Oscar Round-Up (2006)

'Bout that time, eh, chaps? Right-o.

To review the rules, click here.

To review the nominees in all categories (as Elfin April will only be concerning herself with six), click here.

Alright, kiddies, I'm just gonna call 'em like I see 'em. And, when it comes right down to it, you know I see a lot more of 'em than you do.

2005 was no 2004 in a lot of ways, including box office receipts. It was, however, better in at least one way: movies decided to mean something this year. They decided to have messages, morals, and values. To stand for something. To believe in something. To fight.

Don't get me wrong, I know that the Academy Awards are nothing more than a legitimizing exercise that celebrates a handful of truly worthwhile movies in a given year, so that Hollywood can get away with churning out hundreds of crappy movies that make money. I'm okay with that.

And so, without further ado, get out your pens and get ready to start handicapping the odds of your office Oscar pool:

Performance by an actor in a leading role:

Nominees: Philip Seymour Hoffman as Truman Capote in Capote; Terrence Howard as Djay in Hustle & Flow; Heath Ledger as Ennis Del Mar in Brokeback Mountain; Joaquin Phoenix as Johnny Cash in Walk the Line; and David Strathairn as Edward R. Murrow in Good Night, and Good Luck.

Were these movies spread out over five years, everyone one of these men would be walking away with a golden statuette in their hands. Unfortunately, that is not the case. And, really, it's such an one man race it's silly. Okay, maybe a two man race.

Those men, by the way, would be Hoffman and Ledger. Ledger mined depths of the soul previously unseen for his performance as a lover so tortured that he had nothing and was nothing, and you're lying if you tell me that the bottom doesn't fall out of your stomach during the last 45 seconds of that film. The heart aches just thinking about it.

But, really, does anything compare to the chameleon that is Hoffman? Can anything approach his pitch perfect performance that could have slid so easily into caricature? Does anyone still doubt this man's masterful control of the screen? I didn't think so.

Who will win: Hoffman. Who should win: Hoffman. Or any of them, really. I'll gladly offer up a snuggling service for any of these gentlemen after they get passed over (and I'm really just talking to you, Phoenix).

Performance by an actor in a supporting role:

Nominees: George Clooney as Bob Barnes in Syriana; Matt Dillon as Officer Ryan in Crash; Paul Giamatti as Joe Gould in Cinderella Man; Jake Gyllenhaal as Jack Twist in Brokeback Mountain; and William Hurt as Richie Cusack in A History of Violence.

Well, I can certainly tell you that Hurt isn't going to be picking up any consolation prizes for what A.V. Club readers deemed the best movie of the year. Sure, Dame Judi gets an award for eight minutes of screen time, but you did 10, sir, which is two too many. (I hold it distinctly possible that I will never get over the 1999 Academy awards. I'm just leveling with ya).

Baring a Brokeback sweep (odds: highly unlikely), Gyllenhaal will be heading home empty handed as well, although probably not by his lonesome. What, you think men who look like that go home alone if they don't want to? Neither do I.

I just don't want Dillon to win. I don't want Crash to win anything, ever, even though I acknowledge that it will pick up at least one statuette tomorrow evening. Just not this one. Pinning all of the acting hopes of an ensemble cast on, well, what wasn't the best performance of the lot is just plain dumb. Here's what I think should have happened: break-out star Howard should have pulled a reverse Jamie Foxx from last year: nominated in both categories and goes home with the Supporting award.

So, let's see. Will the Academy acknowledge their offensively poor treatment Giamatti in the past with a win this time around*, or will they hand it off to Clooney as a conciliation for the awards he certainly won't be hoisting in the same night**?

Who will win: Clooney. No one saw Cinderella Man last summer, after all. Who should win: Giamatti. Or Terrence Howard. Just sayin'.

*Although, really, how funny is it that what must have seemed like a surefire Oscar juggernaut about a year ago gets only three nods and only one of those is for acting? The acting, that is, of the lead that doesn't already have an Academy award?

** There is the off chance he could walk away with Original Screenplay, but I doubt it.

Performance by an actress in a leading role:

Nominees: Judi Dench as Mrs. Laura Henderson (durr) in Mrs. Henderson Presents; Felicity Huffman as Bree in Transamerica; Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet in Pride & Prejudice; Charlize Theron as Josey Aimes in North Country; and Reese Witherspoon as June Carter in Walk the Line.

Man, women just don't get their fair share, do they? I mean, look at these nods. Two of them, tops, should even be nominated. The rest are just filler. Offensive filler.

So let's just skip ahead to those two ladies, shall we? Huffman, you and I know both know that prosthetics are usually a surefire way to walk away with an award, but, well, Witherspoon's got ya beat. I don't know if it's the autoharp, but her sass, spunk, and unconditional love are going to lock this one up.

Who will win: Witherspoon. Who should win: Witherspoon. Don't get on Tracey Flick's bad side.

Performance by an actress in a supporting role:

Nominees: Amy Adams as Ashley in Junebug; Catherine Keener as Harper Lee in Capote; Frances McDormand as Glory in North Country; Rachel Weisz as Tessa Quayle in The Constant Gardener; and Michelle Williams as Alma Del Mar in Brokeback Mountain.

Before I get into this, let me just say one quick thing: Anne Hathaway, in your last scene in Brokeback, you were stunning. You deserve at least some consideration for those two minutes alone. All that silent, glorious work, and people aren't even paying attention. Life isn't fair.

The most volatile category of the year in any given year, and this year seems even more difficult than the last. So it is.

Adams may be the critical darling of this category, but the chances of the Academy picking her as well are slim to none. Keener might just as well wrap herself up in one of Nell's cardigans because she's getting left out in the cold as well (yes, I did just make that bad of a pun. What's it to you?). McDormand - it isn't going to happen.

The question is: will they pick the hot, older pregnant lady or the hot, younger one? Again, barring a Brokeback sweep, they'll go with the English. The Academy loves an accent, after all.

Who will win: Weisz. Who should win: Adams.

Achievement in Directing/Best Motion Picture of the Year

Nominees: Ang Lee, Brokeback Mountain; Bennett Miller, Capote; Paul Haggis, Crash; George Clooney, Good Night, and Good Luck; Steven Spielberg, Munich.

On the plus side, I've seen all the nominees this year. On the negative side, the fact that each corresponding director and picture has been nominated means that I can't just eliminate nominees from each race for that very reason. They like to keep me on my toes, I guess.

Neither Haggis nor his monstrosity will pick up either award, but he will walk away with Original Screenplay. Good enough for me, in the sense that this movie deserves no awards consideration.

I've already said that I think Cloons is out of the running, and his beautifully crafted and shot picture, natch, is out with him.

With no acting nods to accompany it, Spielberg and Munich don't have much of a chance either. Too bad, really. It was a wonderfully suspenseful drama-thriller.

When it comes right down to it, will the Oscar go to the the guy nobody's heard of or the guy we already know the Academy likes?

Who will win: Ang Lee/Brokeback Mountain. Who should win: Ang Lee/Brokeback Mountain.

Gentle reader, we will talk again Monday about my accuracy or lack thereof, who wore what, and whether his performance has caused my love of Jon Stewart to grow or diminish.

Appetizer (okay, I'll give you a little review, too)

Listen, it's not like I've not been watching movies. I don't want you to think that. But, well, I think the last whole movie I watched was Lord of War (2005), and I'm definitely going to need to see that again before I can form anything approaching an opinion about it. I can tell you that the stellar opening sequence (set to the perennial fav protest song, Buffalo Springfield's "For What It's Worth") was almost diminished by the by-the-numbers plot writer/director Andrew Niccol churned out. When some people fall, they hit the ground pretty damn hard. Sure, he managed to subdue Nicholas Cage's schtick (for, I tell you truly, that man gives schtick. Schtick is not acting. Mind you, there is a great place in this world for schtick. Beloved Jimmy Stewart was generally a purveyor of the finest quality schtick available), so I'll grant him that.

As pretty as Jared Leto is, I found myself distracted by Ethan Hawke. I know! So soon after I swore him off! But, and just think about this, has anyone else noticed how foxy he's become in the last two years or so? I would have been the first to publicly declare my love for him at the top of his Gen-X, greasy haired slacker days. But, now, it's likely he's magically developed this raw animal magnetism. Like he's suddenly remembered his own sexuality, even if his lovely wife did dump his ass. Oh, Ethan, why must you toy with me this way?

But that stupid, stupid plot. It had all the makings of a wonderful little amoral thriller, only it had to stop full stop and start proselytizing on me. Niccol, I used to think you could be subtle when you were moralizing. If you keep this up, I'm going to have to stop getting excited about your movies and instead look on the ads with disdain. Also, if you must have one character deliver the stupid "voice of audience" speeches, try not to have Bridget Moynahan do it. Nonetheless, you did give Ian Holm the best line of the night, and those Sutherlands do give great voice over.

Oh, but how do I feel? I feel pretty B, maybe even B- right about now. I'll give ya another chance, though. I'm feeling generous.

And now onto the only reason I was going to post before all that crazed stream of consciousness stuff came out. Two videos for ya, kids, because I care. Here's something funny. Here's something funny in the creepy could be true kind of way.

Match Point (2005)

Premise: Social climbing Chris Wilton (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) takes a position as a tennis pro in a ritzy country club, where he is befriended by the fabulously wealthy Tom Hewett (Matthew Goode). Although Chris begins romancing Tom's sister, Chloe (Emily Mortimer), it's really Tom's fiancee, Nola (Scarlett Johansson) that Chris can't keep his eyes, or his hands, off of.

Lady: It's the best Woody Allen movie.
Man: It's not much of a Woody Allen movie.

Isn't it nice when the two people sitting behind you do all your work for you? Of course it is!

Oh, Woody, you really shouldn't have. Except that you totally should have. It's about damn time, really, that you left behind the stuffy corners of New York where your alleged creativity has been stagnated for years and wrote something completely different: a sleek thriller. It's about time that someone picked the new Hugh Grant, so you did that, too (that would be Matthew Goode, for the record). It's about time that no one forced pretty American ingenues to adopt ridiculous and unflattering English accents, so you let your new muse stay American (Scarlett Johansson, if you're keeping score). And, finally, it's about time that you stopped writing the "you" character in and expecting someone else to do it because everyone fails at it. Sure, Will Ferrell hinted at this in Melinda and Melinda, but here the transformation is complete.

Oh, my little septuagenarian, what a delight this was! The way you filmed London after you abandoned the idea of setting the film in the Hamptons was fresh and lovely. In addition, you very kindly gave me the exact ending that I've been craving for years and years, the likes of which no movie has seen fit to deliver.

You made me forget all about the corpse-like appearance Johansson made on the cover of Tom Ford's skeevy Vanity Fair Hollywood issue. You made me remember why I liked her in the first place. She's spunky as Nola, all husky whispers and knowing sexuality, while actively involved in luring men and refusing to acknowledge her power over them. By the end I may have considered her on the verge of becoming bat shit crazy, but, hey, I kind of liked that, too.

The winsome Mortimer worked wonderfully in what I have come to expect as her type. For a couple of scenes in there, I had half-wished that you had cast someone with a bit more of Kelly Macdonald's dynamism, but I suppose that would have resulted in a different kind of Chloe. Ah, well.

At his relatively young age, the fact that Goode seems to have embraced both sides of the Hugh Grant persona (bumbling and shy love interest and charming rake) will serve him well for years to come on this side of the Atlantic. We like that sort of thing around here.

In the nearly ten years that have slipped by since I first glimpsed Rhys Meyers writhing in the Irish sea in The Governess, he's done a lot with himself. He's all swagger and bluster and on the verge of snapping into a homicidal rage most of the time, but, when he gets to hint at the vulnerability underneath it all, not the typical male ingenue low self-esteem/no-body-sees-the-real-me crap, but the guilt, the remorse that plagues a pretty man who does whatever he has to to get everything he wants, well, that's something worth staying tuned for. Besides, he manages to look highly feminine and kind of like a cold fish and still be sexy. That's a feat, my friend.

I can only hope the next Johansson/Allen match turns out as well. A

P.S. Watched Mr. Smith Goes to Washington last night. I love the combination of Jimmy Stewart and Frank Capra. So cheesy and full of warm fuzzies.

Transamerica (2005)

Brief: A week before her final surgery in the gender reassignment process, Bree (Felicity Huffman) discovers that she has a teenage son, Toby (Kevin Zegers). And that son just happens to be in lock up. Because her therapist (Elizabeth Pena) won't approve the surgery until Bree deals with her past, she heads to New York and ends up driving across the country with Toby, posing as a church member trying to help him reform.

It's been almost a week since I saw this movie, and I've been reluctant to post about it ever since. I liked it, and Huffman's tender tour-de-force is indeed Oscar-worthy, but, well, I'm going to have to say some things that, um, I don't know . . . every critic in the country will disagree with?

Actually, this will be good for us. So that you know that I, too, wonder why critical praise is lavished on some films and not on others. Sure, most of the time the critics and I are like this (if you know what I'm saying, and I think you do) but not this time.

So you know the road movie? You've seen it a thousand times before. Strangers or semi-strangers head out on the road, maybe they don't like each other at first, then things go pear shaped and grudging respect generally gives way to friendship, which is tossed up in the air when some secret or other is revealed, but the friendship survives and grows stronger. Throw in some crazy relatives/backwoods weirdos (or combine them!) for comedy/pathos. Mix well and serve hot.

You've seen it before. Don't tell me you haven't. I've seen it before as well. And writer/director Duncan Tucker, in his feature length debut, must have since he presents it to us here. Which is fine, I suppose, because he's using the form as a foundation for the fresh twists he provides. Makes sense. It works most of the time.

An instance where it doesn't work, you ask? Toby. As wonderful is Zegers is, much like the formulaic plot, his character is also a pastiche we've all seen before. As soon as you know what landed Toby in jail, you know what his big secret will be. Doesn't diminish the dramatic irony, per se, but it does give you the slightest hint of what this movie could have been.

In the film's defense, the reason we have formulas is the fact that they work. Or Adorno's right, and the culture industry perpetuates itself through self-cannibalization,* while reinforcing goals that cannot be achieved by the average movie goer. I guess my view depends on whether it's a glass half empty kind of day.

*Is there a word for self-cannibalization?

Nonetheless, formulas exist because we want them to. It's easier for us to see and respond to a theme and variations than it is to understand and accept the variations on their own. I wouldn't have gone to see this movie if it wasn't a formula I didn't respond to, and I really enjoyed what I saw. Huffman, with her voice dipping down a few octaves, makes Bree such a full, breathing delight that it's impossible to ignore her plight, whether it's her desire to conceal her son's true parentage or to see herself the same on the outside as she feels on the inside. In the kind of role that nearly demands a showy performance, Huffman manages to resist that impulse and gives a beautifully internal performance that is nothing short of legendary.

I was going to give this movie a B+ when I first started this review. Thinking back on the strength of the performers, it's fair to bump it up to an A-.

I'm it, I guess

(click and scroll)

Four jobs I have had:
i) Environmental Emergencies Communications Officer
ii) Junior Communications Officer
iii) Operations Implementation Liaison Communications Officer
iv) Staff writer

Four movies I could watch over and over:
a) Sin City
b) Swing Kids
c) Rushmore
d) Quills

Yes, I did just randomly choose some titles I own. Think about what site you're reading, people.

Four books I could read over and over:
1) The Bible (New Living Translation, please!)
2) Gail Anderson Dargatz's A Recipe For Bees
3) Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird
4) Corrie Ten Boom's The Hiding Place

Places I have lived:
Sarnia
Ottawa

Four places I have been on vacation:
i) Tenerife, Canary Islands
ii) South of Spain
iii) Paris, France
iv) East coast of Canada

Four websites I visit daily:
a) CBC weather
b) Ice Conditions on the Rideau Canal (seasonal)
c) Girls are pretty
d) Television Without Pity

Four favourite foods:
1) my homemade pizza
2) cheeseburger and fries
3) shepherd's pie
4) Anjou pears (they are the stillest of fruits, after all)

Four favourite non-alcoholic drinks:
i) root beer floats
ii) milkshakes at The Works
iii) green tea
iv) Dr. Pepper

Four favourite musicians:
a) Joni Mitchell
b) Bob Dylan
c) Johnny Cash
d) Steven Curtis Chapman

Four places I would like to be right now:
1) Paris
2) Fiji
3) Berlin International Film Festival (on now!)
4) Machu Picchu

Last four books I read:
i) C.S. Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
ii) Christopher Gidlow's The Reign of Arthur: From History to Legend
iii) Stephen Glass' The Fabulist
iv) Robert S. Boynton's The New New Journalism

Last four movies I have seen:
a) Transamerica
b) Equilibrium
c) Gattaca
d) Boondock Saints

What's on my desk right now?
Stack of CD jewel cases, spindles of CDs, pic of my sister, mug that once contained mint tea, moisturizer with sunscreen, external disc drive, modem, laptop, globe, container full of pens, DVD player remote control

Bloggers I'm tagging:
It's up to you, kids, but I'd go from some Sarah, Alexia, Amy, and Jenelle action.

Reds (1981)

Premise: A socialist journalist, Jack Reed (Warren Beatty) becomes passionately involved with the Bolshevik revolution and fellow writer Louise Bryant (Diane Keaton), to point of covering the revolution from Russia.

To be honest with you, I only recently discovered that this movie exists. I have been missing out.

Never mind the sizzling chemistry between sometime paramours Keaton and Beatty, never mind the juicy proportions of young Edward Herrmann, Jack Nicholson, and an uncredited Gene Hackman, the real jewel here is writer/director Beatty.

He already had all the movie star good looks, charisma, and talent he needed to set him up for the easy come good life. So, why, why get himself involved in a hot political piece about a man few remember? And then turn it into a three hour plus epic?

Well, I guess he had something to say. To make a movie about a man so overtly communist and dare to neither condemn or elevate your subject? To look at him as both a man and a legend, to find the way both those things overlap and diverge, and to refuse to criticize his failings, which, in turn, beautifully plays as his humanity? That takes some cojones, my friends.

In addition, he packs every frame with actions and gives the movie virtually no score. There's nothing to direct you how to feel besides the exceptional work on the many wonderful character actors who fill the screen.

The movie's subject matter may overtly deal with the rise of communism, but it's plea is much more subtle: one of freedom. It makes it all the more disappointing that Beatty hasn't worked since 2001. I don't care if you are turning 70 next year, Warren. We need ya. A

Because I care, here's something funny. And here's something funny and movie related. Automagically, people. Automagically.

Flirting with Disaster (1996)

Plan: After the birth of his son, Mel (Ben Stiller) seeks out his birth parents with his wife, Nancy (Patricia Arquette), and a case worker, Tina (Téa Leoni), much to the chagrin of his adoptive parents (Mary Tyler Moore and George Segal).

There's a thing about watching David O. Russell movies, kind of like how I always say there's a thing about Wes Anderson movies or how I recently said that there's a thing about Terrence Malik movies. In any case, there are certain writers and directors that you instantly know when you are watching one of their pictures. For some it's style, for others it's thematic, and still others it's content. For David O. Russell, it's audience reaction.

First of all, while the sentence I typed above sounds like a simple enough plot, things are never simple in Russell's world. Everything always goes wrong. Not just in the movie way that things go wrong in order to draw out a three sentence pitch into a full length feature. Things go wrong in a very special way in a Russell movie: they go wrong for no discernible reason, and there is no real solution to the inanity. Only the most absurd things can occur, yet the follow their own special Russellian logic.

And so it goes for you, the viewer. The first few minutes seem normal. Then sense flies out of the window and you start to wonder what the heck you're watching. You're compelled to roll with it, and, suddenly, in spite of your objections or perhaps because of them, you realize that you are enjoying yourself.

Personally, I found this one a little too warm family fuzzies and a little less absurd than I would have liked, but that's how it goes with Russell. The work is sort of on the same vibe as the previously viewed material and completely different. I'll have to watch it a few more times to be certain of exactly where I stand with it and it with me. B

Should you be concerned about the dearth of reviews, please remind yourselves that it's February. Besides catching up on the contenders, there's really nothing to see in the first few months of the year.

Holy Crap

Yeah, just yeah. As it should be. I'm looking forward to this one.

Pleasantly Surprised and Seriously Offended

I would be remiss if I did not post about the Academy Award nominations, which were announced this morning.

It's way too early to handicap the races, but it's not too early to congratulate Terrence Howard for his leading actor nod. This was Howard's breakout year, and he knocked other more obvious contenders (ahem, Russell Crowe, ahem) out of the running.

It's also not too early to be pleased that Capote is getting the attention it richly deserves (direction, motion picture of the year, adapted screenplay). I know it is easy to focus on Hoffman's stellar work, and I'm pleased the Academy realized that it was the result of a trifecta (acting/directing/writing) working in perfect harmony.

As for the offenses (for they are numerous and grievous), let me just ask you this: who woke up one morning and said, "You know, that Keira Knightley is definitely on the same level as Judi Dench is all the time and Felicity Huffman is in Transamerica"? Who thought that up? I'm willing to accept that this version of Pride and Prejudice is all kinds of kick ass if someone will only help me come to terms with this insanity.

Finally, finally, someone needs to offer me the crack pipe next time I hear of more praise for Crash. This has got to stop. Crash isn't that good. I saw other, much better movies last year. It is not an achievement in anything, unless you think coaxing a great performance out of, say, Don Cheadle, is some big thing. I mean, isn't he "on" all the time? As for the lauded performance of Matt Dillon, again, I question the sanity of these people. Why single him out if it was such an ensemble movie? Why not single out Terrence Howard? If Jamie Foxx could score two different nominations last year, I think Howard deserves the same consideration.

Broadcast News (1987)

Outline: Young, driven news producer Jane Craig (Holly Hunter) works with talented reporter/best friend Aaron Altman (Albert Brooks) until she's assigned to charismatic (albeit less talented) Tom Grunick (William Hurt).

Could they be rivals for the same anchor position and the same woman's heart?! Oh, I bet you figured that out already.

Listen, can I tell you something? I don't get this movie. Imagine, if you will, that because Jane's played by Hunter, she's the Holly Hunter specialty: prickly and super intelligent but still warm and passionate. So, basically, pretty awesome.

Naturally, her best friend is in love with her. Who wouldn't be? Sadly, between Brooks and writer/director James L. Brooks, Aaron's such an asshole that I never wanted her to end up with him. He's miserable, so he seeks to make her miserable in turn. That's not what best friends or people who are in love with you are supposed to do. How can he honestly tell Jane that he "semi-seriously" thinks that Tom is the devil, prevent the two of them from being together at every turn, and then tell Jane that he's mad at her? What the hell is that? Am I supposed to sympathize with this jerk?

I guess journalistic ethics mean nothing to me because I didn't entirely understand why what Tom did was so wrong. I liked Tom. I liked Jane with Tom. He wasn't perfect by a long shot, but he cared about her, and he liked her the way she was (condescension and all). I think Jane's problem could have been solved if she could just get Tom to understand why what he did was a breach of ethics.

So this leads me to the important question of the evening: do I even like writer/director James L. Brooks? He's directed five movies, I have seen four. Terms of Endearment rocks - no doubt about it. I have no real feelings about As Good As It Gets, but I think whatever I used to like about it has been diluted by its numerous airings on the superstation. Spanglish? Well, I saw that.

I'm going to level with you: James L. Brooks movies kind of suck. I think the characters are supposed to come off as real because of their quirkiness or eccentricity (for more on the problem with that, click here), but, most of the time, they're just mean. I don't like that. I don't want that from a movie. It's like watching only the episodes of Gilmore Girls written by Daniel Palladino. You're selling yourself short. B

My real concern in posting today, though, is the results of last night's SAG awards, which I can assure you I watched. Reese Witherspoon? Yes. Philip Seymour Hoffman? Absolutely. But the cast of Crash? WTF?! There was nothing wrong, per se, with any individual performance in the movie. Even so, as I read somewhere and would surely link to if I could remember, any film that cites race as the only source of conflict in the world today is just as ridiculous as one that pretends that race doesn't matter.

Sin City (2005)

Oh, how I do love RE-view time. I expect you know the rules by now.

How is it possible that I wrote the entire review last time without talking about the electric guitar driven score? That's crazy talk! John Debney, Graeme Revell, and Robert Rodriguez (director/editor/cinematographer extradorinaire) rock my world. When I find myself walking down the street, humming the selection that you can hear with the menu on the DVD, feeling (to be honest) sexier, I can't help but thank these gentlemen for their fine work.

While Jessica Alba's many failings were a bit more obvious to me this time (I know she's smokin', but people have really got to stop putting her in movies), I did notice that she had a personality for half a line. Apparently a green screen and Bruce Willis bring these things out in her. So much the better I say.

If anyone let me down during my second screening (which was very shortly followed by my third screening), it was Brittany Murphy. I've never thought much of the peroxided actress, and I confess that most of the time she handles her simple role well. That is, until, she's forced to tell Dwight (Clive Owen) what a damn fool he is. Murphy, there's a little trick to clunky/unrealistic dialogue - you either say it winkingly or you pretend it's perfectly normal. There's no half way, no in between. Your over the top deliver (are you hoping for one of those out-of-left-field supporting actress nominations?) grates.

Personal loyalties to Owen aside, Mickey Rourke owns this movie. By the time he utters his rousing speech about the "old days, the bad days, the all-or-nuthin days" being back, I'm so completely on his side that it's a little scary. He's the magnetic north of these disparate yet connected stories.

I still love every violent, vengeful, blood soaked frame. Can't wait for the sequel. A+

Munich (2005)

Premise: After 11 Israeli athletes are murdered at the 1972 Olympics, Golda Meir (Lynn Cohen) asks former bodyguard Avner (Eric Bana) to lead a team to find and kill the 11 men responsible for that bloody day. Ephraim (Geoffrey Rush) connects Avner with a getaway driver, Steve (Daniel Craig); a clean-up man, Carl (Ciaran Hands); a toy-designing bombmaker, Robert (Mathieu Kassovitz); and a documents expert, Hans (Hanns Zischler). Avner makes a contact with a man of no political accord, Louis (Mathieu Amalric), who trades information for an extravagant fee.

I'm just going to get the little stuff out of the way, so I can move on to the big issue at hand.

If the real Golda Meir was anything like Cohen's portrayal, that she was one of the most amazing women to ever walk the earth. To reconcile such a difficult political and religious decision while still acting like everyone's favourite spunky grandmother is an impressive feat.

Bana continues to astonish as a dramatic actor, mining the doomed dramatic fate business he took on in Troy. Avner's almost compulsive need for their victims to understand why they had to die was utterly compelling. It's difficult to imagine such a squeamish assassin, given that his squeamishness was more moral than physical.

All of the team worked together splendidly, but it was with a touch of sadness that I watched Craig as a hip swaggering, blood thirsty, accent nailing South African. He's so great a chameleon that you can hardly recognize him from role to role, and I'm more than a little sorry that we are going to lose him to 007 for at least the next few years. Oh, well, maybe he'll do one flick and quit. I can dream, right?

I would like to take a moment to point out how distractingly stylish Louis was. Open market shopping on a Parisian bridge, double breasted suit, three different patterns? What does this man want from me?

John Williams steals music, "era of the musical footnote" be damned. The under current of tension that he builds to such dramatic heights (with texture instead of dynamics) leading up to the first kill is powerful . . . until you realize that it's putting you in mind of Bernard Hermann's fantastic work in Psycho.

Eric Roth's screenplay, with touch ups by Tony golden boy Tony Kushner? Excellent.

Moving right along to the matter at hand: my relationship with director Steven Spielberg. Sometimes, a lot of the times even, I wonder what the big deal about Spielberg is. After all, the man doesn't direct movies, he directs events. To be honest, I've only seen a dozen or so, and I haven't fallen head over heels for many (maybe Catch Me If You Can and Saving Private Ryan).

And yet, with the exception of one sequence toward the end, this work was flawless. All the right notes hit and never without exceptional consideration and purpose. When he filled the screen with his final shot, I actually muttered, "son of a bitch." He's just that good.

I feel as though I should point out how heavy this movie is. I could barely lift my shoulders, utter a sound, or maintain a thought for hours afterwards. It doesn't mean that you shouldn't see it, and immediately, but simply that you should prepare yourself. A

P.S. Saw Martin Scorsese on Dinner For Five yesterday, making yesterday one of the greatest days ever.

The Very Short Take

A challenge: to write no more than one paragraph plus a one sentence plot summary on each of the seven (7!) recently viewed titles that will follow.

Chaplin (1992)

Summary: British vaudeville perfomer Charlie Chaplin (Robert Downey, Jr.) moves to America, becomes film sensation, marries a bunch of different women (Milla Jovovich, Deborah Moore, Diane Lane, Moira Kelly), purports to have a "wild side."

I think that we supposed to think that he had a wild side because of his many ladies, but I found that bit hard to swallow since he married them all. Sure, if he had slept around, I would have agreed, but it hardly seems all that wild to divorce people who, say, fake pregnanices to trap you into marrying them. Downey Jr is fantastic as always and wonderfully likeable as the Tramp. Overall, kind of long and not always that interesting. Well, I liked Kevin Kline as Doug Fairbanks. B

And since I'm already on to Kline . . .

The Big Chill (1983)

Summary: Seven college friends (Kevin Kline, Glenn Close, Tom Berenger, Jeff Goldblum, William Hurt, Mary Kay Place, and JoBeth Williams) gather together for the weekend following the death of their friend Alex.

Fantastic soundtrack! Too bad the movie isn't very good at all. Everyone gets together to bitch and moan about how none of their lives are what they thought they would be 20 years after they graduated from college. Of course they're not. At least these people have the good sense to recognize that the fact that they can get together again after long separations and still feel this natural with each other is something special. Sure, the cast gives off a great feeling of lived-in intimacy, but the plot pushes those feelings so far beyond the bounds of sanity that I balked. Ah, well, still gives off enough warm fuzzies to be tolerable. B

Behind the Red Door (2002)

Summary: A dying man (Kiefer Sutherland) cons his sister (Kyra Sedgwick) into caring for him in his final days, while facing their violent past.

Stockard Channing's also along for the ride. You know, there are these movies where the performers outshine their material by far. This is one of those movies. It's not very good, although I'm always ready to throw myself in with the three leads. Too bad the pacing couldn't have been picked up to make the plot seem more interesting. C

Speaking of such movies . . .

It's All About Love (2003)

Summary: John (Joaquin Phoenix) flies into New York in order to finalize his divorce from famous figure skater Elena (Claire Danes), only to discover that her life may be in peril.

Once you've seen one movie with subplots about flying Ugandans and snow in July, you've seen 'em all. Even Sean Penn's teeny cameo was wasted. Simultaneously being about nothing and making no sense in a mean feat, but writer/director Thomas Vinterberg pulls it off. I think he was trying to say something about disconnection and loneliness, but the execution was hidden. D

Should I have a deep, burning desire to see Phoenix, Danes, and Penn on the screen together again, I think I'd rather watch their three scenes in . . .

U Turn (1997)

Summary: A drifter (Sean Penn) accidentally rolls into a crazy/backwards small town, his car is taken hostage by an insane mechanic (Billy Bob Thornton), and a husband (Nick Nolte) and wife (Jennifer Lopez) each hire him to kill the other.

I certainly hope Phoenix and Danes are happy with themselves. Their three scenes were the only things that kept me from going out, locating director Oliver Stone, and kicking him repeatedly. You, sir, are the most overrated director whose "art" I have ever had to suffer through. Get over yourself. Quick. The 30 seconds in the movie after Penn beats up Phoenix where Phoenix informs Danes that he "had to defend [her] honour, baby" and then Danes yells at Penn's retreating back, "YOU KILLED HIM!" are the only reasons I won't fail this movie. D-

Bottle Rocket (1997)

Summary: Once Anthony (Luke Wilson) is released from the mental institution, he, Dignan (Owen Wilson) and Bob (Robert Musgrave) form criminal gang, are forced to go on the lam, and eventually hook up with Mr. Henry (James Caan) and his superior gang.

You know, when I was first watching Wes Anderson's feature length debut, I found it more inspired but less assured than the work that followed. Thinking back on it, it's a lot funnier than I gave it credit for at the time, but I'd prefer watching something like Rushmore. I like Anderson much more once he's perfected creating this insular worlds that seem impossible but manage to be believable. B+

Pretty Persuasion (2005)

Summary: 15 year-old Kimberly Joyce (Evan Rachel Wood) brings chaos to her high school and creates a media frenzy when she and two friends (Elizabeth Harnois, Adi Schnall) accuse their English and drama teacher (Ron Livingston) of sexual assault.

By far the best of the bunch. Wood continues to prove herself as one of the best actresses ever, delightful here as a manipulative teenaged hellion, and she inspires great work in everyone who surrounds her. It's too bad they pushed it too far at the end. B+

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005)

Brief: Lucy (Georgie Henley) is the first to find the secret of the wardrobe in the professor's (Jim Broadbent) mysterious old house. At first, no one believes her when she tells of her adventures in the land of Narnia. But soon Edmund (Skandar Keynes) and then Peter (William Moseley) and Susan (Anna Popplewell) discover the Magic and meet Aslan (v. Liam Neeson), the Great Lion, for themselves. In the blink of an eye, their lives are changed forever.

I copied that from the back of my copy of the book. Works for me.

I must tell you that I was relieved when I discovered that the film had been shot in chronological order. Explains a lot, doesn't it? At first it seems that director/co-writer Andrew Adamson has quite the bunch of woefully undertalented kids on his hands, but they, to a certain extent, grow on you as the film marches on. I still think that their characters are reduced to their roughest definitions, no nuance included.

Of course, the greatest challenge facing Adamson and co-writers Ann Peacock, Christopher Markus, and Stephen McFeely must have been how to stretch C.S. Lewis' masterwork into a feature length film. It's a beautiful, wonderful story, to be sure, but it's also on the short side. Lewis, bless his heart, got kids: he knew what to describe and what to leave up to the imagination. In one interview I read, Adamson said he surprised himself by how much of the novel existed only in his imagination. Quite the task, then, combining the imaginations of generations into something they could all connect with and recognize.

The CGI work is stellar, Tilda Swinton is convincingly evil as Queen Jadis/the White Witch, but my heart firmly belongs in the camps of the Beavers (Ray Winstone and Dawn French) and Mr. Tumnus (James McAvoy). Mostly the Beavers as the Pevensies' temporary parents, though.

I must confess, despite being keenly aware of the live actors' shortcomings, I felt intensely emotionally attached to this picture. Any time anything, anything positive at all happened, I found myself welling up with tears. It's hard to be cruel to something so engaging. A-

P.S. Seriously, Madison, that guy?

Capote (2005)

Premise: Truman Capote (Philip Seymour Hoffman) follows a story about the murders of a family of four in a small Kansas town with his research assistant, Harper Lee (Catherine Keener). He develops a particularly close relationship with one of the killers, Perry Smith (Clifton Collins, Jr.).

To quote one lady I heard in passing, "It's a psychological thriller. It's brilliant. And it's about writers."

Is it ever. I'm just finishing up Robert S. Boynton's The New New Journalism, and it informed my interpretation of this film. The book is an interview series with those he feels are the best representatives of what he calls the new new journalism. Each interviewee is asked nearly identical questions, from their body of work to the types of pens they prefer. I'm a whore for detail, obsessed with not how things work but how people work them. Each writer faces the same problem: how to justify an unethical career.

You always betray your subject and often yourself in order to tell a story. Even more so, you often exploit the suffering of others for your personal profit. This issue, I believe, is at the heart of Capote.

How Hoffman managed to transform his gravelly voice and bulking frame into Capote's effete body and lithe mannerisms, I will never know. He's gone - just gone. Disappeared into a role so wholly consuming I'm surprised we got him back. It was something his chameleon qualities, if you can imagine, only previously hinted. Beyond that, to take this role on . . . bold, ballsy choice. Capote, in his fawn coat and sweeping scarf, stands out against the plain landscape and offends the detective working the case (Chris Cooper). A glint in his eye, and the next day he appears in dark suit and tie. Mimicry and subtle manipulation.

Collins Jr. infuses Smith with many of the same qualities, a shadow of the master. Even Capote notes their similarities, remarking, "It's as if Perry and I grew up in the same house. And one day he went out the back door and I went out the front." A twist of fate saved him from Smith's eminent fate.

By the time Smith and Capote have their inevitable stand off (a quiet iteration of questions, the former demanding the title of the book and the latter needing the requisite details of that night in order to finish said book), it's infused with more tension than any time Jack bellowed for someone to TELL HIM WHERE THE BOMB IS. The results are devastating. Capote's manipulation of Smith is so complete that you've all but forgotten who the real villain is. When Smith describes the first shock of violence, you sputter as though your throat was slit.

Ballsy work on the parts of sophomore director Bennett Miller and screen adapter Dan Futtermen. And, as further proof of Miller, Futtermen, and Hoffman's beautiful symmetry together, they even managed to make me feel a bit sympathetic for Capote at the end. To realize the role he played in the deaths of Smith and Richard Hickock (Mark Pellegrino), to discover that the one thing that he believed separated them he had unwittingly destroyed must have been terrible. Devastating, even. A+

P.S. A very special shout out goes to Amy for telling which trailer I had heard that song in. Good work, my friend.

P.P.S. Evghenis, check out this year's Movie Club. They address many of the same questions you often ask me.

Brokeback Mountain (2005)

Premise: In the summer of 1963, Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) work as shepherds up on Brokeback Mountain. They love they find there continues on for twenty years in the brief respites from their married lives with Alma (Michelle Williams) and Lureen (Anne Hathaway), respectively.

Listen - I know I act like it's my job to sit in judgment of each and every film I come across, and I know that I invite you to discuss your judgments in the comments section. But, if you are going to sit in judgment against this film because of its subject matter, read something else today. Each time Gustavo Santaollala's simple, twangy, hear string tugging acoustic soundtrack starts up, I'm overcome with a plethora of emotions that I am at a loss to name, and I don't want you to take that away from me. Not today.

Larry McMurty and Diana Ossana's screenplay, based on E. Annie Proulx' short story, beautifully bare. No wasted words appear on this screen. Strength, sorrow, and passion fill every frame and never need something as useless as exposition to carry them through.

Gyllenhaal - you're great, and you know it. Pass go, collect your supporting actor awards, and truck right along to the great career you have ahead of you. Jack does all the talking in this relationship, and he may even think that he's the one that perpetuates it, but I think we all know better than that. I'm sorry, Gyllenhaal, your performance was passionate and powerful, but I really don't have any words for you. All words have already been used up by two other men.

Despite "A-list" and "bankable" labels those cracked out nutters have applied to you, Ledger, you and I know better. This is something else entirely - the beginning of an amazing, unprecedented comeback. You were the one who set my chin to trembling from the get-go. In your hands and on your shoulders, the movie rested. And you succeeded. You brought maturity, masculinity, vulnerability, and sorrow to the role. You're the reason that, even as I write this, I'm racked with sobs again. Every syllable that came out of Ennis' mouth was fraught with indecision and self-doubt, as though each word that escaped had lost a battle with his soul. This performance is bone crushing.

And so I turn to you, director Ang Lee, for you have given me, and the audience, this gift. It is you, and you alone, that can tell such glorious stories. You take things that I have no connection with, no understanding of, and you tap into each characters' humanity in such a way that you drain the compassion from my marrow. Under your guidance, every frame is packed with detail and emotion to connect with. Your wordless message resounds in ways that I will never be able to describe or forget.

A haunting love story, a heart breaking tragedy, and a bittersweet, lingering film that I've been waiting for all year. Perhaps longer. A+

Syriana (2005)

Plan: Bob Barnes (George Clooney) is a CIA agent who specializes in, um, something. Don’t ask me. He blows some people up and later he gets tortured. Lawyer Bennett Holiday (Jeffrey Wright) is contracted by two oil companies, Connex and Killen (Chris Cooper works for one of them), to look into the companies’ dirty laundry so that their merger may be approved by Congress. Energy analyst Bryan Woodman (Matt Damon) accepts a position with the more radical prince (Alexander Siddig) and eldest son of the Emir of non-descript Middle Eastern country (Saudi Arabia?), while his more conservative brother (Akbar Kurtha) cozies up to another, more senior lawyer from Holiday’s firm, Dean Whiting (Christopher Plummer). Finally, two immigrants who are fired from one of Connex’ or Killen’s plants in non-descript Middle Eastern country join an Islamic school in order to eat.

Wow, that description is really long and captures almost none of what happens in the movie. Plus, I’m still unclear on a few of the character’s names. Just now I discovered that Woodman’s son’s name was Max.

Imagine, if you will, that the writer of Traffic (Steven Gaghan) decided to write something even more politically charged with an even more labyrinth-like plot. He decides to direct it, too, which, for a writer, guarantees creative control over the project. Ta-da! You get this movie. On the one hand, it beautifully scripted and acted. The film is highly engaging. On the other hand, it’s almost impossible to follow.

Take Clooney’s plot line for example. In a given scene, I know what’s happening to Bob, I know what’s already happened, and I have no clue what’s going to happen next. Worse yet, I’m not entirely sure how his past and his present are connected. Of course, this example skews your interpretation of the results since this is the plot I least understood.

Unlike Wright’s, which I have seen other critics sight as a source of confusion. No, my friends. Makes sense to me. Plus, you get another top notch performance from a chameleon who I would easily put in the same league as Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and I think we all know how I feel about him. Except for one thing: the sub-plot with Bennett’s alcoholic father (at least I assume that was his dad). Was it supposed to make me sympathetic to Bennett? Help me understand his motives? Bewilder me? Pick C!

I have to admit it – this was the first time I’ve liked Damon this century without him playing a bumbling, low-level thief. Sure, it upsets me just as much as the next girl when a child is sacrificed for the sake of plot development, but I guess you just have to let this sort of thing go. Unlike Amanda Peet’s four inch heels. Those pissed me off.

Odd as it may seem (for I don’t enjoy not knowing what’s going on), I rather liked this movie, even if it made no sense most of the time. The themes carried over the plot confusion, and it could have survived on the strength of the performances alone. B+

King Kong (2005)

Hour 1: Down on her luck vaudevillian Ann Darrow (Naomi Watts) accepts a role in Carl Denham’s (Jack Black) latest production when she discovers that playwright Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody), a favourite of hers, has penned the screenplay.

Hour 2: So they set out with movie star Bruce Baxter (Kyle Chandler) and an able-bodied crew (highlights include Thomas Kretschmann as Captain Englehorn, Evan Parke as first mate-type Hayes, and Jamie Bell as stowaway turned sailor Jimmy) for Skull Island. Ann and Jack are falling for each other. Once they reach the island, Ann is taken captive by the natives to be offered as a sacrifice to what they ominously refer to as “Kong.” Jack sets about a rescue mission, while Ann

Hour 3: develops Stockholm syndrome and falls into a platonic love for the one male that will never let her down: Kong (Andy Serkis). Ann’s rescue results in Kong’s capture, and he is taken to New York to be showcased on Broadway by Carl as the “eight wonder of the world.” Kong breaks free to find Ann, which, of course, brings chaos to New York City. And then they climb the Empire State Building.

Listen, you know the story. I feel very full disclosure about this whole review, so you are going to have to settle down and agree that it’s not like I’m giving anything away. Except that I so will. But I’m not giving away the plot because it’s common knowledge. Plus, I very kindly broke it down into hours for you, as part of my weird full disclosure thing, which is why I now mention that I haven’t seen either of the other two versions. I have a feeling that that’s not important.

So, yeah, teeny bit over three hours. To his immense credit (and we all know I don’t regularly give this man any credit), director/co-writer Peter Jackson doesn’t make it feel like three hours. No one in my company even took a bathroom break! Sure, there were times when Ave turned to me and said that they could have cut “this” part out, and she was right. The picture could have been a bit more quickly paced, but I don’t mean that in the sense that I felt it moved too slowly. It didn’t. Writers Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, and Jackson shoehorn in a lot of back story that simply didn’t exist in the 1933 classic, and that kind of thing takes time. To be honest, I like most of the changes that they made. I like that Driscoll is transformed from a sailor into a proto-feminist sensitive writer-type. I like that Ann returns Kong’s sentiments.

I cannot stand the subplot involving Hayes and Jimmy. By the time Jimmy, remarking on Heart of Darkness, comments to Hayes, “This isn’t an adventure story, is it?”, I was looking for a knife. Are we all so stupid that we need the whole plot spelled out to us though two somewhat inconsequential characters? No? Give the audience some credit, Jackson! Nice work by Parke and Bell anyway.

While I’m on this complimentary vibe, let me give mad props to James Newton Howard for the score he whipped up in less than two months. It was transcendent. The whole world melts away when you hear it, much like it does for Ann when she’s with Kong. Moreover, it was perfectly suited to the movie. Awards for this man!

While I can understand the impulse to cast Black (who does barely controlled mania better?) in the role that’s basically a send up of Orson Wells’ later days, there were times when he seemed a bit miscast. Maybe he’s just not comfortable in front of greenscreens.

Watts. I’ll just come out and say it: I still don’t see what the big deal is about Nicole Kidman the Younger is. I’d take the real Nicole any day. I think the main difference, besides Nicole being more technically talented, is that sometimes she can give off a chilly, removed vibe, whereas Naomi is a bit warmer, a bit more approachable. This role is well suited to what Watts has to offer. I can empathize with Ann and Kong’s plight, and even my hardened heart was moved by the endearing Central Park skating reprieve.

But my sympathies? Were quickly and firmly planted in Jack’s camp. Kong is built to be a warrior, but there’s no indication that Jack’s cut out for anything other than writing. Even so, he, too, is unfailing in his devotion to Ann. He risks life and limb time and again, and she has to go and fall for an ape. Of course, my feelings for the über-menschy Renaissance man Jack Driscoll may, in part, be influenced by my feelings for his portrayer. Well, what did you think was going to happen? Brody was Jackson’s one and only choice for the role, did all his own stunt driving, and was sporting 30s period costume, which I how I feel for him in the first place. What’s a girl to do?

I’d go into the sexual politics of this movie and my serious issues with them, but Meghan O’Rourke’s already done such a good job that I must defer to her.

For a movie that relies heavily on a CGI ape and Naomi Watts’ breathing, it’s strangely affecting. A

The Family Stone (2005)

Brief: Eldest son Everett (Dermot Mulroney) brings his tightly-wound, illiberal girlfriend Meredith (Sarah Jessica Parker) home for Christmas to meet his liberal New England brood, from sly hipster parents Sybil (Diane Keaton) and Kelly (Craig T. Nelson), to very pregnant Susannah (Elizabeth Reaser) whose husband is away on business, to stoner documentary film editor Ben (Luke Wilson), to deaf Thad (Tyrone Giordano) and his husband Patrick (Brian White), to the sassy opposite of Meredith, Amy (Rachel McAdams). Meredith is tormented by the Stones to the point where she calls in her sister, Julie (Claire Danes), as backup.

Let it henceforth be known that Carrie was always my least favourite of the Sex and the City quartet for many a reason, the chief being that Carrie was unfortunately plagued by the same obstacle that all protagonists face: she was a little miss me-ffet. Everything was always about Carrie. There exists a single episode which I can point to where she actually lets someone else’s problems come first: Miranda’s mother’s funeral. Sure, she was there for Samantha through her cancer, but more often than not, Carrie had a knack for being the most selfish, unsupportive friend imaginable. When it comes right down to it, I’d rather have Samantha as a friend: she was the least judgemental of all of them.

Of course, it’s not like that’s something I can hold against SJP specifically. She didn’t write Carrie that way, and, given her near-perfect appearance in public each and every time she steps out of the house, she didn’t necessarily dress Carrie that way either. But I did hold it against her. I did, I did, I did. Her screeching howler-monkey ways were enough to get me to want to avoid her presence in everything other than Footloose and State and Main.

Naturally, all this set up could only mean one thing: I kind of love SJP now. Meredith may have said some of the most heinous things I have ever heard, and she may justly deserved the smack down she politely got from Kelly and then more cruelly got from Sybil, but, by the time she has her hilarious drunken fest in a local bar, you just love her. She keeps sabotaging herself because she just doesn’t know any better (not that her boyfriend helps her out – seriously, you wouldn’t teach her how to sign even something as simple as “Hello”?). This lady is a million light years away from Carrie, and SJP provides a wonderful turn as an uptight WASP in the face of the original uptight WASP: Diane Keaton.

Sybil’s motivations for her actions are slowly revealed, so you can understand her choices, unlike her insufferable daughter Amy, who makes Meredith’s life hell for no apparent reason. Nothing at all redeems Amy in this movie. McAdams doesn’t seem to care, which is well enough when she’s surrounded by a cast of this calibre.

Sure, after the three-hankie subplot, everything’s wrapped up with a holiday bow so neat that you practically write it yourself. But that’s what you want from a Christmas movie, isn’t it? Conventionalities aside, I’ve got a bit of a crush on Thomas Bezucha (writer/director) now. B+

P.S. Goodbye, John Spencer. The show shouldn’t go on without you.

P.P.S. My fellow audience members in Cinema 3 continue to astound me. The chances of them being the same people every time are slim to none, but they always managed to be the most kind-hearted, generous, and wondrously vocal people around.

3:1

Based on evidence that will follow, I claim that they odds are three to one that a movie you watch is going to be less than spectacular. Odds are three to one that it will be boring and/or crappy. These odds were developed in response to a completely non-random sampling of three DVDs and one movie at the cinema.

Frida (2002)

Plot 1: A biography of Frida Kahlo (Salma Hayek), who channeled the pain of a crippling injury and her tempestuous marriage to fellow painter Diego Rivera (Alfred Molina) into her work.

Boring. Sure, Hayek and Molina are terrific, but the movie moves so slowly and aimlessly that it doesn’t even matter. The way Frida’s work is integrated into the movie (a shot is frozen and then slowly replaced with a painting of the event or gradually the Frida in the painting becomes the flesh and blood one) were the only things worthy of my attention.

Also, having Ashley Judd, Edward Norton, and Antonio Banderas around for glorified cameos did nothing but cause me to wonder what was up with the stunt casting. By the time Geoffrey Rush rolled in as Leon Trotsky, I was struggling to care. The picture is beautiful to look at but a disaster the longer you stare. C +

The Opposite of Sex (1998)

Plot 2: 16 year-old Dedee Truitt (Christina Ricci) runs away from home to live with her gay half-brother, Bill (Martin Donovan), seduces his live-in lover, Matt (Ivan Sergei), and runs off to LA with Matt in tow. Meanwhile, Bill has to fend of a sexual harassment charge brought against him by Matt’s other boyfriend, Jason (Johnny Galecki), as he and the sister (Lisa Kudrow) of his dead lover search for Matt and pregnant Dedee, with help from Sheriff Carl (Lyle Lovett).

It says a lot about a movie when I think the most interesting character is played by Lyle Lovett. Okay, I’ve got a strange, October Sky-based soft spot for William Lee Scott, who played Randy, but that’s about it. It was mostly for the Lyle Lovett that I kept the movie on. Normally I don’t like Lovett, and, when I see him in a movie, I say things like, “What are you doing here?!” So good on you, Lyle.

Not so good on Don Roos, though. Why do critics like him? I know I have yet to see this year’s Happy Endings, but, otherwise, everything he writes or directors or writer/directs kind of sucks. This is no exception. C –

Aeon Flux (2005)

Plot 3: Blah blah future plague last city on earth rebels cakes. After the death of her sister, Una (Amelia Warner), Aeon (Charlize Theron, rocking some dark hair) finally gets the assignment she’s been waiting for: the assassination of Chairman Trevor Goodchild (Marton Csokas, looking fine). Naturally, when she finally gets close to the chairman, she discovers that things are not as they appear.

Before I get some ill-advised backlash about how I went to see this movie, and the cognitive dissonance that no doubt follows for you, let me remind you that trying to predict my taste in movies/my movie watching pattern is futile and frustrating.

You see, I was in quite a craptacular mood, and I wanted something mindless to help me avoid my stress. There are two types of mindless movies: those which are so stupid, so inane, so awful that their very existence is enough of a reason to bubble over with rage. This one was the good kind of mindless, where you don’t have to think about what’s happening, where every revelation is obvious without being stupidly so, and where the number of questions you have at the end of the movie are kept to a minimum and mostly involve Theron’s hair. Brisk pacing helps. Good work, team!

There’s nothing good or bad in this world but thinking makes it so, and that’s the way you need to address this movie. I wouldn’t recommend spending money on it if you don’t need to, but it makes a pleasant enough diversion if you need one. C

And, finally, it must be time for the good movie!

House of Flying Daggers (2004)

Plot 4: The local deputies capture Mei (Ziyi Zhang or Zhang Ziyi, depending on what you see) a member of the rebel group, House of Flying Daggers. She is rescued by Capitan Jin (Takeshi Kaneshiro), who plans to use Mei to find the Daggers’ leader. Captain Leo (Andy Lau) warns Jin not to fall for Mei.

Created as a companion piece to his 2002 release, Hero, Yimou Zhang’s film is here is breathtakingly beautiful. It takes a little while to get into it, but once you do you are carried away to a sumptuous and violent world.

Imagine how disappointed I was to discover that it’s not even filmed in China. Alas, it was the Ukraine.

I don’t have much to say about it except that you should watch it. See a single drop of blood splash onto a dagger while it’s flying through the hair. Admire the bath Jin creates for Mei along the road. Stare in wonder at the marvel of choreography and cinematography that make up this intoxicating picture. A -