Piranha 3D

Piranha 3D is the kind of movie that knows exactly what movie it wants to be. I can't tell you how refreshing it is to see a silly summer throwaway flick that knows it's a silly summer throwaway flick. (The Expendables fits this bill as well).

If you choose to walk into Piranha 3D (and, for my money, you should) then expect a ridiculously over-the-top gorefest; a real slapstick romp. There is not one single shred of scientific accuracy in the entire film. But, it never tries to justify itself as being accurate. The film is absurd. And it knows it.

When a lone beer bottle (really, a beer bottle? It couldn't have been a brick, or perhaps an anchor?) falls out of a boat and lands on the lake floor, it sets off a massive earthquake that releases century's-old piranhas.

 Because this takes place in a town similar to that of Jaws, the lake is littered with college spring breakers partying their asses off, and the cops (led by a badass Elisabeth Shue) are initially afraid to cease what will certainly be a huge monetary week for the town.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out where this is going.

There is, of course, the standard lame plot (as if violently starved piranhas aren't enough to carry a movie), but don't let that bog you down. 

There is no reason to praise Piranha 3D; believe me, I'm not going to sit here and defend it against its critics. But those pointing out every flaw are taking it far too seriously. There are flaws because gifted director Alexandre Aja (he made the scarily good High Tension) wants there to be flaws.

Honestly, how can you not enjoy a delirious Jerry O'Connell as a tequila'ed and coked up porn director?  Or Ving Rhames getting all medieval on some piranhas' asses? Or a  possessed Christopher Lloyd, playing the oh so convenient character who just happens to have a clay mold of the type of evil piranha sitting at his desk?

Because a sequel is already in the works, I have no shame in telling you that the ending is a complete cop out. But oh well, this ain't Citizen Kane. Hell, it isn't even Alien. But then again, it doesn't pretend to be. B

Note: Am I the only one that finds it ironic that the most grotesque (and hilarious) death in the film has nothing to do with a piranha?  Think a long ponytail and a faulty boat propeller.

the Directors: Steven Soderbergh

Welcome to the wonderful world of Steven Soderbergh. The man has had one of the most varied careers in recent cinema. He began with a startling debut, then faded away for a decade behind little-seen oddities. Once he hit his stride in Hollywood via Ocean’s Eleven, he partly turned his back on Tinseltown, making many flicks for next to nothing, starring people we've never heard of.

Soderbergh is one of the rare filmmakers who can do just as much with $100 million as he can with $200,000. Because he directs, shoots, edits and camera operates the majority of his films, Soderbergh can selflessly be dubbed a true auteur. And with 12 flicks (and one TV show) under his belt in the 2000s alone, the dude is damn prolific, too. Basically, when I’m asked who my favorite current filmmaker is, Soderbergh is always one of the first names out of my mouth.

(Note: Soderbergh’s second film Kafka, made in 1991, is seemingly nonexistent. I’ve tried various outlets – Netflix, Amazon, used film stores – to no avail. Likewise his 1996 documentary, Gray’s Anatomy.)

sex, lies and videotape (1989)

An incredible debut film with the stamp of a true visionary. The audience immediately falls into Soderbergh’s unique world with the help of a bizarre story, and an intriguingly mysterious lead character. As the quick-witted banter flies off the screen, we slowly become all-consumed in Soderbergh’s psychological study on sexuality, lack of truth, and yes, videotapes. A

Interesting Fact: What do the titles 46:02, Retinal Retention, Charged Coupling Device, Mode: Visual and Hidden Agendas all have in common? They were other possibilities for the title of this film.

King of the Hill (1993)

A moderately amusing tale of a young teen struggling to make it in the Depression-era Midwest. While the film looks good, the story and catchy gimmicks quickly grow old. There’s a reason you’ve probably never seen this movie. Not awful, but not among Soderbergh’s best. C+

Interesting Fact: Spalding Gray, the interest of Soderbergh’s little-seen documentary Gray’s Anatomy, has a brief cameo in this film.

The Underneath (1995)

A mediocre, yet highly stylized, crime caper. While the acting is good on all parts, namely William Fichtner as a psycho baddie, the story is weak and predictable. (Hint: if the first scene of a movie features an armored car, you can safely assume that it will be robbed by the film’s end.) B

Interesting Fact: Take notice of the use of different tint colors and canting camera angles, devices Soderbergh would soon perfect.

Shizopolis (1996)

When a movie opens with the director staring into the camera telling his audience that the film they are about to watch is the most important film of all time, you shouldn’t take it too seriously. At least that’s Soderbergh’s thought. This on-the-fly, cinema vérité experiment is great if viewed as a film with little-to-no meaning. Its satirical theme is amusing, but its gimmick runs dry pretty fast. B-

Interesting Fact: The movie was written, produced, directed, shot, and scored by Soderbergh himself. It cost $250,000 to make, and grossed just $10,580.

Out of Sight (1998)

Easily the most important film of Soderbergh’s career, as it put him on the mainstream map. George Clooney and Jennifer Lopez practically light the screen on fire, their chemistry is that hot.  It doesn’t get any better than Clooney and Lopez, thief and cop, stuck in the trunk of a car, talking the night away. Also, notice how the different narratives are fused together through seamless editing, a technique that would soon become Soderbergh’s trademark. A

Interesting Fact: Soderbergh shot the trunk scene 45 times, each time in one long take. In editing, he realized he didn’t like any of them, so they reshot it with multiple setups.

The Limey (1999)

An underrated, ferocious little gem of a film. Soderbergh takes his loopy editing device from Out of Sight and explodes it. The film, about an old British hood seeking revenge on his murdered daughter, plays out like a brutal jigsaw puzzle. Terence Stamp in the title role, and Peter Fonda as a Hollywood goon, are perfectly cast. A great, hidden film. Check it out. A-

Interesting Fact: The DVD commentary for this film, with Soderbergh and writer Lem Dobbs, is almost as well known as the movie itself. Much of the track plays out like the film, with weird sound effects and repetition. And, most notably, the constant arguing between the two subjects on how the film was produced.

Erin Brockovich (2000)

I’ve always thought that Julia Roberts got way more credit in this movie than she deserved. The film’s technique, as usual, is the star, with extended cross dissolves and over-exposed photography. Albert Finney is great, but Julia just doesn’t do it for me. B-

Interesting Fact: Roberts received an unprecedented salary for her role, making her the first woman to make $20 million for a movie.

Traffic (2000)

In January, I chose Traffic as the best film of the 2000s, a decision I proudly stand by. I have not one negative thing to say about this film, which is a flawlessly detailed examination of drugs in America. Not only Soderbergh’s finest achievement as a director, but as a cinematographer as well. Casting each story in a different colored hue was sheer genius. The final scene of this movie is one of the best captured moments in all of film. A perfect cinematic experience. A+

Interesting Fact: The first names of the four men who won Oscars for this film are Steven, Stephen, Stephen and Benicio.

Ocean’s Eleven (2001)

A dazzling throwback to the Rat Pack glory days of Hollywood. In a bit of perfect casting, George Clooney excels as the suave Danny Ocean. Equally good are his thieving counterparts Brad Pitt, Matt Damon and Elliot Gould. Honestly, have you ever talked to someone who flat-out hates this movie? It’s one of the most genuinely entertaining movies of the 2000s. A

Interesting Fact: If you’ve ever been tempted to watch a DVD with the commentary on, do it here with the Damon and Pitt track. It’s one of the funniest I’ve ever heard.

Full Frontal (2002)

Soderbergh’s first foray into indie mystery after achieving A-list status. Like his later tiny-budget films, you either like Full Frontal or you don’t. I’m not going to argue that it can be too Hollywood insider-y for the average viewer, but I didn’t see it as a complete failure. As an exercise in stripping movie powerhouses of their vanity, it definitely succeeds. But is the flimsy story enough to carry an entire film? You be the judge. B

Interesting Fact: Soderbergh attached a list of strict rules to the screenplay of this low budget film. The list included the fact that there would be no sets, no drivers, no hair and makeup, no trailers, no craft service, and a promise that the persons involved would have a great time.

Solaris (2002)

Hands down the most underrated film of Soderbergh’s career. Despite being produced by James Cameron, the film was released to dismal box office returns and harsh reviews. I’ve always thought Solaris was a patient, brilliantly realized story with convincing acting and a powerful conclusion. But not many would agree with me. A

Interesting Fact: Solaris was originally given an R rating due to two shots of George Clooney’s naked bottom. But in a landmark appeal, Soderbergh argued his case before the MPAA, citing that similar content (and worse) had appeared on network television. The movie was soon given a PG-13 rating.

K Street (2003)

This short-lived HBO series (it only lasted one season) was a ballsy, fly-on-the-wall approach to the inside working’s of the D.C. government infrastructure. Fusing together real people with fictional characters, Soderbergh, along with co-creator George Clooney, delivered an improvised, captivating work of modern television. Sure it only appealed to a select sect of people, but I have I feeling it would’ve grown into a superb show if given more time. A-

Interesting Fact: Soderbergh knew that in order to be current, he would have to discuss the most recent political news. For 10 weeks, he would film Monday-Wednesday, edit Thursday, complete sound editing and final touches on Friday, send to the studio on Saturday, and the show would air on Sunday.

Eros: "Equilibrium" segment (2004)

Soderbergh is one-third of this colossal disaster. With names like Wai Kar Wong and Michelangelo Antonioni, you’d expect something worthwhile. Such is not the case. The three short films of Eros each present their take on love and sex. The only remotely interesting one is Wong’s. Sadly, much like King of the Hill, there’s a reason you probably haven’t heard of this movie. D

Interesting Fact: I got nothing.

Ocean’s Twelve (2004)

Probably the most hated of Soderbergh’s better-known films. But, like Solaris, I think this sequel is great, and dare I say, possibly as good as the first Ocean's. Ditching his controlled filming style used in Ocean’s Eleven and opting for a more insider’s perspective (à la K Street), Ocean’s Twelve makes better use of its characters, but admittedly slacks on its story. The scene where the Ocean’s crew discuss their new plan in a cramped hotel room is one of the best of Soderbergh’s career; a great, improvised work of art. A-

Interesting Fact: Clint Eastwood was rumored to make a cameo as Linus’s (Matt Damon) father, but had to drop out. Peter Fonda shot a scene as Linus’s father, but it was cut. Linus’s father was eventually played by Bob Einstein in Ocean’s Thirteen. Einstein is best-known for playing Marty Funkhouser on Curb Your Enthusiasm.

Bubble (2006)

For this little wonder, about a murder that shakes up the lives of a few doll-factory workers, Soderbergh traveled to a barren Midwest town, cast all nonprofessional actors, used their houses as sets, improvised all their dialogue, shot only for a few days, and then released it simultaneously in theaters, on DVD and On Demand. The result is a revelatory 73 minutes of independent film. Roger Ebert called this the second-best movie of 2006 for a reason. A-

Interesting Fact: Honestly, the whole damn setup is interesting. Just rent it.

The Good German (2006)

You’d think that if anyone could nail a Berlin-set, post-WWII romance, it’d be Steven Soderbergh. Especially if his cast has names like Clooney and Blanchett. But sadly, this Casablanca-esque, lovers-in-peril film never fully delivers. Blanchett is perfectly cast as a femme fatale, as is Tobey Maguire as a psycho soldier  And although The Good German is nearly technically flawless, the story is unbearably weak. You need more than luscious cinematography to keep a flick afloat. B-

Interesting Fact: Soderbergh only used film equipment that was available during the ‘40s. Essentially, the film is shot as if it had been made in 1945.

Ocean’s Thirteen (2007)

The third and final Ocean’s flick plays out like a revenge film after one of the crew members is injured by a new Vegas pusher, played by Al Pacino. I suppose I enjoy these films because it seems like everyone involved enjoys them so damn much. Still, Thirteen is so clearly the weakest effort of the trio.  B

Interesting Fact: During the final scene in the airport, Pitt tells Clooney to “try and keep the weight off between jobs next time,” a reference to Clooney’s weight gain for his role in Syriana. Clooney retorts by telling Pitt he should “settle down and have a couple of kids,” which Pitt has, and then some, with partner Angelina Jolie.

Che (2008)

Broken into two segments, Soderbergh’s epic chronicling of Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara is best viewed in one very long sitting (258 minutes to be exact). Not all of it is great: Soderbergh takes his time establishing the tiniest details with painstakingly long wide shots, expansive dialogue and seemingly endless subplots. For me, the reasons to appreciate it outweighs the reasons to bash it. Benicio Del Toro gives his best performance since Traffic as the dynamic Che. You believe his every gesture. The extended battle in the deserted town that concludes the first section of the film is the highlight of this expressive passion project. A-

Interesting Fact: Del Toro was Soderbergh’s first and only choice to play Che. But in the event of an emergency, Soderbergh’s Che back-up was none other than Val Kilmer.

The Girlfriend Experience (2009)

Only Steven Soderbergh would cast a real life porn star in a film about a high class escort, and not have a single sex scene. Which sums up this tiny indie pretty well: it’s all about the tease. Porn star Sasha Grey, beyond all reasonable doubt, turns out solid work as the confused Chelsea. Grey seems to adapt to Soderbergh’s come-what-may method rather well. Fans of the auteur in question will be delighted by this film’s loopy narrative, which is, of course, a return to form. A-

Interesting Fact: Much like Bubble, this film was shot in a matter of weeks with mostly unknowns and, while cheap, didn’t nearly make back its money.

The Informant! (2009)

Matt Damon gives one of the best, and by far most zany, performances of his career as real-life whistle blower Mark Whitacre. Initially portrayed as a complete nincompoop, Damon slowly gives Whitacre sincere depth, diving further down into his emotional despair. I was genuinely surprised that this film didn’t garner serious awards attention. From Damon’s revelatory performance to Soderbergh’s corn-colored cinematography, it’s a real delight.  A-

Interesting Fact: According to Damon, Soderbergh used “perfect direction” when he told Damon to issue Whitacre’s final apology to the judge as if he were accepting an Academy Award.

The Expendables

You know what, I can't even lie: I enjoyed every single minute of The Expendables. No bullshit. It's a film that knows exactly what it wants to be, which is nothing more than a rock 'em sock 'em action flick. 

It's total crap, of course. The acting is forced and the dialogue is treated as an afterthought, but that didn't bother me. Here's why.

Director/writer/star Sylvester Stallone set out to make a balls-to-the-wall, '80s style action romp. And he's done just that. Most action movies today substitute real explosions for god-awful special effects. They depend on characters staring into computer screens to hack into some system, or use some piece of false weaponry that no one has ever heard of.

Sure there are a few CGI shots used here, but for the most part, shit really blows up, and guns and knives are used instead of infrared-thermal-nuclear-rocket-exploding-device... things. The Expendables never puts on a pretense. It's a throwback to the golden area of the genre, and it most definitely succeeds as just that.

Stallone and his gang of buffed-up badasses  have a blast as a crew of mercenaries hired to... hell I don't even know. Overthrow some foreign military general? Who cares.

The price of admission is worth the final blowout scene alone, most of which is set in the dungeon of a huge estate of said military general. As the men kill dozens, hundreds, seemingly thousands of bad guys without so much as receiving a scratch, they suddenly all get pinned down. Game over. Then, out of no where, one of them comes barging down the hallway blasting the shit out of anything that moves with an impossibly large shotgun. Awesome.

I shouldn't have liked this movie. It isn't my preferred cinematic cup of tea, to say the least. I should've balked at an obvious, cheesy line that Stallone delivers towards the Governor of California (who steals a scene with Mr. McClane), but instead, I laughed. I should've rolled my eyes at a barely comprehensible perfromance by Mickey Rourke, but instead, I just went with it.

Take the Transformers films for example, the most worthless clusterfuck of a film franchise that has ever been greenlit. Michael Bay actually thinks he's making The Godfather of action films; he thinks his films are masterpieces. The Expendables never gives off that impression, because it isn't trying to be great. It's just trying to blow shit up, and have fun doing it.  As Rourke would say: "Amen, brother." B

Eat Pray Love

Is it possible for one scene to completely change your opinion about a movie? Can one brilliantly staged and acted sequence make a dull movie great, or at least worth while? Food for thought (get it?!...sigh), but more on this later.

If you're one of the millions of people who read Elizabeth Gilbert's insanely popular memoir, you know the gist.

Between an ugly divorce and a fleeting relationship with a younger man, Liz (Julia Roberts) has a quasi nervous breakdown when she comes to terms with the fact that she's sick of her dull, passionless NYC life. She whips up an idea to spend the year eating in Italy, praying in India and loving in Bali.

It's a novel, commendable choice for a middle-aged woman to just up and go go go. And on the page, Gilbert's whimsical (if not too winded) prose casts a sense of solidarity with the reader; we feel like we know her and her experiences. Not so much with the film.

Director Ryan Murphy knows how to shoot some groovy b-roll (as was evident in his first TV show Nip/Tuck). The way he shoots and cuts together the opening segments of Liz arriving to each city is exhilarating (namely the India segment, which is perfectly scored to M.I.A's "Boyz"). But once the actors actually sit and talk, all, more or less, goes to shit.

The film rests solely on the shoulders of Julia Roberts. If you like her, you'll like the movie, if you don't particularly care for her (ding ding) then you won't be pulled into the drama. Watching Roberts kneel on her bedroom floor and pray for the first time, I knew I should be feeling something. I knew it was a pivotal, emotional scene for the character and the film itself. But I didn't care. At all. Because she didn't make me care.

Most of the scenes play out like that. In my mind, the star of the Italian segment was the food, in India it was the cranky old Texan Liz grows to admire (played to perfection by Richard Jenkins), and the effortless Javier Bardem stole all the Bali scenes.

But, can shots of food and two male actors keep a film afloat? I'm not sure.  Which bring me to the scene I mentioned earlier.

An hour and 15 minutes into this film, towards the end of the India segment, Roberts and Jenkins share a scene that is so well done, it damn near saves the entire film.

As the two sit, Jenkins slowly delivers a monolouge of perfect restraint and utter heartbreak. Director Murphy does a very wise thing here: he doesn't move the camera, not once. There is no cutaway shot of Roberts' swollen, crying face, no slow zoom-in to Jenkins' grimaced expression. It just stands still.

Richard Jenkins

This is what great acting is all about. You forget about the technique of filmmaking and the fact that you're watching paid actors. I can imagine Murphy's direction to Jenkins in this scene: "It's just you. Do what you can with it."

Before the film started, I never thought I'd predict that Eat Pray Love would be dubbed as an Academy Award contender. But Jenkins makes this the case. The actor has been stealing scenes for years in minor roles as the ghost dad in Six Feet Under, a love stricken boss in Burn After Reading, and most notably, as a isolated man in The Visitor. But in Eat Pray Love, and this scene in particular, he delivers his best, most controlled work to date. It's one of the very best scenes of the year. See the movie for Jenkins, he gets an A, the film as a whole, give it a D+.

Eat Pray Love?  Forget that.  How about Gym, Tan, Laundry?

Step Up 3D

What's to say, honestly? Maybe I'm at a disadvantage for not having seen the first two films in this critically acclaimed franchise. But come on, how can you turn down a dance flick in 3D?

Admirers of the first two Step Up's should have a fun time here, watching inner city kids battle over dancers for a monetary prize which will fix everyone's problems.

Fans probably aren't concerned with the acting, which is a... step up above that of a porn star's. Or the fact that when the actors face the camera mid-dance, the 3D makes their limbs look like Stretch Armstrong's.

Nothing is believable, everything is forgettable. Just another summer at the movies. D

Twelve

Joel Schumacher has had one of the most staggered careers in recent Hollywood. He started strong (St. Elmo's Fire, The Lost Boys), made one of the most widely mocked films of all time (Batman Forever) then made a sequel to it (Batman & Robin).  He's made a few great dramatic films (Falling Down, A Time to Kill, Tigerland) and now just keeps under the radar with mediocre flicks.

Schumacher has always had in interest in examining nice people doing not so nice things, such as in Twelve where the lead character, White Mike (awful name) is a sober drug dealer trying to hustle a living after his mother's death.

White Mike, as played by Gossip Girl pretty boy Chance Crawford, walks around New York City in his designer pajamas, dealing weed to trustfund babies on spring break, none of which speak like they actually attend Harvard or Yale, as is evident by their inability to form a coherent sentence, ending every thought with the words "you know" and/or "like."

Crawford plays White Mike, or  Schumacher directs him, as a guy full of moral fiber. He's so much better than the people he deals to; he has like, you know, morals.

Whatever. White Mike's thugged-out hookup (50 Cent, really stretching here) wants Mike to start dealing Twelve, a new sort of smack that comes on like cocaine but fades into an ecstasy high. But Mike wants no part of it. He's, like, you know, too good for that... stuff.

The film barely strings together a slew of characters, none of which you'll care about. And when the movie (finally) ends, you won't even care that it was due to a cliched, laughably predictable blowout.

You probably didn't get a chance to see this in theatres; it didn't last too long. And trust me, don't seek it out on DVD. Because, like, you know, it... sucks. D-

Life During Wartime

You gotta give it to a guy like Todd Solondz. The dude’s movies get weirder and more perverse with each passing festival circuit. He aims to shock, appall and, most importantly, make you think. It would be easy to write Solondz off as a smut hack. Don’t. Look closer.

Solondz’s first feature, Welcome to the Dollhouse, was an indie sensation. It dealt with teenage angst in a way American audiences hadn’t seen. Happiness, an epic character study about love, loss, pedophilia, sexual harassment and more, is indeed great, even if its content is grimacing. But since Happiness, Solondz has taken his extremes to new levels.

Storytelling is less remembered for its multi-narrative format than for Solondz’s infamous antics surrounding it. (He mocked the MPAA by plastering a huge red square over the bodies of two actors during a particularly rowdy sex scene.) In the little-seen Palindromes, the main character, a 12-year-old girl, is played by eight different actors of various genders and races. If anything, you remember how these films shocked you, and not how they were uniquely conceived.

Now we get Life During Wartime, a quasi-sequel to Happiness with a complete re-cast of characters. Michael K. Williams (unforgettable as Omar in The Wire) replaces Philip Seymour Hoffman was a prank-calling pervert. Ciaran Hinds steps in the shoes of Dylan Baker as a seriously disturbed pedophilic monster. Lara Flynn Boyle is now Ally Sheedy, and so on. The reshaping of the cast isn’t important, it’s just a gimmick. What Solondz wants you to realize, I think, is that no matter who says or does it, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s been said, or done.

Taking its title from a Taking Heads song, Life During Wartime is presented far more abstractly than Happiness. At its root, it’s still about a family of three sisters and their struggles with sex and life and love. And while little is explained, one of the film’s biggest downfalls is that you need to have seen the first film to fully be able to keep up; not a fair conclusion for a movie that came out 12 years ago.

If there are highlights it’s in Ciaran Hinds and Paul Reubens (yes, Mr. Herman). Fresh out of prison, Hinds’ first few scenes are wisely wordless as he slowly makes his way to the Florida coast in search of his family. We’re not entirely sure what he is planning to do, but with Hinds locked in a steady look of utter conviction, it’s impossible to not want to follow him.

Reubens, taking over Jon Lovitz’s role, pops up in a few scenes as the tortured ghost of Shirley Henderson’s ex boyfriend. Watch Reubens’ eyes as they swell red with anger and self-regret. I haven’t seen Pee Wee in a while (Blow, maybe?) but damn if he doesn’t steal the show.

If you’re a Solondz fan, you’ve probably already bought a ticket for Life During Wartime. If you’re a newbie to Solondz’s warped view of American culture, then save this one for later. Either way: be warned. Solondz’s dialogue is written specifically to cut directly to the bone. Something he has seemingly perfected, but always to your liking. B-

The Kids Are All Right

In The Kids Are All Right, Julianne Moore and Annette Bening play a married couple raising their two teenage kids in their happy-yet-imperfect home. But that’s not what the film is about. It also, for that matter, isn’t about how the kids get the urge to locate their biological father. No. The Kids Are All Right, better than any movie so far this year, is about troubling family dynamics. It’s about struggle and sacrifice. It’s about making sense of a situation you thought you understood. Essentially, it’s about life.

It’s Joni’s (Mia Wasikowska) last summer before she heads off to college, and her younger brother Laser (Josh Hutcherson) encourages her to seek out the anonymous sperm donor whose… product was used by each of their moms years ago.

Once the kids secretly meet up with Paul (Mark Ruffalo), the kind of laid back guy who wears his flannel shirts loose and ends each sentence with “right on” or “yeah, man,” they take a quick liking to him. But once Paul is introduced to Jules (Moore) and Nic (Bening), the minor troubles the family previously had slowly begin to seep their way to the surface.

Littered with insecurities, Jules is becoming afraid that her unmotivated, peace-and-love mentality is pushing her career-driven wife away. The impressionable Laser spends his days with an overly aggressive, Adderall-snorting buddy, while Joni deals with her looming virginity. There’s a void in everyone’s life. For better or worse, that’s where Paul comes in.

What The Kids Are All Right pulls off so well is the reality of everyday family life. You can thank director Lisa Cholodenko, who has explored emotional drama with the good High Art and the better Laurel Canyon, or her witty screenplay written with Stuart Blumberg, or you can thank the pitch-perfect cast.

Bening turns out the same repressed ferociousness she brought to her brilliant role in American Beauty, while Moore, in her best role since Far From Heaven, takes Jules to stages of such convincing grief and regret that it is nearly unbearable. Ruffalo has made a career playing likable, unfocused characters (which he perfected in You Can Count on Me), and here he delivers some of his best work to date. But it’s the 20-year-old Wasikowska who steals the show.

Brilliant in her role as a troubled gymnast in HBO’s In Treatment but wasted in Tim Burton’s Alice and Wonderland, Wasikowska presents Joni with such an internal intensity, at times it feels as if she’s going to explode. Wasikowska is a serious force to be reckoned with, emotionally going pound for pound with the A-list cast. Get used to her name, you’re going to be seeing a lot more of her.

You may expect some talk in the film of how lesbian parents aren’t fit to raise children. Don’t. This isn’t a political movie. It’s a family drama. The fact that they are gay is merely an afterthought. Is the family unconventional? Sure. But aren’t all families? They have their troubles and hardships like all parents do in raising teenagers, and they work through it as best they can.

Don’t get me wrong, this film isn’t all tears and screams. It is funny – really funny, actually – and will provide a genuine, if not too honest, good time. The kids may be all right, and this movie sure ain’t bad either. A-

Salt

I’ve felt for a while now that Angelina Jolie is a lot like her life counterpart: both are extremely good looking, extremely wealthy, a little odd, and both are exceptional actors. While Jolie has churned out her fair share of heavy-hitting dramatic roles (winning an Oscar for Girl, Interrupted, being nominated for Changeling and criminally overlooked in A Mighty Heart) she always looks like she’s having the most fun in a down-and-dirty action flick.

The premise for Salt is as simple as movies get: super agent Evelyn Salt is mistaken for a Russian spy, secretly embedded within the CIA. Instead of presenting her case as a rational adult (what fun would that be?) she flees the authorities in a desperate attempt to clear her name.

Once the action starts full throttle, you can’t help but enjoy Jolie as she takes down bodyguard after bodyguard; climbing down high rises, jumping onto moving semis, creating a mini bomb with household cleaning products, and so on. Her intensity, action role or otherwise, has gained steadily over her career.

It helps that Jolie is backed by subtle heavy-hitters Liev Schreiber and Chiwetel Ejiofor, but Salt, as directed by veteran government-operative-action-flick guru Philip Noyce (Patriot Games, Clear and Present Danger), gets bogged down by farfetched antics that even the most loyal action enthusiasts will roll their eyes at. Most of the movie is pleasantly enjoyable, but seriously, do we really believe that this agent-on-the-run could roam the White House grounds for hours on end, slowly making her way to the President?

Also, at the risk of giving too much away, I feel I must mention how much of a cop-out the ending felt like. If we’re going to get sequels, then there’s a way to still end your film rivetingly (i.e. the Bourne films). But here, it’s as if they couldn’t think of anything better. Either way, Jolie is having a good time, more so than her role in Noyce’s Bone Collector, so I suppose not all is lost. C+

Predators

I can just imagine the Hollywood pitch meeting: “Okay, so, we open on Adrien Brody falling from the sky. He’s asleep, then he wakes up in a panic, because he’s… falling.” SOLD!

Producer Robert Rodriguez was originally set to direct this Predators rehash until he got caught up with his soon-to-be-released Machete (which looks like a riot), before passing off the duties to Nimrod Antal. But Rodriguez made one thing clear: this new film was to take place after the first and second Predator films, and completely ignore Alien vs. Predator and Aliens vs. Predator – Requiem. Wise choice.

What we’re left with is one hell of a jumpstarted first act, followed by standard action fare. A slew of badasses (mercenaries, criminals, mob members, gang leaders, etc.) are mysteriously dropped in a random jungle, completely unaware of what or where or why they are there. Soon the gang, led by a perfectly miscast Adrien Brody, discovers they are being hunted, or “preyed,” by some seriously savage beasts.

You know where this is going.

The gang will slowly be picked off one by one in increasing more gruesome ways. By the end, there will undoubtedly be a mano-a-mano showdown between human and predatory beast. But that’s not the fun part, is it.

The best aspect of this relaunch is the ballsy casting of Brody. The youngest lead actor to ever win an Oscar is best known for his subtle vulnerability. But I can’t tell you how much fun it is to see a him ridiculously beefed-up, with a gravely Christian Bale-Batman voice, kicking some serious predator ass. Kudos to the producers for giving him a chance to play against-type.

The rest of the film? Eh. Much in the way of Salt, this movie ends abruptly and with far too many questions open. But given the film’s better-than-expected box office returns, we might see Bordy suit up again faster than expected. C-

Inception

Films like Inception are the reason I love movies. It’s smart, original, entertaining and, among other things, effortlessly compelling. It’s that rare summer blockbuster that not only entertains but, gasp, makes you actually think as well.

The plot, for which I can’t even begin to fully describe, as Mr. Nolan is a far more brilliant man than I, is essentially a heist flick, except these thieves don’t steal pieces of fortune, they plant ideas. The film takes place in a futuristic world where your dreams can be corrupted by other people. What could your subconscious reveal if other people teetered around in your brain? Everything, the movie repeatedly stresses.

After a failed attempt to access a man’s safe via his subconscious, Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) is hired by his would-be mark, Saito (Ken Watanabe) not to steal something from his corporate business rival (Pete Postlethwaite), but instead to implant a false idea that will cause his son, Fischer (Cillian Murphy) to get rid of the family empire altogether, a notion referred to as inception.

You with me? Try to keep up.

In an effort to get his name clear of a murder he didn’t (or believes he didn’t) commit, Cobb accepts the inception offer, much to the dismay of his loyal right-hand man, Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt). The two set off recruiting an elite crew of dream thieves, including Ellen Page and Tom Hardy, all planning to kidnap Fischer, put him in a deep sleep, then sneak into his dream and plant the inception.

But let’s not get bogged down by plot details. Inception is a movie that is damn near impossible to explain, whether verbally or in print, and much better experienced on a movie screen.

In what may be the most original American film since, well, Nolan’s own Memento, Inception opens its audience up to a world they’ve never seen before. The plot, while immensely complicated, is so layered in its delivery, that by the end, you feel as though you’ve viewed an entire television season, let alone a brisk two and a half hour movie.

Nolan is known for avoiding special effects whenever he can. In Batman Begins and the superior Dark Knight, he actually made 18-wheelers flip upside down and cars actually crash through walls and men actually fall from dozens of stories up. Hospitals actually exploded, bridges actually collapsed, and so on. Now, when you envision a movie in which an entire city collapses on itself, cars fall of bridges at a rate of 1,000 frames per second, and people fight on the sides of walls, a little F/X is to be expected. Well, expect all you want, and try to tell the difference if you can.

In the film’s best, most thrilling scene, Gordon-Levitt fights a slew of bad guys in a hotel hallway as the walls turn and twist and topple on each other. The floor suddenly becomes the wall, the wall suddenly becomes the ceiling, the characters quickly float into each other, desperately attempting to land a critical punch or shoot a fatal bullet. During the scene, which deserves to be compared to 2001: A Space Odyssey, I actually found myself holding my breath as chills ran down my spine. I knew in that moment that I, like everyone else in the theatre, was witnessing the evolution of a cinematic masterpiece. I’ve never seen anything like that in a movie before, simply because, nothing like that has ever existed in a movie before.

Inception is filled with scenes like that. Moments and ideas that are brand new to the cinema art form. You can credit Nolan’s fantastic screenplay, or Hans Zimmer’s eerily pitch-perfect musical score, or Wally Pfister’s sweeping cinematography, or Lee Smith’s seamless editing, or even Guy Dyas’ layered production design. But, usually, we credit who is right in front of us. And who better to hold that responsibility than a cast as A-listed as this?

Leonardo DiCaprio, who has done leaps and bounds with his acting in the last decade, delivers yet another flawless, internal performance as the deeply conflicted Cobb. DiCaprio’s acting is maturing in ways I never imagined. He’s getting to be as good as an actor can get. Gordon-Levitt, the indie darling from (500) Days of Summer, Brick and The Lookout, once again proves his fierce ability to completely embody his character. The kid is 29 years old, 130 lbs. and 100 percent badass. Page (miles away from her snarky Juno character), Hardy (as good as his ferocious Bronson two years ago), Murphy and Watanabe all contribute equally to the believability of Nolan’s pseudo sci-fi world.

But, in perhaps the film’s most complicated character, Marion Cotillard delivers the performance of DiCaprio’s slain wife with such a broad array of emotions, it’s as if you’re witnessing multiple actresses in the same role. The way Cotillard manages to shift from tender to psychotic to loving in the span of a minute is a bravado work of art.

Inception isn’t your typical summer action flick. It’s complex yet developed. Convoluted yet organic. The type of movie you won’t be able to see just once. Go on, it’s okay, test yourself. Push your own personal limits of cinematic expression.

"Entertainment Weekly" recently asked if Inception could save this lackluster summer. No, it can’t. But it’ll come damn close to saving the entire year. A

The Girl Who Played with Fire

Maybe you’ve heard of the “Millennium Trilogy” currently sweeping the globe. Or the fatal circumstances in which Swedish author Stieg Larsson’s three brilliantly detailed crime novels reached mainstream praise without him ever living to reap the benefits. Either way, as Larsson’s novels hang atop the “New York Times” best sellers list, the Swedish films are making a name for themselves, too.

The producers who acquired the rights to the novels did the smart thing and shot all the films at the same time, using the same two leads. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the first in the series, was released domestically this past March to much critical acclaim and an impressive box office pull. Now comes The Girl Who Played with Fire, the second, and dare I say, more engrossing installment in the evolving series.

At the close of Dragon Tattoo our hero, journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Michael Nyqvist), had solved a decades-old mystery surrounding the disappearance of a young girl and served his brief prison sentence for libel, but not without the help of a punked-out, genius hacker Lisbeth (Noomi Rapace). We last saw Lisbeth walking into the sunset, hidden under a plush blonde wig, with thousands of stolen dollars secured in her bank account. Thankfully, for us, Played with Fire takes little time getting to the point.

After hiding out in the Caribbean for several months, Lisbeth is compelled to return home and take care of some unfinished business. Within days, much to her surprise, she is the lead suspect in three murders, all linked to a human sex trafficking ring. Blomkvist, longing for his would-be lover since her departure, immediately throws himself into the case, helping to clear Lisbeth’s name since the police apparently cannot.

Forgive me for ceasing discussion on plot details, but the fun of these films is discovering them for yourself. Even if you’re one of the millions of people who have read the books, the films will give you a fresh perspective. By the movie’s end, the story will have gone through enough twists and turns and spasms to make Christopher Nolan raise his eyebrows with envy.

As was evident in the first film, Nyqvist is marvelous in his ability to explain very complex topics within a matter of seconds. We actually believe Blomkvist could pull off everything he manages to, simply because Nyqvist convinces us he can.

But the real star of the show is the petite 110-pound, bisexual little baddie. As the conflicted, damaged Lisbeth, Noomi Repace goes places that could redefine what method acting is. She’s vicious, lean and, perhaps most importantly, smart as all hell. In a role that requires her to say very little, Repace presents her character with more depth and conviction than most working actors do today. Watch how, in the film’s most thrilling moment, Lisbeth not only takes on two huge biker boys, but she manages to steal one of their choppers, before riding off into the sunset, all with the slightest of smirks on her face. Classic, controlled acting.

As is often the case with sequels, people want to know if this one is better than the first. Dragon Tattoo, was excellent in the Hitchcockian method of presenting a single problem and blowing it wide open. But Played with Fire, as directed by Daniel Alfredson, taking over for Niels Arden Oplev, is slightly more detailed and technically controlled. The film deserves comparisons to the works of Polanski and Michael Haneke.

Dragon Tattoo, which is out on DVD, could’ve survived as its own film; the story could’ve been considered complete after the credits rolled. But Played with Fire leaves a little more open, which, if you’re a fan, gives even more reason to anticipate the October release of The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest.

And if that isn’t enough for you, David Fincher is currently developing an American version of Dragon Tattoo, reportedly starring Daniel Craig and Carey Mulligan. Will those capable-enough hands be as good as the original? You be the judge.

Forget the whiny teenage vampires and wimpy wizards constantly littering our cinemas. Here is a worthy film, and book, franchise for adults. Leave the kids at home. A-

Winter's Bone

If the Twilight "saga" demonstrates how to screw up a book-to-film adaptation, then Winter’s Bone is the epitome of how to get it right.

Instead of leaving the viewer confused by not sharing enough details from Daniel Woodrell’s brilliantly specific novel, director Debra Granik leaves everything in, while managing to crank out a brisk 100 minute movie.

The plot is simple, yet meticulous. Ree, an impoverished 17-year-old living in the barren Ozark Mountains, provides for her young brother and sister while her mother sits mentally vacant in their living room. Void of any pleasure and excitement, Ree, as remarkably played by newcomer Jennifer Lawrence, is an angry young girl. She’s full of resentment, hatred and fear; symptoms having an absent, meth-dealing father.

When the Sheriff tells Ree that her father has skipped bail and is nowhere to be found, Ree is completely indifferent. But when she learns that he put their house up as bond, and if he doesn’t surface in a week, Ree and her family are out on their ass, she puts herself in charge of tracking him down.

Fans of this blog know that, for me, the plot of a film is the boring part. I enjoy films for their overall story and how that story is displayed. Trying to figure out why the director chose that shot or that location. Why the actor decided to play that scene that particular way, and so on. With that criteria in mind, Winter’s Bone is easily one of the best experiences I've had in a film so far this year.

When I said barren earlier, I wasn’t lying. As Ree walks to the various homes occupied by her filthy relatives, she walks in a land that is reminiscent of the place Cormac McCarthy described in "The Road." Ree’s house, like all of her relatives’, looks abandoned. Moldy couches and rusty lawn chairs litter the front yard, doors are nearly off their hinges, etc. Inside is even worse. The homes are filled with endless amounts of clutter and grime. I mention this because this is what a movie is about. All those tiny details make a movie because they convince you, even for 100 minutes, that everything you’re seeing is real. If cinematographer Michael McDonough and production designer Mark White aren’t considered for Oscars, something is seriously wrong.

Same goes for select cast players.

The 19-year-old Lawrence carries this movie through and through. She’s in every scene of Winter’s Bone, but it initially seems that she does very little, which, of course, is not the case. If an actor, let alone a teenage one, can tell you everything she’s thinking and feeling with a single grimace, then she’s doing her job beyond what’s expected. Keep Jennifer Lawrence’s name in your mind, she’s the Gabourey Sidibe of 2010.

If Lawrence is the emotional anchor of the film then John Hawkes is the force of nature. You’ve seen Hawkes before. He’s popped up in great character parts for the past two decades. Roles like the rambling liquor store owner in From Dusk Till Dawn, the comic relief in The Perfect Storm, the hotel clerk in Identity, the anguished con in Miami Vice, and so on. In short, I’m aware of John Hawkes’ career.

So why didn’t I recognize him in his first scenes of Winter’s Bone? Maybe it was the spotty grey beard, or the long, greasy hair he was sporting. Maybe it was the utterly convincing thick country accent he was vocalizing. Maybe it was the fact that you fear him in every scene he is in.

I call it the Col. Jessep complex. As Col. Jessep in A Few Good Men, Jack Nicholson is immediately feared within seconds of his first scene. He hasn’t done anything expect speak, but you know you can’t mess with this guy. Hawkes pulls that off here. As Ree’s aggressively vengeful uncle, Hawkes is a serious force to be reckoned with. Christ I hope he’s remembered come awards season.

Winter’s Bone is directed by Debra Granik, whose last film was the fantastic Down to the Bone, which remains one of the most convincing films I’ve ever seen about drug addiction. Granik has a serious eye for detail, which, even if the audience doesn’t notice, they subconsciously appreciate. Down to the Bone was made seven years ago, I sure hope we don’t have to wait that long for her next film. I’m going to say this for every worthy film this year until 2010 starts to pick up, but Winter’s Bone is by long and far up there for the best film of the year. Scout it out. It’s worth it. A

Cyrus

When we first meet John - the main character in a movie named after a secondary, less interesting character - he is walked in on while nakedly whacking away to his Macbook. It's a pretty appropriate introduction for such a helpless, desperate character. And an even better way to acknowledge the fearlessness of the man playing him.

John (John C. Reilly) lives alone in his sloppy L.A. apartment, works part time as a film editor, and has no friends, except Jamie (Catherine Keener), his divorced wife of seven years. After Jamie announces she's getting remarried, she tells John she is determine to get him back on the playing field. So, because this is a movie, John conveniently meets the woman of his dreams at the first party he's been to in nearly a decade.

Molly (Marisa Tomei) is funny, attractive and most importantly, accepting of John's faults, of which there are plenty. The two hit it off and, after a set of unusually stalker-ish circumstances, John comes to meet Molly's grown, weirdo son Cyrus (Jonah Hill), a kid with virtually no communication skills and a serious Oedipus complex.

You've seen this before: the son will get jealous of the new man taking up all of mommy's time. He'll try to sabotage the relationship by lying, stealing, fighting and manipulating, before finally getting his way. Or not.

And that's the fun of Cyrus; it's conventional storyline is smartened up via a fresh, witty script and a trio of pitch-perfect actors.

John C. Reilly has made a career of brilliantly playing the goofy, lost manchild (Boogie Nights, Magnolia) and it's nice to see that he's finally making his way up to leading man status. I initially found it unconvincing that John could bed Molly so quickly, but their romance is not only believable, it provides the film its best moments.

Marisa Tomei, who gets better looking with each passing year, has seriously stepped up her game in recent years. She should've won her second Oscar for The Wrestler two years ago, but if her heartfelt performance in Cyrus is any indication that she'll keep her hotstreak alive, I'm sure she'll be back in the Academy audience soon enough.

Catherine Keener, who gets better looking with each passing year, already proved this year that she is an emotional force to be reckoned with (in Please Give). Her hopeless pity over John in this film is so tender it will make your heart melt.

If there are faults with Cyrus, they are few and far between. I wish directors Jay and Mark Duplass would chill out with their camera work. Their zoom in zoom out, focus in focus out urgency gives the film a feel of an over-directed music video. Likewise, while I appreciate Jonah Hill's indie effort to tone his antics down a notch, he's no match for the other players in this film.

It's funny, I recently read an interview with fashion designer Tom Ford, whose directorial debut A Single Man came out on DVD last week (go rent it). In the interview he said that Brad Pitt was one of his favorite actors because he actually looks less perfect now. Pitt's face is now more seasoned. With each wrinkle of imperfection, he actually looks like he's lived. The same, I believe, goes for the three lead actors in Cyrus. Maybe that's why contemporary romantic comedies don't do it for me. I find it silly watching 17-year-olds tirelessly complain because their precious boyfriends dumped them. Most young actors (like Jonah Hill) can't express real anguish with a single glance. Leave that to the pros, who make Cyrus a film worth watching. B+