Central to any good comic film, are well-developed characters. In First Class, the two main protagonists are handled with compassion and instilled with credibility, with careful attention paid to the fragments of their lives and to the details that paint the picture of who they were prior to inheriting their super-mutant statuses. Before they were Professor X and Magneto, they were Charles and Erik, two friends allied in their mission to save humanity from the villainous Sebastian Shaw and an impending nuclear war. Overriding the initial friendship however, are opposing views on the coexistence of humans and mutants. “Killing will not bring you peace,” warns Charles. Erik, whose past was riddled with injustice and torment, asserts that “Peace was never an option”, thus laying the ideological differences that would go on to create the monumental rift between them.

James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender, as Professor X and Magneto respectively, were made for these roles. Major props to the casting director for recognizing true talent and enabling some credible onscreen chemistry – bromance in all its realness. I’ve always loved McAvoy for his brilliance and his boyish good looks and as Charles he shines – charming and sympathetic, wise and trustworthy. Michael Fassbender’s Magneto feels like a revelation – he’s as hot as he is troubled, burdened with internal turmoil and a thirst for vengeance, struggling to make his mark in the mutant world and save his fellow mutants from mankind’s cruelty. His heart is full of rage, but Charles teaches him how to summon his true strength with a calm serenity he doesn’t even know he had in one of the film’s more touching moments.

Both Xavier and Magneto are created with integrity and grace, rendering them more real, giving us reasons to care about their legacies. There is no good or bad, just two men with different world views, charting their destinies as legendary characters upholding pivotal roles in the human evolution saga. The supporting cast of misfits and mutants makes for a fun ensemble, an army establishing their positions on different ends of the superhero spectrum. Aside from some filler material, some requisite juvenile montage and the occasional yawn-inducing long-stretches of inaction, X-Men takes its superhero storytelling pretty seriously. Not since Dark Knight has there been a comic-film as engrossing and inspiring, as intelligent and entertaining as the backstory of Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr. Batman set the bar for great superhero films and X-Men has made an admirable attempt to reach it, even though it hasn’t quite hit the mark.

What I like most about First Class is that it satiates the need to know the humanity behind the superpowers, providing situational explanations of who these characters are and what makes them so. Had this film been the very first, the true beginning, it might’ve set the tone for the rest of the X-Men movies, a franchise of stories with substance that make them more than just a money-making empire, but a legacy of artful, compelling characters in a turbulent world; a super hero saga embedded with important lessons for humanity.

Of course, as with any comic to movie adaptation, there’s bound to be a few, if not many, inconsistencies. One of the drawbacks of creating a story-line appreciable by even non die-hard X-Men fans is that it veers from the original comics and is made less authentic. But the ability to select an effective and entertaining narrative from the vast libraries of the Marvel galaxy isn’t necessarily an easy undertaking. The end result is enjoyable for what it is. We’re not talking Oscar material here, just an entry into the league of X-traordinary summer films.

Kristin Wiig plays Annie, a woman whose long list of personal troubles compromise her ability to carry out her duties as maid of honor for her best friend’s upcoming wedding (played by Maya Rudolph, one of my favorite SNL alums). Both actors are supported by a group of madcap characters who round out the rest of the bridal party, with a standout performance from Melissa McCarthy, another virtuoso of comedy. As if her own problems weren’t enough, (no man, no money, a failed bakery) Annie also finds some unexpected competition in Lillian’s new friend (Rose Byrne) a beautiful and wealthy trophy wife who tries to outshine her as the better “best friend”. A hilarious toasting scene at a dinner party demonstrates their burgeoning rivalry beautifully.

While guys will probably enjoy it just as much, it’s certainly a movie to see with your closest gal pals, as it capture the dynamics of female friendships and fragile scenarios with a perceptive eye and open heart. Emotions can and do get confusing when it seems your best friend’s life is nearing perfection while your own is crumbling with no signs of happiness in sight. I respect the film’s ability to draw out honest and intense emotions from its characters, when the alternative could’ve been to just feign delight and then talk about your friend behind her back, as Maya Rudolph’s character humorously quips is the “normal thing to do”. Let’s face it, jealousy can and does get in the way of friendship sometimes – while we love our friends and want them to be happy, their external perfection can highlight our own personal shortcomings, making us feel like losers. (This is why insecure people often make the worst girlfriends). But solid bonds can not be broken and Bridesmaids takes its characters over some zany and hilarious hurdles to prove this point.

In the end, I feel the movie could’ve benefited from better editing: less body humor (overdone bathroom jokes, anyone?) and a lot more of the subtle, refined, witty variety of comedy we see in the first half of the film. The trailer leaves out the best scenes and punch lines, which is good for audiences who all too often are fed the best material in the promos. Bridesmaids keeps its meat for the main course. Still I just couldn’t help but feel that as everything was coming together, the movie had fallen apart for me. Brace yourself, or better yet, “hold on” for the cheesiest of cheese-fests at the end. (Admittedly, a guilty pleasure for many of us).

Despite my reservations, the negatives shouldn’t stop you from giving Bridesmaids a chance, (perhaps better saved for a 5-dollar day) because it still has a lot going for it. If you can forgive the sappy last third of the film, you’ll bear witness to Kristin Wiig’s brilliant humor, a performer gifted in the art of timing and subtlety, who shines in almost all her scenes. I don’t think Tina Fey will be losing her comedy crown any time soon, but Kristin Wiig is a legitimate contender and a rising star in her own right.

What do you get when you take a film, stripped of typical Hollywood conventions, add a dose of originality and a dash of unpredictability? You get a quirky, delightful film like TiMER – a movie who’s premise rests on a simple question: What if a small device could determine the precise moment we meet our soul mate? After all, when it comes to love, timing is everything – is it not?

This story arc is what sets TiMER apart from the usual stack of craptacular rom-coms – the introduction of a sci-fi-esq twist, the idea that love can be preprogrammed, literally, not just by some inscrutable idea of destiny, but by actual mechanisms within our bodies. Sounds a tad over the top right? Well, of course it is. The loftiness is what makes it fun. In order to truly enjoy Timer, you have to suspend reasoning and rational logic. Accept the implausible premise and resist the urge of over-analyzing and looking too much into it. It’s not a “thinking” movie – it’s a romantic comedy, one augmented by a team of good writers and a set of likable actors.

Emma Caulfield plays Oona O’Leary, a leading lady of standard conventions – pretty, petite, single and successful. She’s also desperate to know the verdict of her blank timer, a sign that her true love is out there somewhere without a timer of their own. Admittedly, the anal nature of her character gets pretty annoying – sure, she just wants to know who her true love is, but sort of wish she would just ride some chill waves [via Hipsterrunoff] and learn to go with the flow. She reminds you of those unsettling micromanaging types who need to be in control of everything in their lives at all times. I can’t deal with those folks. But luckily for Oona, she meets Mikey, an attractive, younger check-out clerk, who, is perhaps the best thing about the movie. He introduces her to concepts like “living in the moment”, which, to someone like Oona, is pretty novel. As expected, fireworks [a la cheesy pop act Katy Perry] erupt. The catch? While her timer remains blank, his is set to go off in four months. What will happen? Like MTV Diaries – you think you know, but you have no idea. (Lame catch-phrase intentional!)

Onto the whole reason I decided to write this review – I needed a conduit for indulging in the high crush-factor of Mikey’s character (played by John Patrick Amedori). That a young twenty-something can display so much tenderness and vulnerability while maintaining his juvenile, fratboy qualities is quite endearing to someone like myself. That, and his longer, mid-90′s rocker hairstyle that is so uncommon these days, reminding me of my first elementary school crush (oh the memories of young love). His charm and youthful charisma carry the film like a wayward ship, weathering the overly-emotional scenes and sappy sentimentality that nearly derail the movie. Safe to say that without him, I would have enjoyed the movie much less. Dudes like him did not seem to exist during my dating days; harmless rocker with a heart, the kind of guy many young females would lust for, except he leaves Oona conflicted – after all, she and he are not meant to be, agreed?

Without giving away spoilers, I’ll say that many commenters on the web weren’t happy with the ending, claiming it “ruined the movie” and that everything was going well, up until that point. I thought the sequence of events and the ending they led up to were congruent enough – in fact, it was exactly what I wanted to happen. Whether one would agree or not, the message here is that one must always trust their hearts and these characters are designed such that their actions are natural and rational.

As stated earlier however, this isn’t really a thinking piece – It’s a playful film in the realm of an over-saturated and over-played genre known to have perpetuated false notions of love and relationships. While this movie does eventually succumb to the conventional Hollywood chokehold, it is still smart enough that it offers its own clever perspective on the science (fiction) of love.

A film about Facebook could’ve been cheesy and silly, but it negated all the lame possibilities and ended up being a huge success. In The Social Network, Mark Zuckerberg is a geek of questionable sanity with no sense of social etiquette. His behavioral oddities get him unwittingly dumped by his girlfriend and slandered by a slew of students. He’s so painfully untrained in the art of human interaction he makes Dr. Evil look like Dale Carnegie. Jesse Eisenberg will certainly become a hot commodity after this winning performance.

Z-berg has only one true friend, Facebook’s original chief financial officier, Eduardo Saverin, whom he ends up screwing over and consequently gets sued by. Andrew Garfield (slated to be the next “It” boy and Spiderman) portrays Saverin in a very likable light, making him the only character we feel sympathy for.

The film darts back and forth between the Harvard dorm-room beginnings and two deposition scenes. Zuckerberg is faced with not just one, but two lawsuits.

The other lawsuit involves two hot brothers – the Winkelvoss twins – aka “The Winkelvi” – who along with a hugely annoying business partner, claim Zuckerberg stole their social-networking idea. Somehow, Zuckerberg is able to avert an ass-kicking by these two athletic adonises. That’s because the “men of Harvard” do not engage in such barbaric acts; why use fists and kicks when you’ve got lawyers and dollars at your disposal, right? Cheers to that, brothers.

Sean Parker is another central character; he’s the Napster founder who introduces Zuckerberg to Silicon Valley. Parker’s a paranoid, ecentric genius, notorious for dabbling with illicit drugs and underaged girls. Parker’s got a sweet deal regardless of how he’s portrayed – he’s played by Justin Timberlake. He comes across a smooth, well-connected womanizer who knows how to own every place he walks in to – kind of like JT himself.

Every character is well-developed, fully-engaging and perfectly cast. What makes them interesting is that they’re only partially true to their real life counterparts. They’re more like caricatures, those cartoonish drawings done by street artists, who exaggerate each feature for an amusing, outrageous effect. One would also assume the actual events occurred with less drama, less intrigue, and certainly less excitement. I too would hope that the movie version of my life undergoes some spicy embellishments, to make it seem like I lived a crazier, more bad-ass life than I actually did.

The movie plays out more like a Shakespearean tragedy than a factual biography – which it doesn’t claim to be. Facebook’s founding is the film’s focal point, but beyond that, the makers have taken liberties with the details, resulting in a fabricated and exaggerated version of the truth – which is what makes it so good. The Social Network benefits from slick storytelling, smooth editing as well as some serious acting. It’s biggest asset? The fascinating subject matter.

The Social Network didn’t just entertain me, it inspired me as well. More than just a movie, it’s a snapshot of our current zeitgeist and its league of extraordinary youthful ambition. There are certain scenes that really resonate with our generation and capture our digital era. When Sean Parker talks to Zuckerberg about unhinging themselves from the hooks of corporate control and establishing success on their own terms, he’s also addressing the Millenials – us – who have the resources and tools at our disposal to create and contribute to the world we live in. “This is our time” he says, with the unique conviction of a youthful visionary and experienced entrepreneur. You could almost see visions of world domination and massive dollar signs swirling in Zuckerberg’s eyes as he hears those words, solidifying his determination to create the social reality he desperately wants for himself.

Facebook is not just a social networking tool, it’s a system that plays on one of our most intrinsic needs – the need for acceptance and belonging. In setting out to create Facebook, Zuckerberg didn’t want 500 million friends – he only wanted one. It’s clear from this brilliant film however, that his biggest enemy is himself.

The Town is being touted as a great crime thriller involving themes of love, violence and redemption, but more accurately, it is the resuscitation of Ben Affleck’s film career.

Remember that dip in time when Gigli was the socially-accepted equivalent of walking around with a “kick-me” sign? Or when Bennifer was akin to Hollywood’s modern-day Godzilla? Or how about that cheesy “Jenny From the Block” video featuring a slick-haired Affleck nuzzling J-Lo’s bounteous booty? Yeah, it appeared that Affleck’s career was headed for the mortuary and critics were getting ready to close the casket.

But then something unexpected happened: an impressive directorial debut called “Gone Baby Gone” turned all the criticisms into compliments. The man once endlessly mocked was suddenly making way for all the positive buzz surrounding his acclaimed film. Still, many called it luck and doubted he could replicate that initial success.

Well, “Doubters be damned” thought Affleck, for he’s unleashed a taut thrill ride called “The Town”, which is currently being hailed as his sophomore success story. It wouldn’t be far-fetched then, to predict that Affleck has a promising directorial career ahead of him as he solidifies his reputation for creating smart and sentimental stories, set in Boston’s least glamorous parts. This time around, he explores Charlestown, notorious for having the most bank robberies, kidnappings and carjackings per capita. Here, crime is like an honorary key passed down from father to son.

The Town examines these family crime lineages, explores a love story and the struggles to overcome ones’ life circumstances. Affleck casts himself as the central protagonist, Doug MacRay, who’s caught between reluctantly fulfilling his criminal duties at the behest of an unassumingly menacing crime boss and running away to start a new life with the woman he unexpectedly falls for. The woman, Claire Keesey, is the wild card in the story. Hers was the latest bank to be robbed, unbeknownst to her, by MacRay and his cronies.

Of course, The Town is nowhere as remarkable as Gone Baby Gone, or other crime dramas like The Departed, but it is well-played, smartly-acted, intense and handsomely directed by a quite handsome Affleck.

I’m not a big crime/action/violence fan, but Affleck creates a narrative so absorbing, those necessities are bearable. His characters are given a canvas to display their motives, their inner flames burning through their dialogue – creating players you’re supposed to hate, but come to care about regardless of where your morality lies. This is why you’re left holding your breath during those pivotal climactic moments, or why your heart is racing when it appears your anti-heros are just at the brink of their survival. You grip on tightly until the very end, with a serious emotional investment in the fate of the characters. One such character is played by Jeremy Renner, of “The Hurt Locker” fame, who occupies the standout role of Jem, MacRay’s long time friend and crime confidante. He’s somewhat of a loose cannon, a man whose world seems to revolve solely around bank heists, guns and getaways. Affleck may have made himself the main character, but Renner is the real star of this movie. A definite strong-point of the production is the ensemble, the actors who bring this story to life. Kudos to the casting department.

As per the rest of the film itself, I was wholly absorbed for almost the entire thing and then it happened – I was released from my trance. The credits rolled, the lights came on, the audience raced to the exit, and my conscience re-awakened to real life with a semi-startled “What – was that it?” as I tried to rationalize the movie’s strong build up and smooth execution with the sudden, unsatisfying conclusion.

Where I thought Affleck might’ve been a genius, he only turned out to be a really good story-teller with an admirable ability to inject heart and depth into a crime saga so cold, amid streets so bleak, in a town left behind, insulated by its own disgraceful legacy. Genius or not, he’s certainly come a long way since “Jenny From the Block”, and where Hollywood is concerned, it looks like he’s getting ready to run that town.

I’m not sure how well it’ll do box-office-wise though, since audiences have a tendency to overlook original awesomes in favor of formulaic predictables. Scott Pilgrim might not win the award for most ticket sales but it most definitely takes the prize for most creative and most likely to be owned on DVD by me, and the last time I bought a DVD was never.

The plot is simple enough: in order to win the girl of his dreams, Scott Pilgrim must defeat her seven evil exes. The fun is not in predicting whether or not he succeeds on his mission, but how he goes about doing so, considering he’s up against some powerful opponents, and he’s armed with nothing more than Michael Cera’s body. The result is a stylish blend of comic culture and video game worship with enough pizazz to dazzle even the most standard spectator. Mind you, it helps if you’ve ever played Street Fighter or Mortal Kombat and can appreciate the aesthetic nuances of comic book contexts.

But don’t worry if you’re not into any of that stuff, because the film prevails on so many levels there’s no shortage of mass appeal, if fun and laughter is what you’re after. It’s loaded with zany characters and an all-around perfect cast, with each member bringing their own unique strengths like players in a video game.

Of course, my favorite cast member is none other than Michael Cera, who is quick on the draw with every line and never misses a comedic beat. The titular role was tailor-made for his personality prototype and he portrays Pilgrim in a way no other actor ever could. I mean, who better to play the character that Michael Cera always plays, than Michael Cera, right? Whether his name is Scott Pilgrim, Paulie Bleeker, or Nick Twisp, it all comes down to the same guy every time: dorky, funny, awkward, lovable and the second man of my dreams. That’s right, I like my men on the scrawny side, as opposed to those overly-macho types who always seem to be over-compensating for some inner insecurities. Michael Cera owns his oddness and knows how to work it to his advantage, continually distinguishing himself from the bland band of leading lads.

Admittedly, had anyone else been cast as Scott Pilgrim I probably wouldn’t be all up in this movie like Stouffer’s in a turkey, no. And while the movie deserves association with all the best adjectives there were certainly moments when mine eyes were getting restless (“oh dear, another evil-ex encounter?”). But it’s times like those where Michael’s humor restores my energy and prepares me for the next round of action, which is somewhat unpredictable, seemingly unending, and fun ’til the last frame. Would I press ‘continue’ at the end of it all? Quicker than you could say “SUPER AWESOME DEADLY COMBO!”.

My thoughts trailed along those lines. I certainly did not expect to be entertained. Nor did I expect to cry, or laugh, or feel all warm inside. Well, all my non-expectations were wrong. At the end of the film, all I could think to say was “wow, that was actually really good. That was a very good movie!” My boyfriend and I turned to each other in unison, nodded and smiled, satisfied at having wisely spent our Saturday evening. (We’re old folks, that’s what we do!)

Why was ‘Whip It’ so good?

Ellen Page, that’s why. She’s the go-to girl for that dry, witty humor, or that sex-kitten without the sex part. “She’s so tiny compared to the other girls, so cute!” my boyfriend gushed during the movie. And I couldn’t agree more. There she was, like a skate-strapped mouse, brawling in a roller-derby rink with brawny femme fatales twice her size and aggression level, eschewing her frail, beauty-pageant contestant frame. And she can actually act, which makes all the difference with a light-weight script and a simple story-line.

I think what I liked most about this movie was that it epitomized the true meaning of “Girl Power” without resorting to the usual “sex as empowerment” nonsense to showcase female emancipation. Call me conservative, but sexual exploitation has nothing to do with liberation and everything to do commodification. But whatever. The point is, “Whip It” doesn’t use its female characters as props or accessories, it brings them center stage and provides them a space (in this case, a roller derby rink) to unleash that octane-fueled fury, the non-provocative wild side usually reserved for guys in race-car films and bank heists scenes.

I assume that many people didn’t actually go out and watch the film, which is a shame because it would certainly have been worth it (if you go on a five-dollar day, as opposed to a thirteen-dollar day, that is…). In any case, Whip It was a welcomed change from so much of the onscreen sludge that assaults our senses. I was once told by a Hollywood producer that most of the films that make it to theaters are targeted to males in the 18-24 demographic. Well, Whip It is kind of like the branding of Secret deodorant – you know, strong enough for a man, but made for a woman. But of of course, dudes can watch it too – and they would probably enjoy it as well!

“Iron” Mike grew up on the meanest streets of Brooklyn, a place where the entire cast of The Hills would be eaten alive. The crime life called out at an early age, and by the time Tyson was 13, he was already arrested 38 times. 38 times!

It all started with an altercation on the street that had him running for his life. He was just a kid when he had his first personal encounter with the incomprehensible malice humans can inflict on each other. That moment instilled a deep sense of fear in young Mike and he resolved to never be in that emotional state again.

The film goes on to chronicle his relationship with mentor and trainer Cus D’Amato, the man responsible for lighting the spark of Tyson’s blazing championships. The psychological strength he gains is awe-inspiring. He learns to defeat his opponents before the matches even start.

At times I question whether the documentary was made by his allies or his enemies. There are allegations he gets to lash at (the infamous rape accusation that would land him three years in the slammer), but there are instances, like a racially-charged, homophobic rant that do more to harm his image than restore it. And his cringe-worthy candidness of his sexual pursuits. Of course, it all underscores the goal of illuminating the mystery surrounding this controversial figure. And the things he reveal, are quite astounding.

The most compelling moments in the film come out of Tyson’s emotional telling of his tortured youth, his harrowing accounts of prison life and his own riveting admissions of the deep-seated fear that propelled his animal drive to win. The eyes of the beast are cold and menacing, but the seat of his soul is rife with grief and regret.

Tyson is a complex figure, easily dismissable on account of his wild, inexplicable actions and his flagrant fall from grace. But the documentary invites waves of compassion and even sympathy as we realize that a life once reduced to mere spectacle is actually just a product of the human condition.

The classic children’s tale written by Maurice Sendak is of course an ode to the childhood imagination and the possibilities found within the pure, untainted and unbridled mind of a child. But the film version was directed by Spike Jonze, the visionary behind such films as “Being John Malkovich”, and award-winning music videos like FatBoy Slim’s “Praise You”, an unusual work that could only arise out of a left of center mind, an imagination that defies boring conventions. So when I heard that Jonze would be directing Wild Things, I knew it wouldn’t be targeted to standard soccer moms and their toy-toting tots. I knew it would be special. And special is the right word.

Anyone expecting a Pixar/Disney morality tale will surely be disappointed. Anyone watching it while high on the natural spices of life, will probably have a rumble-tumble good time. And anyone like me who finds pure pleasure in seeing cuteness magnified and oversized, will be delighted.

The hand-held camera action takes us up close into the world of the wild things – larger than life muppets packed with personality and a frightening unpredictability that suggests we shouldn’t get too comfortable in their presence. It’s really no place for a kid. But our hero, nine-year old Max, who escapes into this strange place after a real-world altercation with his mother, confidently, yet innocently navigates his surroundings as he explores the mysterious land where characters clash and emotions flare up like a mammoth-sized match. In this world Max encounters and tries to understand the sources of his own behavioral outbursts as he stares into the eyes of the beasts and witnesses their inherent humanity.

I was in love with the concept, with the idea of this movie. And in the end, I found myself wanting to like the film much more than I actually did. I was enthralled by the trailer’s phenomenal pairing of moving images with Arcade Fire’s anthemic and uplifting “Wake Up”, an ode to the innocence of childhood and the wilderness of the real world, where bizarre fixtures are the norm and sentimental hearts are torn, where hopes and tears collide like blazing particles of raging sunlight. I was hoping the film would deliver something as emotionally-impacting, something more life-affirming and soul-stirring. I guess my colossal expectations were far too much for a movie spawned from a 10-sentence book.

And that is the movie’s main shortcoming – there was very little source material to work with and one can only eke out so much plot. At times you find yourself wondering what the point really is. You’re bewildered by the peculiar interactions and dispositions of the Wild Things. They act like children but sound like adults. They’re more like a band of lost hippies, isolated in a bizarre evolutionary warp with very little to do; at times it feels more like the side-effect of hallucinogens rather than pure imagination, and that inescapable tripped-out feeling is not always engaging, but it’s mostly entertaining.

What really saves the film, is the attachment one forms to those Wild Things – the tumultuous, reckless and humurous collective that make the experience worthwhile. They are what we’re here to see. When Max has to go back home, you don’t really want him to leave. There’s more to see and discover and there’s possibly more they can teach. For Max, the parting is bittersweet. And while the adventure doesn’t transport us to all the places we want to go, the off-beat experience still makes this a trip worth taking.

The film triumphs on many levels, the first of which is casting, specifically, Joseph Gordon Levitt. I’m kind of shocked. After all, I’ve only really known him as that guy in “Third Rock From the Sun”. And despite being somewhat of an indie-king, he’s remained under the radar for quite some time. Well, not anymore. Thanks to the success of the sensitive, nice-guy role, he’s going to be fighting off hoardes of hormonal females. (Note to my male readers: girls DO like nice guys!)

He plays Tom, an insanely likeable would-be architect who spends his work days in an office writing greeting cards. Zooey Deschanel is Summer, the charming free spirit who tests his faith in love and fate after getting a job in the same workplace. This character-driven film centers on the formation and progression of a 500 day love affair that finds them dipping in and out of a tangy, bittersweet love jar, replete with Beatles banter, Ikea-escapades and rainy-night apologies. Gordon-Levitt keeps it all together with a puppy-dog sincerity and bashful insecurity, as he attempts to eke out a real relationship from their romance; Summer doesn’t believe in true love, nor does she like the idea of being “anybody’s anything.”

Why does the movie succeed? Because it takes viewers away from the usual chick-flick angle that assumes love is easy once the attraction is formed – that all anyone really needs is the right song and the right moment of breathless desperation to realize they are “meant to be”.

500 Days has nothing of that nature. It’s smart and it’s real. It’s a straight-shooter without any excess sugar (although it is sweet), taking traditional gender roles and spinning it like a vinyl record. It’s the boy who experiences the falling in love, the chasing, the waiting and the heartbreak. And it finds the girl, with her hipster sensibilities approaching the relationship with an airy detachment and a cool nonchalance that insists on being happily uncommitted.

But why does this feel like a revelation? Is regular Hollywood unaware that not every female is a clinging vine? Don’t they know that sensitive new-age guys are increasing in numbers and dudes can be hopeless romantics too? I happen to know a handful of such men and it’s nice to finally see a movie reflect this not-so-uncommon reality.

And it doesn’t get any realer than the pursuit of a love that inherently holds no guarantees. How can anyone be sure?

Soul-stirring songs scaffold the pivotal moments where truth obscures love and hope becomes heartbreak, turning doubt into confusion and anger into tears. A song that’s sure to win the iTunes sales game and multiple Youtube views is “Us” by Regina Spektor, (the one you hear in the trailer) for it will forcefully feed you scenes from the movie long after you’ve seen it. That’s a good thing. This is the power of a film that strikes out in defiance of aged customs and used clichés. It takes us by the waist and waltzes us into split screen “reality vs. ideal” scenarios, non-linear time-lines, a hilarious, celebratory dance number and drunken karaoke (ok, so some clichés remain).

I didn’t really like the ending (as clever as it was) because here’s where it dives into standard Hollywood “destiny” fare, pretty much losing the credibility it built up until that point. It’s charming yes, but it’s all too convenient. I suppose it serves as a reminder that this is just a movie after all – albeit one that, like life itself, is funny, sweet and utterly unpredictable.

Overall, it’s one of the best films I’ve seen in the last 60 days of summer.

The topic itself wasn’t anything novel (it’s about “true love”), but the approach used to broach the subject was pretty unique – the combination of real life interviews with real people and the fictitious storyline of her own blossoming romance with the uber-swoonworthy Michael Cera (armored with his usual awkward charm). “Is Michael like that in real life?” an audience member asked after the screening. According to Charlyne he’s not – he’s actually much more confident and likes to sing Barenaked Ladies songs – good to know!

Honestly, I can’t really trust online resources anymore, because I’ve read everywhere that they were actually dating in real life. See, in the movie she unwittingly ensnares Michael’s interest and they embark on a bond. Then, in the trails of true cinematic fashion they encounter a conflict, which is foreshadowed by Charlyne’s visit to a psychic. I won’t spoil the ending, but after the movie a curious audience member asked “Are you guys still dating?” to which Charlyne replied “No, because we were never dating (in real life).” Huh? But Wikipedia said…  Well, there goes my faith in the Almighty Wiki.

Anyways, onscreen there was some really fun chemistry between the two of them with Michael easily setting hearts aflutter everywhere. He doesn’t induce a Robert Pattinson-type mania, but his appeal seems rooted in something more real – he’s perfected that guy-next-door schtick to a tee and that familiarity does indeed breed liking, if not all-out obssessing.

Airy and uninundated by heavy concepts, this light docu-comedy looks at love through question-marked glasses, inviting both humourous and absurd answers.  Charlyne’s query leads her to several states, from Oklahoma, to Georgia where she talks to highschool seniors about to tie the knot, bikers, divorcees, young kids on a playground, and some of her own friends, like Seth Rogen who ends his sentence with that contagious trademark teddy-bear laugh, which scores points from the crowd.

What I appreciated most about the movie was the genuine humour that arose out of subtle incidents – facial expressions, reactions, Charlyne’s personal oddities – the comedic moments don’t rely on the Sasha Baron Cohen brand of overly-outrageous gags, instead, they are crisp, clever and a tad self-conscious – which is very fitting for someone like Charlyne. Her presence at the screening really illuminated the human side of film stars; she was nervous the whole time but funny all the same, she’s also a bit strange which makes her cool in her own way. This personality quirk smoothly permeates the entire film, creating a charmingly offbeat experience for everyone involved, viewers included.

Below are some pics of my film buddy Jeff with Charlene. She admitted to being nervous about the film’s reception, unsure if anyone would like it. Jeff assured her it was awesome. Good job Jeff!

Is it wrong to liken a Jewish guy to the first pope?
by W.J. Lyng

The first time I saw Reservoir Dogs was a major moment in my life. The film not only introduced me to Quentin Tarantino, it also opened the door to the myriad of pop culture which had inspired the auteur, exposing me to a world of awesome I’m not quite sure would have been otherwise as easily accessible. Obviously, since then, I’ve been an insane QT devotee, taking as gospel not only his own directorial efforts, but the films of his well known entourage as well. If Quentin liked Robert Rodriguez so much, then I probably would too. This turned out to be absolutely true. Later, when his non-sexual man crush turned towards the young cocky horror director / geek Eli Roth, I followed along and have come to develop an admiration for him too. Of course, it helped that I’m kind of a big horror guy and that Roth had seemingly chosen to devote the entirety of his career to bringing us fantastically executed splatter fests.

Try then, just try for the briefest of moments, to imagine my excitement as I sat in Concordia university’s hall theatre at a quarter to ten on the closing night of the Fantasia film festival, awaiting not only a three week early preview screening of Quentin Tarantino’s latest oeuvre Inglorious Basterds, but also an appearance by none other than Eli Roth himself, one of the film’s stars.

At the risk of sounding sacrilegious, it was like getting an audience with the apostle Peter instead of seeing J.C. himself. This right here was THE MAN’S right hand man. My head was gonna pop.

I sat as close as possible to the screen without my eyes getting wet. As they went through the boring motions of naming the winners of the various categories from the festival, I could see Roth standing a few rows behind me against the wall, flanked by some studio heavies. Finally, Roth was called to the stage. I’m pretty sure I came close to restraining-order levels of cheering. At the very least, I’m relatively confident that I was the first to stand up and give the guy a standing O.

Roth proceeded to gush about his overwhelmingly positive relationship with Fantasia over the years, talking about the terrific sensation he felt when a then unknown Cabin Fever screened at the festival back in the day to an amazing crowd reaction. He explained, that Quentin himself had forced the studio’s hand to arrange this special screening, ensuring that Montreal’s fantasia crowd would be the first audience in Canada to see Inglorious Basterds. (Suck it Toronto).
It was almost like my whole life had been leading up this one moment …

The movie came and went in a Nazi-riddled frenzy of blood, guts and snappy dialogue. Just to talk a little about the film itself ( a novel concept), Basterds simultaneously delivers everything you expected out of the film based on the trailers, plus a whole hell of a lot more. It’s ‘guys on a mission’ combined with revenge combined with revisionist history. It’s also a movie about movies and not in the referential way that all of Tarantino’s movies are but in more of a tangible way that film, war and history buffs will likely appreciate. It’s over the top at moments and subdued by QT standards at other moments. It’s pretty freakin’s awesome, all in all.

Then the movie was over and it was Eli time again. He came back on, almost just as psyched as the audience. They opened it up to Q&A and you can bet your ass that I got a question in. Admittedly not a very original question, I got to ask if Eli was the only one considered for his role as the bat wielding “Bear Jew.” Although uninspired, the question drew good anecdotes from Roth about working with Tarantino and the revelation that both Adam Sandler and Seth Rogen had been considered for the role. I was in geek heaven … and then it got better.

The Q&A finished and Eli was quickly ushered out of the theatre. Damn, I thought. So much goes my chance for an autograph … of course I just happened to have copies of Hostel 1 and 2 on me … I exited the theatre and THERE HE WAS! Just standing around!!! I got the autographs first and then quickly went to retrieve my camera and cell phone from security, with whom we’d had to check the items for concerns of piracy.

I went back into the swarm of fans (ok, not THAT big a swarm) and asked Eli, whom I now considered to be a close personal friend, if a picture would be too much to ask for. Of course he obliged. And now I have Facebook profile picture that shall never be changed.

It was just the pinnacle of awesome.

Of course, what was I expecting right? The film’s called “Public Enemies” and it’s a story about John Dillinger, infamous bank robber/tabloid fodder running from an FBI squad determined to take him down. Merciless machine guns were to be expected. Anything less would’ve been too civilized. Fair enough. That’s not even my main complaint, it’s just a simple observation on our culture’s obsession with violence – but that’s a whole other topic, reserved for a whole other time.

Let’s just get straight to the core of Public Enemies, starting with the highest point: Johnny Depp. The movie should’ve just been called “John Dillinger” because every memorable scene happened when he was in it – the elaborate bank robberies, the ingenious prison escapes, the awesome line recitals (“They ain’t tough enough, smart enough or fast enough. I can hit any bank I want, any time. They got to be at every bank, all the time.”) The tone and inflection in that phrase alone is a testament to his incredible talent. The man just oozes coolness with every stride and every smirk taking the charismatic attitude to a whole new altitude.

This is by far Johnny Depp’s best performance. The movie shines whenever he takes front and center – where he displays his gifts of charm and his deliciously seductive appeal, his smooth coolness and the way he effortlessly wins over supporters – including the press, the public (the irony) and of most importance, his lady love Billie Frechette played by Marion Cotillard, as seen in the captivating restaurant scene. Badboys are actually the antithesis of what I like, but even I could not deny Johnny D if he came on to me the way he did to her. Honestly, who wouldn’t want to be JD’s girl?

Others have stated that Depp and Cotillard lacked any true chemistry which I found hard to believe, considering their love-story was among the more interesting angles as well as the most magical. They had a spark that lit up my eyes whenever they appeared on screen – and this is apart from their superior good-looks. A friend of mine found Cotillard’s acting questionable, considering her Oscar-winning status, but I blame it on the awkward script – (“When my boyfriend finds out what you did to me, you’re going to be in big trouble.”) and then she says “fat boy”, and the whole thing came off sounding kind of silly. But Cotillard admirably injected both innocence and strength into the central female character, a coat-check girl who suddenly finds herself in the heart of John Dillinger’s notoriety.

I was originally excited for this movie because of Christian Bale, because he never disappoints, and he certainly did not as Melvin Purvis. But honestly, all I kept thinking was “outta the way, you!” (The way Homer Simpson said it when he pushes aside that little lamb) Bale was great as always, but his character was just too wooden, too naive, too spineless and too forthright to be admired. That is, until the end of the interrogation scene, when Melvin is guided by compassion instead of ruthless determination. Of course one can’t blame Christian for Melvin’s character, and from the viewer’s perspective, Melvin is not the man we root for, because our spirit lies with Johnny’s survival. The funny pants he wore won’t win him any points either.

Which leads me another point altogether – the period pieces were quite astounding – the costumes, the cars, the set, the aesthetics all came to life under the skilled instruction of Mr. Mann. The camera will be (has been) a source of contention among many film-goers and critics primarily for its HD-in-your-face clarity. Personally, at times I felt like I was watching one of those British television dramas. The ones that would prompt me to quickly change the channel. But I eventually got used to the technique and I appreciate the insider-like glimpse into the fast life of Mr. Dillinger.

I’m not qualified to judge the artistic merits of the movie, but I am able to subjectively assess whether it was enjoyable, and while I could endlessly praise Johnny’s presence, it wasn’t enough to catapult the movie into classic status. The truth is, I got bored. It’s as simple as that. I just lost interest. It peaked then it plateau’d, it delighted then it dragged. And somewhere between this beefed up bio of the intriguing, albeit seemingly fictional man, I got lost in a blaze of fierce firework and fire-cracker-like bullets.

Michael Mann was obviously very ambitious and confident in his ability to recreate, or retell Dillinger’s ill-fated tale. For the most part, it’s all very entertaining and fully-engaging. But something was missing. The entire project was a big under-taking with big stars, big guns and big egos. But where the film shines with star power, it dulls with drab dialogue. I can’t help but feel that it could have used a little more conversation and a little less ammunition – a little more soul and little less rock and roll.

Here’s the thing with almost every single movie I anticipate - it never meets my expectations (with the exception of The Dark Knight).  Granted, I have a tendency to create unrealistically high expectations, so when movies fail for me, they usually fail big time. How To Be however, was only a moderate fail.

So the story centers around a young lad named Art (played superbly by our hero of the moment, Robert Pattinson) whose miserable existence prompts him to invite an acclaimed self-help author to make him better. “I’m going to get fixed” is how Art aptly puts it. As far as first impressions go, being the socially-maladjusted, awkward and depressed individual he is, one could agree that he does indeed need “help” with integrating himself into conventional society.

Art is well-played and skillfully made to look like the social loser he’s supposed to be. The odd pairing of too-short gray slacks with pink Converse shoes, the unruly mop and the lanky stride are all designed to subvert his intense good-looks. (And while this is indeed a far cry from the suave and mysterious Edward Cullen, it’s virtually impossible to mask his inherent handsomeness).

Robert Pattinson is extremely like-able and pitiful at the same time - which means he’s done his part well. He’s funny when he needs to be and this helps break the monotony of the movie. When Art gets fired from his job, he ruefully protests “but I’m a volunteer”, and when his girlfriend breaks up with him, he fabricates stories of a woeful childhood hoping she’ll sympathize with him. And when she doesn’t, we certainly do. Or at least I do anyway. (Come on now, it’s Robert Pattinson!)

Having an endearing central protagonist is the only way to keep the film afloat, because unfortunately Art is surrounded by characters who just aren’t that appealing – namely, his two friends whom I found to be rather annoying and his parents, who, though were just carrying out their intended roles, also left me cold.

Dr. Levi Ellington, the self-help author added a fun dimension to the film, but isn’t used to his full potential, and when the script calls for him to state the unhumorus obvious, his character becomes stale.

Now, why was I disappointed with the story?

Well, here were my expectations:

I like movies that can change my life. Since I’m kind of undergoing my own quarter-life crisis I was hoping for something that would inspire, that would offer up answers in the “what is life all about?” department. Of course, that’s just a lofty expectation, because expecting a movie to “change your life” is like hoping a song will solve your problems – these can empathize with you, but can never replace personal real-world experience… and I’m acutely aware of all this… but still. Still.

Secondly, seeing as how the film bills itself a comedy, I was looking forward to witnessing some truly comedic moments, you know, moments that would force me to slap my fellow spectator out of sheer laughing madness or something. I easily recognized all the moments where I was supposed to laugh, but frankly those moments were just too trite to be funny. Maybe it’s a British humor thing that I didn’t quite grasp, I don’t know. If I had to choose one word to describe the film, that word would be “quirky”.

Now this is hardly a bad movie, for I’ve seen much worse (New in Town for example – a new low in terrible), but it all feels too simple. Here’s a guy who’s having a lot of trouble adjusting to life, who’s got extremely weak ties with his parents, who’s jobless and loveless and who strongly believes he needs help. But most of all, he just doesn’t know how to be “normal”. He feels there’s something inherently wrong with the way he is and he just can’t figure it out.

Of course, normalcy is a social construct. I mean, how many people are truly “normal” anyways, right? We all have our little idiosyncracies, our flaws and our insecurities. We just try the best we can to adhere to the standards set out for us, whether we truly want to or not. It isn’t too long until Art realizes that the people around him are no less “maladjusted” than he. For instance, his parents’ icy detachment and lack of emotion, and his friend’s phobia of literally stepping out into the real world. Art then, is no more an anomaly than anyone else.

As these truths get discovered you can appreciate the movie’s intended message. How to be? Just be yourself. What to do in life? Just do what you like. It’s plain and simple – of course no one needs a movie to clarify this. And perhaps it’s my own fault for hoping a movie will yield the key to my happiness. Still, this over-simplification leaves me unsatisfied and uninspired.

I guess it was the idea of the movie that I really liked. When I go back and watch the trailer I think of how much potential it had, how enlightening and entertaining it could have been. I think of how it could have spoken to a generation of kids who’s lives are somewhere in limbo between late adolescence and true adulthood, who lack the direction to steer their lives towards a meaningful course. Films are gifted with the power to transform, or at least to engage its viewers in a dialogue of insightful awareness and introspection. But when they under-utilize their strengths they remain nothing more than a moving picture-book of mediocrity.

How to Be sails along quite nicely if you’re in it just for the Pattinson-ship and the random, temporary funnies as well as the cute audio tracks dispersed throughout. And yes, while it is a film that strums its own tune, it never quite blossoms into a full song – the melody’s there, but lyrically, there’s nothing memorable here.

But I think I’ve been submerged in self-pity long enough – there’s no point in stalling anymore. I mean, hey, YOU’RE reading this right? And that’s all that matters . Plus, the movie-viewing world needs my opinions or the motion picture industry as we know it will collapse. So I’m back.

Okay, I’m kind of lying. I actually have to credit the lack of updates to my feelings on Terminator. I saw it not too long ago but I couldn’t figure out exactly what I wanted to say about it.

How do you approach a movie that you’ve waited so long to see, but were severely let down by? How do you evaluate the performance of your favorite actor who’s image is now obviously tarnished by an infamous incident on the set of said film? What do you do when you don’t want to criticize a movie that pretty much sucked quite badly? Well, a fair critic would objectively analyze the film, pointing out its flaws and defending its merits. But as you know, I’m not really a film critic…

So here’s my completely biased, pseudo-review of Terminator: Salvation.

Christian Bale was awesome. The movie was spectacular. All the top-notch special effects, man against machine fight sequences, killers on wheels, menacing air crafts, full-bodied explosives and the raw, gritty feel of the post-apocalyptic landscape combined to create a timeless masterpiece. Not to mention the extensive character development, the thoughtful dialogue, the nifty plot twists and the human-cyborg love angle. And to top off this cornucopia of awesomeness was the commendable end quote “There is no fate, but what we make.” That’s really all I have to say. Four stars, two thumbs up, hands down the best blockbuster of the season, bolstered in no small part by Bale’s magnetic screen presence. I sure hope he meant it when he said “I’ll be back.”

Hmm. I myself can’t tell if I’m being sarcastic. Maybe I really did like the movie. Perhaps it wasn’t all that bad. I guess it’s just a matter of weighing it against expectations, and initially mine were as high as a T-Rex on stilts. Maybe I should go back and re-watch it, this time tuning my expecto-dial to zero, so that I could emerge fully satisfied at having witnessed a relatively laudable cinematic accomplishment. Yes, it deserves a second viewing.

Honestly, I don’t really need an excuse to do a Christian Bale double-take. Man, I am such a girl.

Now, story-wise, there’s little I can say on that front. You would have to watch the movie and pay attention and keep your ears peeled for all the inside jokes only the true Trek fans would understand. Who’s the lame-o now? But even if you’re not into the sci-fi stuff, you’ll nonetheless appreciate all the outer-space scenes complete with black holes consuming entire planets and space-crafts battling against a backdrop of stars and celestial particles and ominous-looking elements. Truth is, I can’t quite remember what all these elements were, but that’s not really important.

The reason I’m just glossing over the (main) story is because it isn’t where all the good stuff takes place. This is one of those “it’s not the destination, but the journey” type of joints, and on board this space vessel, the journey is all about getting along with your peers, no matter how odd or intolerable they may seem.

Odd? Spock.

Intolerable? Kirk.

It’s the dynamic interplay between the two youthful leads that bring new-found zest to an ageless story. And let me just say, these two really made the movie.

The reason I was so excited about the film specifically was for Zachary Quinto, who’s brilliant Spock interpretation made a convert out of me. There was none more suited to play the emotionally-void Vulcan-humanoid, thanks to years of embodying the soul-less Sylar on Heroes. It’s funny because whenever Spock got mad at someone, I kept waiting for him to point and sear a line across their forehead, the way Sylar would on the show (but luckily no such dramatics occurred). Instead we witness an identity crisis that has him grappling with the duality of heritage – the Vulcan part of him that operates solely on logic and reason, and the human side that inspires feelings and emotions. An unrecognizable Winona Ryder plays his Mother who assures him that he will be loved regardless of who he chooses to become. Reason takes reign, but he does allow himself the indulgence of a human relationship with Uhura (the lovely Zoe Saldana) which was quite pleasing to see.

So, Quinto in the lead was already worth the price of admission for me and everything else was just icing on a cake that was light on fluff, heavy on stuff. Well, it’s not the kind of movie that requires one to ponder any complex conundrums, (except a whole space-time continuum thing) as the film’s pretty much meant to simultaneously attract a younger audience while remaining loyal to the old-schoolers. Hence, the casting of Harold and Kumar’s John Cho (whom I like), a mighty fine Chris Pine (who I now like) and a very much revered appearance from Leonard Nimoy (judging from all the hootin’ and hollerin’ and hand-clappin that happened in my theater). I also have to single out Anton Yelchin (Charlie Bartlett, watch it) who really brought the funny with his exaggerated Russian accent as Pavel Chekov, and oh yes, the comical Scotty played by the ever so clever Simon Pegg (Run Fatboy Run, rent it!)

I have to commend the entire cast and the writers on successfully rebooting the franchise and making it fresh for the uninitiated, the rest of us who were just too cool to watch the original. For those who have followed the series, there will be a tug of nostalgia (I sensed the inherent joy around me) and I’m guessing, the satisfaction that their beloved Star Trek was done justice. The standing ovation made me believe this was so.

This is a film that is kind of hard not to like. Between all the intergalactic explosions and inter-stellar happenings is a great back-story about the beginnings of the Enterprise and this vision of the utopian future where different races (even species) converge for a unified mission. It kind of made me want to go back and school myself on the Star Trek legacy, or at least Wikipedia the main gist of it. I haven’t done that yet, but I will. After all, I would like to appear informed, if I am to attend future Star Trek conventions.

Let me explain what I mean.

Wolverine’s a troubled guy, right? He’s supposed to be this deep character full of personal conflicts and a tormented past of which he can’t be sure of on account of the countless memory alterations. He’s been manipulated with, experimented on, scarred, screwed over and forsaken by the woman he loved. His emotions should be as impenetrable as the adamantium bound to his bones – kind of like a mutant James Dean.

In other words, Wolverine is bad-ass, like Christian Bale’s Batman, who too, because of his dark past rises from the ashes a brooding, complex character. But where Chris Nolan’s Batman was able to convey that contemplative, morose, anti-hero persona at a profound level, Wolverine’s people took no measures to embed any depth to his personal struggles.

I know it’s not really fair to compare Wolverine to the Batman franchise, because they aren’t meant to be similar in nature (or are they?) If anything, the characters are from two opposing camps (Marvel vs. DC) so of course creating similarities would be rather pointless.

I just wish the writers had been clever enough to come up with memorable quotes that might be applicable to real life (Batman had a ton of them), something I could use to make myself sound smarter in conversations about our flawed society and the human condition (ie: “Some men just want to watch the world burn”). Wolverine provided no such insights. Instead, all I kept hearing were cheap clichés like “You want him? You got him” or “Look what the cat brought in.” After several of such trite sentences, I stopped hoping for anything exceptional.

And what a shame that is. For this here’s a guy who’s endured so much strife, who operates like a one-man army against antagonists from all angles – including from within himself – yet is given no chance at self-reflection and personal revelations. Surely he must have a shipload of wisdom to dispense, or something a bit more impactful and significant to say than “How about I cut your goddamn head off? See if that works?”

No, says one of my Wolverine insiders, that’s how he is in the comics – he doesn’t say much. He says things like “Bub”. Ok fair enough, so Wolvie’s a man of few words. Fine. But what about all the other characters? For example, the old man who owned the barn. Old guys tend to have wise things to say. In Batman it was usually Alfred who steered Bruce towards enlightenment. In Spiderman, Uncle Ben told Peter Parker “With great power comes great responsibility.” I thought for sure this elder and his wife would give Wolverine something remarkable to remember after their meeting. But no, they abruptly get shot and that’s the end of them. Another opportunity unused.

I can already hear people objecting to my emphasis on the importance of “words” when a movie is really all about the storyline. Who cares about quotes and intelligent-sounding sentences? It’s all about the kick-ass plot.

Fair enough. For people who just expect a generic story interspersed with some slightly cool action sequences (and a very lame fiery explosion scene with a slow-mo Wolverine walking away unscathed), then the movie shouldn’t really dissappoint. If you’re just there to pass the time with two-hours of standard entertainment, you’ve got nothing to complain about.

But I was truly hoping for more. I hoped for something deeper, with more psychological impact, something that would imprint the story of Wolverine with a tad more substance. If a movie is going to establish itself in any meaningful way, it has to have something meaningful to say. If not literally, then at least metaphorically, or symbolically.

I did appreciate a few things about the film though. In particular, the scene where Wolverine’s girlfriend tells him the story of why the moon is so lonely. That was quite touching – almost made me shed a tear. I also found Victor Creed quite scary and ruthless (a nice performance by Liev Schreiber) and the way he charged on all fours amused me greatly. Ryan Reynolds had huge arms – that was quite exciting. (Ok seriously, I didn’t actually care about that last one but it was worth mentioning).

Still, the potential to be something greater was grossly missed. Wolverine could’ve been more than just a man on the run, more than just a witless warrior embroiled in a stranglehold of violence and self-preservation. It reminds me of that part in Batman Begins when Liam Neeson (as Henri Ducard) explains to Bruce Wayne that  “A vigilante is just a man lost in the scramble for his own gratification. He can be destroyed, or locked up. But if you make yourself more than just a man, if you devote yourself to an ideal, and if they can’t stop you, then you become something else entirely.”

Which is?

A legend.

And what exactly did Wolverine become at the end of the film?

I don’t remember.

“I struggled to stay awake”

“The love scene was bizarre”

“It was so damn long”

“This movie was lame”

“WTF?”

That last one was me – what the fudge? Actually, I was the one who said all those things, but I’m pretty certain most of us shared the sentiments. While it wasn’t a terrible film (there are indeed some special moments), it failed to portray Watchmen as “one of the most celebrated graphic novels of all time”. The remedy? Read on.

1. Cut the Length

It’s 9pm on a Friday. You’ve had a long day. Minor inconveniences forced you to rush to the theater, so you didn’t get to use the bathroom beforehand.  Two hours into the film and you’re just waiting for it to end, because A.) you’re tired, and B.) you need to pee.

I know this isn’t the movie’s fault. But I think the length wouldn’t have mattered so much if it just didn’t feel long. Watchmen felt so unending especially for a film that skimps on action and insists on incesssant dialogue. Which brings me to my next point:

2. Increase the ratio of action to dialogue

I’m not a fan of excessive, mindless action; I prefer a conversation-laden film. But a movie of this magnitude requires a certain level of visual excitement to remain relevant. Yes, the story strays from the usual superficial superhero superflick as it had important things to say. I suppose it would be unfair to blame the writers for my own failure to keep up with Manhattan’s long-winded thesis on corruption, the human condition, morality and all its millions of implications. There was just too much to digest within a three hour frame. It was a case of too much being said, with too little being done. Watching this movie on mute would be no fun.

3. Create better aesthetics

The trailer leads us to expect something dark, mysterious and sophisticated.  Something visually sleek, rich and less flashy – something visionary. But the trailer was deceptive. True, the tone was more subdued and it relied less on saturated hues and excessive explosions and random car chases and such…but there was a low-caliber feel to it all. Maybe it was the costumes. I know they’re based on old designs, but was there not a way to modernize them – to decheesify them for contemporary cinema? I’m specifically referring to Silk Spectre’s weird vinyl get-up, and Night Owl’s Batman knock-off with the cheap night-vision goggles. Rorschach’s shifting ink-blot mask was pretty rad – and that’s all I have to say about that!

4. Change the cast

Rorschach was an interesting character – but only with his “face” on. Otherwise he reminded me a tad of Danny Bonnaduce – not quite how I picture  my masked mavens. Matthew Goode’s Ozymandias resembled an effeminate 80′s new wave pop star, in both appearance and mannerisms. This is not a criticism, just an observation. The last time I saw Malin Akerman was in 27 Dresses as the younger, snottier, blond sister. I couldn’t fully accept her as Silk Spectre. She wasn’t bad, but I just wasn’t feeling it. Billy Crudup was well-suited as Dr. Manhattan, but the blue, emotionally-muted character almost easily plays itself. I suppose each actor on their own was more or less fine, but as a whole there was something missing, something that would unify the cast like X-Men or Justice League or other superhero clans who band together to thwart evil forces. I would also vote to include more of the gorgeous Carla Gugino, who was grossly under-used and accelerated in age. A far cry from those Bon Jovi days.

5. Remove soundtrack oddities

There were two important scenes with well-chosen songs: The beginning with “Times Are A-Changin”, by Bob Dylan, which signaled a very promising start, and the funeral scene with “Sound of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkel, supporting important flashbacks in the midst of a sombre moment. Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” seemed oddly misplaced, an oddness that only added to the already laughably awkward moment. You know which one I’m talking about.

I know people out there will object to these five points, claiming that Watchmen is an “intelligent” film, and anyone who can’t appreciate the movie surely isn’t intellectually equipped for it. They’ll say that we only want action without substance, words without meaning and characters without complexity. And I’ll whisper “No!”

Watchmen does indeed tell a stellar story, one that asks us to challenge the very notion of “superheroes”, to examine the repercussions of putting all our faith into our leaders and thereby relinquishing our own personal responsibility - politically, socially and morally. It’s not a story that forces us to completely suspend our belief and succumb to make-believe the way Superman or Spiderman do (The Dark Knight will always remain in a class all its own). Watchmen, though set in an alternate reality, seems more rooted in real life than other works of fiction, as the layers of social commentary are rife with a certain profundity that ultimately, just does not translate well to the big screen.

While it warrants important discussions, the story is reduced to a second-rate sci-fi reel, which only makes me wonder how much better the film would’ve been were Alan Moore on board. His refusal probably had something to do with DC screwing him over, and I completely understand that. But it could’ve made all the difference if the guy who created Watchmen were at least consulted.

Then again, perhaps my criticisms are all trivial; maybe I’m nit-picking only because I can’t quite pin-point exactly why I didn’t like it. All I know is that I didn’t. The movie medium just could not wholly articulate the heavy discourse I assume Moore intended, while the ambitions of the filmmakers seemed to exceed the comprehending capacity of the average viewer.

Given our short attention span they might have better luck if they take on Minutemen.

What do you think?

The logical thing would be not to, but as Street Fighter proves, logic can be a limited resource.

I knew from the trailer that this film would feature amateur fight sequences, absurd dialogue, cheesy special effects and some of the worst acting I would ever legally witness. Studios the world over should sue this production for calling itself a “film”, because it misses the mark on so many levels and brings its genre down to a whole new low, if that were even possible.

Damn, where to even start. It starts off with the drabbest narrator ever. Kristin Kreuk as Chun-Li sounds like she’s channeling her former Smallville self, Lana Lang with her unconvincing read of a poorly written text that only serves to highlight the movie’s inadequacies, such as effective dialogue, visual cues, and proper pacing. The narration is simply a way to skimp on actual story development – a shortcut device. Instead of letting the viewer intuitively figure out the plot’s progression, the voice-over spells it all out.

I don’t even remember the details of the movie, except that it begins with a young Chun-Li learning what looks like Tai Chi with her father. Then one day he gets kidnapped by Bison and his thugs. Fast-forward to present day and Chun-Li finds herself in Thailand, looking for the perpetrators, or a man who could lead her to answers – or something. She lives and fights on the streets, and meets a guy named Spider, (aka Lui Kang from Mortal Kombat) who helps her harness her inner powers and become a lethal warrior of sorts. And a slew of other characters come into play, played by the likes of Michael Clarke Duncan and Taboo from The Black Eyed Peas, who’s presence was pretty inconsequential. Cringe-inducing dialogue occurs at every turn (Chun-Li says to Vega, “If I had a face like yours, I’d wear a mask too” – wow, genius). But what could you really expect from a movie who’s most profound (and thrice used) line is “Sometimes you have to stand up, even when standing isn’t easy.” Whatever you say, T.J. Hooker!

The one actor that really boggled my mind was Chris Klein, who it seems, was just plucked from post-American Pie obscurity and dropped into this pseudo-blockbuster barf bucket. That’s gross, I know, but Klein’s razzy-inspired performance was pretty revolting, easily among the most ridiculous there’s ever been. (Sorry, I don’t mean to be mean but that’s all I can be after seeing what I’ve seen!) Was he just playing, or were the sleazeball snarls and jerky sneers part of his usual acting arsenal, even when it was uncalled for? I mean, he was supposed to be the good guy for goodness sakes! Watching his slime-infested line recitals made me feel so visually-violated – I’ve really never seen such a thing. However, I have considered that maybe – just maybe – he was all too aware of how bad this movie was and thought it would be clever to give a purposefully poor performance – this is highly plausible – but it doesn’t make watching him any less painful. I’m pretty sure the director gave him one of the tombstone props off the set and said “Here Chris, give this to your career.”

Fortunately, amidst all the movie-viewing agony, there was a faint saving grace, and I emphasize faint, because this movie is irredemptive. The one light at the end of it all, Kristin Kreuk, was surprisingly impressive (aside from the bland narration). In fact, it really seemed as if she was the only actor who took the whole project seriously (poor thing). She capably channeled her inner street fighter, working with whatever scraps were handed to her, and for someone who isn’t a martial artist, pulled off the fight scenes relatively well. (Of course, the fight scenes were pretty craptacular, thanks to the practically visible wire work, but that wasn’t her fault). Honestly, Kristin Kreuk was my only real reason for watching this campy, should’ve-gone-straight-to-DVD B-no make that a C-movie.

After only a couple weeks, I think they’ve already completely pulled it out of theaters. That’s how bad it was. The end of the film tries to hint at a possible Ryu-centered third Street Fighter installment. But in the infamous words of G-Dubbya B, ”Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice… and you can’t fool me thrice!” (Ok so he didn’t quite say that). But it’s pretty safe to assume the Street Fighter franchise has been sufficiently annihilated.

Seven Pounds is a film unlike any I’ve seen in a long time. It follows the journey of a man named Ben Thomas (Will Smith) who’s on a mission to change the lives of seven strangers. But not just any group of seven; he’s interested only in those truly in need, are noble and not likely to take his gifts for granted. Because you see, he isn’t on a mission to dole out donations, but to drastically alter the circumstances of these individuals.

Ben’s existence is seeped in mystery and the questions dart forth from the very beginning. For example, why is he trying to change lives? Why does he hole himself up in a lowly motel room? Why is he avoiding his brother? And what deal did he make with his best friend? His character is a complex one; serious, mysterious, strange and saintly. Smith skillfully plays his part – a man troubled by personal demons, whose emotional inferno is carefully concealed by a placid exterior.  His motives are initially unclear and figuring him out is like solving a Sudoku puzzle, on level hard.

That difficult task is left up to Rosario Dawson, whose stunning presence is a seduction of the senses. She glows with an angelic radiance that highlights an otherwise morose and gloomy film. The chemistry between Smith and Dawson entirely anchors the film’s emotional angle, lending reasonable credibility to the movie’s central conflicts. Credible, however unrealistic. If it seems I’m being overly vague about the important details, there’s a reason for it.

I read in another review that this movie is best viewed without prior knowledge of the film, and I completely agree. It’s better to go in knowing as little as possible so you can submit yourself to the films surprises. Mind you, these “surprises” may be predictable to saavier viewers. Admittedly, I was able to guess the ending halfway through the film. (Ok, so being saavy has nothing to do with it!) But even as the climax approaches the viewer’s line of vision long before it arrives, the emotional impact is still unexpected. And that’s the strength of this movie.

But it is far from perfect. Employing a slow place, somber mood and non-linear trajectory, the film draws us in, while keeping us at a safe distance – like a magician urging us to stay back while insisting we pay close attention. That divide between viewer and viewed may induce restlessness and even frustration because we don’t feel truly involved; we’re merely spectators blindly navigating an aimless maze.

In the end however, there lies a greater message. And if you can forgive the preachiness, sometimes tediousness and even – dare I say – weirdness of the whole film, there’s a powerful commentary on the gift of life, of selflessness and sacrifice. If you think too hard about the small details you’ll invariably get confused – but if you let yourself feel the emotional weight of the film, your heart will thank you for it.

A few weeks ago the Dark Knight was finally dethroned after dominating the box-office for most of the summer. It was bound to happen eventually, but I was hoping it would break more records, say, the longest-running number one movie in history for instance – you know, something like that.

Maybe film-goers got tired of draping their summer days with so much darkness, tired of being “so serious”. Perhaps they were ready for a film that could deliver more by way of raucous, provocative fun, crude, uninhibited humor; a film of the pungently offensive variety without all the silliness and stupidity of “Disaster Movie” (and all its variations).

That film came storming in the form of Tropic Thunder, courtesy of Ben Stiller accompanied by a notorious cast including Robert Downey Jr., Jack Black, Nick Nolte and “My Hometown” hero, Montreal’s own Jay Baruchel. By now everyone knows about Tom Cruise’s covert appearance, which was cleverly concealed during the marketing process. His performance is quite outrageous and somewhat embarrassing, yet I applaud the man for his rowdy antics in the film. I didn’t think Scientology permitted such vulgarity! But religious beliefs aside, Tom’s a  cool guy, and his role did generate a lot of internet buzz, and that I suppose, translates into more dividends for movie execs (which coincidentally, is what he plays in the movie).

Buzz seemed to be what carried the film along for a while. At first, I wondered what the entire hullabaloo was for. There was so much controversy surrounding the film, with all the protests and headlines. Then came the accolades. Rolling Stone called it “…a knockout of a comedy that keeps you laughing constantly”, while I was still waiting to emit a heart-felt chuckle. Juvenile nonsense, I thought, just another distasteful satire trudging on treacherously offensive territory. Yes, it is offensive, that can’t be denied.  But the truth is the laughs eventually arrived, and when they did, they plummeted like a tropical downpour – sporadically, yet forcefully.

Robert Downey Jr. is responsible for inciting much of that laughter, thanks to an irreverent character, brilliantly portrayed, further extending his thespian range. He’s practically the focal point of the film, as though all humor hinges on his screen presence, regardless of whether or not he delivers the funny line. He’s Kirk Lazarus, an Australian Oscar-winner who undergoes a skin pigmentation process to turn himself black. Sure, political correctness might label it racist, or tasteless, but it’s clear the intentions were not malicious. His character is completely oblivious to the racial implications and innapropriate overtones. Besides Ben Stiller knows better, and probably assumes the audience does as well. The line between hateful and humorous can often be ambiguous, but unlike Michael Richards, he manages to teeter that border and come out the better end. What shocked me the most about Stiller however, were the size of his arms – they were huge! An instant Joey – Whoa! – moment, right there.

Jack Black is also very funny. Especially when he tries to be funny – which is all the time, like in all of his films. But of course, that is to be expected. Jack does here what he does best – make people laugh. Well, he makes me laugh, anyway. With his blond mop, and that eternally quizzical expression he wears. It’s kind of, dare I say, cute. Like a panda. A cuddly, clumsy, heroin-addict panda.

Jay Baruchel, and Brandon T. Jackson are fine contenders amidst their heavyweight counterparts. In fact, their inclusion is what saves the film from being a completely tawdry catastrophe. I can only imagine what debauchery might have ensued had these young’uns not been present to restrain the man-boys from their relentless lunacy. Case in point, it is Jackson’s character who tells Kirk “You’re Australian – be Australian!”

In the end however, it’s not a movie I would rush to see again. But if someone happened to be watching it on DVD, I would dash in to see all those funny parts, those moments of gut-busting, lung-exhausting hilarity. But of course, I wouldn’t stay there for long, because while the merriment is many, it sure isn’t plenty. Yes, the movie does gain momentum at the first hit of laughter, but like any storm, it eventually dies down, leaving in its wake a flurry of debris and destruction, or in this case, just the faint suspicion that one could’ve waited for the rental.