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Under discussion:

President Barack Obama: The Man and His Journey  (2009)

President Barack Obama: The Man and His Journey

CodeBlack Entertainment and Vivendient Films

I am always skeptical of what seem to be cash-grabs. You know, those books you see in the supermarket, promising to be a titillating expose on the flavor of the month, only to be duped by works that are at best cobbled together by random facts and stats easily revealed by a quick Google search?

When it comes to our latest historic presidential inauguration, I have my fair share of memorabilia (pins, posters, etc). But I am wary of documentaries that seem pre-packaged and ready to ride the coattails of the success for monetary gain, which is why when I sat down to review “President Barack Obama: The Man and His Journey,” I was, at the very least, dubious.

It is far from the overnight, stitched-together compilation that it could have been – with interview footage handsomely shot, subtly lit ,and including a wide-range of interviewees. But the film will perhaps serve better for classrooms of future generations as a cursory primer of Barack’s political life; for it is not really the “intimate portrait” we are promised on the back cover of the DVD box.

Director Maria Arita Howard keeps matters moving briskly for its 90-minute run time, but sometimes falls back on one too many shots of smiling children, flapping flags and amber waves of grain that were too much even for an Obama supporter.

She does populate it with a nice mix of supporters -- everyone from radio personality Tom Joyner, actor Blair Underwood (who also serves as narrator and who has not seemed to age at all since his “L.A. Law” days), Martin Luther King, III, journalist Roland Martin and actor Hill Harper, a Harvard classmate of Obama.  The film rapidly covers his life’s journey, yet barely stays too long in any particular area for us to get a sense of its influence on Obama, or his on it.

Each fawns over the politician, from the grassroots campaign volunteer to his fellow senators. And while Obama’s story is quintessentially American, the viewer is never stirred to the goosebumps one can encounter by watching a speech given by the man himself.

Now, being a political beast myself, there was little included that I did not already know about our President’s political past, so for those who have only gleaned their Obama knowledge throughout the latest campaign, there may be many an interesting kernel of information of his personal and political past.

But there are also segments that seem rather superfluous to the man’s impact (do we really need to hear the entire song of “Fired Up”?).  For someone with such a meteoric rise to power, some insight along the way would have certainly been advantageous. I would much rather have spent time learning about his childhood struggles as a bi-racial child and how they have strengthened his reserve and convictions than to see grainy footage of him waving to crowds that were played on endless loops during this past election season.

Of course, the biography of the man is still being written and will undoubtedly serve to inspire song, film and documentaries for years to come. As it stands, “President Barack Obama: The Man and His Journey” is a serviceable primer, filled with a nice range of articulate, interesting supporters from throughout his life.  But as a probing, in-depth portrait of this inspirational figure and the motivating factors that led him to become the most powerful man on the planet, “President Barack Obama” only skims the surface.

The disc also includes seven motivational “Yes We Can” shorts, which depict several strife-ridden situations, all inspired by the words of our president, and each closing with the seminal  will.i.am number, but sadly, no video of the song itself. Instead you can watch “Fired Up” again from the Bergevin Brothers, which is already played at length during the documentary, and a music video for Brian McKnight’s “Yes We Can!” There are also extended interviews from many of the interviewees that prove more entertaining than insightful.

Under discussion:

Imitation of Life  (1959)

All That Heaven Allows  (1955)

Bigger Than Life  (1956)

The Brady Bunch Movie  (1995)

Titanic  (1997)

America's Civil War: 1862 - Chancellorsville Rebel Victory, Rebel Loss  Production Year

Revolutionary Road  (2008)

Mad Men: Season 01  (2007)

Director Sam Mendes does not seem to be a big fan of the suburbs. Between his latest film Revolutionary Road and 1999’s American Beauty, Mendes picks at the scabs of suburbia, allowing viewers to gaze at all that oozes from it.

Like Beauty, Road focuses on a couple whose relationship luster is fading fast, as youthful aspirations fall wayside to the compromises of adulthood. But where the former film dealt with the struggles of a modern day, middle-aged couple, Road focuses on a '50s-era husband and wife (played by Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet) at the earlier stages of their domesticity. And for those fans looking forward to the romantic pairing of the leads from a certain movie about a big boat, let's just say they had it easy with the iceberg compared to what they put themselves through here.

Frank (DiCaprio) and April's (Winslet) life certainly begins storybook enough – meeting at a social event, eyes locking across a crowded, smoky room and soon settling into cookie-cutter suburbia to raise a couple of rugrats. Frank, the breadwinner, dutifully goes to a job in which the only perk for him is that it allows him to “swim” in the secretarial pool from time to time. April, meanwhile, struggles with the fact that her acting dreams have been dashed and puts on a Douglas Sirk-sized smile as she attempts to conform to her role as Happy Housewife.

As April grabs at some sort of identity outside the home, Frank half-heartedly goes along for the ride, agreeing to flee to Paris, where she thinks they can start anew and she can be their sole support system. The vision is as childishly executed as it sounds, with no real plan or vision as to what will happen once they arrive (we never see the couple attempt to even learn the language). We spend more time with them telling everyone they're giving their American Dream lifestyle the big kiss-off, rather than actually preparing for their future life. When that dream dies on the vine, their world begins to implode.

Revolutionary Road is based on an acclaimed 1961 novel by Richard Yates, which, at the time, might have been seen as groundbreaking, as most domestic images of the time were that of the Cleaver clan. But today, the film seems already dated. Gone is the slightest trace of wit (albeit for one supporting character) that Yates infused in his novel, and it's pretty much a given now that the media-fueled visions of the perfect family were usually anything but. Viewers are thrust into their relationship mid-tempest, and there is hardly any trace of love that was ever shared between the two. Even their children are used as props, both figuratively and literally, as they vanish from the picture for conveniently long stretches.

The result is like being invited over to the neighborhood home of a querulous couple, as you sit awkwardly counting the minutes until you can excuse yourself to relieve the babysitter. Under Mendes' direction, the couple never becomes an actual “couple,” just sounding boards for each other's frustrations.

The only character who is halfway interesting is John (played by the excellent Michael Shannon), a neighbor's son, fresh from a mental institution, who delights in exposing the couple's flaws and hidden truths to their life together. Also to the film's credit is production designer Kristi Zea who captures the suburban sterility in almost every scene within the home.

But despite the effective histrionics of Leo and Kate – which feel more like Oscar-clip reels than part of a cohesive narrative – the film is never the deeply moving, personal character study it wants to by. Directors Douglas Sirk (Imitation of Life, All That Heaven Allows) and  Nicholas Ray (Bigger Than Life, Rebel Without a Cause) covered the same dirt-under-the-astroturf territory decades ago, when it felt more dangerous to do so. Hell, even the Brady Bunch got in on it in their 1995 film. 

Exposing the lack of conformity of '50s wedded bliss today carries none of the same impact. We are closing in on the second decade of the new millennium, and I think it's pretty well established that the image of the “perfect family” was a myth. Viewers can simply tune into AMC's expertly crafted Mad Men each week to witness a much more colorful, developed expose of the era's seamier side instead a dead-end drive down this Road.

Under discussion:

Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man  (1991)

Homeboy  (1988)

The Wrestler  (2008)

JCVD  (2008)

Full disclosure: My love for Mickey Rourke is pretty boundless. In college, I devoted an entire expose that even lavished praise on such works as the little-seen underrated gem Homeboy (which Rourke wrote) and the misunderstood Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man. It is almost as though he has tried throughout the years to pummel away at his good looks, and prove to someone (himself?) that there was much more to the man than his Brando-esque visage suggested.

At a time in his career which many of his peers were bruising their bodies in an attempt to reverse time, he decided to step into the ring as a semi-pro boxer, subjecting himself to beatings no film critic could ever bestow upon him.

That personal history is quite possibly the reason why The Wrestler resonates with such humanity and humility, as Rourke does not portray so much as inhabits the character of Randy "The Ram" Robinson, a man hopelessly devoted to the '80s-era heights of his fame that have long passed him by. And yet he is still entering the ring in front of devoted, albeit fewer, fans. His entrance is still set to the solidly '80s metal of Quiet Riot's "Bang Your Head," and his van's stereo is often blasting tunes from other bygone acts such as The Scorpions and Cinderella.

You can almost hear his tendons stretching and snapping after each performance now. And still, he subjects himself to low-rent gigs, hitched onto memories of former glories and the nostalgia of what once was. Scene after scene aches with honesty, from the makeshift matches in which wrestling's washed up and wannabes mingle in high school cafeterias that double as changing rooms, to the quiet moments of Randy desperately extending a crippled hand to his estranged adult daughter.

The one ember of hope in Randy's life comes from Cassidy (played by Marisa Tomei), a stripper whose sympathy for the tough-but-tender wrassler blossoms into friendship. Her predicament is quite similar, in that her career is one defined by her body, and as time begins to erode its youthful elasticity, she can see her shelf-life is nearing its expiration date. As Cassidy, Tomei continues to set the screen ablaze as she did in last year's Before the Devil Knows You're Dead. The only criticism is that her role requires her to be rejected by some patrons who mock her age and request another stripper, and I cannot envision a rational person who would ever scoff at the chance for even one minute in the Champagne Room with her.

It's fitting that Bruce Springsteen closes the film, as the entire film unfolds like a dramatization of a character from the musician's catalogue. And the film is director Darren Aronofsky's Nebraska: honest, raw, stark and nakedly personal. The director, who is more known for his flashy, dramatically braided dramas (Pi, Requiem for a Dream, The Fountain), applied no technical wizardry here, even allowing passing migrating geese to populate the background sound (which, in itself takes on meaning of moving on, something the main character just can't do).

This is not to say that The Wrestler is without its moments of levity. During a shopping trip for Randy's daughter, Cassidy asks him what type of style the girl prefers in clothing: Goth, hippie, preppy? “I think she's a lesbian, does that make a difference?” he cluelessly responds.

Anchoring it all is Rourke, whose performance feels like his entire career has been working toward this role. Battered, bruised, but doggedly determined to stay relevant, Rourke's impassioned pleas for acceptance are heartbreaking and captivatingly honest. In one brief bit between Randy and his daughter (played by Evan Rachel Wood, whose career is littered with parts like this), it plays almost like an off-camera confessional from Rourke himself. The scene is vaguely similar to one in this year's JCVD, in which Jean Claude Van Damme places his muscular heart squarely on his sleeve.

The Wrestler explores no new ground thematically, but demonstrates that, in the right hands with the right actors, even time-tested tales can be polished off and presented anew with astounding results.

Under discussion:

Mission: Impossible  (1996)

A Life Less Ordinary  (1997)

Fight Club  (1999)

Gerry  (2003)

Casino Royale  (2006)

88 Minutes  (2008)

Zodiac  (2007)

Sunshine  (2007)

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button  (2008)

No Country for Old Men  (2007)

Iron Man  (2008)

Quantum of Solace  (2008)

The Dark Knight  (2008)

Burn After Reading  (2008)

Wall-E  (2008)

The Love Guru  (2008)

Tropic Thunder  (2008)

The Happening  (2008)

U2 3D  (2008)

Righteous Kill  (2008)

Seven Pounds  (2008)

Slumdog Millionaire  (2008)

Twilight  (2008)

Meet the Spartans  (2008)

The X-Files: I Want to Believe  (2008)

Milk  (2008)

Let the Right One In  (2008)

An American Carol  (2008)

Sex and the City  (2008)

Disaster Movie  (2008)

Make no mistake, 2008 was the year of the woman. From politics to multiplex, they were the most newsworthy.

At the box office, week after week brought about stories about how, mother of all shockers, women enjoy going to the movies too. From summer “event movies” (usually an exclusive boys tree house where "No Gurlz Allowd"), to record-breaking such as best opening for a female director, women were the new black at the box office.

In 2008:

• Twilight was the highest-grossing film opening by a female director (at $70 million);
• It received the second-largest advanced ticket sales, trailing only The Dark Knight;
• Sex and the City was the best opening ever for an R-rated comedy;
• The SATC gals also debuted as the fifth best R-rated film of all time;
• The film also bested Mission Impossible as the best debut of a film based on a TV show.

Now, perhaps next year we can do the same with good movies.

Sex in the City was the female equivalent of Iron Man, replacing magical gadgetry with matching accessories and pyrotechnics for Prada. The other glass ceiling-shattering film, Twilight, featured a lead who thankfully did not have to resort to sex for empowerment, but she really didn't do much else, either. Twilight's accolades are deserved for what it accomplished behind the camera, not what was captured on it.

Though there were film aplenty that could populate both lists, I tried to limit this list to films that would have played in most major cities outside the metropolitan areas.

BEST

The Dark Knight: Let me join the chorus of hosannas for this little underrated indie gem, for I know it could use the help financially.

WALL·E: A family film with a virtually dialogue-free first half, a protagonist made of metal, an Earth barren of life and squelched by pollution, a cuddly cockroach sidekick, and a human cast that's a Dorito away from permanent bedrest. A film of staggering beauty from a company for which that is a trademark feature.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button: Director David Fincher's most accessible, polished film to date. While Zodiac and Fight Club may resonate longer, Button is the kind of marriage between theatrics, epic scope, and pure emotion that lands him in the top tier of working directors. Winning, tender performances by Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett only further cement the film's top 10 placement.

Burn After Reading: After bumming us out of us with last year's stark, desolate (but excellent) No Country for Old Men, the Brothers Coen demonstrate their sharp comic chops with this irreverent, all-star dissection of middle-age madness and frustration of lives lived that come nowhere close to youthful aspirations.

Milk: Sean Penn offers further proof of his necessity in cinema today with his ingratiating portrayal of slain politician Harvey Milk. Director Gus Van Sant lifts his vision from his navel (where it was focused during films such as Gerry and Last Days) to create a sensitive, intimate biopic that is saved from maudlin tendencies by Penn's presence.

Tropic Thunder: Bold, unexpected comedy that does not wear out its welcome by the third act, like so many other mainstream comedies. Ben Stiller directs Robert Downey Jr. to his second standout performance this summer.

Quantum of Solace: Some have decried the fact that Daniel Craig's Bond is just too mean. But Solace, which feels like a perfect extension of Casino Royale, feels as though it is taking its sweet time in creating the psyche of someone who has reason to be known as the greatest super-spy the world has ever known.

Let the Right One In: This is a bit of a cheat, since this may have only appeared on area screens as part of a film festival, but its effect is one that reverberates far outside its limited runs nationwide. In a year when Twilight has been garnering all the attention, The Right One has become the one true vampire (and adolescence) film whose bite leaves a mark and should be sought out on DVD before the inevitable US remake. 

U2-3D: Demonstrating just why they are the world's biggest rock band, U2 raised the roof with this truly cinematic 3D spectacle that not only captured the feel of one of their concerts, but invited the audience on stage to jam with Bono and the boys.

Slumdog Millionaire: Danny Boyle never disappoints, even with his misfires (A Life Less Ordinary, Sunshine). But he nails it again with Slumdog, a rather pedestrian tale told with wit, undeniable humanity and delivered with uncompromising conviction.

WORST

The Happening: When wind is your chief villain, it's time to rethink the script.

The Love Guru: Mike Myers steps in Deepak doo-doo.

Sex and the City: Inside this film's Sax Fifth Avenue window dressing lies the the cold, calculated heart of an empty Wal-Mart.

88Minutes/Righteous Kill: Al Pacino should have known better after working with director Jon Avnet in 88, but instead enlisted fellow legend Robert DeNiro to further Kill both their careers.

X-Files: I Want to Believe: But now I no longer do.

Seven Pounds: Will Smith packed his bags for a guilt trip, and we're forced to ride along in the back seat.

An American Carol: Looks like Republicans were just as good at making films as they were winning elections in 2008.

Meet the Spartans/Disaster Movie: Cinematic parody: Born 1923, Died 2008.

Under discussion:

Brokeback Mountain  (2005)

Planet Terror  (2007)

Milk  (2008)

W.  (2008)

I'm not sure what is more sad: politician Harvey Milk's life being cut short by an assassin's bullett, or the recent passing of the California's reprehensible Prop 8 Bill, making it seem this man's death may have been in vain.

Sean Penn inhabits the lead role in 'Milk', and through him we can see just how magnetic a man the San Francisco candidate was and how easy it must have been to warm to his cause.

But Penn does not lionize the man, unafraid to show his fears, doubts and flirtation with hubris as his voice begins to reverberate across the state and the nation. To see Penn, who often appears pensive and prickly on talk shows and in public of late, return to the type of performance that is sweet, sensitive and thoroughly endearing is rewarding enough. But he is surrounded by thoughtful, passionate performers who all seemed so moved by Milk's legacy, they were determined to do him justice.

Milk arrives in San Fran at the start of the swingin' 70s, frustrated and ready to start his life anew as he approaches his 40th birthday.

It is there he bumps into his partner Scott Smith (played by James Franco), and they embark on their journey from small camera shop owners to activist organizers helping to reshape the cultural landscape of California.

Where 'Milk' separates itself from other gay-themed mainstream films is that it presents its characters as peers. Films like 'Brokeback Mountain' and 'Jeffrey' were more about allowing the lifestyle to exist in its own little vacuum, if not truly accepting these individuals as equals in every sense of the word.

It's the difference between accpeting a gay person and accepting a person who happens to be gay.

Director Gus Van Sandt does this by presenting us with the leads' sexuality in the first few minutes of the film. Penn and Franco tango in an intimate encounter signifying the same electricity all relationships share in the first stage.

Soon after, it settles into the same banality and common day-to-day exchanges all couples shift into, except theirs is one that faces constant tumult outside their own happy domicile - fear, anger and hate await them at every public demonstration of their affection toward one another.

It's as if to say to skeptical, straight audience members, "see, this lifestyle you so fear can be just as mundane as yours, but contains no less love within it."

I, personally respected 'Brokeback' as a political statement more than a film. I felt it was oftentimes dramatically inert, but I admired what it set out to accomplish.

With 'Milk' and its engaging cast of underdogs, there's little downtime; in fact, there's always an underlying sense of urgency as they confront their fair share of injustices that meet their everyday existence, from indifferent police to angered citizens to downright spiteful politicians.

Josh Brolin continues his streak (starting with Planet Terror and leading to last month's W.) as the tortured fellow politician Dan White, who admires Milk's appeal as much as he despises his orientation. He is one of the film's few flaws, as descends into his own hell, we wish we were afforded mere glimpses into his life.

The other weak link is Milk's partner Jack Lira (played by Diego Luna) following a breakup with Scott. We understand he's a mess, but it remains unclear as to why Milk stays with this obvious basket case after repeated signs of an impending ugly meltdown.

Van Sandt seamlessly blends archival news footage of the era with his own , drained of just enough color to feel era-specific. This comes in handy when he includes clips of the self-righteous Anita Bryant sermonizing about Milk's deviant behavior.

Bryant looms heavily like a fog of hate and intolerance, donned in a frilly blouse and sensible pumps, and no actress is needed to shed further light on her moralistic monologues. Her damnation of gays over Proposition 6 ( which would allow the firing of teachers over sexual orientation ) is icily scary.

What was equally surprising was the film's minimalist, sweeping score by Danny Elfman, which enhances the picture without once intruding and making it seem melodramatic.

'Milk' does feel as though it sometimes smooths over the politician's rougher edges, yet it never feels less than authentic, courtesy of Penn's embrace of his character.

The only shame of 'Milk' is that its release is a few weeks too late to perhaps influence a recent stripping of civil rights. It would have made 'Milk's' ending more stirring and just.

Now, it's just heartbreakingly sad.

Under discussion:

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen  (1989)

All This and Heaven Too  (1940)

Curse of the Pink Panther  (1983)

Deception  (1946)

Fantasia  (1940)

First Spaceship on Venus  (1959)

The Godfather  (1972)

The Godfather Part III  (1990)

The Great Lie  (1941)

In This Our Life  (1942)

Laserblast  (1978)

Lifeboat  (1944)

The Lodger  (1926)

Notorious  (1946)

The Old Maid  (1939)

The Paradine Case  (1948)

The Red Balloon  (1956)

The Tall T  (1957)

The Thief of Bagdad  (1940)

The Three Caballeros  (1945)

Watch on the Rhine  (1943)

Woody Woodpecker & His Friends: Vol. 3  (1984)

Buchanan Rides Alone  (1958)

Comanche Station  (1960)

Decision at Sundown  (1957)

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains  (1982)

Ride Lonesome  (1959)

Sabotage  (1939)

Son of the Pink Panther  (1993)

Pink Panther [Film Series]  (2004)

Dark City  (1997)

Pink Panther [Animated Series]  Production Year

Mystery Science Theater 3000: Manos - Hands of Fate  (1993)

Monty Python's Flying Circus [TV Series]  (2005)

Lost in La Mancha  (2003)

Future War  (1996)

The Pink Panther  (2006)

American Slapstick, Vol. 2  Production Year

Pinocchio  (1957)

Folks in the current economy just haven’t warmed to the whole Blu-ray concept just yet. So while they are still commercially viable (even though they are waning in popularity), there are still a number of special edition DVDs funneling into the market. As the holiday approaches, it can be confusing for consumers as they toggle between choosing the “Special Dynamic Super Edition” or the “Ultimate Collectors Shiny Happy Edition” of the same films that have been released, re-released, and re-re-released.

I am not going to include the latest films that have perhaps just been released this year in theaters and are receiving their big DVD debuts, but rather the digital roads less traveled, providing a range of options for all to fit every price range for DVD films and box sets released in 2008.

As you are striking off names of cinephiles from your holiday gift list, consider some of the following options:

For the kids/family: All kids will clamor for the Wall *E and Horton Hears a Who, but do you want your child to be a follower or a leader? Here’s some healthy alternatives:

.The Woody Woodpecker and Friends Classic Cartoon Collection, Vol 2 Woody was sort of like the Rodney Dangerfield of cartoon characters for me and my friends growing up. The ubiquitous bird was really just animated padding as we awaited what we perceived to be better cartoons that would come on when we returned home from school. He was the television equivalent to Ziggy. And while there are several valleys in this three-disc collection of shorts produced between 1952 and 1958, there are countless peaks, including Niagara Fools, which could quite possibly be the best of his entire run on the tube. (About $35 at Amazon.com).

Classic Caballeros Collection: (The Three Caballeros/ Saludos Amigos): Walt Disney, cash strapped after spiraling budgets of Pinocchio and Fantasia threatened to bankrupt the company, found himself traveling to Central and South America in search of distributing his product and cashing in to new markets. The results are these two (and a few other) shorts that are bouncy enough to satiate the kids in the house (with staples like Donald Duck and Goofy) , but filled with enough behind-the-scenes travelogues to keep the parents entertained long after the tots head off for bed. It’s a time capsule that shows the first footsteps taken in Disney’s now-global stranglehold on all things relating to childhood. (About $15)

American Slapstick 2: In this three-disc compilation of shorts, 30 silent-era films are featured, demonstrating the breadth and depths of this oft-chided comic institution whose public recognition of it usually focuses solely on some guy named Chaplin. Harold Lloyd, then-unknown Oliver Hardy, Bebe Daniels, Snub Pollard all share screen time with even lesser-known pioneers. The popularity of the one-half silent slapstick of this year’s Wall*E will perhaps encourage viewers to uncover these long-forgotten pearls. (About $35)

The Red Balloon: A lonely Parisian boy befriends a helium-filled titular object that seems to have a mind of its own in this 1956 film that is still as enchanting today and Janus Films has done an impeccable job in its cleanup of the print. The result in a simple, sweet , funny and even moving tale (the balloon’s flirtatious dance with a blue balloon is priceless) that would still be as meaningful for children today as those in post-war France, when it was made. (About $10)

Big beefy sets: For those who still have job security and can perhaps shell out a few extra dollars, here are some options that are actually worth the money:

The Godfather (Coppola Restoration Giftset): Yes, Coppola and company have returned to this well many a time on DVD, but if even if you have one of the former incarnations, you may want to start using them as coasters, as this is by far the best-looking version of the films you are likely to find. For those film geeks who appreciate the film for its nuances like the chiaroscuro lighting, era-perfect costuming and flawless framing, this is one sweet canoli. (About $45 for the whole set, though films can be purchased separately to avoid that whole Godfather III mistake)

The Pink Panther Ultimate Collection: So the series bats about 500, mostly during Peter Sellers’ earliest work as the inept Inspector Clouseau (but this set also includes interpretations of the bumbling detective by Alan Arkin, Roger Moore (in 1983’s Curse of the Pink Panther), Roberto Benigni and, sadly, Steve Martin in the current re-boot of the franchise. But, the shoddy latter film entries are completely forgiven by this box set’s inclusion of all 190 far-superior Pink Panther cartoons. (About $180, but you are getting a total of 18 discs with this)

Mystery Science Theater 3000: 20th Anniversary Edition : Unfortunately, it is true: two decades have passed since this fantastic series first aired, meaning you are that much older. Fortunately, the series contains so many laughs you may forget about all how much hair you’ve lost/wrinkles you’ve gained in that time. Films held up for merry mockery include: First Spaceship to Venus (1960), Laserblast (1979), Werewolf (1983) and Future War (1997). In the past, many MST3K discs have been rather sparse on extras, but this set comes loaded with features, including the show’s history, a reunion Q & A, and countless different versions of the theme song. (About $160, but you get a life-size head of Crow T. Robot, people!)

The Complete Monty Python's Flying Circus - Collector's Edition Megaset: To know it is to love it: Flying Circus and its co-conspiratorial crew calling itself Monty Python have been purveyors of all modern silliness for more than three decades, leaving many sketch-comedy contenders in their wake. Take a look at any “comedy” channel on the internet today and you will no doubt see the influence of these ground-breaking masters of mockery. (About $55)

The Budd Boetticher Box Set: What, you’ve never heard of Budd Boetticher? Does the fact that Marin Scorcese, Clint Eastwood and Taylor Hackford all volunteered to introduce films included in this set persuade you at all? The Tall T, Decision at Sundown, Buchanan Rides Alone, Ride Lonesome (1959) and Comanche Station, are but a few contributions to the Western genre from the director, giving James Coburn (in his film debut), Richard Boone, Maureen O'Sullivan, Pernell Roberts, Lee Van Cleef, and Craig Stevens and place to hang their hats, so to speak. (About $45)

The Bette Davis Collection, Vol. 3 : Made during the grand dame’s peak of popularity (the non-campy kind) while working with Warner Brothers, this collection includes seldom-seen-but-worthwhile classics as The Old Maid (1939), All This and Heaven Too (1940), The Great Lie (1942), In This Our Life (1942), Watch the Rhine (1943) and Deception (1946). Also tossed into the six-disc set are commentary tracks from film scholars, era-specific film trailers, behind-the-scenes footage, and vintage cartoons. (About $47)

The Alfred Hitchcock Premiere Collection: Spanning eight discs, this MGM set highlights some of the more obscure, but no-less interesting, works from the master, including The Lodger (1927), one of his silent pictures, Sabotage (1936), the Oscar-winning Rebecca (1940), Lifeboat (1944) a mini-masterwork that is set entirely on an inflatable raft and still manages to build tension, Spellbound (1945) , Notorious (1946) and The Paradine Case (1946), starring Ingrid Bergman and Gregory Peck. Included are the famous Hitchock Francois Truffaut interviews, trailers, radio adaptations, and other nuggets of cinema goodness. (About $60)

Georges Méliès: First Wizard of Cinema (1896-1913): Melies’s sad ending was criminal compared to his contribution to the world of film (he died penniless and all-but-forgotten), and this posthumous compilation only further proves just how influential this man was. Some of the ways the effects are done today have changed, but the more things change… A total of 173 short films from this movie master are included in this box set, filled with fantastic journeys, interplanetary travel, and fairy tale lands. The set also includes a booklet documenting his life in and out of film, as well as a famous short documentary on him from another French legend, Georges Franju. (About $90)

A really, very, super-special, ultimate collector’s edition: Almost every film today is released in rated and “unrated” director’s cuts. But few of them have any negligible differences. Here are a few that merit a purchase:

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (20th Anniversary Edition): Visionary director Terry Gilliam has seldom had smooth sailing from sets to screen (the legendary aborted Johnny Depp project, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, made for a fascinating documentary of the filmmaking process titled Lost in La Mancha), and this 1988 film is no exception. Budgets and schedules spinning out of control led to one of the more intriguing behind-the-scenes lore of film production, which is recounted rather honestly and thoroughly through its cast and crew in this special edition DVD. For those who have never witnessed this hallucinatory fantasy since it was first released, a repeat viewing after following how it was made is required to gain an entirely new respect for it. (About $20)

The Thief of Bagdad (Criterion Collection): If you or your children’s only exposure to bottled genies and flying carpets are limited to either Disney and/or Barbara Eden, you owe it to yourself and your kids to pick up this restored gem that featured at-the-time groundbreaking effects (that even today, while dated, still impress), a thrilling adventure and now packed with bonus material such as the original trailer, several commentaries (including a couple of hacks by the name of Scorsese and Coppola), documentaries on Ray Harryhausen, Dennis Muren and Craig Barron and various other features. (About $25)

Dark City (Director’s Cut): Hot off the success of The Crow, in the early 90s, director Alex Proyas was given a bigger budget to create an even larger alternate universe, not unlike the ones created in Blade Runner. And it was perhaps a little too close, as the film was initially met with a shrug from many critics (except Roger Ebert) and quickly disappeared. It has developed a sizeable cult following, allowing a DVD rebirth in the form of a director’s cut, inviting newbies and former haters alike to view the film as originally intended. (About $12)

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains!: Here’s another film that a backstory almost as interesting as the one on the screen. Disowned by its writer, dropped by its studio and abandoned by home video, this rarity stars a young Diane Lane, Ray Winstone, and Laura Dern (as well as members from The Clash and The Sex Pistols). After making the rounds of HBO and late-night USA Network back in the day (late 80s), the film vanished into obscurity. Rhino has lovingly picked it up and polished it off with a number of features, including audio commentaries (from Lane and Dern, no less!). (About $15)

The General: The Ultimate Two-Disc Edition: No self-respecting lover of film should be without this one in their collection. Be wary, as since this classic has gone into public domain (meaning almost any rag-tag releasing company can distribute a beat-up print for profit), this comedic classic from Buster Keaton has countless versions clotting bargain bins everywhere. Kino, which has already released a fine dust-off of the film years ago, now present a definitive version, including introductions from Gloria Swanson and Orson Welles, a tour of the filming locations (including the train used in the film) and a choice of musical accompaniments for this silent masterpiece of meticulously calculated mayhem. (About $22)

Under discussion:

Double Impact  (1991)

Maximum Risk  (1996)

Double Team  (1997)

Knock Off  (1998)

Being John Malkovich  (1999)

Avenging Angelo  (2003)

The Pacifier  (2005)

Rocky Balboa  (2006)

The Wrestler  (2008)

JCVD  (2008)

Pity the poor action hero. Like supermodels, they have a relatively short shelf life and attempts at prolonging their career seldom end well (for every “Rocky Balboa,” Stallone's had a dozen “Avenging Angelos.”)

And for those who fail to break into that top tier, there is increasingly less room on the video store shelves filled with younger, hungrier (and less expensive) stars ready to roundhouse their way to a paycheck.

Or they resort to pimping out their brawn to comedy, hoping to appear 'in on the joke' of their indestructibility. Few have made it back from this tragic mistake unscathed.

Jean-Claude Van Damme has always inhabited this level of the action stratosphere, only briefly flirting with success in the early 90s.

He's now a few years shy of receiving an AARP membership, and his stuntwork may require a longer recovery time (possibly aided with prescription medications).

So mentioning the latest Van Damme release in this column may be met with indifference, 'JCVD' is aiming more for the arthouse than the grindhouse crowd.

Playing a destitute, washed-up action star named Jean Claude van Damme, the actor finds himself involved in the middle of a bank heist/hostage situation right out of one of his films. It is here he faces his nemeses both external and internal.

As “JCVD” opens, the actor is going through the action-movie motions, twirling and pummeling as he's done so many times before. But the second the director yells 'cut', his real battles begin.

He's on the losing end of an ugly custody struggle (in one of the many funny moments, the prosecuting attorney enters Van Damme's entire filmography as evidence to him being an unfit father).

Work-wise, he's just lost an action gig to rival C-lister Steven Segal, who promised to lop off his trademarked ponytail for the role. When he accidentally stumbles into a hostage scenario while trying to withdraw from his dwindling bank account, action movie laws would have it that he find creative ways to crunch skulls and save the day. But this is where “JCVD” takes a wild turn into meta comedy that does not let the actor shy away from some of the uglier sides of his quasi-fame. It plays out like some unholy union of the Muscles from Brussels and Charlie (“Being John Mallkovich”) Kauffman.

Throughout, director co-writer Mabrouk El Mechri brandishes artistic flourishes that exist almost solely to remind his viewers they are not watching a typical Van Damme opus. They can grow tiresome at times (ok, we get that you're a fan of overhead mood lighting. Must it saturate every scene?)

But Van Damme himself (never one noted for his nuance) keeps us interested. And just when the film itself starts to stretch thin, he delivers a monologue so achingly personal ( and most likely, accurate), that it's impossible to turn away. It's as though the star shows us his scabs inflicted not on camera, but off. Then proceeds to pick at them right before our eyes. It's both uncomfortable and compelling.

Mickey Rourke is currently being buzzed about for his self-referential role in “The Wrestler,” which I have yet to see, but Van Damme deserves the same adoration here (I can't believe I'm actually typing this) for his mesmerizing soliloquy on his fame and infamy.

The film itself can veer off into the mundane, but its star has allowed us further into his celebrity psyche than perhaps any other. Not bad for a man whose resume includes him playing kickboxingtwins twice as well as co-starring with Dennis Rodman and Rob Schneider.

Under discussion:

Innocent Blood  (1992)

Scarface  (1983)

Sid and Nancy  (1986)

Trainspotting  (1996)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer [TV Series]  (1997)

Juno  (2007)

Twilight  (2008)

During last year’s “Juno” zeitgeist, I received a response from a reader who took umbrage with me slamming the film. “I guess you don’t remember what’s it’s like to be a 16-year-old girl who is unpopular, non-conforming and pregnant,” she sniffed.

I always thought this to be an odd line of reasoning for an argument. By that statement, does that mean I must have spent time as a gladiator to enjoy “300?” Must I have gone through heroin withdraw after cutting short my career in punk music to appreciate “Sid and Nancy?”

A film need not have leads with character traits that duplicate my own in order for me to appreciate it (“Trainspotting” immediately comes to mind). It does not even have to have leads that I respect, for that matter (say hello to my little friend “Scarface”). 

What it does have to contain is an involving story and, in lieu of, or addition to that, characters which captivate my attention long enough for me to want to spend two hours with them in a darkened theater.

The novel “Twilight,” written by Stephanie Meyers, is not meant for me. Nor, I gather, is the film. It was meant for the two texting tweeners sitting next to me in the theater – the ones who giggled at the first sight of Edward, the ones who cheered on Bella, but also the ones who spent the majority of film bathed in the blue light of their flipped-open cell phones, apparently interested in anything else but what was on the screen. (Maybe we could find common ground.)

But there were certainly enough fans to give this film a record-breaking weekend at the box office last weekend. Fandango, the online pre-sale ticket hub, reported that tickets for “Twilight” were being sold at a rate of five per second prior to the first screenings.

And they are not going away any time soon; after a phenomenal Friday box office, Summit, the tiny studio that produced the film, announced plans for a sequel and perhaps a third to be filmed back to back. And for that audience, I certainly understand (and even, at times, appreciate) the appeal. For beneath “Twilight’s” façade of forbidden love, mortal danger and blood-sucking vampires lies a very chaste, safe escapist fantasy for young girls who want their films with more danger than awaiting what college Zac Efron will select upon graduating high school. And when it comes to sexuality, a subject typically intertwined with the vampire mythology, these beasties don’t even grow those phallic fangs when they get excited, but rather just chomp away with normal incisors and bicuspids.

These young girls can sit in the theater and completely ignore the sociological underpinnings of “Twilight,” and instead choose to retreat into the more fairy tale aspects of the story. There are certainly worse role models for young girls than that of young Bella (played by Kristen Stewart). She’s apparently smart, plainly pretty, a little tomboyish, and the new kid at school. She’s also immediately the center of attention of fellow classmates, the object of desire from the hunky, mysterious, aloof Edward (played by Robert Pattinson) and apparently responsible enough to be given carte blanche by her separated parents.

There is a kernel of an interesting tragic story in the forbidden love of its leads (too bad neither actor seems interested in really emoting it, though). The fact that she’s human and Edward’s like, totally undead and could at any moment get all bitey on Bella makes this aspect compelling, especially for a youngster.

Yet for anyone old enough to drive, though, is where “Twilight” begins to wither and shrivel under scrutiny.

For vampire enthusiasts, this is perhaps one of the worst treatments of the mythology since Don Rickles turned into a vampire in the woefully bad John Landis mobster-vampire hybrid “Innocent Blood.” In fact, it tosses so many of the elements that make up the creatures’ mythology (the most long-standing in film history, by the way), one wonders why Meyers did not create a mythological beast all her own. For example, when these vampires are exposed to sunlight, their skin does not singe, it twinkles. Also, Edward and his surrogate “family” are “vegetarian vampires,” meaning they feast not on humans, but tear into woodland creatures like Sarah Palin on a weekend hunting expedition.

But the lack of doom and gloom with its vampires are not the stake through “Twilight’s” heart. Between their sporting more pancake makeup than a crown at a Cure concert, Edward’s family’s passion for playing a good ol-fashioned game of baseball, or even their superhuman abilities, (which are amusingly in need of a larger budget), they are extremely difficult to take as seriously as director Catherine Hardwicke wants us to.

The other splash of holy water is Stewart as Bella. Edward, who is revealed to be about 90 (that’s a lot of high school biology classes to slog through!), claims he’s waited his life for someone like her. Really? Why? Do you want to borrow her lipstick? Honestly, Stewart plays her as such a serious, mopey bore, it’s really hard to see just what it is about her that is so striking to anyone, particularly someone who has spent the last nine decades chasing high school chicks.

Look, I am happy to see film aimed at an oft-neglected segment of film-goers, giving them a fantasy world that does not involve crass commercialism or power through sexualization (and I hope after this initial encounter Bella goes home and has some serious “Buffy: The Vampire Slayer” marathons for tips on being more strong willed).

But the fact that this was apparently based on a wildly popular young adult novel makes me sad to realize just how few options there must be out there for our daughters to read.

Under discussion:

Clerks  (1994)

Chasing Amy  (1997)

Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back  (2001)

Jersey Girl  (2004)

The Amateurs  (2007)

Clerks II  (2006)

The 40-Year-Old Virgin  (2005)

Knocked Up  (2007)

Forgetting Sarah Marshall  (2008)

Kevin Smith has a right to be pretty bitter right now.

For years, he's been blending raunch and romance with equal measure, to middling box office results. From his grungy little breakthrough, “Clerks,” in 1994, to the polished “Chasing Amy” to the not-as-bad-as-it's-rumored-to-be “Jersey Girl,” Smith has never shied from the messy sexual side of relationships in dialogue that some of the closest couples dare not discuss.

Meanwhile, writer/director Judd Apatow snuck into the kingdom and stole the crown, basically covering the very same turf in films such as “The 40-Year-Old Virgin,” “Knocked Up” and “Forgetting Sarah Marshall.”

Yet again, sex and sentimentality collide with generally hilarious, heartfelt results in his latest “Zack and Miri Make a Porno,” which takes the standard romantic comedy and tarts it up with g-strings, thigh highs and body glitter.

Apatow mainstay Seth Rogan plays Zack and “W.'s” Elizabeth Banks is his platonic roommate Miri, two 20-something slackers who are reminded at their 10-year high school reunion just how little they have to offer the world a decade after their departure.

And if the hysterical humiliations they suffer during the reunion don't drive the point home to them, then the return to their dingy Monroeville, Pennsylvania apartment – where the heat, electricity and water have just been shut off – should do the trick.

In an act of desperation they embark on the eponymous mission (in a plot very similar to last year's Jeff Bridges film, “The Amateurs”) in order to cough up the cash needed to keep them off the streets.

As typical of a Kevin Smith comedy, the film comes from a very personal place and it's not long before the smut is swept up in sentimentality. Just as “Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back” was really a travelogue of his brush with mainstream Hollywood, “Zack and Miri” (as it's been advertised for our prurient television audiences) is Smith's love letter to making movies. It just happens that the movies in this feature typically end with a money shot.

But just as Smith assembled the cast of “Clerks” with his pals from his Jersey neighborhood, Zack and Miri enlist a number of participants from their inner circle to help bring their bump-and-grind opus to life.

Included in the cast are Smith standbys Jason Mewes (who boldly pulls a full monty and who always brings the funny) and original “Clerk” Jeff Anderson. Smith also has the smarts to include scene-stealing “Office” mate Craig Robinson, rehabbed porn princess Traci Lords and Katie Morgan, who you may remember from such memorable turns in “Big Bottom Sadie,” “Whore of the Rings” and “Busty Beauties 20” (and about 200 other similarly titled films...if you care to “research” them).

Smith also nabbed Justin Long, another go-to laugh-getter, whose cameo in the film will forever erase any annoying Mac ad image you may have of him.

It will come as little surprise that our two leads become romantically involved when called upon to perform their climactic scene (meant in every sense of the word). And the final act of the film deals with the awkwardness that can follow that moment where friends decide to take their relationship one step further (normally, though, it's not done in front of a handful of onlookers and a rolling video camera... unless you're a Hilton).

And this is where Smith – and Apatow, and John Hughes, for that matter – typically falter. For the male leads, there are plenty of bulls-eye masculine observations, while leaving the women with very little room to move outside their scripted confines. It's not that Banks does not try, she radiates much the same way Rosario Dawson did in “Clerks II.” But Smith's more comfortable giving his gals equally foul-mouthed dialogue that makes them “just one of the guys,” and then turning them into jealous emotional Jello when more complex matters arise.

The entire plot itself is based nowhere close to reality, even given the current Warhol-intuited “15 minutes of fame” culture in which we live, and Miri just seems way too together to fall for such a slovenly mess such as Zack, much less agree to let herself be filmed having sex with him to be mass marketed.

And honestly, with porn so easily accessible online, do they really think their little homegrown DVD is going to be their financial salvation?

But those minor grievances aside, “Zack and Miri” has just enough cheer to overcome its more flaccid moments. And if he can enlist a female writer for his next feature that could solidify his lady characters of his next film, Smith may be able to not only satisfy his audience throughout, but also provide them with, appropriately, a happy ending.

Under discussion:

Uncovered: The Whole Truth About the Iraq War  (2004)

Outfoxed: Rupert Murdoch's War on Journalism  (2004)

Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price  (2005)

Iraq for Sale: The War Profiteers  (2006)

Uncounted: The New Math of American Elections  (2007)

I review films professionally for a small paper that is situated in a primarily liberal oasis adrift in a very conservative county,

In my reviews, I keep my politics close to the vest (but, honestly, anyone who reads between the lines can easily see my stripes).

In private, though, I consume documentaries such as “Uncounted.” “Outfoxed,” “Iraq for Sale,” “Uncovered” and “Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Prices” have captivated me, as I look forward to each new film released by Robert Greenwald's Brave New Films company.

In a political year such as this one, I digest far too much information than my recommended daily allowance suggests, but I turn into a news junkie, compulsively checking the net for breaking stories, impulsively signing up, volunteering and donating to causes (I'll see you at the voting booth on election day!), and filling my mp3 to the brim with political talk shows of the day (full confession: I shed a tear of happiness when my favorite radio pundit Rachael Maddow landed her own gig on MSNBC after Keith Olbermann).

As compulsive as I am, I still manage to keep reality in check when I view these films, and wear my best reporter's cap when disseminating the information coming at me (that's what a Journalism degree does to you).

Two years back, I stumbled upon a a lengthy piece from Robert F. Kennedy Jr. called “Was the 2004 Election Stolen?”, published in Rolling Stone ( a link to the piece is found here). It's a lengthy but essential piece, especially for anyone who is concerned about the current political climate in this country. His follow-up piece “Block the Vote” was released this week and is a worthy successor.

I mention all this because I feel that it is an integral companion piece for “Uncounted.”

The David Earnhardt-directed documentary covers the same turf as the Kennedy piece on the 2004 presidential election and the numerous inconsistencies in the voting practices in this country's more economically depressed and minority areas.

Yes, the film leans far to the left, but then when is the last time that you have heard of election fraud coming out in favor of the Democrats? (Don't throw me that tired ACORN voter “registration” rubbish either, for that is completely different than “election” fraud).

For the politically strident, the film is not an easy watch, and for those who suffer from malaise at the thought of voting, this could cause you to recoil on your couch until November 5, when it's way over.

But if you are even the least bit concerned about just what happens after that button is pushed or that level is pulled, “Uncounted” will cause much discomfort and maybe, just maybe, motivate you to leaf material that will help you get involved and, to quote Mahatma Gandhi, help “be the change we want to see in the world.”

With the election only days away, “Uncounted” could not be more timely viewing and I promise it will give you more chills than any horror movie marathon in your house ever could.

Under discussion:

Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels  (1998)

Swept Away  (2002)

Revolver  (2007)

RocknRolla  (2008)

With “RocknRolla” we are officially out of new threatening aquatic creatures for cinematic bad guys to dip their foes into.

Sharks. Piranhas. Electric eels. Ill-tempered mutated sea bass. All of these little fishies have occupied a tank or two, used for a criminal dunking booth as a form of persuasion in films. Lenny Cole, the chief villain of Guy Ritchie's new crime caper is also a proprietor of such a nefarious aquarium.

So what does he choose to stock in his pond of persuasion?

Crawfish. Yes, that Louisiana delicacy that is little more than an overgrown Sea Monkey is what Lenny uses to taunt his victims.

It's (hopefully) meant as a lark in Ritchie's assured return to form after misfiring with the disastrous “Swept Away” (starring wife Madonna) and the befuddling “Revolver.” “RocknRolla” creeps back into the underworld where he is most comfortable, populating it with yet another round of entertaining, three-dimensional, two-bit, one-track-minded ruffians who inhabit it.

Lenny (played by Tom Wilkinson) is trying to score a real estate deal with a younger, leaner Russian “businessman” (played by Karel Rodan), but is soon realizing his way of lawlessness is slowly giving way to a more harsh, bitter brand of criminality.

Meanwhile, his middling thugs get mixed up in the fracas, testing allegiances as well as each other's patience.

One Two (played by “300's” Gerard Butler), Mumbles (played by Idris Elba), Handsome Bob (played by Tom Hardy), Archie (played by Mark Strong), and Johnny Quid (played by Tony Kebble), are all crossing paths and cracking skulls -- sometimes their own – in an attempt to pad their pockets with payoff.

A scheming accountant (played by Thandie Newton) and a pair of seamy music executives (played by Jeremy Piven and Ludicris), also figure into the scheme.

Through the thick British accents, it might be difficult to catch each and every line lobbed onto the criminal battlefield, but the film is immediately more discernible than his thoroughly confusing trip to Kabbalah-land, “Revolver.”

Some may see “RocknRolla” as the director falling back on a crutch, cinematically. But it is a crutch that has served him well, and the director seems to have done some maturation in the years since he rocketed onto the landscape with “Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels” and its follow-up “Snatch.”

This film doesn't feel as hopped-up and antsy, allowing more exposition with some rather engaging characters. One scene in particular takes a Hitchcockian foot-chase – one that would typically be wrought with hyperkinetic editing and a thundering soundtrack – and adds an amusing twist to its conclusion that is as realistic as it is comical.

The cast is primed and ready to groove with Ritchie's signature vibe, happily contributing moments of appropriate over-the-top histrionics and awkward humility, especially Wilkinson, Butler and Strong.

Ritchie breaks no new ground as a director, with his visual flair on full display. But he has grown substantially as a writer, which elevates its gallery of goons to more than Tarantino-esque tough guys.

The cast of “RocknRolla” can stand confidently beside the motley crews he's previously assembled on the screen.

Under discussion:

D.C. Cab  (1983)

Borat  (2006)

Religulous  (2008)

“The Christian God can easily be pictured as the same god as the many gods of ancient civilizations.”

“Question with boldness the existence of God."

“My mind is my own church.”

“Let us with caution indulge the supposition that morality can be maintained without religions.”

“I think vital religion has always suffered when orthodoxy is more regarded than virtue.”

These all may seem like the inflammatory ramblings of the Right Wing's favorite whipping boy Bill Maher, and not quotes from our Founding Fathers (Thomas Jefferson, Thomas Paine, George Washington and Ben Franklin, respectively. Look it up.). But they serve sort of the thesis statements for Maher's documentary “Religulous.”

Now whether you wish to take theological advice from a former actor whose previous cinematic body of work includes the Mr. T opus “D.C. Cab” and “Cannibal Women and the Avocado Jungle of Death” is your own call.

The topic of religion has been a frequent target for Maher's “Real Time” talk show, and he makes no attempts to conceal his disdain for organized religion of any kind and the harm done to humanity in its name. In “Religulous,” he sets out on a global nomadic quest in an attempt to understand why his belief in non-belief is so marginalized.

He has hired “Borat” director Larry Charles to accompany him on this religious crusade...( hmm, maybe “crusade” may be the wrong word when talking about Christianity... how about “deity safari?”). Maher overturns stones of such fringe-dwelling pit-stops of faith as a Trucker's Chapel, The Creationism Museum and a “gay conversion” center as well as attempting to tackle the big boys such as the Mormon Tabernacle and the Vatican.

Maher's past as a comedian comes in handy throughout, as his wit certainly cuts through some of the deeper discussions. But his trademarked snark is exactly what may cause the film to fail to convert anyone who does not already worship at Maher's altar. He is not aided much by Charles, who edits the film that often leaves it open to criticism that he is stacking the deck in his star's favor.

Granted, many of the subjects are far out of Maher's comedic league, and it is doubtful that he needed any help decimating certain guests who willfully jam their own feet in their mouth.

The results are frequently hilarious, make no mistake.

But by choosing this filmmaking method, Charles leaves Maher wide open to the oft-cited criticism of Maher's smug, self-satisfied delivery is too off-putting to welcome new members to his congregation, which is obviously the film's intent.

And if that does not seal the deal, Maher's strangely serious polemic rant at the film's conclusion certainly will. As Maher himself begins the film, he admits that he “does not know” the answers, but preaches to the masses just like so many of the religious charlatans he spent the past 90 minutes railing against, with absolution and certainty.

“Religulous” does open doors to conversation, which is always healthy. But when you preach with condescension that your view is the only valid one on the table, you sound exactly like those you mock.

Under discussion:

Raising Arizona  (1987)

True Romance  (1993)

The Hudsucker Proxy  (1994)

Legends of the Fall  (1994)

12 Monkeys  (1995)

Fargo  (1996)

Seven Years in Tibet  (1997)

Meet Joe Black  (1998)

The Big Lebowski  (1997)

The Ladykillers  (2004)

No Country for Old Men  (2007)

Burn After Reading  (2008)

I can envision moviegoers exiting “Burn After Reading” with the same befuddlement some have stated upon witnessing Joel and Ethan Coen's Oscar-winning “No Country for Old Men.”

In fact, the directors are gracious enough to have one of the characters (a hilariously deadpan J.K. Simmons) say it for them: “So just what have we learned from all this?”

His fellow C.I.A. officer squirms and kind of shrugs.

I could sense the audience grumbling in agreement.

But I could not join my fellow patrons in their dissatisfaction, for “Reading” was as unexpected, meandering, and precision-crafted as any of the brothers' comedic outputs. And it was a hell of a lot of fun.

In fact, if I may commit an act of heresy amidst my fellow film-loving friends, I had more enjoyable time here than on my initial viewing of “The Big Lebowski.”

While it may fall in the middle of the Coens comedic library (wedged above “The Hudsucker Proxy” and slightly below “Fargo” -- with “Raising Arizona” being the pinnacle, and “The Ladykillers the nadir), it's worth it if only for the inspired insanity they allow from their cast, better known for its dramatic endeavors.

Those who seek sleek narrative construction in a Coen Brothers film are more likely to find an Oscar on the shelf of Larry The Cable Guy. For they have spent the latter part of their careers rearranging the blocks of structure, repeatedly flipping the bird to cinematic expectations.

They make it clear that in “Reading” we are not entering the world in which you and I dwell. It is far distanced from the harsh realism that soaked “No Country.” Sure, they look like humans we may recognize, but they are more akin to live-action cartoons.

John Malkovich plays an uptight C.I.A. Desk monkey named Osbourne Cox who is unceremoniously dumped from his rather slight job within the agency. In a profanity-filled tantrum, he stomps out, threatening to burn things to its foundation with a scathing tell-all. Unfortunately, Cox is but a mere Dilbert-esque drone whose words ring rather hollow to an indifferent employer.

Things are no better at home, either. His zamboni of a wife (Tilda Swinton) icily plows over his every statement, paving over it with her own dilemmas, like, did he pick up the right cheese for the evening's dinner party. She wants things picture-perfect, for one of the guests in Harry Pfarrer (played by George Clooney), a married, philandering Treasury employee proud of the fact that he's never fired his gun in 20 years of service and an apparent connoisseur of hardwood floors.

As their affair deepens, Cox's wife secretly begins amassing information from her husband's various accounts to hand over to her divorce lawyer. The information is compiled on a compact disc that gets left on the floor of Hardbodies Gym, which had the misfortune of having Chad Feldheimer (played by Brad Pitt) and Linda Lidzke (played by Frances McDormand) as employees.

Chad, with hair piled high like an encroaching tidal wave, gets it into his whiffle-ball-like head that this disc's owner must be really important because there are lots of numbers and codes and stuff located within (to Chad, a disc of Sudoku puzzles would be equally confusing). Linda, who longs for a series of expensive plastic surgeries to battle time is more than happy to be his accomplice in trying to extort cash for the found information.

The series of events that unfold are, at turns, hysterical, violent (sometimes simultaneously), irreverent and irrelevant.

It's the enthusiasm in which each actors attacks his or her role that stokes “Reading's” flames. McDormand is so caught up in her attempts at vanity, she's blind to a fellow employee who not-so-subtly longs for her; Clooney successfully hides his striking features under a number of obnoxious tics and crippling paranoia; Malkovich is at his arrogant best, referring to his self-indulgent musings of life at the agency as his phonetically correct “mem-wah.”

But from the moment he bops onto the screen about 20 minutes into the picture, there is no mistaking that this is Pitt's picture. When confined to such dramatic mush as “Seven Years in Tibet,” “Meet Joe Black” and “Legends of the Fall,” the actor can come off as a stilted mannequin, hired more for marquee value. But throughout his career, in smaller roles such as “True Romance,” and “12 Monkeys” when he's able to let his freak flag fly, Pitt's a comedic tsunami. Nowhere is it more evident than in “Reading.”

Chad is a man so blissfully unaware of just how over his head he is when he hatches his plot, it's surprising that he even remembers to wear pants in public.

What you may not find in “Reading” is something that neatly wraps up it's tale in a traditional fashion. For some, this will be unforgivable, but for those who happily vibe along with the cast until, quite literally, the book is closed on this tale, they will find the eccentric comedy is just the right shade of black.

Under discussion:

Dead Poets Society  (1989)

Mr. Holland's Opus  (1995)

Rushmore  (1998)

Erin Brockovich  (2000)

The Office [TV Series]  (2001)

High School Musical  (2006)

Alan Partridge Presents the Cream of British Comedy  Production Year

Tropic Thunder  (2008)

Hamlet 2  (2008)

I will take the slightly naughty energy of the climactic song “Rock Me Sexy Jesus” from the new film “Hamlet 2” over the shrill teen warblings of any “High School Musical” in a heartbeat.

It's not the blasphemous blast some might expect from such a title, but it dances the line just enough to keep you riveted as to where it may go next.

This is predominantly due to the exasperated efforts of the film's lead Steve Coogan, who throws his every last spastic muscle into his role of clueless high school drama teacher Dana Marschz. Coogan, who has yet to break big on this continent, is adored by many in his British home where his vain, tempestuous television character Alan Partridge could have easily passed for a sibling to Ricky Gervais' immortal David Brent in the original “The Office.”

One wishes the film had as much manic manner as Coogan displays.

“Hamlet 2” is filled with devious left-field non-sequiturs, send-ups to inspirational teach films, and broad physical comedy, but these parts never gel to a whole.

Marschz's dream of acting resulted in but a few commercial gigs (which are played in the film's opening, echoing the same structure and eliciting the same laughs as “Tropic Thunder, which Coogan also stars). Alas, since his resume's peak was “Frustrated Juicer User” and “Happy Herpes Sufferer,” his reach for the stars was grounded and now toils away in a teaching gig in Tuscon, Arizona.

His plays, which are based on popular films such as “Erin Brockovich,”(which would be much funnier had it not been done already in “Rushmore”) are hardly the stuff of theatrical inspiration. And when his school's budget ax swings, the drama department is the first on the block.

Marschz meets the news with the typical “pick-yourself-up” pluck that serves as the source for so many a Hollywood drama. But Marschz is a far cry from Mr. Holland, or even a Dead Poet. So his stirring speech to save the program is less a rallying cry than it is a pitiful sob.

And speaking of pitiful, Marschz's home life is in shambles as well, co-existing with a booze-soaked wife (Catherine Keenar) who stays pickled to purge thoughts of her sliver of a life with such a loser. His transportation needs have been reduced to roller skating to work, thanks to a prior DUI conviction, and his stage efforts are often panned by the school's freshman critic in the school paper.

All of this seems pretty bleak, and were it not for the chipper (or oblivious) attitude of Coogan, it would appear as tragic as the film's eponymous namesake.

But what is sorely missing in the film is any sort of development from any other character. The students are little more than stereotypes (the ultra-religious gal who falls for a bad boy, the closeted gay one, the mute chick who speaks only to deliver an inspirational monologue). The only time it dare plays with these is an amusing bit where Marschz marches to the home of one local ruffian whose parents pull him from the play. He expects them to be layabout drug addicts who don't want their macho son singing on stage, but when he meets them, they are actually literate, well-read PhD holders who object to plays sloppy writing and preposterous storyline (which involves Hamelt, a time machine and Jesus).

Elizabeth Shue factors into the film as well, taking a good-natured shot at her own celebrity, but it hardly feels integral to the overall story.

When it comes to the final performance, which somehow manages to receive backing from the entire student body that rejects his as a clown, Marschz pulls off a show that makes the grotesqueries of Cirque du Soliel look like community theater.

But there is no emotional payoff for the students who have apparently been so transformed by this event. Sure, the music is shockingly funny (it was co-written by Pam Brady, who also co-wrote the “South Park” film), but for a film based in theater, it feels starkly un-theatrical and hollow, just a bunch of aping and mugging for the camera.

To paraphrase the Bard himself from “Hamlet,”: “Though this be madness, there is no method in't.”

Under discussion:

24 [TV Series]  (2001)

High Tension  (2005)

The Hills Have Eyes  (2006)

Mirrors  (2008)

Look, I see scary images in mirrors all the time, but I ultimately conclude that it’s just that merry prankster known as time streaking my face with yet another wrinkle or peppering my head with another gray hair.

So, Alexandre Aja, director of the new reflective-centric horror film “Mirrors,” I say this to you – bring it on. I doubt you can serve up images scarier to me than the ones I must confront on a daily basis.

And while the overrated director does try, with countless scenes of inexplicable bloodletting and gore, it musters all the terror of a facial nick by a Gillette Sensor.

Jack Bauer, I mean, Keifer Sutherland, plays a disgraced cop who is estranged from his family and must resort to overnight security detail of a burned-out building.

You read that correctly. He’s getting paid to look after a charred structure of wood and slate. And mirrors. Lots and lots of mirrors.

Seeing as this building was once a popular department store, the mirrors have stories to tell. Are they ghosts? Trapped spirits? Angry Gap customers whose form-fitting khakis looked a tad unflattering?

No, it involves some hokum about behavioral testing that took place decades ago in the very same structure (prior to when it was a department store, apparently, because that would just be too awkward to have the shock therapy department right next to the lingerie). And these mirrors have trapped some very ugly visages inside that can manipulate modern-day folk into committing senseless acts of special effects.

The story drags on, playing by the same rules as countless other films based on Asian horror films (and that is… there are no rules). The mirrors drive some suicidal, others homicidal and causes others to straighten their bangs. None of it makes much sense and it’s as though director Aja and co-writer Gregory Levasseur just fill in the gaps between staging gruesome death sequences.

Sutherland is in full “24” mode, yelling “Dammit!” repeatedly (though sometimes he gets to say “God” in front of it, since this is rated “R” and all). He packs heat and threatens those darn mirrors to stay away from his family (but with a wife as hot as actress Paula Patton, can you really blame the mirror?).

But just in past seasons of Sutherland’s hit TV show, “Mirrors” becomes unhinged and shatters any semblance it may have once hat. At least there are no mountain lions waiting to pounce on his children in the film.

Director Aja has somehow earned a modicum of respect, though I can’t discerns what really lifts his style above any of the other generic, quick-cut, assembly line horror films being released every other week in the past few years. His first film, “Haute Tension,” was, um, interesting in fits and starts. And his follow-up, a remake of Wes Craven’s “The Hills Have Eyes,” was but a mere wallow in mutant sadism. The best that can be said for “Mirrors” is that he managed to avoid or digitally erase any time a crew member was reflected in any of the mirrors within the shots.

Kudos to you, Mr. Aja.

If you ask me, the murky, noisy, pointlessly bloody execution of “Mirrors" is a true reflection of his talent.

Under discussion:

True Romance  (1993)

Dazed and Confused  (1993)

The Big Lebowski  (1997)

Half Baked  (1997)

Wonder Boys  (2000)

George Washington  (2000)

Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle  (2004)

Annapolis  (2006)

The 40-Year-Old Virgin  (2005)

Flyboys  (2006)

Spider-Man [Film Series]  (2002)

Cheech and Chong [Film Series]  Production Year

Knocked Up  (2007)

Superbad  (2007)

Snow Angels  (2008)

Hancock  (2008)

The Pineapple Express  (2008)

A friend with weed is a friend indeed.

That is the lesson to be extracted from the latest comedy off the Judd Apatow assembly line, “Pineapple Express.” While it may get anti-marijuana advocates abuzz with consternation, it's a sweet little trip until a dramatic shift to violence quite literally calls the cops to this feel-good party.

“Express” is laced with guffaws and gunplay, and while not as startlingly schizophrenic as this summer's “Hancock,” it still feels as though its personalities are squished together in such a forced fashion, it threatens to disrupt the good vibes it garners through much of the film.

And, like all of Apartow's blockbuster comedies before it (“Knocked Up,” Superbad,” “The 40-Year-Old Virgin”), it overstays its welcome by at least 30 minutes.

Imagine, if you will, an entire film devoted to the ganja-clouded escapades of Brad Pitt's Floyd, the moviewestoner he portrayed in Tony Scott's “True Romance (one of Pitt's best, albeit brief, performances on screen). James Franco channels Floyd, but successfully layers him with empathy and a hint of sadness.

Franco is perhaps best known as Peter Parker's frenemy in the “Spider-Man” trilogy, as well as generic junk like “Annapolis” and “Flyboys,” which focused more on his Abercrombe and Fitch good looks than his acting chops. In “Express” he hides his sculptured silhouette behind a mop of greasy hair and clothes even a college hamper would reject. As Saul, he's a well-connected dealer who, despite his numerous contacts, remains rather friendless, reduced to surface conversations with his quasi-anonymous clientèle whose illegal purchases makes them more than a tad jittery to hang out for deeper disucssions.

When Dale (played by co-writer Seth Rogan) pops by for his weekly fix, Saul reaches out by not only introducing him to the headlining herb, but shares his beloved concoction, a triple-ended joint that apparently induces a supreme high. Dale, reluctant at first, humors Saul and doesn't pass up the chance for a token toke.

A tiny connection is made before Dale darts off to his thankless gig as a process server that at least provides him the opportunity to blaze up between deliveries. During one seemingly routine stop, Dale witnesses a murder and, in his drug-clouded escape, manages to smash a couple cars and attract the attention of the killers (Gary Cole and Rosie Perez). When he seeks the aid of Saul in a panic, it sets off a series of successively darker detours into pot-fueled paranoia that, were it not for the comic chops of its supporting cast, would otherwise derail this ride.

Rogan does his best Rogan, meaning he coasts along with his standard understated charm and his proclivity to cling to the bliss of adolescence. It's Franco who brings out the best of the film, operating under the haze of his trade and letting humanity bubble to the surface at all the right (high) times.

But Franco alone could not buoy the picture as it slowly descends into its bloody conclusion. He's helped by the go-to guy for straight-faced snickers Danny McBride, as the link between Saul and the local drug kingpin, as well as Craig Robinson (from “The Office”) and Kevin Corrigan as two henchmen dispatched to extinguish the leads.

Throughout there are throwaway bits that could have easily tightened the two-hour escapade, most notably the romance between Rogan's Dale and his high school girlfriend (yes, she is technically “of age,” but that makes it no less icky). We get that this guy's unable to motivate into adulthood, but the real relationship here is the one he strikes with Saul.

Stylistically, the film breaks free from the relatively staid comedic efforts of recent past, credited to director David Gordon Green, an indie filmmaker whose known more for his dramatic muscle and given the film more flourish than it deserves. The stoner comedy is one that's typically made on a shoestring and relies heavily on its hazy humor than on plot or artistry (Cheech and Chong, Harold and Kumar, “Half Baked”), and occasionally it will be elevated into headier territory (“Dazed and Confused,” “The Big Lebowski,” “The Wonder Boys”).

But this may be the first stoner action film ever made, perhaps because the two adjectives are so diametrically opposed. “Pineapple Express” would be much easier to inhale if the aftertaste was not so bitter.

Under discussion:

Little Miss Sunshine  (2006)

Juno  (2007)

Witless Protection  (2008)

Swing Vote  (2008)

You gotta hand it to Kevin Costner.

The one-time pretty boy of the silver screen sure isn't afraid to let it all hang out in his most recent screen roles, sporting mid-life muffin tops around the midriff, allowing his thinning mane to sprout from his noggin like some nest of a crazed blue jay, and wearing each wrinkle on his face with pride.

In “Swing Vote” his latest role is that of Bud, a slovenly mess of a man who eschews politics and world issues for a hearty game of foozball and the foamy beverage that shares his name.

He's like “comedian” Larry the Cable Guy with half an IQ point. And without the overtly hostile racism and homophobia.

It seems the fate of the free world rests in his beer-soaked mitts, as a technical glitch allowed a razor's-edge election to be determined by a single ballot.

Is that a chad hanging, or is he just happy to see us?

Setting off a media maelstrom, Bud is besieged by reporters, camera crews, paparazzi and even the candidates themselves are soon courting the man for that all-important vote.

Both incumbent Republican president (played bu Kelsey Grammer) and Democratic contender (played, ironically, by staunch Republican Dennis Hopper) are tossing aside every electoral promise they've made, and changing their party's entire structure in order to suck up to Bud.

The Republicans are now the environmental party and the Democrats are in the pro-life camp in order to appeal to Bud's supposed views (even if he really doesn't have a firm stance on anything).

This is where “Swing Vote” makes its most fatal error in a film filled with lesser ones along the way. It attempts to emphasize the civic duty of voting, but negates that by giving us candidates willing to whore out their entire campaign, their entire belief system in order to win.

Sure, each candidate's PR man (Stanley Tucci is Grammer's Rovian henchman and Nathan Lane is Hopper's craven servant) are pulling the strings, but that just makes the candidates even more pathetic. Do we really care who wins when either politician is so quick to pander in order to get seated. It's this characterization that leads to voter apathy in the first place.

The cameos from political pundits in “Swing Vote” will likely mean nothing to those who fall into Bud's base (“Golly! I think that there's Arianna Huffington, founder of Huffington Post!” “Well I'll be! Git a load of Tucker Carlson without his little bow tie, Vern!”). And the supporting actors (Grammer, Hopper, Tucci, Lane) are too thinly scripted to provide any real interest.

This leaves the majority on Costner and his on-screen daughter, newcomer Madeline Carroll. Carroll comes across as the only-in-the-movies pre-teen, with a Juno-sized intellect, and demonstrating more responsibility than any of her adult co-stars, despite being surrounded by poverty, alcoholism and drug addiction. It's a fine effort, but she really won't be stealing the crown from Little Miss Sunshine any time soon.

Costner tries to increase the voltage with his megawatt smile, but his buffoonery and slapstick are hard to fully laugh at when you consider just what a selfish, irresponsible oxygen-waster his character truly is. He does not deserve a daughter like his, he does not deserve the fawning media, and he certainly does not deserve his own movie.