Negative overhype: Thoughts on Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice

Zack Snyder's biggest problem may be his tendency to take his subject matter a tad too seriously. He teeters on the very brink of the comically melodramatic. One cannot fault him for attempting to infuse the superhero genre with human interest and emotion. On the other hand, he takes a risk in attempting to paint characters like Superman as poignant figures. I was one of the few who appreciated this aspect of Man of Steel. If you can ignore what happens at the end, Man of Steel's flaw was in its pacing, something that could have been easily fixed with some creative editing.

Now Snyder's back at it with Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. While continuing to paint Superman as a poignant figure, Snyder revisits Batman's origins. Yes, moviegoers have grown weary of having origin stories retold time and again. In this case, however, Snyder gets a pass because a significant detail has bearing on the story he's telling, one that he patiently unfolds one corner at a time. This results in what begins as a slower-paced film than many may not like but culminates, I argue, in a more satisfying finished product.

If you've paid any attention to media headlines relating to Batman v Superman, you're probably under the impression that it's bad enough to be a Razzie contender. It's not. Ignore the hype and the negative reviews. As far as superhero films goes, Dawn of Justice is a good one. Anyone who's been following Warner Studios' playbook for its DC Comics film offerings knows that this chapter establishes the foundation on which a series of Justice League films will be built. The hype machine would have you believe that this film is such a colossal failure that the Justice League may not happen. That would be a real shame, especially if the film fails at the box office because of critics piling on with negative reviews.

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice opens with a scene that sets up the central conflict between the titular heroes, namely, that Superman is too powerful, a loose cannon who is as great a danger to the people he aims to protect as the threats against which he's fighting. While the rivalry between the two heroes feels somewhat contrived (and in one sense it is, given that it orchestration by a particular individual), it effectively drives the film toward the inevitable confrontation. The subplot strands seem meandering but are in fact connected. It's not the most tidily plotted story, but one can easily understand where it's headed.

In spite of the slow beginnings, it's clear the story is leading somewhere, and the tension ratchets steadily higher as it climbs toward the climax. Clumsy at times and hamhanded, the plot remains engrossing and pulls the players together in interesting ways.

Mostly, however, the film is enjoyable for the characters. Jesse Eisenberg is clever and manic as a young Lex Luthor. You cannot help but pay attention when he's onscreen, though at times his portrayal of Luthor seems a bit too erratic. Luthor is an intelligent, confident, calculating individual, so Eisenberg's interpretation seems a little off target. But he's still highly enjoyable to watch, and it will be interesting to watch this character develop in future installments.

Henry Caville just plain looks like he belongs in the Superman suit. The relationship with Lois humanizes him and makes him a more sympathetic character. But I have to wonder why he hasn't been fired from his job because I don't think he completed a single assignment over the course of the film.

As much as fans grumbled about it, I liked Ben Affleck as Batman. There's great potential for him to bring more personality to the role and make the films more entertaining and less stiff. Only a few times did we see glimpses of this in Dawn of Justice, but the stage has been set for a whole new take on the Batman. I especially enjoyed the scenes showing Wayne working out to prepare for his battle with the Man of Steel. It was hardcore tires and chains kind of stuff. I have no doubt that the Batman Workout Plan is on its way. "Are you tired of Superman kicking sand in your face? Then work out like a Bat!"

Batman and Superman get their name in the title of the film, but Wonder Woman really steals the show. Gal Gadot plays Diana Prince perfectly with the poise, confidence, and even cockiness appropriate to the Amazonian. Never mind that she saves Batman's arse, she also throws herself into battle with reckless abandon. She is fearless and revels in the challenge of going toe-to-toe with Doomsday.

When Wonder Woman makes her official appearance onscreen, the film takes on a whole new personality. It becomes the kind of action adventure romp we've come to expect from those other guys, you know, Marvel Studios. And I think this is more what DC fans want. Give Snyder some credit for not selling out into that formula, but the taste we got of it at the end of Dawn of Justice really made the film worth the build-up and the wait.

Dawn of Justice contains a number of references pointing to the future of the franchise, and we can only hope it all comes to fruition. It adopts the term "metahumans" to refer to individuals with super powers. Diana Prince peruses a number of files purloined from Luthor's computer that profile the metahumans who will make up at least the initial Justice League team, including Aquaman, the Flash and Cyborg. Speaking of purloined files, I'm pretty sure someone on Luthor's level of genius would have better security. Perhaps he didn't care that people could just walk up to his computer and snatch files because he thought his encryption was unbreakable?

Fans have a lot to be happy with in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. You've got the clash of titans between Superman and Batman. Yeah, sure, Batman didn't stand a chance without the kryptonite and the armor, but it was still enjoyable to watch. There's the appearance of Doomsday and a kickass Wonder Woman, the introduction to other heroes in the DC Universe ready to spring to the big screen. And then there's the allusion to bigger and badder things on the horizon. While Luthor seems to be babbling incoherently from his cell, anyone who's read the comics knows what's coming. Bruce Wayne's conversation with Diana Prince at the end is also very telling. Bruce tells Diana that they will need to find and team up with the other metahumans they both know about. She suggests that they might not want to be found, but Bruce tells her he has a hunch that they will be willing to band together because of what's coming. While he certainly doesn't know what Luthor is talking about when he confronts him in his cell, Batman is able to foresee that, just as there are good people with super powers, there will also be bad, which means that the world will need a powerful force to fight the bad that's coming. And we all know what that means.

No Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice is not a perfect film. It is, however, an enjoyable one with some glimpses at a potentially bright future for the Justice League on the big screen. If the writers and the director can learn to lighten up a little bit, this will be a highly entertaining super hero franchise.

Marvel Studios does it yet again

When the trailers first started streaming, I'm sure many folks asked, "Guardians of the Who? What?" And then there were those like me. I'm sure I'm not alone here. Somebody tell me I'm not alone here. I couldn't help being just a tad skeptical. They're making a Guardians of the Galaxy movie? Really? Um, that's weird, and, yeah, totally cool, but it's probably going to suck balls. Chris Pratt is Star-Lord? Yeah, it's going to suck balls.

But then I had to admit that first trailer was pretty damned awesome. I watched it over and over again. Then there were more trailers and more promos, and I had to wonder whether it was being overhyped and whether it could ever live up to that. It's pretty obvious, however, that Marvel Studios has found the perfect formula for a crowd-pleasing hit: lots of humor, lots of action, far-flung adventures, and lovable characters. Guardians of the Galaxy is stuffed full of all these ingredients and for good measure, they jumped up and down on the suitcase to pack in an awesome soundtrack too. It's the kind of the movie that really encourages the audience to get up and dance.

And you know what? It shouldn't even be shown in movie theaters. It should be shown in dance clubs, outside on Jumbotrons so people can get up and move when the urge strikes—and let me tell you, it will strike often while you're watching this one.

No, Guardians of the Galaxy isn't going to win any awards for being riveting drama. Much of what happens in the film feels frankly contrived. Oh, sure, the story about the death of Quill's mother is moving, and you can't help screaming inside at him to take her damned hand, dammit! Most of it is really just going through the motions, but you just can't help freaking loving it because the characters will break you down. I dare you to go into this one determined to hate any of them. Before it's over, you'll be buying all the plushies. You will, I'm telling you, you will. Had a really bad day at work? Just got fired? Go see Guardians of the Galaxy and you'll find yourself just knocking that dirt off your shoes.

Yes, it is mostly the characters that drive this one. While some of the sequences that attempt to build their personas might as well be bumper stickers, their unique personalities and interactions win you over with relative ease.

Chris Pratt is zany and absurdly charismatic as Peter Quill, aka Star-Lord, the petty thief and smuggler who becomes the leader of the band of losers who earn the name Guardians of the Galaxy. Yeah, they earned it. Ronan the Accuser himself coined the title. Yeah, that scene was just a hair's width on the side of contrived too, but what the hell.

I have to admit, Zoe Saldana looks pretty good as green-skinned Gamora. You know what they say about the green ones. No, no, I don't either. I was very impressed with the effects and make-up jobs. In most films like this, the skin colors usually look like they're painted on. In this case, suspension of disbelief is well secured. Dave Bautista makes for an appropriately intimidating Drax the Destroyer, although I remember him being more of a badass in the comic books. It's unfortunate that Groot doesn't really say much, but he's a pretty incredible character nonetheless. He's like a small Treebeard with a bad side. And I found myself really liking Michael Rooker as Yondu. No, Yondu didn't look like he does in the comics, but Rooker took the role and molded it to himself. I especially enjoyed the scene at the end where he smiles knowingly as if to say, "Good one!" 

We have to face a pretty simple fact here, folks. Bradley Cooper as Rocket Raccoon positively steals the show. His cynicism and sarcasm drive the best laughs. Had I not seen the credits, I never would have known that was Cooper voicing the maniacal raccoon. And, really, he's kind of the brains of the operation. He's got that techie geek air about him—knows his way around gizmos, knows his way around a gun or two ... And as contrived as his backstory is, you can't help feeling for the poor little homicidal bastard.

The plot is barely thicker than the ticket stub, but this is one of the best feel-good movies you'll ever see. A bunch of misfits come together. They were trying to kidnap, kill, rob, etc., each other, but now they're great friends and they're going to save the galaxy from some crazy bastard with a big hammer. Dammit, I really, really wanted to see Thor cross hammers with Ronan. That ... that sounds kind of dirty. But, still. Great plot? Well, yeah, been there, done that, but it is a comic book movie, after all, and that's par for the course, right?

From start to finish, Guardians of the Galaxy is an enjoyable ride that you won't want to see end. The fact that it gives us all a better look at Thanos, tying it in with that other Marvel blockbuster, is another layer sugar-coma-inducing frosting.

Watch it for the humor, watch it for the soundtrack, watch it for the wonderful characters, but just watch it. Guardians of the Galaxy is one fun thrill ride of an adventure.

Ender's Game: Meh

I was going to write a full review of Ender's Game, but I don't feel much about it. It's a film with potential and good source material, but it just comes across as rather bland. The peaks and valleys one would expect to experience in terms of drama and emotional events are closer to a straight line in this one. The biggest fault with Ender's Game is that it lacks the patience to develop it's story and characters. In one dramatic moment an officer tells Ender he will never salute him; Ender insists that he will. It's only few minutes later that the officer is saluting him, and what ought to be a very dramatic and moving moment feels contrived.

And that's the way it is with the entire film. Every dramatic moment that ought to have an emotional impact on the audience is contrived and dull. Much of the plot is formulaic, and the climax generally follows the events of the book, but even the shocking revelation that comes at the end feels forced and carries no weight.

This is a story that requires more time to develop; it's just in too much of a hurry to get to the punchline.

In sum, Ender's Game is just disappointing and bland.

The desolation of Tolkien

After suffering through the travesty that was Peter Jackson's "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey" I was disinclined to "treat" myself to the subsequent installments I knew were coming. But I live in a family of geeks who live for epic fantasy both high and low, so I was compelled to drag myself and said family into the theater for "The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug." I had made up my mind before the reel started rolling (We don't really have reels any more, do we?) that I was just going to sit back, remain calm and try to enjoy what would no doubt be a rollicking, action-packed adventure. Unfortunately, chapter two in the film trilogy is no better than the first. In fact, it's worse. Even if you haven't read The Hobbit it's difficult not to find this adaptation tiresomely hyperbolic. In spite of some additions that add emotional appeal, "The Desolation of Smaug" is another groan-worthy exercise that takes every charming element from Tolkien's beloved classic and turns it into something infuriatingly over the top.

As I sat glumly enduring action sequences aimed squarely at Red Bull chuggers, I couldn't help wondering whether Jackson was attempting to set some kind of onscreen record for creative beheadings. Seriously, does he have a quota he has to meet?

"No, I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson, you're three beheadings short. Why don't you have Legolas come in and do that thing where he crosses his short swords and scissor cuts some goblin's head off."

"But, but, but Legolas wasn't even in The Hobbit."

"Write him in. We need more stabbings and slashings and beheadings and body surfings."

"Body surfings?"

"Yeah, you know, have Legolas jump on some goblin or orc or something and surf down a hill on the body while shooting arrows like a machine gun at hordes of enemies. Good stuff, right?"

"If you say so."

"Oh, and have him shoot things with his bow at close range. You know, give him that feat from D&D; Point Blank Shot, I think it's called. Yeah, yeah. Have him shoot goblins that are standing right in front of him."

"Um, I think a lot of this is kind of defying the laws of physics, isn't it?"

"Physics? Physics? This is Middle-Earth, for crying out loud! We can do whatever we want!"

It was obvious to me from the trailers for "The Desolation from Smaug" that Jackson isn't even attempting to follow the book. In his defense, however, he was given the task of turning the The Hobbit into a trilogy of films, so he had to do something to fill up those empty hours. And it couldn't have been with scenes of dwarves sitting around a campfire swapping stories about the good old days. This whole enterprise seems to have devolved into that time-honored Hollywood tradition of milking as much gold out of a franchise as possible until everyone becomes positively fatigued with it. A certain SF franchise involving lightsaber-wielding Jedi knights springs to mind.

My biggest gripe about the many embellishments (and they're piling up so much now that's becoming difficult to discern the source material) is that he takes so many elements from the book that are simple and charming and elegant and explodes them into overblown melodrama. In my review of "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey," I mentioned how he ruined the scene with trolls in which Gandalf tricked them into bickering with one another until the sun came up. In "The Desolation of Smaug" a similar butchering of one of the story's best scenes also occurs when the audience is robbed of subtlety of Bilbo's riddle game with Smaug. Time and again Jackson ruins moments like these with big-screen hyperbole.

Let's pretend for just a moment that we've never read any of Tolkien's books. Let's pretend that this is all stuff that Peter Jackson just made up. Even if we do that, there's an awful lot of silliness in this movie that we're expected to take at face value, including the close-up arrow shots to the eyeball, the arrow shots that pin to heads together, the surfing down hills on the bodies of fallen orcs, the beheadings, the beheadings, the beheadings. This kind of stuff in and of itself wouldn't be so bad--if this were intended to be a rollicking comedy. But it's not. It's juxtaposed with plot elements that are supposed to be quite serious. The one thing Jackson does well with his adaptation is remind the viewers that these events include foreshadowing of what is to come. One nit I must pick with these constant reminders is that the audience is continually bludgeoned with links to Jackson's "Lord of the Rings" trilogy.  From an auteurist perspective this may seem necessary to ensure both trilogies cohere when they are eventually sold as a six-film box set.

Thus, we are treated to segments involving Gandalf's adventures away from the party he assembled. He does tend to disappear a lot in the books, and the only way the reader knows anything about what he's been up to is through Gandalf's own explanations to his traveling companions. Of course, because sinister plots are being hatched and prophecies are drawing nigh, Gandalf must be about some Very Serious Wizard Business. He's battling dark forces, mind you, so it's important that Jackson fill in those gaps of what he's been up to. The audience is thus treated to flashy Wizard Battles that remind me too much of video games. I did find myself wondering if much of what was included in the film was present as fodder for video game licensing. The thing about video games is that they must have very clearly defined boundaries for what exactly a character's powers are. Watching The Desolation of Smaug often felt like a video yanked straight from a video game--although it would have to be the best-looking video game ever created.

One embellishment that I couldn't resist was the relationship between Tauriel and Fili. No, it's not even close to anything that ever happened in any of Tolkien's books, but it nonetheless provided a nice distraction from the goblin-battling inanity that populates most of the film. The characters in Tolkien's books are fairly flat. We know a lot about their history and their brave deeds, but not much is shown about what they feel and think and dream. Jackson's films have done much to turn Tolkien's characters into multi-dimensional people. So even though it's a wide departure from The Hobbit, I was taken in by the charm of the dwarf with a crush on an elf and the elf with a soft spot for the injured dwarf.

My review of "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey" was a passionately negative one, decrying Peter Jackson's thievery because he has, in fact, stolen from his audience any possibility of enjoying the true delight of the work on which these films are based. "The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug" continues this larceny, albeit on an even larger scale. I cannot be as passionate in my dislike of "The Desolation of Smaug" because it's such a huge departure from its source material that it scarcely warrants the effort.

Jackson has utterly missed the point of Tolkien's works and has completely misunderstood what makes The Hobbit such a joy to read. My advice to anyone who is inclined to watch any of "The Hobbit" films is just to skip it and read the book instead. I promise you, it's much more satisfying and enjoyable.

Lone Ranger (2013)

When I first saw trailers for Gore Verbinski's "The Lone Ranger," I found myself wondering, "Why is Johnny Depp playing Tonto?" After recently streaming the movie through Vudu, I'm still wondering. This was one of those films I just plain had no desire to see when it was released in theaters. The casting of Depp as Tonto spoke volumes about how Verbinski would be interpreting the classic story of the Texas Ranger-turned-vigilante. While this choice isn't the single biggest issue I have with "The Lone Ranger," it's one that stands out as simply inexplicable and points to the flaw that just plain sinks it--the movie just isn't quite sure what it wants to be, and the result is a mess that really isn't very entertaining.

There can be little doubt that "The Lone Ranger" is a comedy, but exactly what kind of comedy is it? And that's where the problem lies. It's too over-the-top to fall into the genre of the typical adventure comedy. In typical adventure comedy you have to be able to suspend disbelief at least to some level for any of it to be funny. Take the buddy cop movie "The Heat," for example. It's an outrageous affair, but you accept Sandra Bullock's Ashburn as the straight-laced FBI agent and Melissa McCarthy's Mullins as the tough, independent street detective. Though "The Lone Ranger" is a western, I argue that it clearly falls into the buddy cop formula. The two are always reluctant partners who are forced to learn how to work together and then form a bond of friendship. But it's too much of a leap to see Depp as Tonto unless this is a buddy cop formula more in line with Will Farrell and Mark Wahlberg's "The Other Guys." At least "The Other Guys" makes no pretense about its outrageousness, which is clearly established when Highsmith and Jansen jump off the top of the building.

If you're going to cast Depp as Tonto, then you need to go all-in with the absurd because that's ultimately what this movie is--just plain absurd. It fails because it doesn't understand the level of its absurdity and doesn't throw itself wholeheartedly into that mode.

It's got plenty of the formulaic elements for a hilarious western parody: the over-the-top villain who cuts out and eats the hearts of his victims, the sidekick who is more competent than the initially inept titular hero, neckbearded henchmen who vacillate between cruel and foolish, a good-hearted hero who just isn't very heroic. So why isn't this movie funny? I think I'd rather just queue up Don Knotts in "Shakiest Gun in the West." That movie understands what it wants to be, and it's funny, genuinely funny.

Most of the jokes just come off as lame and contrived. It's obvious "The Lone Ranger" doesn't take its subject or source material seriously. The action sequences are too hyperbolically impossible to be seen as anything other than cartoonish, but it's presented as if the audience is expected to accept it in the same way that certain absurd events occur in the Indiana Jones films, particularly in "Temple of Doom." For scenes such as the train wreck to be hilarious, some part of it must be accepted at face value, but it just doesn't work. It's always the contrast between the serious and the absurd that makes action movies funny and enjoyable. If you don't believe me, just go back and watch any of the Indiana Jones films or, for that matter, even "Romancing the Stone," the poor man's "Raiders of the Lost Ark."

I confess that I didn't watch all of "The Lone Ranger." I just didn't see any point in it. If they'd attempted to do an honest big screen treatment of the radio and TV character, it would have been one thing. If they'd attempted to do an utterly over-the-top parody, that would be another. I'd watch either of those movies no matter how bad they were. I can't watch this one because it's straddling the fence too much between the two. That just plain makes for a flat experience worthy of little more than background noise for a good nap.

Unexpected Journey Indeed

I have been a fan of Tolkien’s books for many years. When my son was younger, I read to him from The Hobbit each night at bedtime until we’d finished the book. From there we moved on to the “Lord of the Rings.” Before that, I wasn’t sure he even had much interest in books, but something about Tolkien’s works sparked his imagination, and he’s been an avid reader ever since.

One of the appeals of Tolkien’s works is the great care he takes in describing the settings and their history. He weaves a rich, multicolored fabric that is both enthralling and believable. Immersed in a Tolkien story, one does not doubt for a moment that eagles can be gigantic and noble and fierce or that wargs can talk and be sinister or that trolls come out at night and turn to stone when exposed to sunlight.

So it was that I anticipated Peter Jackson’s big-screen adaptation with impatience and enthusiasm. The idea of the sprawling adventure unfolding before my eyes was too much to resist. I couldn’t wait to share in the adventure with my son.

Unfortunately, this film falls into the same trap that snares far too many big-budget Hollywood projects in believing that nonstop action, CGI and over-the-top fight scenes always make for a winning combination. In this case, it just plain ruins everything.

From the overblown computer-generated effects to the preposterous story embellishments and obtrusive additions, Peter Jackson’s “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey” robs the original story of the magic and charm that makes it one of the world’s most enduring works of literature.

Jackson makes no pretense about the embellishments. We are forewarned by the very title that this is not Tolkien’s work, and a fitting title it is because I was, in fact, taken on an entirely unexpected journey.

Jackson uses Gandalf to give voice to how he has taken liberties with the beloved prelude to “The Lord of the Rings.” After relating the tale of Bilbo’s great granduncle Bullroarer, Gandalf remarks that every good tale deserves some embellishment. But by this point I had already become unsettled as I sat waiting patiently for the real story to begin. Jackson chose to open the movie with scenes from his previous Tolkien epics. In fact, throughout this film reference after reference to--you know--those other movies crops up time and again, as if Jackson is either paying homage to his greatest success or trying to bludgeon the audience into remembering what comes after these adventures. Oh, and by the way, the many flashforwards seem to warn, something really bad is coming, really, really bad. As if anybody needed reminding at this point.

Jackson’s embellishments are many, and it is not my aim to catalog them all, but to point out how those embellishments are thievery, pure and simple, and his victims are those of us who loved the original tale as it was told by a real storyteller. Why, this man could rip the magic clean out of Hogwarts, I tell you, and not shed so much as a single tear.

Many Tolkien purists took exception with Jackson’s embellishments in the “Lord of the Rings” films. I forgave those transgressions because he still spun a rip-roaring adventure tale and gave some depth to the characters that was lacking in the books. It was a fair trade-off, I felt.

In “The Hobbit” it’s entirely different. The movie is a patchwork quilt of events and scenes and references in the book all sewn together into a raggedy quilt that doesn’t feel at all like the source material, quite often doesn’t make much sense and, more often than not, deteriorates into utter absurdity.

His depiction of Radaghast is nothing short of criminal. First off, Radaghast doesn’t even appear in The Hobbit. He’s mentioned in passing in a conversation between Gandalf and Beorn, who, you might have noticed, isn’t in this first film of the trilogy. But what does Jackson do to him? Turns him into an addle-brained, hare-sleigh mushing fool who carries a bird’s nest on his head and has hair matted with bird droppings. Bird droppings! He seems like a funny character, but, really, he’s just absurd--far too absurd for this story, if you ask me. I understand Jackson’s wanting to give some depth to the characters. One of the appeals of Radaghast is that he’s such a mysterious character. Tolkien manages to drop his name here and there throughout the books without really giving us a good look at the man except for Gandalf’s secondhand account of having met with him.  I just hate it that Jackson turned him into such a foolish figure, perhaps taking his interpretation from Saruman’s derisive assessment of the wizard as a bird lover. And, unfortunately, this is how everyone will forever think of Radaghast.

Everything in Jackson’s film has to be hyperbolic to the extreme. The storm giants Bilbo sees in the distance hurling rocks back and forth become the very mountains they’re attempting to navigate, and the whole party is nearly crushed in the fray. The whole scene is comically overdone Saturday morning fare and ridiculously contrived.

Worse by far is the charm Jackson wrenched from the scene in which Bilbo and dwarves fall onto the menus of hungry trolls. The book shows off a bit of Gandalf’s magic and cleverness, but the movie’s got to make it a big, action-packed spectacle. Never mind that Bilbo got nabbed trying to pilfer something from one of the troll’s pockets, and never mind that the dwarves all got popped into sacks coming to find out what the racket of the trolls’ bickering was all about. But that whole business of Gandalf smiting the side of a hill with his staff and cracking it in two so the sun could shine through and petrify the hungry monsters was infuriating to me. The scene in the book is full of so much humor, and the manner in which Gandalf saves the party from the stewpot is clever and funny at the same time. The movie ruined it, positively ruined it.

The dwarves are also problematic. The dwarves of The Hobbit are polite, bungling and cheerful. Thorin is a bit more stern, but they’re dwarves, and they’re comical. Jackson makes a big show of turning them into these big screen movie warriors who whirl about with swords and fancy attack moves and slice and dice everything and loose arrows with deadly accuracy. Yes, as we see in many parts of the books, dwarves are stout warriors, fierce and brave, but Jackson’s interpretation of them entirely robs the story of its character. Yes, again, I understand his wanting to give each and every dwarf some kind of unique identity and depth. He manages that pretty well, but I’m certain he could have done it without ruining the story.

Don’t get me started on the albino orc. Where that comes from I have no idea. And the animosity between the dwarves and elves? Not in the book and taken to the extreme in this version of the tale. Contrary to what Jackson would have us believe, Thorin treats Elrond with respect and reverence in the book. Every single detail from the book depicted in the movie is magnified and embellished to such a degree as to hardly resemble what actually happened. Someone ought to tell Jackson that a little subtlety can go a long way and that if a work has a certain charm about it because of its humor and lightheartedness, then sometimes it’s best to try to preserve those qualities instead of trying to turn the whole thing into something it shouldn’t be. I’d hoped for an honest, faithful rendition of the story, but Jackson’s version is a violation of everything that makes the book worth reading.

I never dreamed it could be possible, but I sat for most of the movie wishing for it to be over. Not even the fast pace and oooh, looky-looky special effects could save this film from being a tiresome affair. The only positive thing I can say is that Martin Freeman was pretty good as the young Bilbo. I like Martin Freeman. And Gollum was okay. The CGI has gotten really good. You’d almost never know he wasn’t really there.

All I can do now is let out a long sigh as I realize I haven’t the slightest desire to see the next installment. I’ll just go read a book instead.

Halloween pick: The Innkeepers

The horror genre seems to have devolved into a tiresome stream of gory torture schlock, contrived self parody and pseudo documentary realism. Even the documentary-style subgenre has begun to parody itself. So when a film comes along that is genuinely enjoyable to watch, it's something worth mentioning. In a field overstuffed with Calvin Klein underwear models, overly stereotyped geeks and nerds and perky-breasted bimbos, The Innkeepers is a revivifying gulp of cold, pure mountain water. It's far from perfect. The story is a bit thin and predictable and the ending decidedly dissatisfying, but the characters are so delectable, the dialogue so genuine and the humor so disarming that one cannot help but enjoy the ride no matter where it is going.

The Innkeepers tells the story of two ne'er-do-wells, Luke (Pat Healy) and Claire (Sara Paxton), who work at a failing hotel that will soon be closing its doors. Luke is a would-be ghost hunter who claims to have seen the spirit that haunts the hotel, a woman who, after being jilted by her fiance, hangs herself in the hotel. The story goes that the owners of the inn, fearing bad publicity from the suicide, hid the body in the cellar (they refer to it as a basement in the film, but, really, it's a cellar) for three days. Naturally, her restless spirit continues to haunt the hallways of the Yankee Pedlar Inn. Zoinks!

On its surface, The Innkeepers is a traditional, even hackneyed, ghost story. The events—and the tale of jilted bride—unfold rather predictably. But what makes the film enjoyable has nothing to do with the ghost story or even the haunting. It's the two main characters. As long as they're onscreen doing something, anything, Healy and Paxton keep the audience tuned in and fully engaged. Luke and Claire are two of the most likable characters I've ever seen in a horror film, and their interactions are both genuine and hilarious. Claire is lovably dorky and aimless, while Luke is jaded and apathetic. While serving the few guests staying at the inn, Luke works on his web page devoted to hauntings. It's the typical, cheap-looking, home page that proliferated back in the '90s, but Claire praises him for it nonetheless.

Perhaps because of its context within a haunted-house horror film, the antics of the two hotel employees are entertainingly goofy. The Innkeepers feels at first like it's aimed at a younger audience. There's a Goonies kind of geekiness in Claire and Luke that draws us in. I stopped the film once just to confirm that it came with an R rating. Amid the comedy—sometimes even slaptick humor—I couldn't quite believe that this was, in fact, a horror film with an R rating.

In what is one of the funniest scenes I've ever witnessed, Claire struggles to haul a heavy, leaking bag of garbage out to the dumpster. It is laugh-aloud funny because her behavior is so true to human nature. It's funny because it's real. In the same circumstances, I behave in exactly the same way. And I applaud the filmmaking genius that had the patience to allow that dumpster scene to play out to its fullest. It would have been so simple to make it a quick ha-ha laugh and then move along with the overall goal of scaring the audience. Instead, the slaptick continued until finally reaching the inevitable conclusion. It's for scenes like this that I appreciate The Innkeepers so much in spite of its shortcomings as a horror film. In so many ways, it defies the common sense of the genre.

The humor, naturally, belies the horror that is to come, and we know it. It's easy to fall into the trap of enjoying the inanity and banality that make up two main characters' lives and forgetting that something scary is going to happen. The movie slowly eases into the haunted house story, and Claire's ghost hunting almost feels like a subplot. The audience knows, of course, that Claire will come into contact with the infamous spirit stalking the Yankee Pedlar. Once the wheels are set in motion, the spooky ride barrels forward through both suspenseful and comedic moments on its way to an ultimately disappointing ending.

Luke and Claire play host to three different guests along the way (well, maybe four or five if you count the ghosts and bumps in the night): an estranged wife and her child, spiritualist and former TV actress Leanne Rease-Jones (Kelly McGillis) and a mysterious old man. McGillis is rock solid as the cigarette-smoking, vodka guzzling former TV star, at once sporting an air of royalty while becoming something of a confidant to Claire.

Rease-Jones plays an important role in helping Claire communicate with the Inn's supernatural resident(s). Rease-Jones reveals to her that there are actually three spirits present at the Inn and warns her to stay out of the basement. Once the warning is issued, the audience knows very well that Claire is going to end up in the basement, and, in fact, that's where the climax of the film  takes place.

Where the film falls short is in leaving too many loose ends. The audience is left to wonder why it ended the way it did. What was the purpose of that climactic scene? What are the motives that drove it to its conclusion? We can speculate about the identity of the old man. Oh, it seems pretty obvious on the surface, but if one accepts that conclusion, then it makes the climax all the more puzzling. What is Claire's role in all of this? The ending could be a contrivance designed to avoid the predictable outcome dictated by the hackneyed ghost story. It's easy for the audience to see the Scooby-Doo climax coming, so to ensure that doesn't happen, the plot takes a different direction and is allowed devolve into something else, something we've come to expect in the horror genre. I'm speculating here because I can't fathom much about why it turns out the way it does. It's not that I want the Scooby-Doo ending; I just want something that makes sense and resolves the conflict central to the ghost story. I can speculate much about what it really means, but that's all it is—speculation. And if it means what I think it does, making the "jilted lover" something of a red herring, then the audience needs more explanation about what's going on, especially in terms of Claire's role.

The pattern is in place, the clues are there, but the film ultimately fails to connect the dots. While I can appreciate that on one level, I find the ending dissatisfying. I am obviously avoiding revealing any details that would spoil the story, but the solution to the seeming mystery is certainly open to discussion. Something is missing here that is essential to the story's realizing its full potential. I'd love to see the filmmakers go back and do a director's cut that fills in the gaps and completes the story.

Many viewers will no doubt judge this film harshly for its shortcomings. I found myself pleasantly surprised by how thoroughly enjoyable the movie is in spite of its faults. The characters, dialogue and humor are just plain fun to experience. Some people will say there's too much humor for this to be taken seriously as a horror film, but it certainly does have its suspenseful moments. If nothing else, the suspense works because it contrasts so well with the humor. I cannot say enough about how much I love these characters. Claire and Luke will live forever in my mind as two of the most memorable characters ever to step onto a horror set. If the movie were ever spun off into, say, a TV series with Paxton and Healy reprising their roles, I'd tune in every week regardless of the quality of the story just see these two acting their parts.

The Innkeepers may not satisfy the desire for the typical nail-biting, gory thriller, but it is nonetheless highly enjoyable. And, yes, it is currently streaming on Netflix, so add it to your Instant Queue.

Oh, no! You sank my movie!

I don't believe I've ever watched a movie that made less sense than Battleship, the movie inexplicably based on the board game of the same name. Taylor Kitsch and Alexander Skarsgard star as unlikely brothers Alex Hopper and Stone Hopper, respectively, one an officer in the navy, the other a down-and-out, unemployed loser. Older brother Stone tries to convince younger brother Alex to join the navy, but Alex is more interested in the curvy blonde who has suddenly appeared in search of a chicken burrito. And that's where everything begins rolling down the Baffling Highway of Inexplicable  and Senseless Events.

Alex somehow goes from breaking into a convenience store, stealing a chicken burrito, destroying property, resisting arrest and being tased to becoming a commander in the US Navy. One could begin making jokes about how selective the Navy is with its recruits. As absurd as it sounds, this is just one of the many head-slappingly unbelievable events that put severe strain on suspension of disbelief—even in this sci-fi actioner. Had this been a made-for-Saturday-morning-TV movie released in the '90s, it could have become a popular classic among the younger crowd. Unfortunately, it's just impossible to take seriously a movie like this being released on the big screen.

After Hopper lands command of his own ship in the US Navy, the aliens appear with the apparent intent of launching an invasion to conquer the Earth. Well, at least that's what the audience is expected to believe—in spite of all evidence to the contrary. The alien race possesses military technology far beyond that possessed by the US Navy—yet time and again they don't utilize it to their full advantage. They can swat us Earth humans around like flies, yet they allow us to one-by-one destroy every ship in their reconnaissance fleet. In addition to artillery that resembles the pegs used to sink ships in the board game (this was obviously intentional), the alien arsenal also includes spinning, fiery balls of doom that can chew through metal like wet cardboard. They could easily have launched a few of these to eat through every single weapon the humans possess. Instead they sit around waiting for the insects to attack them with their puny weapons and slowly demolish everything they have.

Oh, but this is, after all, just a reconnaissance mission for the aliens. They're just here to send a message back to the homeworld about a plump fruit ripe for the picking. Never mind that the reconnaissance forces themselves seem to be more than a match for anything the Earth can throw at them. Naturally, the humans, against all the odds prevail because of their tenacity and ingenuity in the face of insurmountable obstacles. And the gullible audience is expected to rejoice in the triumph of the underdog, assuming that the homeworld won't miss the reconnaissance mission or will have decided that the Earth is just too powerful for them to conquer.

The movie really just doesn't make much sense, but it does offer up plenty of moments that tug at American heartstrings. And, if I may digress for a moment, that is another of the film's great failings. Like many other films, it suffers from being solidly planted in an American perspective with blinders firmly in place. After all, if an alien race is going to launch an invasion of Earth, it would certainly be the US Navy it confronts. Because nobody else has any weapons to bring to bear.

But if we can ignore such shortsightedness, then we will surely be moved by the double-amputee military veteran who has the courage to go toe-to-toe with one of the alien brutes, pounding it with one right cross after another until several of its teeth go flying. And who could possibly be immune to the emotional appeal of the WWII veterans who help Hopper launch the USS Missouri into the battle? Even the movie's token geek steps up to inspire the audience with unlikely bravery. Ultimately, however, it is Hopper's rise from ne'er-do-well to hero that provides the films strongest moment.

The movie counts on emotional appeals to please the audience because, quite frankly, it's got nothing else in the tank. This is an empty, illogical, senseless mess that nevertheless manages to make us—some of us at least—raise our fists in triumph and belt out a loud "Hurrah!"

Additional thoughts on Amazing Spider-Man

One interesting aspect of The Amazing Spider-Man is that it breaks an archetypal rule that has existed in comic superherodom from the beginning: Spider-Man's secret identity isn't much of a secret. Gwen Stacy knows who he is; he reveals himself to Stacy's father and the Lizard discovers who he is and one might even speculate that the shadowy figure at the end of the film also knows the secret.

Obviously, this kind of thing can only go so far. At some point you have to realize that the arachnid will be out of the proverbial funnel web, and then there's not much reason to wear a mask. Luckily, Capt. Stacy won't be telling anyone, although it's a pity Denis Leary won't be coming back—unless his ghost decides to haunt Parker and hound him at every turn for breaking his promise.

We can only hope that future installments will feature some of the more interesting Spider-Man villains. And maybe the sequels won't feel so rough and unedited. This first film really needed a really nasty editor to say, "No, we're not doing that."

Somewhat amazing, anyway: A review of The Amazing Spider-Man

Why? Why are we doing this again? It's nearly impossible not to pose this question as one watches The Amazing Spider-Man, a reboot of the big screen franchise featuring everyone's favorite wall crawler. Some will call this a remake, and while there's some truth to that, the latest film is more of a do-over, a restart. It's a chance to go back and focus on some different aspects of the central character, Peter Parker, and to introduce some new characters who figured prominently in the comic book, including love interest Gwen Stacy.

After the third film in the previous series, it's easy to see why a reboot was warranted, but does this one do the Webslinger justice? It's definitely a mixed bag of scenes and themes that work well and others that could very well have been left to the splicer.

It's mostly the early sequences of the film that fall flat and seem overly contrived. Andrew Garfield is fine as the always disheveled Parker, and who can't like Emma Stone as Gwen Stacy? Denis Leary appears as Gwen's police captain father and Rhys Ifans as the tragic figure of Peter's scientist friend Dr. Curt Connors.

The problem with the first 30-plus minutes of the film is that it's little more than a rehash of what we already know happens to Peter. And the sequences depicting his struggle to control and understand his newfound powers are contrived and often just plain silly. The film could very well have done without the entire scene on the subway in which Peter inadvertently strips a girl of her outer clothing and then proceeds to fend off a host of would-be vigilantes coming to her aid. None of this is really very funny or entertaining unless you're five years old. And let's not even mention the monster lizard rat. Even in a modern comic book such a thing would be dismissed out of hand as simply absurd.

And why are we rehashing the Spider-Man origin story again in the first place? There are some minor changes, but the core of the Spider-Man mythos remains intact. So why retell it? Given that Peter's love interest is now Gwen Stacy instead of Mary Jane Watson, couldn't the action of this film have been joined in medias res and the origin changes conveyed via flashbacks? This, arguably, would have made the film as a whole less contrived and more of an independent entity of its own.

Among the aspects of the film that work very well is the depiction of Peter as more of a typical, willful teenager rather than the syrupy goodness that was the Tobey Maguire Parker. The behavior that leads to the eventual death of Uncle Ben feels more real and less contrived than it did in the previous version. The same lesson about using super powers responsibly is conveyed, although in the form of a more powerful declaration that Spider-Man has a moral obligation to use his powers to help others. Peter makes mistakes and regrets them and seems all the more like a real person because of it.

The Amazing Spider-Man is also a film of strong emotions. Many scenes, including the death of Uncle Ben and the aftereffects of his death, are genuinely moving. Other powerful scenes include the climax of the final battle with the Lizard and Spider-Man's rooftop heart-to-heart with Captain Stacy. Parker's promise to Captain Stacy is heart wrenching and we know will lead to future conflicts.

The action focuses primarily on Dr. Connors and his desire to discover how humans may re-grow limbs like other species. He has a vested interest in the research because he has lost one his arms. The answer to the puzzle, he is certain, lies in being able to splice human DNA with that of species capable of regeneration. This same genetic research also leads to the bite that turns mild-mannered Peter Parker into the wisecracking Spider-Man.

One thing is certain: Our science has moved us beyond the simplistic idea that radiation can turn normal people into super-heroes, that the bite of an irradiated spider can make someone stronger and faster and able to climb walls. So at least the gene splicing gives us a sense of plausibility in the reboot, and instead of shooting web out of his wrists as in the Tobey Maguire version, this Spider-Man is more in keeping with the comic book version wherein a special formula derived from research allows Webhead to devise his own web shooters.

There is one very notable--and perhaps unforgivable--omission in this rehash: J. Jonah Jameson is nowhere to be found. Can we have Spider-Man without his greatest non-super-powered nemesis? I suppose casting Jameson would have been difficult if J. K. Simmons were not reprising his role. Still, I find it difficult to imagine any Spider-Man franchise without the cigar-chomping news editor.

The Amazing Spider-Man is far from a great film, but it's certainly not a failure either. Aside from introducing movie-going audiences to one of Spider-Man's most intriguing villains in the Lizard, this film seems to be going through the motions as more of an introduction to the new series. Much of it, I argue, is completely unnecessary. If you eliminate the contrivances the sole purpose of which are to re-establish an entirely new Spider-Man, it's an engaging and thoroughly enjoyable movie. The contrived scenes and some occasionally dreadful dialogue are jarring and even awkward. If the next installment can stay away from these mistakes, this could be a stronger franchise than the original.

Not so Safe House

In Safe House Ryan Reynolds reprises his role as Green Lantern to battle the nefarious Mr. Frost, played by Denzel Washington, whose superpowers include the ability to beat people up really badly and inject data capsules into his body where nobody will find them. Unfortunately, Hal Jordan has somehow managed to lose his ring and gets beat up a lot and stabbed with broken glass. And his driver's license has probably been revoked because he wrecks a lot of cars.

Okay, so Reynolds actually takes on the role of Matt Weston, a CIA "housekeeper," someone whose job is to watch over a safe house for field operatives and to maintain the safety of any "house guests" who arrive for a little enhanced interrogation. It seems like a pretty nice gig, really. You just sit around in a highly secure place with all kinds of doors with security keypads and a nice fridge stocked with fruits, soft drinks, plasma and medicines. Yeah, you know, just like the stuff you have in your fridge right now. I guess the whole idea of showing that scene of the refrigerator contents was to let you know what kind of apartment this is, but it was kind of a moot point, given that, you know, the title of the movie sort of gives it away.

The only problem with landing a nice job like this where you get paid lots of money to sit around bouncing a tennis ball off the wall and lying to your girlfriend about working at a clinic is that inevitably Hollywood will come along and want to shoot the place up.

So when Tobin Frost arrives, poor Hal, I mean Matt, is forced to do some real tough-guy stuff like hijack a car, drive it really, really fast, get shot at and beat up and actually shoot people himself.

Reynolds is actually pretty good as the in-over-his-head Weston. He is convincing as the idealistic agent whose worldview is flipped on its side by the jaded traitor Frost. We learn early in the film that Frost is a bad dude--in multiple senses of the term. But you can't help feeling he's not all rotten to the core, and the idea that he and Weston will become allies at some point is inescapable. Because the focus of the film is on Frost and Weston, the other characters are more placeholders than anything else, with Brendan Gleeson playing Weston's boss, Vera Farmiga as the agent in charge of the operation to secure and interrogate Frost, and Sam Shephard as CIA Director Harlan Whitford. Their jobs are just to act as Hollywood expects us to believe CIA personnel behave, which is both bad and good.

The movie opens with a glimpse of Weston's life as a housekeeper. He has a girlfriend, played by Nora Arnezeder, to whom he must lie about what he's really doing. The film makes Weston's job seem insufferably boring. He's alone in a place that looks like a well-stocked bomb shelter. He seems to spend most of his time listening to music and bouncing that ball off the wall.

And then the phone rings and his life takes a drastic turn. Frost, fleeing a group of armed men hellbent on recovering the data he's just received from a contact, has walked into an embassy and got himself nabbed by the CIA to be dragged to Weston's safe house. It seems that Frost is a bad guy who sells classified information to anybody with a suitable amount of cash. What's on the data capsule he carries that warrants constant pursuit from armed men who manage to find him wherever he goes? Well, that's the big mystery in the film.

In spite of the presence of well-armed and well-trained military men, the safe house is invaded, turned upside down and all of the military personnel killed. Weston is forced to flee with Frost in tow because it's his duty to take care of his guests. "In brightest day, in blackest night ..."

We saw this coming, of course. So, too, could we predict Frost's escape and Weston's determination to get him back. The first idea we get that maybe Frost isn't all bad comes when he has the opportunity to kill Weston but does not, telling him, "I only kill professionals." At first this appears to be a taunt, an insult to the bungling, amateurish Weston, who seems in over his head and out of his element. Jason Bourne he is not. He's the guy that sits in a safe house bouncing a tennis ball off the wall. And wondering where he lost that ring. It is revealed later, however, that the taunt is more a kind of code Frost follows and instructs Weston to also follow.

Everything sorts itself out rather predictably, but the action is fast paced and the tension is thick. You'd have to be pretty dense not to know who the real bad guy is. Weston emerges as a sympathetic character, but you can't help admiring Frost's confidence and presence. That may be Washington's strength as an actor: He has a real screen presence and does the cocky, badass role very well. He nonchalantly shoots bad guys like tossing a wad of paper into a waste basket.

Many will harp on the movie's predictability, but it's not really not the point to deliver up surprising plot twists. The focus is on the characters of Weston and Frost and how their relationship evolves throughout the film. It also challenges our perceptions of what it means to be a "bad" person in the world of lies and subterfuge. The characters and situations here are light years from the old westerns in which the bad guys wore the black hats. Even then things were never so clear cut, but the waters are even muddier now.

The film ends in different kinds of triumph for both Weston and Frost. Weston learns that his idealism has been built on a sham, that his purpose served a cause that didn't really exist. His path in life has been forever altered by his experience. Frost manages to regain his humanity and in the process finds redemption. Thought it would be easy to think that Weston will follow Frost's path, the evidence suggests otherwise. It is clear that Weston is not frost and that he will in fact do as Frost instructed and be a better person than he.

As a thriller Safe House comes up a bit short for its predictability, but as a story examining the inevitable collision of two men seemingly on different sides of the spy game, it delivers an engaging character study that's worth watching.

John Carter: Don't buy the anti-hype

A cliche that has floated around for decades states, "Don't believe the hype." It's a simple idea that hyperbolic claims about something tend to lead to disappointment, that the underlying substance usually fails to live up to the assertions. Hype is much like fiction in that the tale, to paraphrase a well-known writer, tends to grow in the telling. The bigger the hype, the bigger the disappointment in the final product.

The same can be said of negative hype, or "anti-hype," if you will. The more vitriol you hear about something, the less terrible you realize it must actually be.

While I concede that some movies deserve much of the criticism they receive, it often seems that deliberate forces are at work to undermine others, in much the same way that politicians employ attack ads against their opponents.

And that brings me to the recent rental release John Carter, aka John Carter of Mars, aka A Princess of Mars (if we want to link it to its Edgar Rice Burroughs source material), directed by Andrew Stanton and starring Taylor Kitsch and Lynn Collins. This film suffered greatly from negative hype. Rumors about various problems swirled about as its box office release date approached. The title of the film was even changed before its debut, with various excuses provided. The budget was huge, there were production problems, and there was just no way Disney was going to recoup all of its investment. In short, John Carter was a dismal failure.

The truth is, John Carter is not such a bad movie after all. The saddest part is that it was indeed a failure at the box office and may be declared one of the biggest bombs of all time. Frankly, I have seen far worse films that performed far better at the box office.

That is not to say that John Carter is a great movie, but it does have enough in the way of story, special effects and action to make it pretty darned good. And at its core it does offer a fine look at the development of the titular character.

One reason stated for the title change from John Carter of Mars to simply John Carter was to show the progression of the character from a Virginia Civil War veteran who'd lost hope to a man of Mars who'd found a reason to live. In keeping with this idea, the final title screen displays the title as John Carter of Mars. I found this to be a fitting touch, and it truly felt like a triumphant moment.

Unlike many movies that hit the big screen—especially those in the SF and fantasy genre—John Carter is a patient film that is happy to let the character and story develop over time. Beyond the special effects, the action, the romance and even the humor, this above all else makes it worth watching. Most films seem to want to rush headlong from start to finish, story be damned. The more explosions, fights and gunshots, the better. Most people will say John Carter dragged at times. I say it's at those moments that the most critical character development occurs.

And it's the character of John Carter that makes the film. You find yourself liking him from the start. He's willful, cantankerous, resourceful, and he's apathetic, a man who has lost hope. The reason for his despair unfolds over time throughout the film, revealed to us as fragmentary flashbacks until a final, drawn-out scene during an epic battle reveals his pain and loss in bitter full. It is a powerful and moving image, one of the best I've seen in any film of this genre.

You cannot help wanting John Carter to find himself, to regain some measure of purpose and happiness in his life. When it finally happens, it is a satisfying moment. And that is the best way to describe how I felt at the end of this film. It was fulfilling and satisfying.

It's not a perfect movie. There are certainly plenty of awkward moments of unintentional humor. The scene in which Carter is trying to learn how to walk on a planet of lesser gravity than he's accustomed to frankly went on a bit too long. The low-gravity schtick was overdone in many parts of the film and grew tiresome. We did not need to be reminded of it time and time again.

The romance between Carter and Deja was, naturally, predictable and all-too obvious from the start, even when it was apparent that Deja was determined to exploit Carter's strength and abilities to save her planet. But that doesn't mean it still wasn't engaging or that the viewer didn't want it to happen. I contrast this strongly with the romance of Anakin and Padme in the Star Wars films. I was entirely indifferent to that romance, didn't want it to happen and really hoped it would just go away. Here, at least, there are moments you find yourself mentally telling Carter, "Just kiss her, dammit!"

The awkward, predictable or even slow moments are mere blips on the map in an adventure brimming with all of the classic formula elements of action, romance, danger, heroism and humor. It is, simply, an enjoyable, if not terribly remarkable, movie.

In addition to a fine story and some good special effects, John Carter also boasts a great cast, many of whom lend their voices to CGI figures, including Willem Dafoe as Tar Tharkis, Thomas Haden Church as Tal Hajus, Dominic West (McNulty!) as Sab Than and Mark Strong as Matai Shang, and, oh, yes, Bryan Cranston as the Civil War officer, Col. Powell.

No, I will not say John Carter is the best SF/fantasy film I've seen, but it stands up to many of the best and most of the recent releases in the genre. It's more than worth the rental or purchase price, and I may very well grab the Blu-ray myself. This is a clear-cut case of a movie most undeserving of the negative hype.

MiB 3: Behind the suits

Men in Black 3 was not at all what I was expecting from the latest installment of the series following the exploits of the super-secret government organization protecting the Earth from hostile aliens. What I expected was another humor-filled and action-packed adventure in which MiB partners J and K once again save the world from certain destruction.

Okay, well, that's sort of what really did actually happen in the movie, but it wasn't exactly how I expected it to occur, and it's not really what the movie is about.

For one thing, a serious plot with some genuinely poignant moments stands at the heart of this chapter. It answers some big questions about the two characters and their current outlooks on life and their roles in MiB. In spite of some minor flaws and some lulls in the action, MiB 3 delivers a satisfying if not knee-slappingly funny story.

In this episode, J must chase Boris the Animal, recently escaped from prison on the Moon, back in time and thwart his attempt to kill K in the past and prevent the Arcnet from being deployed to protect the Earth from alien invasion.  So, yes, first of all, the element of time travel has been introduced, which is always a veritable can of worms. The worst part is, if you want to travel back in time, you just stop by a music store and talk to a certain guy who has the devices that make it possible. Oddly enough, I saw a case supporting only two of the devices, but the log book he keeps makes it seem like he does this all the time, so one can only assume the devices are rentals and are returned after each time jump.

I'm not even going to bother going into all of the "but if you can time travel why didn't you ...?" speculation because, frankly, this would end up being a much longer and more convoluted exposition.

MiB 3 follows the logic that if you die in the past, then your present-day self, along with all memory of that self, ceases to exist, an idea that immediately took me back to a book from my childhood, the 1953 SF novel Danger: Dinosaurs! by Richard Marsten, aka Evan Hunter aka Ed McBain.

It's up to J to travel back in time and save K from being murdered and being able to deploy Earth's defense system. Naturally, we expect things not work out quite so easily, and it does in fact turn out to be a bit more complicated.

After J's time jump, which, as it turns out, involves a literal jump and a leap of faith all at once, we are introduced to the young K, played by Josh Brolin. I can't say enough about what an amazing job Brolin did impersonating Tommy Lee Jones' elder K. I'm not the kind of person who reads a lot about movies before I see them, preferring to take the films on their own merits, so it wasn't until later that I read much about Brolin's frustrations with and fear of failure in impersonating Jones. As I watched the film, I seriously believed—and, no, I am not joking—that Tommy Lee Jones' voice had been dubbed over Brolin's. That is not the case. It was actually Brolin doing the impression of Jones that he began toying with on the set of No Country for Old Men. Brolin had the voice and cadence down to a, well, down to a K.

Men in Black 3's got pretty much all of what you'd expect from an MiB film—the gross-out humor, the sight gags, the crazy gadgets—but a few aspects just kind of nag at me. For one, I had trouble seeing the Tommy Lee Jones K romantically involved with O, played by Emma Thompson. I just honestly had trouble seeing the old, craggy-faced Jones as a believable love interest to Thompson. I could easily buy the idea of the Josh Brolin K involved with the Alice Eve O and could even see the Josh Brolin K as a love interest to the Emma Thompson O, but Jones just seems, well, old. He's ready for his role as a sheriff in the sequel No Country for Grumpy Old Men. I suppose the real key to that working is more a matter of seeing it develop over time than dropping Thompson and Jones together and having to accept it as is.

And parts of the movie just feel kind of flat, almost as if we kind of know what's coming and we just want it to hurry up and get there. The real suspense isn't whether the MiB agents will save the day, but exactly how they'll do it. And that payoff doesn't come until the very end. While the film has its funny moments, as a whole, the jokes are merely humorous rather than hilarious. It's the kind of humor that elicits chuckles instead of guffaws.

That's fine to some extent because it's not really the humor and action that drive this movie; it's the underlying story about the nature of the relationship between J and K—and not just between J and K the agents, but between James and Kevin, their real identities behind the black suits. The question J keeps asking of K is, "What happened to you?" Central to what this film is really about is exploring the experiences and the underlying nature of the characters, especially the monotoned, unflappable, unexcitable K.

At it's heart, the MiB films are buddy cop stories. The aspect that makes every buddy cop story work is that we like the characters; we have a vested interest in what happens to them. If you have two strong and likable characters, it really doesn't matter how implausible the plot is or how outrageous the stunts are—you care about what happens to the characters.

That, more than anything, is what makes MiB 3 work. We love the craggy, matter-of-fact K, and we love the contrast in the excitable, smart-alecky J. So when J sets out to save K, and in the process save the world, we want him to succeed. In spite of their differences, we know that J and K have a strong bond, even when J hangs up on K when the latter just seems to want to hear J's voice over the phone. The surprise ending to MiB 3 shows us that the relationship is even deeper and more significant than we would have otherwise guessed.

One could make the argument that there are also some serious continuity issues here, given what happened to K in the previous chapter and what it revealed about his history. Certainly valid criticisms, but, at the same time, really irrelevant to the story being told in MiB 3. This is a movie about James and Kevin and their significance to one another as both partners and friends. And that's why it works.

Will there be more MiB films? I'm sure that will be determined more by box office numbers than anything. But whatever the future holds for the franchise, MiB 3 has forever changed how we look at J and K.

Chronicle: An anti-hero take on the superhero movie?

Josh Trank and Mark Landis' Chronicle tells the story of three friends who gain telekinetic powers after coming in contact with a mysterious object in an underground cave. What is the object? Where did it come from? We may never know unless there's a sequel or prequel, and I'm guessing the probability is high. The film centers on troubled teen Andrew (I promise, you will never forget his name) who is bullied at home and at school and spends much of his time caring for his terminally ill mother. Though one cannot help feeling sympathy for Andrew and sadness at his spiraling decline, the film largely suffers from obstacles relating to the simple idea of suspension of disbelief that interfere with what would otherwise be a compelling examination of bullying, rage and revenge.

Andrew isn't a bad kid. We can see that in how he cares for his mother and endures the abuses of his alcoholic father. He's a loner and an outcast. The other kids at school make fun of him and push him around. The audience readily sympathizes with him. Andrew's charismatic cousin Matt tries hard to draw Andrew out of his shell and to lend him some emotional support. He's likable, even if he seems to be the dumb, jockish type. Matt eventually attempts to be Andrew's moral compass, but in doing so overreaches and further alienates Andrew. It is likely Matt's seeming betrayal that helped push Andrew past the point of no return, leading to his downfall.

Boiled down to its basic elements, Chronicle is a wish-fulfillment story. It's about revenge. Anyone who has ever been bullied can empathize with Andrew. Deep down, the bullied all want to strike back at those who have victimized them. The idea of a bullied loner gaining superpowers and suddenly turning the tables on his foes is nothing new. Peter Parker, after all, suffered the abuses of the jocks at his school before becoming Spider-Man. The key difference between Parker and Andrew is that Peter eventually realized that he shouldn't, couldn't, use his powers for petty reasons. In Andrew's defense, it is obvious that he has no control over the forces that drag him into despair and hatred.

After the death of his mother, Andrew finds himself utterly alone against the entire world. He strikes out at everyone around him, including his friends. His descent into madness is as much accident as it is intentional. Andrew sometimes does things with his new-found powers accidentally—with disastrous results. Though it is the death of his mother and Matt's betrayal that tip him over the brink, it is other events that ultimately lead to his destruction.

Matt and Steve, Andrew's new friend, attempt to draw Andrew out of his cocoon, to make him popular, to pull him away from his outcast, loner past. Their intentions are good, but because of Andrew's fragile emotional state, the manipulation is a formula for disaster. Steve succeeds in bringing Andrew out of the shadows into the light and even makes him the life of the party. One bad experience, however, throws Andrew back into the old role of outcast. The humiliation sends him deeper into darkness. He is soon overcome with shadow. His anger has taken control and become the driving force in his life.

Anyone who has seen the trailers for the movie knows that things go bad. In a typical play off the classic superhero formula, one superpowered individual is left to play the hero against the one who has gone bad. Matt and Andrew fight it out in an epic, Avengers-style smash-up. It's entertaining, but it also feels like something of an insult to the serious theme at the heart of the story. Destroying cars and buildings and generally making a mess of things is fine popcorn fare, but what happened to the in-depth character study? You can't round out this character's story just by breaking a bunch of things. Something more sober is needed here.

Chronicle ambitiously attempts to find balance among three different elements: bringing the pseudo-documentary style to the superhero genre, taking a serious look at the psychological and emotional effects of bullying and telling an anti-hero story in the superhero genre. The real problem with this approach is that each tends to step on the toes of another. It's difficult to tell a superhero story using this first-person, unedited footage approach. The special effects required to pull it off also undermine its credibility in the same way the computer-generated monsters in every Syfy movie render the stories preposterous.

I was fully engaged with the film while it trod familiar paths of the three friends experimenting with their telekinetic abilities. The pranks were well in keeping with the anti-superhero theme. If Chronicle were a typical, mainstream comic-book from the 1960s, these three would no doubt have donned costumes, given themselves some catchy superhero team name and rushed off to do good with their powers. This, however, is a more cynical—and arguably more realistic—take on an old idea. What if teenagers gained telekinetic powers? In truth, they would likely do a lot of what these guys did: move people's cars around, pull the bubble gum out of someone's mouth and become experts at beer pong.

The movie started to lose me when the three were suddenly flying and playing football high up in the clouds. Whether this is plausible in the context of telekinetic superpowers is irrelevant; it reaches beyond the bounds of the story being told. And the movie does drag a bit as the three explore the limits of and grow into their powers. The story seems to get lost for a while. When it finally wakes from its reverie, it's a bit late. The audience just wants it to be over.

It's also when the movie gets back on track that all of the yelling starts and you wonder if you've suddenly tuned in to a TV reality show in which everyone hates each other and is constantly bickering. "Andrew, stop! It's not too late! Andrew, this is not you!" And that's how it goes for the final ten minutes of the movie until Matt finally saves the day.

In some ways, I applaud what Chronicle attempts to accomplish. At the core it's a serious and engaging story. Andrew is a sympathetic and empathetic character whose destructive descent is often poignant. The attempt to play too much with the superhero genre, however, causes the story to get lost and, like Andrew, morph into something it never should have become.

The Grey: So much potential thrown to the wolves

Joe Carnahan's The Grey, starring Liam Neeson, is a film about despair. We see this from the early moments when Neeson's character, Ottway, contemplates suicide and places the barrel of the rifle he uses to protect pipeline employees into his mouth. Death permeates the movie to such a degree that the one emotion that carries any weight at all is the despair Ottway and others feel. Ottway's despair is different, however, for he has lost his wife and, seemingly, his will to go on. In spite of this, he fights tenaciously and resourcefully to survive and to keep others alive, and, at the very brink of death, overcomes his loss of hope.

Ottway and a small group of other pipeline employees survive a plane crash and find themselves hunted by a pack of malevolent wolves. Ironically, Ottway's job on the pipeline is to patrol work sites, rifle in hand, and protect employees from wolf attacks. It is in his determination to help the other men survive the ordeal that Ottway comes to terms with his own despair.

The biggest problem with The Grey is that it seems torn between being a monster flick and a serious drama exploring the conflicting emotions in Ottway that lead him from a moment of pure despair, when he might have abruptly ended his life, to being the leader of the small group of survivors. In one sense, the story is a metaphor for the way we are under constant attack in our lives by forces we cannot control, forces that cause us to lose hope and want to give up.

Ottway's wife appears frequently in the film in flashbacks or dream sequences, her final message to him not to be afraid.

This aspect of the film is well handled. It's a tender, heart-wrenching story. Ottway writes a note to her in which he states, "You left me and I can't get you back." We know from the scene with the rifle that this is a suicide note. We do not know until the end of the film why his wife left him and under what circumstances. It is Ottway's flashback to his last moments with her when she tells him, "Don't be afraid" that galvanizes him, leading Ottway to steel himself for the fight of his life.

It's just too bad this story is told through an entirely implausible battle against these very unwolflike wolves. The first hint we get that movie is going to veer off track comes in the opening minutes when Ottway shoots a wolf as it charges at a group of men working on the pipeline.

I grant you, I am no wolf expert, but I found myself doubting very seriously that any wolf would behave in that matter, openly attacking two or three human beings on its own.

It only gets worse from there.

After the plane crash, the survivors are stalked by the wolves, which, according to "wolf expert" Ottway, are protecting their territory from the human invaders. They will keep coming until all the men are dead because, it seems, they have ventured too close to the wolves' den. Ottway frequently spouts Wikipedia-like factoids about the territorial range of wolves in what is likely an attempt to justify to the audience what seems like very odd behavior.

The movie would have the audience believe that wolves are vicious and vengeful and willing to attack and kill , not for food, but to terrorize the interlopers trespassing on their territory.

It's a bit far fetched.

The alpha wolf even dares to stalk right into their camp to stare them down and intimidate them. This actually happens in the film. The wolf is huge and black and full of menace. It is not a real wolf.

And therein lies the problem: If this was intended to be the pure fantasy it became, then it should never have taken itself so seriously. We are expected to simply accept that real wolves do these things and that if your plane crashes in wolf territory, you will be stalked and intimidated and killed, so you better be prepared to fight for your survival.

I joked with my daughter that what the movie really needed was more Kate Beckinsale.

Though I said it in jest, I feel this is a legitimate criticism of the film. If you're going to use wolves as a metaphor to tell your story about despair, then do it honestly without the hyperbole, without the overblown fantasy. If all you want is to create a horrific situation to represent the despair, then go ahead and make this a horror film. Don't pretend it's realistic.

Ottway is bitten by a wolf shortly after the crash and jokes that he's going to become a wolfman. One gullible survivor asks if that really happens. Given how many implausible moments the movie expects the audience to swallow, I couldn't help thinking it would have been a far better werewolf flick than an attempt at serious drama.

The sadness Ottway experiences at losing his wife is very real, and Neeson is believable as the grieving husband. The scenes in which Ottway is depicted lying by her side are very poignant, and it is a truly sad moment when their last time together is revealed.

At the core of The Grey is a very powerful story. It's just too bad it had to be intertwined with such an implausible plot.