a sprawling cast of characters to act as both victims and resistance to this zombie plague. Freddie Rodriguez (HBO’s “Six Feet Under”) is a mysterious outlaw who never misses with any weapon and becomes the leader of the plague survivors. Marley Shelton (“The Last Kiss”) is a doctor who wields a needle as if injection was a martial art. Josh Brolin (“Hollow Man”) is her psychopathic doctor husband. And Jeff Fahey (“The Lawnmower Man”) and Michael Biehn (“Aliens”) play a pair of brothers fighting over the family BBQ recipe. In Texas, even a zombie plague takes a back seat to barbecue.

Rodriguez’s primary goal here seems to be disgusting the audience with the mutated pustules that mark the infected zombies. There’s a really funny scene as the hospital first starts to see infected victims where two doctors view pictures of some painful infection cases in front of one victim. The joke comes back around later in the film with the demise of a rapist character played by Tarantino in what is the film’s biggest test of audience intestinal fortitude.

“Planet Terror” is populated with just about every weapon in the exploitation arsenal. It has sexy women in skimpy clothing, men with big guns on testosterone highs, more blood and gore than one would think could fit into 80 minutes, terrible dialogue, and bad editing. The film even stops and appears to burn up on the projector bulb at one point. This could be the ultimate exploitation film.

And remember, never allow a child to handle a gun.

Blades of Glory / ***½ (PG-13)

Chazz Michael Michaels: Will Ferrell
Jimmy MacElroy: Jon Heder
Stranz Van Waldenberg: Will Arnett
Fairchild Van Waldenberg: Amy Poehler
Katy Van Waldenberg: Jenna Fischer
Darren MacElroy: William Fitchner
Coach: Craig T. Nelson

DreamWorks SKG and MTV Films present a film directed by Will Speck and Josh Gordon. Written by Jeff Cox & Craig Cox and John Altschuler & Dave Krinsky and Busy Philips. Running time: 93 min. Rated PG-13 (for crude and sexual humor, language, a comic violent image and some drug references).

Comedy is hard. I don’t know who originally introduced this idea, although it was most likely a comedian. But it’s a phrase that critics rarely take into consideration. In the world of film criticism, comedy is rarely taken seriously. Well, the paradox in that thinking should be obvious. Comedy is not meant to be taken seriously.

It is tempting as a critic to look for meaning and depth in everything that we dissect. There is no meaning and depth in the new figure skating farce “Blades of Glory”. None is intended. All that is asked of the audience is that we laugh. And throughout this particular comedy, I laughed hard.

“Blades of Glory” tells the story of two of the world’s top male figure skaters, bitter rivals who represent the sport’s two ends of the spectrum. Jimmy MacElroy, played by Jon Heder (“Napoleon Dynomite”), is the traditional skater. He was plucked at the early age of four by a former horse trainer (snicker) who adopted him for the soul purpose of breeding a champion. His technical skill on the rink is matched by no one. His beauty is matched only by the female skaters, and only some of them.

Chazz Michael Michaels, as portrayed by Will Farrell (“Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby”), is MacElroy’s polar opposite. He is a grand stander, the sport’s bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks. He came up through the tough-as-nails ranks of sewer speed skating under the streets of Motown. He is a sexual dynamo (not to mention addict), and he knows it. Although considering Ferrell’s physique, it’s questionable whether anyone else agrees.

After the two are kicked out of singles competition for life for getting into a knock down, drag out fight on the medals podium after tying for the gold, they decide to team up for the pairs competition and a second chance at glory. The writers have a lot of fun exploring the differences between the two, but it’s when things start to click between Chazz and Jimmy that the comedy finds most of its life. The skating sequence during their first competition together is rib splitting from the moment they appear as their costumed personas Fire & Ice to the wince-inducing finale. The skating performances are far from realistic but do a fine job in milking the clichés of figure skating for comedic effect.

Directors Josh Gordon and Will Speck have done wonders immersing their production into the unique world of international figure skating. From the over dramatic personality profiles the television coverage puts together to the ridiculously themed costuming and choreography of the skating routines, this film takes the nearly absurd reality of the figure skating establishment and pushes it just past that point of absurdity into pure comedic farce.

It’s wonderful to see so many figure skating stars, from past (Peggy Fleming) and present (Sacha Cohen), so willing to poke fun at their sport. But real-life Olympic figure skating commentators Scott Hamilton and Jim Lampley threaten to steal the show with a spoof commentary worthy of Fred Willard’s color commentary in “Best In Show”.

Once Chazz and Jimmy earn their entry into the World Winter Games, they must contend with the less than ethical tactics of the reigning pairs champions, the brother and sister team of Stranz and Fairchild Van Waldenberg. The pair is played with thick comedic sinistry by Amy Poehler (“Saturday Night Live”) and Will Arnett (of the overlooked sitcom “Arrested Development”). This pair is so sick they even choose to lounge around in costumes as outrageous as those they wear in the ice.

The Van Waldenberg’s family history is even more hilarious than Chazz and Jimmy’s backgrounds. They have a little sister, Katy (Jenna Fischer, NBC’s “The Office”), who was obviously the unwanted child and family scapegoat, even drawing the blame for their parents’ tragic death. Stranz and Fairchild enlist Katy to spy on Chazz and Jimmy, but she ends up falling for the flowery Jimmy instead.

Plenty of room is also made for supporting and cameo performances to fill every inch of film with laughs. Craig T. Nelson shows up as the male pair’s coach, with a little nod to his long-running television character of the same title. Frequent Ferrell collaborators Luke Wilson and Rob Corddry lend their talents and Nick Swardson (“Grandma’s Boy”) appears as a stalker fan of Jimmy’s. Be sure to stick around for his credit cookie.

“Blades of Glory” is silly, yet filled with original jokes and ideas. While it may not transcend ideas of meaning and depth, it is transcendent in terms of absurd comedy. This makes it more valuable than many will give it credit. The plot will not change the course of comedy filmmaking, but the humor is relentless and grossly detailed. What a nice touch to have the mascot of each Winter Games mutilated in some way each time we see it. “Blades of Glory” will make you laugh; if you go into it with the impression that it should achieve some other goal, perhaps you lack a sense of humor. In which case, what you seek is provided here in spades.

Shooter / ** (R)

Bob Lee Swagger: Mark Wahlberg
Nick Memphis: Michael Pena
Col. Isaac Johnson: Danny Glover
Sarah Fenn: Kate Mara
Jack Payne: Elias Koteas
Sen. Charles F. Meachum: Ned Beatty

Paramount Pictures presents a film directed by Antoine Fuqua. Written by Jonathan Lemkin, based on the book by Stephen Hunter. Running time: 124 min. Rated R (for strong graphic violence and some language).

Are you feeling a bit screwed by your government? Do you fantasize about just killing all the bad guys and giving ‘em what they really deserve? Do Mark Wahlberg’s biceps and large scale explosions excite you? If you answered yes to all of these questions, then the new actioner “Shooter” may be just the movie for you.

In telling the story of a sharp shooter framed by men in black for an assassination attempt on the President, “Shooter” breaks no new ground. But as a protest against a secretive system of power and greed where the grunt is expendable and top government officials pull all the strings, “Shooter” has something quite disturbing to say. Sure, Hollywood has been willing to tell us many times before that the government was bad, but this film takes the next step by stating that things might get a little better if a couple of congressmen took bullets to the head.

Politics and morality aside, “Shooter” is first and foremost a completely formulaic action thriller. Mark Wahlberg (“The Departed”) is Bob Lee Swagger, a former Special Forces sniper living as a recluse in the wilderness after his spotter dies on a mission that left the pair abandoned in hostile territory. Col. Isaac Johnson (Danny Glover, “Lethal Weapon” series) tracks Swagger down to enlist his help in thwarting a sniper threat against the President of the United States.

As is customary in these stories, Swagger is reluctant to help an institution that left him for dead. As it turns out, his reluctance is warranted after he is framed for the assassination attempt and forced to flee through the streets of Philadelphia. Director Antoine Fuqua (“Training Day”) gets a chance to flex his own seasoned action muscles with a spectacular chase sequence that ends with Swagger plummeting his stolen car into the Delaware River.

Throughout most of the action, this film is pretty much interchangeable with any number of falsely accused fugitive plotlines, from “The Fugitive” to “Minority Report”, although the violence reaches new levels here. Wahlberg does a good job anchoring the film in what is his first full-fledged action role; Hollywood may have found a suitable replacement for Bruce Willis.

Swagger is not without his allies. His dead spotter’s widow, Sarah (Kate Mara, “Brokeback Mountain”), provides a safe haven where Swagger can lick his wounds, not to mention a sexy female to satisfy any requisite needs for the film’s target audience. And Michael Pena (“World Trade Center”) plays a rookie FBI agent, the only law enforcement officer who smells a rat in the warehouse.

Fuqua runs the tension at a good clip for most of the film. The pace only falters at the end, when he falls for the “The Lord of the Rings” curse by wearing the audience’s patience thin with three or four natural stopping points before finally wrapping things up. These multiple endings also push the level of plausibility far beyond what even this overplayed genre allows as acceptable suspension of disbelief. A scene which takes place in the Department of Defense involving a gun and a criminal in custody is the biggest offender.

There is more to observe about “Shooter”, however, than merely its merits as a thriller. I think this film is a sign of Hollywood’s and the nation’s attitude toward the world in which we are living. With its harsh conspiratorial depiction of our government’s practices and obvious references to current world policies involving issues like the importance of oil over human life, Hollywood appears to be just as fed up with the status quo as the rest of the populace and is therefore done trying to keep relations amicable with the ruling establishment. The solutions presented here are extreme and violent. Perhaps this is an example of taking too much of a cue from your own enemy’s tactics, but I’m guessing that this is an aggressive trend we’ll be seeing much more of coming out of Hollywood over the next few years.

Premonition / ** (PG-13)

Linda Hanson: Sandra Bullock
Jim Hanson: Julian McMahon
Annie: Nia Long
Joanne: Kate Nelligan
Claire: Amber Valletta
Dr. Norman Roth: Peter Stromare

MGM and TriStar Pictures present a film by Mennan Yapo. Written by Bill Kelly. Running time: 110 min. Rated PG-13 (for some violent content, disturbing images, thematic material and brief language).

It’s funny. As a film critic, I sometimes yearn for the days when I could simply watch a film and either be entertained by it or not. But I realize that while most audience members just walk into a movie like “Premonition” thinking that it looked good in the ads, I come to it with the knowledge that it has been panned by critics across the country.

At some points during “Premonition” I was actually able to recapture some of that fascination of seeing something that looked good and throughout most of the film, when I did think of what other critics might have said about it, I could understand why much of the movie going public might view critics as a bitter, complaining lot. And then I was slapped in the face by an ending so obviously telegraphed by the direction and editing that I couldn’t help but think audiences should really pay more attention to us critics.

“Premonition” is actually based on a rather interesting concept. A woman in an unspectacular marriage wakes one morning to discover that her husband has been killed in a car accident. Devastated, not so much by the loss of her love as by the destruction of their well-worn routine, she doesn’t know how to morn. The next day she wakes to discover that her husband has not been killed and nothing has changed. The day after that she finds he has indeed died, and the loved ones around her are becoming increasingly concerned with her cavalier attitude toward the tragedy. Another day later day she finds he lives again and is also becoming concerned with her strange behavior toward him.

Sandra Bullock delivers a fairly steady performance as Linda, this woman on the schizophrenic edge. She stabilizes what could be a volatile series of events. I’m not sure if this benefits the film or not. It is a safe choice for an actress who has never been one for controversy (despite her involvement in the contentious Oscar winner “Crash”.) It is nice to see Julian McMahon, as her husband Jim, released from the ridiculous confines of his most famous role as Victor von Doom in the “Fantastic Four” franchise.

Linda eventually figures out that her days as a widow and the days leading up to her husband’s death have somehow become confused. She makes a chart on which she determines exactly when her husband’s accident occurs and tries to set in motion events that will prevent the accident without disrupting the “rules” of her ailment. This sets up a series of continuity obstacles from which the film never has a chance of surviving.

There is a point in her jumbled week where she is committed to a mental facility. In actual timeline continuity this event would happen at the end of the week, although it is experienced early in her week. This situation is never resolved by the plot of the film. One of her daughters shows up one morning with her face mysteriously lacerated. This plays into the institutionalization; however, the explanation which is eventually revealed would have been clearly documented by witnesses and medical staff in a way that would negate any reason to have Linda committed.

Continuity problems aside, the true culprit in the failure of this film is director Mennan Yapo’s faith in the M. Night Shyamalan school of thriller direction. The film actually works fairly effectively until the final ten minutes, during which he gives us the Shyamalan-esque flashback montage of all the clues leading up to the climax. Since Yapo builds this montage with images that were all too obvious the first time we saw them rather than subtle ones that the audience may have missed, it acts more as an insult to our intelligence than as some form of dramatic enlightenment. He also fails to place the montage close enough to the climax, so rather than screaming at the characters on the screen to stop, the audience must wait several minutes to see what we already know is going to happen.

“Premonition” is a good example of what is wrong with so many young directors in today’s cinema. Instead of bringing their own ideas of what movie making is to their projects, directors like the German-born Yapo bring only their influences. All too many directors think an appreciation of the art of cinema is all they need to make it work. Too few have an understanding of how cinema works. Perhaps it is not the audience that needs to be educated by what critics have to say about the movies they watch. Maybe the filmmakers themselves should pay more attention to us critics.

300 / **** (R)

King Leonidas: Gerard Butler
Queen Gorgo: Lena Headey
Theron: Dominic West
Dilion: David Wenham
Captain: Vincent Regan
Ephialtes: Andrew Tiernan
Xerxes: Rodrigo Santoro

Warner Bros. presents a film directed by Zack Snyder. Written by Snyder & Kurt Johnstad and Michael B. Gordon, based on the graphic novel by Frank Miller and LynnVarley. Running time: 117 min. Rated R (for graphic battle sequences throughout, some sexuality and nudity).

A flash of lightning. A thunder clap. The crack of bone against bone. The rawness of the snow. The grizzly, growling, foaming mouth of a wolf. A boy in the cold. Men unlike any ever seen before. Rippling, sweating muscle. The splatter of blood against cold steel. Sweat and sex. And the rank odor of death.

Zack Snyder’s film adaptation of the Frank Miller graphic novel “300” is a cinematic montage of stunning proportions. Retelling the story of the Battle of Thermopylae in 480 B.C., where 300 Spartan soldiers were said to have taken on an army of one million Persians, “300” is a visual and visceral massacre of traditional cinematic sensibilities. Walking out of the theater afterward, I could practically taste the blood of fallen soldiers on my own lips.

There is nothing about this film that is intended to be a realistic depiction of events. It is extravagantly overdone and richly satisfying in its execution. Snyder (“Dawn of the Dead”) turns blood into a solid object here and transforms the film’s actors into gods. Never have the people on a movie screen seemed so much larger than life than they do here. I mean that literally; they appear to be larger than the same actors in a different film would be. How did they do that?

Much of what they did here was achieved through digital effects. The men look impossibly well built, and the women are sultry goddesses. The characters’ eyes pop out on the screen and you can feel their power over their world. These are people who control their lives with brute force and harsh honesty.

Gerard Butler (“The Phantom of the Opera”) plays the mighty Spartan King Leonidas, who leads his best soldiers into battle. He is a perfect specimen of male physique, as are all the Spartan soldiers. I don’t think there is any way they could have achieved the appearance of all those perfect bodies without the help of visual effects. It is intimidating just to look at these men, to see them all gathered together in one place. Even the shots with only one or two of them could make you fear for your personal physical safety. The Arcadians who help them in their stand against the Persians look like bankers and computer nerds next to the Spartans, when even they are actually very fit compared to most modern men.

Lena Headey (“The Brothers Grimm”) is the perfect match for Leonidas as his Queen Gorgo. Her striking beauty gives her as much strength as his muscular perfection. She makes it easy to believe a woman could fend for herself in this brutal world of testosterone-fueled violence.

I suppose the film could be criticized for its cardboard treatment of its characters, but in-depth analysis of meaning and motivation is not what this film is about. It is about survival in a humanity that is just as wild and vicious as the deepest jungle. There is great power in how the material is presented visually, which needs little support from the script or the performances. But the script and performances are exactly what they need to be, just as overwrought as the visual spectacle they chaperone.

Snyder gives the audience a virtual visual feast of images on which to gorge. From the female oracle that thrashes about in prophetic sexual ecstasy to the charging giant rhino beast felled with a single blow, there is hardly a frame in this film that couldn’t be hung on a wall and found to be an exceptional work of art on its own. Unlike most historical battle epics, this is not a story of mere humans in mêlée; there are beasts and mutants that seem to have ascended from some plane of hell. Even King Xerxes (Rodrigo Santoro, ABC’s “Lost”) looms above the perfect Leonidas, suggesting that he just may be the deity he claims to be.

As with most costumed sword-and-sandal epics, the level of violence in “300” is vast. Many heads are removed from their bodies. Snyder treats the violence with the greatest amount of visual glorification. He utilizes slow motion to the point where he nearly stops the images, giving the audience a chance to study every detail of grit and gore. And when a body falls, his camera captures the full weight of death in the way the muscles ripple in lifeless relaxation.

“300” is certainly not a film for everyone. The action is exaggerated to a quease-inducing state. But it is also a wonderful reflection of a new movement in cinematic excellence. The visual style of “300” is like an evolutionary step that cinema has been in the process of making, because of the efforts of such film makers as Robert Rodriguez, David Fincher, and Quentin Tarantino, toward becoming a more overtly visual medium. A medium where visual style replaces traditional dramatic forms of emotional exposition, where the style itself becomes the vehicle and character of the emotional impact for the cinematic experience. It is quite literally awe inspiring.

Zodiac / ***½ (R)

Robert Graysmith: Jake Gyllenhaal
Inspector David Toschi: Mark Ruffalo
Paul Avery: Robert Downey, Jr.
Inspector William Armstrong: Anthony Edwards
Melanie: Chloe Sevigny
Arthur Leigh Allen: John Carroll Lynch

Paramount Pictures and Warner Bros. present a film directed by David Fincher. Written by James Vanderbilt, based on the book by Robert Graysmith. Running time: 158 min. Rated R (for some strong killings, language, drug material and brief sexual images).

“Zodiac” is a fascinating movie. An epic police procedural, it details the search for the real life Zodiac killer, who terrorized the San Francisco Bay area for nearly a decade before disappearing, in the process becoming one of the most famous serial murder cases ever to remain unsolved. Based on the book by Robert Graysmith, a cartoonist employed at the San Francisco Chronicle during the Zodiac slayings, this film contains a cast of characters as long as the years that passed between the first reported Zodiac murders and the San Francisco Police Department’s decommissioning of the case in the early nineties.

I went into “Zodiac” knowing very little about the actual case beyond the fact that the killer was never caught and Graysmith had written a book about it. Other than that, my knowledge consisted mainly of the countless crime films with plots loosely based on the evidence made public during the Zodiac investigation. David Fincher’s new film on the subject had me mesmerized.

Unlike most of Fincher’s previous films, which often focused on the spectacle of crime and violence, “Zodiac” takes a more methodical and meditative look at what goes into solving such a crime (or in this case, not solving it) and examines the large toll the obsessive dedication to finding the truth can take on the men who are compelled to do so. The film concentrates on three men pursuing the killer: Paul Avery, the crime beat reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle; Robert Graysmith, the Chronicle’s cartoonist with a knack for solving cipher codes sent in by the killer; and David Toschi, the homicide detective assigned to the case.

These men prove the film’s tagline, “There is more than one way to lose your life to a killer.” And each actor brings their own personal strengths to these roles. Robert Downey, Jr. (“Kiss Kiss Bang Bang”) plays Avery as a man who can’t help but push the envelope by peppering his stories with personal attacks against the killer; he self destructs when he finds himself trapped in the very envelope he sealed and stamped. Mark Ruffalo (“Just Like Heaven”) brings a quiet intensity to the cop driven instinctually to the most likely suspect; but with only circumstantial evidence, he finds time erodes his personal support structure. Jake Gyllenhaal’s (“The Day After Tomorrow”) Graysmith is a hero who, after being left out of the loop during the initial investigation, proves to be the most driven of the three, at the cost of his family and personal safety, in his obsession to find a man that baffled every expert of the day.

While the film’s focus is the investigation into the Zodiac by these men and the price they paid for it, the details of the case are laid out here with absorbing effect. Although the Zodiac’s actions were impossible to predict and trace at the time, it would probably be impossible today for such a criminal to evade the police for so long, thanks to modern police procedure and investigation technology. This movie is as much a period crime investigation as “L.A. Confidential” or last year’s “The Illusionist”. It is Zodiac’s constantly changing M.O. that makes the case so frustrating for the characters and audience alike.

Covering a period of time from 1968 through 1991, Fincher does a wonderful job capturing the look and feel of this span, especially the late sixties and early seventies, which account for the majority of the film’s action. Period production design is as flashy as Fincher gets this time around, however. Whereas past films like “Se7en” and “Fight Club” were filled with thrills and twists, Fincher keeps the tone here on an even simmer. James Vanderbilt’s (“The Rundown”) superb script shows the inevitable psychological toll non-progress takes on the investigators.

The massive time span also allows for an epic cast of characters. Employing just about every B-list actor whose name you don’t know but whose face you’ll recognize, Fincher luxuriates in allowing these wonderful performers to flesh out their character’s entire make up with minimal lines and screen time. Some of the cast’s standouts include Anthony Edwards (NBC’s “ER”) as Toschi’s partner, Dermot Mulroney (“About Schmidt”) as their captain, Philip Baker Hall (“Magnolia”) as a hand writing expert, Brian Cox (“The Bourne Supremacy”) as famed celebrity attorney Melvin Belli, John Carroll Lynch (“Fargo”) as prime suspect Arthur Leigh Allen, Chloe Sevigny (“Boys Don’t Cry”) as Graysmith’s estranged wife, and Donal Logue (“Ghost Rider”) and Elias Koteas (“The Thin Red Line”) as two of the surrounding San Francisco Bay area communities’ chief investigators.

“Zodiac” is not without its flaws. It loses a good deal of momentum going into its final act as the investigation itself stalls out for so many years while Graysmith puts the pieces together to write his book. But Fincher does a good job jump-starting the action with some suspense from a false lead late in the film, and he never loses touch with that sense of fascination that drives Graysmith to see the investigation through to the end.

“Zodiac” is an admirable film, not only for the way it diligently dissects the investigation of this unsolved mystery, but also for its devotion to its purpose as a character study of the investigators themselves. The film is never sidetracked for too long into the actual murders, which would rely heavily upon speculation. “Zodiac” doesn’t stray from its true inspiration, the people whose lives were consumed, and in some cases destroyed, by not discovering the killer’s identity.

Because I Said So / * (PG-13)

Daphne Wilder: Diane Keaton
Milly: Mandy Moore
Johnny: Gabriel Macht
Jason: Tom Everett Scott
Maggie: Lauren Graham
Mae: Piper Perabo
Joe: Stephen Collins

Universal Pictures presents a film directed by Michael Lehmann. Written by Karen Leigh Hopkins & Jessie Nelson. Running time: 102 min. Rated PG-13 (for sexual content including dialogue, some mature thematic elements, and partial nudity).

Why should you avoid the new romantic comedy starring Diane Keaton and Mandy Moore? That’s right… because I said so. Get it? Of course you do. But even that bad joke is better than the lame gags and characters that fill “Because I Said So.” This is a travesty of cinema that every self respecting filmgoer should steer clear of; it could easily drive any sane person to contemplate homicide.

The story’s premise revolves around the relationship between Daphne Wilder (Keaton, “The Family Stone”) and her three daughters. She raised them alone and is one of those controlling mothers. While Daphne successfully sees her eldest two daughters into marriage, her youngest, Milly (Moore, “American Dreamz”), seems destined to repeat a cycle of no good boyfriends into spinsterhood.

Daphne devises a scheme that would allow her to have a hand in choosing Milly’s next boyfriend, and hopefully, future spouse. She places an ad through an online dating service and interviews the candidates herself. We then get a version of that obligatory blind dating scene found in romances since the dawn of time, where Daphne meets all the socially retarded losers who answer her ad. The band of idiots that parade across the screen in this out-of-touch comedy are not only unacceptable, but seem to be aliens from another planet. They’ve elevated this unoriginal cinematic joke to such an extreme that it goes beyond humorous and actually becomes offensive.

Daphne chooses Jason (Tom Everett Scott, “That Thing You Do!”), who obviously is playing her emotions like a harp, although his motivations are never explained. Maybe successful and attractive architects in California really do have a tough time finding a wife. As the age-old romantic comedy formula dictates, she rejects Johnny (Gabriel Macht, “The Good Shepard”), the obviously perfect candidate who doesn’t actually answer the ad but notices Daphne’s plight and takes an interest in this crazy mother trying to set up her daughter. Johnny is a musician and therefore a poor choice for someone looking for stability and purity. Macht has one of the script’s few funny lines when he thanks Daphne for stereotyping him.

Johnny tracks Milly down anyway and, inexplicably, Milly begins dating both men. This action cannot be justified by a character we’re supposed to sympathize with; therefore, it’s simply glossed over. Why Johnny doesn’t run from this psychologically challenged family to begin with is another of the film’s unsolved mysteries.

The filmmakers, who I’m not even going to bother to mention by name here (they should thank me), fail to wring comedy out of the fact that both the mother and daughter seem to unable to perform even the most basic of life’s functions. Milly has trouble just crossing the street and the unnatural static attraction balloons seem to have for her butt creates one of the most oddly unfunny Meet Cutes in film history. Daphne is a baker who can’t seem to carry a cake anywhere without somehow placing her face in it, and she seems to be carrying one in every other scene. It makes you wonder how she ever built a career as a top notch baker.

I think that the relationship between the mother and three daughters is also supposed to be a source of humor. The daughters talk about sex incessantly in front of their mother, mostly through conference calls on cell phones. There seems to be some obsession with modern technology on the filmmakers’ part here and the way in which the mother participates but doesn’t really get how to utilize the modern devices. Yet she is able to function with technology just fine if the scene doesn’t require a joke at her expense.

I would have liked to have seen more of the daughters Maggie and Mae, played by Lauren Graham (WB’s “Gilmore Girls”) and Piper Perabo (“Coyote Ugly”). They, along with Johnny, seem to be the only sane people here. Graham is a psychiatrist who has a couple of funny scenes with a patient who only wants to be noticed. Perabo can at best be described as the other sister, since she has so little screen time and only seems to exist to be another body to participate in sex conversations in her mother’s presence.

“Because I Said So” is a cinematic mess. It may once have resembled a romantic comedy with the potential to look at the unique relationship shared by mothers and daughters in matters involving love. What it’s become is a perfect example of how comedic gags are not funny simply because they exist. Comedy needs characters that function in some sort of sustainable reality and requires choices that are not made merely for their comedic impact, but attempt to fulfill some actual meaning. It is also an example of how an eccentric actor like Diane Keaton cannot merely coast by on those eccentricities; she must have some basis in reality for her quirks to have any sort of effect on an audience. Perhaps the filmmakers should go back to film school to learn about these things. Why? Don’t even make me say it.

Ghost Rider/ * (PG-13)

Johnny Blaze/Ghost Rider: Nicolas Cage
Roxanne Simpson: Eva Mendes
Blackheart: Wes Bentley
Mack: Donal Logue
Mephistopheles: Peter Fonda
Caretaker: Sam Elliott

Columbia Pictures presents a film written and directed by Mark Steven Johnson. Running time: 114 min. Rated PG-13 (for horror violence and disturbing images).

For the past couple of years, I’ve been going through this phase where every three or four months I pick up an old AC/DC album on CD. Unlike my brother, I was never a superfan of that Australian rock group when we were growing up. (I think he had every album up to “Who Made Who”, which served as the soundtrack to the Stephen King-helmed bomb “Maximum Overdrive”.) Still, for whatever reason, I just love listening to them lately.

The thing about AC/DC is that they really aren’t a very diverse rock band. Their recent albums are pretty much interchangeable with everything they put out in the eighties. But there is some primal nerve they can just naturally tap into. It brings me back to the simpler times of adolescence. A time when I could stand in my room, play some air guitar and feel like I’d accomplished something worthwhile. A time when the most important thing in the world was to be cool. A time when I might have actually enjoyed a film like “Ghost Rider”.

“Ghost Rider” contains a lot of “cool” images. First of all, the character itself is just badass looking, with the leather jacket and chaps, the heavy duty chain wrapped around his torso, the flaming skull for a head. And his bike is the bitchin’est ride on two wheels… two flaming wheels! And those bone-shaped chrome handle bars and that chopper frame. Damn! That guy looks baaaaaaaad! And it is all here to relish on a thirty-foot screen.

And there’s other cool stuff to see. Like the way Peter Fonda, as Mephistopheles, invokes the motorcycle vibe of “Easy Rider” simply with his presence. Or the way he and his on-screen son, Blackheart (Wes Bentley, “American Beauty”), sometimes become transparent with their anger and their deformed vampyric skulls can be seen through their skin. Or the way Blackheart can drain his victims’ essence with a mere touch. Or the way Blackheart’s posse exhibits the properties of the elements they personify; one can barely hold his eyes on his face because he drips so profusely with water, another’s skin is eternally cracked like a water-starved dessert, and the air elemental barely exists as even a head most of the time.

Even Nicolas Cage as Johnny Blaze oozes cool before he discovers his Ghost Rider alter ego. He never locks his door. He listens to the furthest band there could be from AC/DC, The Carpenters, and it still seems cool. And he is a stunt motorcyclist, like Evil Knievel. Damn! I thought Knievel was the coolest guy in the world when I was a kid. There is even that foreshadowing shot of his face turning into a skull during a lightning strike.

While it is possible to just flip through a comic book and drool over the artwork, a motion picture depends upon more than just individual images. And it is in the storytelling and writing that this film becomes decidedly uncool.

Perhaps the biggest mistake in the screenplay comes with writer/director Mark Steven Johnson’s notion that this character requires some sort of romance to make him interesting. Much like his previous comic book adaptation “Daredevil”, the romance here seems to lack adult supervision. Johnny Blaze still has a thing for his teenage sweetheart Roxanne, played by Eva Mendes (“2 Fast 2 Furious”). Although years have passed since Johnny left Roxanne waiting for him in the rain under an oak tree, their romance still operates at a high school level.

The dialogue epitomizes the notion of unintended hilarity. Dipping all too frequently into the superhero cliché bucket, Johnson comes up with such winning lines as, “You should be taking a dirt nap after that ragdoll today,” and “I’m the only one who can walk in both worlds. I’m the… (pause for effect) Ghost Rider!” Actually, there are better (or rather worse) ones in there, but I was too busy rolling my eyes to jot them down.

I can’t imagine Cage’s motives, appearing in this clunker. Frankly, I was amazed he stayed with this long-delayed project, especially after master superhero script scribe David S. Goyer (“Batman Begins”) decided to forgo another writing credit to executive produce this one. Surely Cage can’t have much of a desire to appeal to the strictly teen audience this movie is geared toward after such challenging work in a film like “World Trade Center”. There are moments in his performance when he barely even seems to be awake.

But back to my AC/DC obsession. The thing about my infatuation with those Aussies is that one time through an album will do me for quite a few weeks. I generally listen to them when I need to escape all my adult problems and just rock out. There is no substance to my relationship with the band. Like “Ghost Rider”, they exist purely on a juvenile level. And what is truly scary is that “Maximum Overdrive” may actually be a better film than this one. At least it had AC/DC on the soundtrack.

Hannibal Rising / ** (R)

Hannibal Lecter: Gaspard Ulliel
Lady Murasaki Shikibu: Gong Li
Grutas: Rhys Ifans
Inspector Popil: Dominic West
Dortlich: Richard Brake
Kolnas: Kevin McKidd

MGM and The Weinstein Co. present a film directed by Peter Webber. Written by Thomas Harris, based on his novel. Running time: 117 min. Rated R (for strong grisly violent content and some language/sexual references).

At one point during “Hannibal Rising”, I wished that I hadn’t seen any of the other films in the Hannibal Lecter series. Maybe if I had gone into it without any prior knowledge of serial killer “Hannibal the Cannibal”, I might find more fascination in this story telling the birth of a sociopath. But it seems as if the producers have forgotten what made Hannibal such a powerful character to begin with.

Both this new film and the 2001 film “Hannibal” make his character the focus, whereas in “The Silence of the Lambs” and in both versions of “Red Dragon” – the first novel featuring Hannibal was originally filmed in 1986 as “Manhunter” and then remade in 2002 under the book’s original title “Red Dragon” – Dr. Hannibal Lecter was only a supporting character, whose unique relationship with each story’s protagonist allowed him to represent a necessary evil in the process of preventing further evil acts. The fact that Hannibal was even more monstrous than the people the heroes were chasing made those storylines more menacing, knowing that it took the tool of an ultimate evil to effectively hunt evil.

In “Hannibal Rising” it is Hannibal himself who becomes the hunter and some strange grotesque version of a protagonist. The film shows us Hannibal at 8 years old evacuating with his family from their Lithuanian castle to a country cabin, trying to avoid German and Russian soldiers and looters alike during World War II. Both parents are killed in German and Russian crossfire, and Hannibal is left with only his younger sister Misha in the cabin for the cold winter. Soon Lithuanian looters invade the cabin, taking Hannibal and Misha as prisoners. But when the food runs out, we discover Hannibal’s penchant for cannibalism was learned from his captors.

The movie picks up again after Hannibal (Gaspard Ulleil, “A Very Long Engagement”) has become a young man. During his days at a youth camp for orphaned war survivors, he displays a distinct lack of respect for “the pecking order” and a malicious sense of justice for those who abuse their power. But soon he escapes the camp to search out a distant relation in France. The Lady Murasaki Shikibu (Gong Li, “Miami Vice”) is an aunt with money. Although her Asian origins seem to be deliberately unexplained, they are exploited to present convenient and exotic plot points.

The boy still has the audience’s sympathy during these opening passages because of his horrific war experience. And when the French police inspector Popil (Dominic West, HBO’s “The Wire”) – who specializes in war crimes – suspects Hannibal in the brutal death of a local butcher, there is the hope that another unique relationship will form between Hannibal and his pursuer. This never quite pans out.

The direction by Peter Webber (“Girl with a Pearl Earring”) is moody and does a good job capturing both the depression of Europe following WWII and that glossed over grime quality captured by directors Jonathan Demme, Ridley Scott, and Brett Ratner in previous Hannibal films. But for all the opportunities here, with several murders committed by Hannibal and others, there are never any unforgettable images, such as the crucifixion scene marking Hannibal’s escape from captivity in “The Silence of the Lambs”. Even Hannibal’s first kill, while gruesome, has a calculated and choreographed feel to it, as if Hannibal always knew what he would become. I imagined something more sloppy, like out of “Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer”, for the early days of this menacing monster. Shouldn’t Hannibal have to teach himself the refinement of killing as one might with art or music?

Hannibal sets out to take vengeance on the men who ate his sister. These villains, written by Thomas Harris in a mold typical of countless thrillers, have gone on to post war success. One, Kolnas (Kevin McKidd, HBO’s “Rome”), has taken the reformist route with a family and legitimate business; another, Grutas (Rhys Ifans, “Enduring Love”), has become a Parisian crimelord whose actions are just a vile as they were during the war. The other looters are either lackeys of Grutas or have also tried to atone for their sins like Kolnas.

In the end I realize that it doesn’t matter whether I have had experience with Hannibal before because there really is no hero in this film at all. The antagonists are war criminals who deserve to pay for their crimes; but no one deserves Hannibal’s vengeance, and it is impossible to care for Hannibal’s reasoning by the bloody end of the film. The essentially good characters of Inspector Popil and Lady Shikibu never become a factor in Hannibal’s preordained journey.

A college professor warned me against the praise of “The Silence of the Lambs”, claiming that the final line, “I’m having an old friend for dinner,” desensitized the audience to the criminal Hannibal really was with its use of humor. I thought that was a fairly minor detail on which to condemn the entire film, but it seems to have been a fairly accurate prediction on the direction the character would take. Hopefully audiences won’t be fooled by the false hero Hannibal has become, and only the filmmakers will be proven desensitized to what they have created.