Stay (2005)

Summary: Henry Letham (Ryan Gosling) announces to his psychiatrist, Sam Foster (Ewan McGregor), his plan to kill himself in three days, which is also his 21^st birthday. Sam slowly becomes obsessed with saving Henry and trying to figure out why he would kill himself, but Sam is reluctant to discuss the case with his girlfriend Lila (Naomi Watts), who previously attempted suicide.

Alternate title: Why Marc Forster, David Benioff, and Ewan McGregor and I need to have a little talk.

Second alternate title: Why Ryan Gosling should give up the charade and call me already.

Let's start with the usual fall guy, at least from my POV: the writer. Benioff, I have to ask you one thing: What happened to you? Minus the ten minutes in the middle I've yet to see, I loved 25^th Hour. Maybe I'm partial because I love "talky" movies in the first place or maybe it was the cast. Who knows?

Oh, wait, I do. It was two little words that are often viewed with contempt at the box office: character development. Good, old fashioned character development. The way you subtly manoeuvre every character, so s/he is forced to betray their true selves by the end. That was what I liked about you.

Even more improbably, I liked your version of Troy. I mean, no one liked Troy. Just me, those obsessed with sword and sandal epics, and those in need of some pretty boy slash fic inspiration. In which case they are better off watching The WB.

So what are you doing to me here? Either do something high concept, or do something twisty (not to be confused with twisted - get your minds out of the slash gutter), but you cannot effectively do both simultaneously. Personally, I dig this whole short-time period experimental thing you've got going on. Real changes happen to real people so slowly that they are usual imperceptible until the end. To speed them up, you put them in a pressure cooker: an unavoidable dark period looming on the horizon.

As for this crap, I don't know what to tell ya. The little remarks you wrote, the quiet back-and-forth barbs, the seemingly throw away moments, those worked. They were good. Heck, I even laughed. More on that later.

The rest of it, though? I don't know why you had to be so pseudo-complex. We could all see what was going on. And yet, you never seem to put all the puzzle pieces together properly. Funny how it all works out, isn't it? So, dear heart, go back to your novel, and read it over. I know it's your own work but read it as though it was not. Your characterization and character development are still some of the best around. Unfortunately, no one wants to see the plot development come to a dead halt because of it.

Moving right along, I'm now looking at you, Forster. What's your deal? You make Monster's Ball; everyone loves you. You make Finding Neverland, which I loved, but everyone did not. It felt forced to them. Unnatural. Not true to life. Inert, even. You can see why they might balk, right?

Nonetheless, you seem to have a gift with child actors and grown ups alike. Why that doesn't translate to your story telling, well, that's your problem. Actually, it's my problem since I keep watching your movies. Listen up: take what you do with actors and apply it to the story. Maybe even try putting the story first. Stop giving everything away with heavy handed foreshadowing and ham fisted "symbolism." Given how much you do it, it detracts from the story rather than helping it along.

Ah, now you, Ewan. Yes, I like to call you by your first name. Sweetie, why do you make movies? You don't seem to like it very much. You usually seem to bored or uninspired. Your too short pants here don't help. Aside from a few key scenes with Gosling, and I know that's reason enough right there, I don't get why you're doing this. Taken all together, you've given me 5 performances and one line that I've seen you wake up for. I think you need to take some time off or something. Keep riding the motorbike around the world. You seem to like that very much.

Ryan Gosling. There you are, dear Ryan. Appearing at a time when there are so few celebrity crushes worth having nowadays. Rockin' it harder than I thought possible back when you were on Breaker High. And then, even more implausibly, Young Hercules. Minus Remember the Titans, which I can easily forget, you disappeared off my radar for a few years. And then you reappeared in also somewhat lamentable Murder By Numbers, proving that you could supply the HoYay with the vapid Michael Pitt and make being a killer seem, well, damn sexy. You were a bad boy in spades. Of course, that didn't stop you from turning in compelling performances in the vastly different pictures. Suddenly, you've become someone I feel it necessary to watch. You're fast becomng dispensable in my stable of actors on whose quality work I can rely.

Plus you're so pretty! And Canadian! Now, if only you could find a project to work on with Seth Rogen, another crush worthy Canadian.

In the mean time, you are doing it again. You take a character threatening violence, claiming responsibility for the deaths of others, and you make him so vulnerable. Henry is helplessly wading through a world only he can see or understand, trying his best to navigate Sam through without damage. Even though he's busy with all that, he manages to find time for hilarious one liners (I particularly enjoyed it when he denounced the work of every other visual arts student as crap), as well as smolder at Sam when needed. The fact that McGregor occasionally seems enlivened by this passion speaks volumes about your acting prowess.

You always elevate the material with that passion (it must be passion for your craft), but it's not enough to overcome the limitations of the rest of the cast and crew. C+

28 Days Later . . . (2002)

Idea: Four weeks after a mysterious, incurable virus ravages the UK, Jim (Cillian Murphy) wakes up from a coma with no knowledge of what has occurred. London is pillaged and deserted, but he eventually meets others survivors. He and Selena (Naomie Harris) meet Frank (Brendan Gleeson) and his daughter, Hannah (Megan Burns). Together, they set out to find the source of a radio broadcast promising sanctuary for survivors.

It's a rare day when I sit down and watch an entire horror movie. So, if you are in to this sort of thing, get happy.

No matter what anyone may think of the hundreds of flicks I've seen, I've got no stomach for gore. The first few moments of this movie are spent establishing how the population became infected, which involves a Primate Research Institute, some animal activists, and projectile vomited blood. Trust me when I tell you I've not given anything away there. It happens a lot. Pint upon pint of vomited blood.

So, when all this was going down, I didn't think I was going to make it. I got up off the couch, headed towards my pretty red DVD player, set on ejecting this crap on out of there and into the nearest mailbox.

But then I remembered that this movie came highly recommended from two sources: Emily and Strangelove. He may not be my professor anymore, but I couldn't let them both down, could I?

So I stuck it out. Besides the vomited blood, director Danny Boyle and screenwriter Alex Garland don't really focus on the gore, which made the experience easier on me.

To be honest with you, I don't know what the big deal is about either. I've never read The Beach, but the Boyle-helmed adaptation of Garland's novel didn't really do it for me. While it is horribly maligned, A Life Less Ordinary isn't the best thing I've ever seen. And Shallow Grave? No, never again.

As the days passed since viewing, I mentally listed the things I wanted to comment on. I've come to realize that I sort of saw two movies: one about zombies, and one of those "violence to end violence" movies that just happens to have involved zombies. To talk about both, there's likely going to be spoilers ahead. Deal with it.

I don't recommend the one about zombies. First off, if the fictional British government hadn't been so busy telegraphing their nefarious schemes to the public, maybe they wouldn't have had this problem in the first place. I mean, Primate Research Institute? Could you be more obvious? Of course the activists are going to bust up in there!

Idiots.

Mind you, I was long ago convinced via some PETA-like documentary that the British take animal cruelty far too seriously. These cows were being trucked to a slaughter house, and some deranged protestor commented that seeing their eyes through the little grates was reminiscent of the pictures of Jews being taken away to concentration camps during WWII. Honestly, that's what she said.

Okay, I realize that she's just one person and not representative of the whole, but you get the idea, right? Anyway, I thought about this when the activists were "freeing" the primates in question, and I couldn't stop thinking about what a moronic move that was. Document it and protest and get people jailed, sure. But just releasing chimps into their absolutely non-natural habitat of England without at least finding out what was going on? That's how you end up with your flesh eaten and your blood infected, blood-vomit lady.

I promise to get down off my soap box very soon.

The second part of the zombie movie that made absolutely no sense was how quickly Major Henry West (Christopher Eccleston) divulged his very own nefarious scheme: an evil breeding plan! I mean, he couldn't wait a day to gain these people's trust, or see when his chained zombie would die of starvation, or, I don't know, ask the ladies to be part of your breeding plan? Plus, if you don't keep track of who was with whom and when, you won't know who fathered which kid, and thus you will be unable to prevent possible incest in succeeding generations. Then you end up with a bunch of people who look like Joseph Fiennes.

Now onto the other movie, the much better one. Violence to end violence movies are a difficult breed. When done well, they are exceptional, thoughtful, and thought-provoking pieces like Unforgiven. When they're not, they come off as beautiful but flawed sermonizing like Road to Perdition.The latter and this film may have come out in the same year, but this one hit the box office a good two weeks earlier. It's the better of two, I can tell you that.

While I'm not quite yet sold on Murphy as an actor, Jim's transformation during the movie was compelling and realistic. At first he cannot bring himself to defend himself against zombies who want to eat his flesh (at least not without a heaping helping of remorse afterwards), but little by little he finds enough resolve to kill (or at least let die) an entire troop of living men for trying to hurt the only people he feels connected to. Between Murphy, Boyle, and Garland, they give Jim enough nuance to make this metamorphisis both understandable and unsettling, without ever letting it dehumanize their lead.

Well played, boys.

As for the other players, Gleeson needs to stop giving me the impression that he's in every movie, Harris and Burns rock it pretty hard, and Eccleston hereby graduates from being known to me as "Poor man's Ralph Fiennes" to being his very own person. He's scary, he's endearing, he's everywhere, and I didn't even know.

Besides, Ralph Fiennes kind of sucks at being Ralph Fiennes sometimes, doesn't he? Let's give Eccelston some more English Patient-y roles, and let him make the ladies swoon, shall we?

A million words (give or take) later, and I still haven't gotten to the best part of either film. This movie contains the most inventive, beautiful, haunting, and despair filled cinematography I have ever seen. Ever. If Anthony Dod Mantle isn't rolling in it, I'll never understand why. I can't even begin to describe the way he perfectly frames every single shot. At first I thought he was over doing it with the long/tracking shots of Jim wandering through an abandoned London, but he later revealed that it was all part of a larger plan as he slowly switched to tighter and tighter close-ups while Jim gained control over his situation.

Here's to you, Mantle. You exist unparalleled in my mind.

I'd like to give these two movies two different grades, yet they are one and the same. Garland and Boyle may have decided to ignore glaring plot holes and moronic plot contrivances, but I cannot. B

Back to the real business of blogging: find something funnier than you, and linking to it. Enjoy!

Free Market Economy

a.k.a Watch a bunch of movies you’ve never head of day!

Recently, Graham made a tiny diction error, and it set off a fire storm of thoughts and a smaller one of comments. Nonetheless, I got to thinking about whether the individual reader is on the wrong cinematic train because most of the movies I review are ones they’ve never seen or heard of.

The short answer? Yes.

Perhaps I should indulge you (and myself) with a longer answer.

Simply put, how is I that I see so many movies/come to know about so many movies in order to see them? Long before Feria Films was a twinkle in my eye, I subconsciously made it my business to know about movies and their makings.

This next bit is going to sound really pretentious, hopefully unavoidably so: although many people are familiar with those behind the scenes of their fav films, I make a point of noting the director and/or writer(s) of everything that I like for one reason or another. It’s enough, I find, for most people to think that a certain movie looks “good” or has a certain someone they like in front of the camera. For the most part, that’s enough for me as well. Even so, I will often go see a movie with people I don’t like or that doesn’t look all that good in the promos because it’s got someone I like at the helm. Case in point? Elizabethtown. I love Cameron Crowe enough to put up with Jessica Biel, which is another way of saying a lot.

Future example? Despite its condescending labelling as “that gay cowboy movie” (is that a genre I don’t know about?), I will see Brokeback Mountain, probably on opening weekend. Why? Because it’s Ang Lee’s latest. I don’t need more than that. He had me at Sense and Sensibility.

Much like the people that make them, movie watching begets more movie watching. When you see movies or rent them, you have access to trailers, which only inspire me to watch more movies.

Of course, that last part is related to the cyclical nature of my blog. See, when I write I review, I hit up the movie’s IMDb page for information. I never would have found the page if I hadn’t been looking for a source for Feria Films’ sake. Now the site is its own related but separate addiction. Not only do I follow the filmography of any and all, but I check out the site even though it’s not related to the task at hand. If I suddenly remember that I like Sam Rockwell, for example, then I look him up to see what new projects he has on the go.

While an ordinary person might see a trailer or read about a movie and then promptly forget all about said flick, I – and this is where I just get nutty – make a note. Both Emily and Madison can attest to the fact that I used to keep pages and pages of double-sided post-its to make sure I saw everything that I intended to see. Now that I have a Zip account, the list is simply transferred there. So when I decide that I haven’t seen enough Jack Lemmon movies, I look him up on Zip and add a bunch of the titles to my list.

It’s an addictive and possibly degenerative disease.

It all comes down to three little words that Sarah was kind enough to point out: Free market economy. Graham, and all readers for that matter, are you currently reading interview books (The New New Journalism and Original Minds in my case) that are changing and challenging your interests and even goals? Are you addicted to high concept Fox dramas? Do you download Damien Rice songs and wonder why he’s suddenly the go-to guy for pathos in TV and movies?

No?

Does that make one of us on the right train and the other on the wrong? Probably not. There are more books you there than you will ever read, more TV shows than you will ever watch, and more music than you will ever listen to. Just the way it is.

Are you, however, on the wrong movie train if you are never interested in any of the movies I blog about? If I said no, that would deny the reason for the blog’s very existence. So of course you are. I watch more movies than most people will ever see, and I make no apologies for it. I read more reviews than you do, I watch more trailers, and I make more notes in my calendar about upcoming premieres. It’s my thing.

Happy Watch a Bunch of Movies You’ve Never Head of Day!

Elizabethtown (2005)

Hypothesis: Drew Baylor's (Orlando Bloom) eight year attempt to design the perfect athletic shoe has turned into a fiasco - not only does it fail with in the public, it's actually recalled. He goes home to kill himself, but he is interrupted by his cellphone. His sister (Judy Greer) informs him that his father died while visiting family in Elizabethtown, Kentucky and charges him with collecting the body. On the way there, he meets a plucky flight attendant, Claire (Kirsten Dunst), who takes an instant shine to him, although he tries to put her off. In a desperate moment, he calls Claire, and they develop a bond.

And that's only the first act! Funny how much can happen so quickly, no? Well, you could define it as the first and second, but then you would have to account for at least four acts.

Isn't hypothesis the best word for the premise of a Cameron Crowe (writer/director, naturally) vehicle? My qualitative methods class defines a hypothesis as a proposed, possible explanation for phenomena, and it seems like the launch point for Crowe's always semi-autobiographical tales. Doesn't it feel like he's searching for and identifying patterns of human behavior?

Early in the film, Drew VOs (that's voice over, folks) that you come to a certain point in your life where you decide that everything really is black or white. That's kind of how you watch the film. Every scene, every line reading, every shot either works or it does. There can be plenty of nuance, but there are no greys.

It's hard to say that you love this movie when it's so deeply and pathetically flawed. Crowe has a preternatural understanding of small town Southern American life, and his movie flawlessly showcases his natural, effecting, and endearing love of America and rock 'n' roll. The soundtrack itself (Elton John, anyone? Tom Petty?) is the kind of mixed tape you make for someone who already loves you, but you still want to impress. What he does best, better than most writers and directors out there today, is lovingly display the disillusionment that fills the lives of twentysomethings. There are times when it seems that there is nothing worse in the world than graduating from college because what's out there is this . . . abyss.

During their marathon phone conversation, in a shot that you've seen in every TV spot, when Claire asks, "Do you ever feel like you're fooling everyone?", and Drew sighs, "You have no idea," I don't think there's a person alive who doesn't know exactly how Drew feels.

Despite her oversized flight uniform, I doubt I've seen better performance from Dunst (minus, of course, her early childhood successes that are second to none - seriously, have you seen Interview With a Vampire? Have you?). Her flirty, flighty (no pun intended) attitude is balanced by mystery that appears written into her genetic code; Claire is incapable of not holding back. She possesses the soft purr of a sex kitten not yet come into her own under that glorious umbrella. Not to downplay what I have enjoyed so much in the past, but she goes beyond the innocent and worldly ingenue usually portrayed by Natalie Portman in such movies.

Bloom and Dunst have just enough chemistry to keep me interested but not enough to get me to care. The real failure there is - prepare yourself for no shock - Bloom. While he's definitely star material, and he's already a matinee idol despite his exceedingly far apart nipples and possibly misplaced nose, he doesn't yet have the talent to bring the requisite complexity to the Crowe lead role. Crowe men represent this off-kilter combination of confidence and serious lack of self-esteem: he is certain that he's a great catch, and he has no idea how to convince the lady in question of that fact. With the right actor, this formula excels, allowing logorrhea to be seen as charming rather than excruciating. Bloom simply isn't at that level.

His best work - when the movie's at its best - occurs when Bloom falls silent, and the soundtrack is allowed to take over. Bloom somehow manages to project that quintessential embarrassingly raw emotion (e.g., rejoicing over a returned phone call, dancing in the woods, or carefully constructing a machine for his "dark date with destiny") that Crowe frames beautifully when Bloom isn't weighed down with dialogue. Outside of that, he tugs at the occasional heartstring and wrings a laugh or two from the audience, but it's never enough to sell the overall package.

Cameron, you need to abandon these pretty pin-ups, and return to something more substantial.

Bloom's shortcomings aside, it's the incredible misuse of the amazing Susan Sarandon that constitutes the movie's biggest mistake. Although I would normally delight in a widow learning to love life after her loss, it would be more meaningful if I had the opportunity to witness a single moment of grief instead of the shrewish selfishness we are put through. Don't get me wrong - Sarandon brings dignity and depth to the role that wasn't written to contain those attributes. Perhaps Hollie Baylor finding laughter and joy again would be more palatable if it didn't occur are her husband's funeral.

In fact, in true black and white fashion, I pronounced said scene the worst thing I've seen in a movie. Ever. And I've seen a lot.

I also announced that Greer was the best thing to happen to movies in the last ten years, and Emily countered with my beloved Mark Ruffalo. Of course, that would make the movie they appear in together the pinnacle of all things in the last ten years, and that's just not right, so we must have both miscalculated.

In the end, this sort-of The Apartment in reverse is wonderful and wrong. There are perfect moments and not enough of them. Crowe hasn't quite found the pattern yet. Not a complete fiasco, not yet a success. B+

Also, a list I fully support. Is someone at EW reading this blog or what?

P.S. To someone who shall go unnamed and unlinked (she wouldn't want you reading this anyway), who said something about me in a recent post: Thank you. It means more to me than you know.

Tim Burton's Corpse Bride

Premise: After fumbling his vows at the wedding rehearsal, Victor (Johnny Depp) sets out in to the woods to practice. When he places the ring on what he assumes is a twig, he accidentally marries the Corpse Bride (Helena Bonham Carter) instead. Victor tries to get back to the land of the living, while his fiancée, Victoria (Emily Watson), appears increasingly insane when she tries to explain what has happened to Victor.

As you well know, I try to live spoiler free. In fact, unless it's to warn me off something so awful it approaches ancient Macedonian proportions, I don't want to hear it. All I want to hear from someone who sees something in the theatre before I get the chance is that they think I will like it.

So imagine my chagrin when two people who spread falsehoods about seeing the picture with Sarah and I, went to see it without us, and proceeded to bad-mouth the movie to our faces, despite my protests of "I don't want to hear this" and "Stop talking the movie." Personally, I think those a pretty clear statements. Unfortunately, it was not enough to shut one of them up.

Well, Emily and Andrea, you can just cram it with walnuts the next time you want to behave like insensitive clods. Or filberts. Those were also suggested.

Although I highly doubt it, gentle reader, in case you happen to be suffering a moron attack of Em/Andy proportions, this movie includes musical numbers much like every other animated feature you've ever seen. Five numbers do not a musical make. And since the numbers are so delightfully written and staged (I love you, Danny Elfman!), you really have no cause for concern. Instead, you have cause for delight.

Let me state for the record that the technical aspects of stop motion animation with puppets made out of stainless steel armatures covered with silicon skin are beyond me. Trust me when I say that the two foot puppets looked amazing, and that the opening town sequence alone puts the similar Beauty and the Beast one to shame.

Well, to gothic romance shame. I do love that Burton never seemed to grow out of that early adolescent obsession with all things dark, dusty, horrific, and sexual. He's a great guy, that Tim Burton. Just great.

He assembled a crack team of people he's collaborated with in the past: co-director Mark Johnson, and screenwriters John August, Pamela Pettler, and Caroline Thompson. They went to town in this gothic fairy tale of lost love and the underworld. How they managed to capture Depp's nervous nuances is truly phenomenal.

A delicious and hilarious take on marriage and love as a wedding gift for his lady muse, Burton has chosen once again to treat his audiences to something refreshing, clever, and adorably off the wall as well. Keep up the excellent work, Tim. A

Running on Empty (1988)

Premise: In 1971, Annie (Christine Lahti) and Artie (Judd Hirsch) blew up a naplam lab, blinding and paralyzing one man. They've been on the run ever since. In what should be his last year of high school, their eldest son, Danny (River Phoenix), wants a future of his own choosing, but he knows that would mean giving up his family forever.

Of course, there's a girl involved. And, because this movie came out when it did, it's Martha Plimpton. She's a believable actress, but she has a funny voice and looks kind of like a frog. Suffice it to say that I've always wondered what the big deal about Plimpton is.

Here's what makes this movie so great: it's heavy emotionally, but the full weight of it never really hits you until
the last minute. Somehow, Sidney Lumet's direction and Naomi Foner's screenplay draws out the tension so that the inevitable and impossible conclusion remains just that - a conclusion. Not an idea you figure out in the opening frames or half way through the movie. Not because the movie keeps you guessing with twists but because you get caught up in the character's motivations. It's a small scale character study/coming of age story that's one of the best I've ever seen.

And if you've been reading long enough, you know I'm a sucker for a good coming of age story.

I'm struggling with what to say about the performers and their performances. Hirsch and Lahti bring such depth of grief to their roles that you cannot fault their actions even if you don't support them. Hirsch's father struggles with teaching his kids subterfuge at every turn and still giving them something to believe in, while Lahti's mother functions as an interpreter, creating a peace with her newly rebellious son and his idealist father.

Phoenix functions as the film's moral centre, a kid stretched too thin holding his family together and too loosely hanging on to the one dream that could sustain him. Their lives deprive of him of any kind of future, and he desperately believes that he cannot go against them. It's the kind of thing that adults go through when their parents cannot care for themselves anymore, but he takes on the burden at too young an age with quiet grace.

Plus, they use Fire and Rain a lot. I like that song. A-

In Her Shoes

Idea: Rose (Toni Collette) and Maggie (Cameron Diaz) are sisters and the best of friends, which naturally means that they are also opposites. When beautiful Maggie's carefree ways finally push conservative and less-beautiful-by-Hollywood-standards Rose to throw her sister out of her life, Maggie tracks down the grandmother (Shirley MacLaine) she never knew she had and attempts to begin her life again in Florida while Rose reevaluates her life in Philadelphia.

It was especially important to me to point out the setting since I had absolutely no idea, and no one mentioned it for a solid hour, I swear. That bugged me.

I would also feel remiss if I didn't point out how sexy Mark Feuerstein can be. I always liked him just for being him, with eye-catching performances on The West Wing and in What Woman Want. I don't what it is about him - somehow he can be smarmy, nerdy, and delightfully caustic all in one turn. These qualities he plays to varying degrees depending on the role. But here, thanks to Jennifer Weiner's novel, Susannah Grant's screenplay, and Curtis Hanson's direction, he gets to be sexy. Congrats, Mark, you've made it.

Speaking of Hanson's direction, his deft hand in both comedy and drama serve the audience well. With another director at the helm, this piece would have surely descended into the realm of fluff, but he manages to showcase the movie's central bond with confidence and compassion.

Collette, from whom I always expect good work, and Diaz, from whom I occasionally expect good work, both turn in winning performances, and I like that their differences never seem to descend into odd couple cliché.

I'd say that MacLaine was also in top form, and she was, but it was thrown off by a sudden realization that her character is reverse Aurora. I'd like to pretend that I am not one for type casting, and I know MacLaine is a talented actress capable of many different things. Even so, there's this revelation in the movie that was just so false to me that it threw me out of the movie. I got back in pretty quickly, but I started imagining what Aurora would have done under similar circumstances and was disappointed by comparison.

I could have done without the numerous loving shots of Diaz's legs, but the movie's amiable. I enjoyed the time I spent with it. Hanson's ability to draw hidden depths out of the most unlikely sources certainly elevated the material, but it still feels like nothing special in the long run. B+

Bonus: I got to see a certain trailer on the big screen, which made me all the more giddy.

Serenity (2005)

Premise: Malcolm Reynolds (Nathan Fillion) captains a firefly class spaceship, Serenity, with his first mate Zoe (Gina Torres); their pilot - and Zoe's husband - Wash (Alan Tudyk); a mechanic with an engine fetish, Kaylee (Jewel Staite); and a mercenary for hire, Jayne (Adam Baldwin). Dr. Simon Tam (Sean Maher) and his younger sister, River (Summer Glau), are passengers aboard the ship. An operative (Chiwetel Ejiofor) depolyed by the Alliance seeks to terminate River in order to keep her secrets at all costs, reeking bloody havoc along the way.

For the Browncoats: The movie picks up shortly after the series left off, with Inara (Morena Baccarin) and Shepherd Book (Ron Glass) having moved on.

For the newbies: It's a space western, okay? Deal with it. Like most westerns, the crew may be outlaws, but they're not the bad ones. The Alliance (i.e. nefarious non-specific government organization) is much worse.

Writer/director Joss Whedon does what he does best here: create a large surrogate family whose close bonds are masked with heavy sarcasm. The white hats are never truly white with him, and his characters are all the better for it. Whedon excels where most TV writers fail daily: complex characterization, unique, catchy dialogue, and tightly paced plots.

In this big screen treatment for a pet project dead before its time, Whedon blends the exposition for those unfamiliar with the show seamlessly with plot elements. In lesser hands, the plot would have to come to a screeching halt for these moments.

And it's the moments we watch for. Browncoats (a term inspired by Mal and Zoe's background in the show and applied to fans) filled my theatre, and their shock, laughs, and tears were heartier than those I witness during even the most compelling movies. When was the last time you saw a movie where the entire audience gasped simultaneously?

That's the joy I derive from Whedon. Having been a faithful Buffy and Angel follower, watching anything he does is like re-reading a favourite book (you practically have the shot list memorized), and Whedon still manages to captivate and surprise you.

Fillion and Torres convey a crackling yet lived-in intimacy. A "hero" with nothing left to believe in, Mal depends on Zoe to function as his moral compass, who does this largely through deadpan humour. Frankly, if I had half of Torres' deadpan abilities, I wouldn't be sitting here writing about someone else. Of course, I suppose being that sexy helps as well.

Mal and Zoe find their perfect counterpoint in the ship's two refugees, Simon and River. Maher wears his heart on his sleeve as a brother obsessed with protecting his younger sister at all costs. Glau's insanity can be grating at times, but the love between these two serves as the film's emotional core.

Baldwin, Staite, and Tudyk fill out the rest of this lovable crew of soft-hearted, hard-bitten cynics with hearts of gold (tm, Shack) with humour, warmth, and another healthy dose of sex appeal.


Seriously, how could a show with some many good looking people get cancelled so quickly? Evil Fox.

Props for David Newman's score. Good use of fiddle.

As much as I love Whedon and could easily put him on a pedestal, and as much as I appreciate him solving two of the three lingering mysteries from Firefly, there are moments when the cast struggles with his crazed, future-Western dialogue. In addition, the ship is so lovingly photographed that it seems like hours before you ever get a good look at a single character, and it's a fleeting one even then.

Also, I can respect and understand the Chinese-Americana combo as an explosion of Earth That Was' last two superpowers (in Whedon's belief), but why can't we have a subtitle or two for the Mandarin?

When I started to write this review, Serenity was sitting in the number two spot in terms of box office receipts, having pulled in a modest $10.1 million at the box office. The crux of this review, of this movie, doesn't occur on screen: if Whedon finds silver screen success, the chances of him returning to the small screen seem to diminish with every ticket sale.

And yet, he deserves it.

So here's to you, Joss. Browncoats should see this movie. Whedon fans should see this movie. Western fans should see this movie. Sci-fi fans should see this movie. Anyone who has ever wanted to see something they could enjoy, who has ever wanted to find characters they could root for, who wants to see some good looking men without their shirts on (sadly not Jayne, though), should see this movie. A

P.S. Watch what you say when you come out of the movie. People are very sensitive to my theories about the characters' sexual predilections.

After you see Serenity in theatres, if you are interested in cuddling up with a nice romantic comedy, check out It Happened One Night (1934).

I tell you truly, if you've seen any romantic comedy ever, at least one element of it came out Frank Capra's classic.

Plus, it's the first movie that features a man without his shirt on. And when that man is the lovable, bodice-ripping rogue Clark Gable, who can argue?