Winged Migration (IMDB) (Netflix)
A documentary about birds and, well, their migrations. The filmmakers cover all the continents and an overwhelming variety of birds, from Rockhopper Penguins to Arctic Terns, which annually fly 12,600 miles from the Arctic to the Antarctic, and back (stupid terns). Without special effects or computer-generated imagery, we're along for the ride, so close that we can hear the wings beating.

If the birds are the stars, the photography and the flying technology used to get the cameras right inside those ragged V-formations should also be on the marquee. The army of photographers used ultralight planes and other non-instrusive craft to fly among the birds, and it's extremely dramatic footage that stands on its own (there's a scene of herd of crabs closing in on injured bird that's truly gripping). Unfortunately, they couldn't resist the urge to overlay some Jacques Cousteau-esque philosphical narration, but it's sparsely used. The music is also sporadic, and of uneven quality, and there are a few politically oriented scenes that seem out of place (the play-it-straight footage will on its own melt the heart of the most hardened clear-cutter). What was underdone, unfortunately, were the bird and place names, and the American Bald Eagle, which only makes a cameo appearance.

A far-above-average nature flick long on stunning visuals and short on explication.

Bruce Almighty (IMDB) (Netflix)
Take the Lord's name in vain too many times, and you could be in Jim Carrey's shoes, possessing "maybe you can do better, wiseguy" powers from The Man Upstairs (played by Morgan Freeman). The only problem is that Carrey's character, an ambitious, self-centered (of course) TV reporter, lacks the wisdom to use them properly (natch), and you can guess most of the rest. Basically, Carrey's bolting on a new body to his trademark comedy chassis after a dalliance with maturity in The Majestic. In a fairly thankless role, Jennifer Aniston plays the love interest he doesn't deserve.

This is "It's a Wonderful Life" with a different divine intervention and a pull-my-finger sensibility, typified by a dog peeing on furniture and a monkey crawling out of an extremely undesirable place. The eight-year-olds loved it. There's also some confused theology and theme development, but that's not why his fans see these films, so no point in deconstructing those dimensions.

If you are one of those fans, nothing can be said to talk you out of going, nor can any argument be made to non-fans to see it.

Spellbound (IMDB) (Netflix)
No, not the 1945 Hitchcock thriller with Ingrid Bergman and Gregory Peck, but a documentary about the national spelling bee. The film tracks eight kids and their families from their regional competitions to the nationals, complete with ESPN coverage.

This is a unique kind of "reality" TV; it's honest, for starters, and the tension is organic, not manufactured. We also see the best in people, particularly the kids. They're a fascinating and diverse group, ranging from the to-the-manor-born overachiever to a daughter of non-English-speaking Mexican immigrants to Harry, perhaps the geekiest kid you'd ever want to meet. It's also a thumbnail for upward mobility and meritocracy (you either spell "logorrhea" right or you don't, and you don't get special dispensation for being an Indian kid from Texas who gets the word "yenta"). Former spelling bee competitor Sara Schneider had hoped for more discussion of the cultural significance of this quintessentially American tradition, but I enjoyed its "we're in, we're out, nobody gets hurt" economy of style. A great little role model flick for that unmotivated sixth-grader.

Identity (IMDB) (Netflix)
It's another one of those dark and stormy nights, complete with an eleventh-hour stay-of-execution plea and a Bates-ish motel hosting an assemblage of mostly disagreeable ne'er-do-wells. The latter start dying at an alarming rate, of course, and the dwindling group of survivors (John Cusack, Ray Liotta and Amanda Peet, among others) are freaking out while they try to figure out who the killer is—before they're all dead. Then it gets weird.

Keep reading, though, because this is a first-class implementation of a second-tier genre, or at least an ambitious attempt. There's an extra layer here that doesn't become apparent until very late in the story, and that twist will either provoke the reaction of "mmmm, clever" or "not fair!" It may not be quite enough to sell people who never see this kind of film, but should work nicely for aficionados and would be a good introduction for those up for a little cinematic slumming.

Down With Love (IMDB) (Netflix)
What Far From Heaven did with 1950s melodramas, Down With Love does to 1960s romantic comedies, by being faithful to the genre, but also sending it up, way up. Rene Zellweger's character has written a how-to manifesto for women to think about romance and sex just like men—that is, hold the former and go heavy on the latter. Ewen McGregor is a ladies' man and investigative journalist who first ignores her, then when the book becomes a world sensation, decides to expose her for what he suspects she really is—a poseur who really just wants a house and 3.2 children. Campy hilarity ensues.

As one who didn't think he liked campy hilarity, this movie was a pleasant surprise...then cause for concern; a possible indication of latent tendencies. Putting identity issues aside for the moment, the movie has an intelligent script that mines the Austin Powers comedy territory, Zellweger and McGregor commit all the way to their roles, and the pace is brisk. Brisk, but about 15 minutes too long, if that makes any sense. The umbrella joke plays out before the finish, diluting the payoff. Fans of Doris Day/Rock Hudson flicks will get the most out of this one.

The Matrix: Reloaded (IMDB) (Netflix)
"Hmmmm, upgrades" pretty much sums up this second segment of the Matrix trilogy. It tells a convoluted story that only Star Wars and Lord of The Rings devotees will fully appreciate, but the fate of humanity is at stake, naturally, and is being played out in two realms—the physical world and the ultimate virtual reality environment called The Matrix. The conceit is that we're all actually living our "lives" in this soul-less simulation, but there's a liberation movement of sorts that has unplugged and escaped to a Dante-esque locale called Zion (stay tuned for that Arab market re-write). Think "sci-fi meets fantasy meets Tron meets Enter the Dragon." Keanu Reeves ("Neo") is the reluctant messiah, Lawrence Fishburne ("Morpheus") the true believer, with Carrie-Anne Moss ("Trinity") as the black-leathered warrior with an oversized heart. And sunglasses, don't forget about the sunglasses.

As an imperfect analogy, if The Matrix were an SUV, the first installment was a Willys Jeep (revolutionary in its day) and the current one a Porsche Cayenne Turbo, but lugging a 40-foot trailer of expository baggage behind it. Actually, both had their Lincoln Navigator excesses (I have little patience for elaborate mythologies and Zen koans), but it seems particularly a bit much in Reloaded given how large a dose we got in the first movie, and some of the Zion council scenes seem stolen from recent Star Wars episodes (this isn't a compliment). One exception is Lambert Wilson's bravura take on cause and effect; it takes a Frenchman to pull off this level of pretentious philosophizing.

When it stops telling and starts showing, however, Reloaded rocks, with non-stop, almost overwhelming special effects (in this respect "more is more," including a cloned-many-times-over Agent Smith fight scene that made the audience a bit giddy), some touches of true human-to-human caring, and frequent tweaks of sly humor. The only competitor for an SFX Oscar for will be The Matrix: Revolutions, due in six months. Extra credit will be given to those who can explain why Princeton University African-American Studies professor Cornell West has a cameo appearance.

Confidence (IMDB) (Netflix)
As Wall Street, dot-com'ers, and grifters all know, there's a sucker born every minute, waiting to be fleeced. The marks just need a little bit of greed to set the hook, and you just have to anticipate the contingencies. The only fatal error is reeling in a minnow that's actually a shark. Ed Burns does just that, unwittingly bilking The King (played by Dustin Hoffman), a guy you don't want to cross. Now he's got to make up for his unwise target selection. The movie starts fast, with Burns lying in a pool of blood, then relies on flashbacks to show how he got that way.

Burns is one of those hyphenates—writer-director-actor—who should stick to just acting. His own creations tend to be self-absorbed and talky, and given his paint-scraper voice, all the more grating. He's balanced here by a colorful assemblage of character actors, plus Hoffmann, who's a leading man in a character actor's brain, and Andy Garcia, whose careers has leaned toward the soulful pretty boy. Both clearly relish the opportunity to play offbeat parts, but Garcia does a far better job as a sleazy Customs agent, and Hoffmann goes wildly over the top (apropo of almost nothing: when Method acting devotee Hoffmann was ostentatiously struggling to nail a scene in Marathon Man, an exasperated but well-meaning Sir Lawrence Olivier asked "have you tried acting?"). Confidence works through slick direction, photography and editing, and by gutting the story through like a burglar; eventually winning you over. Not as charming as 2001's Ocean's Eleven, nor as classy as this year's The Good Thief—just a service-able con game flick.

The Dancer Upstairs (IMDB) (Netflix)
In an un-named Latin American country, a series of terrorism incidents takes over the life of Javier Bardem, a detective and former disenchanted lawyer with no small amount of ambivalence toward the current government. He befriends his daughter's ballet teacher (Laura Morante) while searching for the mysterious "Ezequiel," hoping to beat the more thuggish Army to the collar (that Posse Comitatus Act is looking better all the time). It's the directorial debut of John Malkovich, a former Chicagoan, Steppenwolf Theater cast member and—according to his recent press tour—budding men's fashion designer.

Creative endeavors mirror their creators, of course, and even though it's based on a Nicholas Shakespeare novel and screenplay and he doesn't appear in the movie, this film is Malkovich—languid, quietly stubborn and oddly detached. Nothing is rushed and little is explained, requiring a patient (possibly sedated) audience but offering terrific photography and a chance to watch two of the most interesting faces in film, Bardem and Morante, carry much of the narrative freight. The overall mood is sensual without being particularly erotic, and for a character-driven political quasi-thriller, it's not all that suspenseful, leaving one satisfied but not quite sated.

X2: X-Men United (IMDB) (Netflix)
Let the sequels begin. Including "prequels," there will be 25 of them this summer, a record, so settle back and wallow in the old-pair-of-sneakers derivative-ness. You really have no choice.

The beleaguered mutants now face a neo-conservative General Stryker (Brian Cox), who has adopted a pre-emptive strike doctrine and tactics of impressive cynicism and cunning. The survivors of round one are back, freshened by a teleporting, blue-skinned, spiritually troubled Alan Cumming.

As sequels go, this might not be Godfather II, but it's not the second Cannonball Run, either. Little time is wasted on character development (you should have been paying attention during the first installment), which means we can get right to the action, special effects and alienation/diversity issues, all of which have been racheted up in intensity and competence. While too-often this sequel turbo-charging seems desperate and draining, here it's an improvement—this is a comic book movie after all, balanced with moral ambition and a bittersweet ending that lingers on the brain.

A Mighty Wind (IMDB) (Netflix)
A fix for those of you impatiently awaiting the next PBS pledge drive. Mockumentarians Christopher Guest, Eugene Levy and pals (This Is Spinal Tap, Best in Show and Waiting for Guffman) have their satirical way with folk music, the device being a hastily arranged live reunion concert of washed-up groups from the 60s. Kindof a "we're gettin' the band back together," three times over.

Success in this genre-ette requires balancing exaggeration with verisimilitude, ridicule with affection, and objectivity with thematic punch. And while it doesn't break much ground in the process, "Wind" achieves these happy media quite gracefully, amid sweater vests, dickies, balding pates and over-compensatory facial hair. Levy is the standout as troubled sweet soul Mitch Cohen of Mitch & Micky fame, closely followed by Fred Willard as the shamelessly crass promoter, shamelessly reprising his shamelessly crass commentator moves from "Best in Show." Just what the psychiatrist might have ordered.

The Good Thief (IMDB) (Netflix)
Nick Nolte is the title character, Bob, a washed-up junkie with a gambling habit (no, this isn't Nolte's life story). After losing big at the track, he's seduced by the opportunity for a big score in Monte Carlo, and befriends an oh-so-precocious girl of loose morals (introducing the devastating Nutsa Kukhianidze). It's a complicated scam, with a multitude of feints and misdirection thrown at the cops, who seem to be more interested in preventing the heist than putting Nolte in jail because, you see, he may be a crook, but they've grown accustomed to his craggy face. Think "Ocean's Eleven: The Noir."

And a stylish and stylized one it is, acknowledging the genre without being formulaic, juiced with plenty of snappy throwaway dialogue. Kukhianidze's lines are wise too far beyond her years, but she's got a presence that almost pulls them off. Director Neil Jordan, best known for The Crying Game, has remade Bob Le Flambeur as a Hollywood feel-good piece disguised under a gritty, sensual shell. There's no small amount of deus ex machina in the plotting, but done with enough humor that you really don't mind, and the score bounces things along (the Leonard Cohen songs evoke a Nolte-with-voice-lessons feel). Fellow watcher Janet says "competent," I say "lotta fun."

Phone Booth (IMDB) (Netflix)
Nothing good ever came from answering a public phone; it's a no-good-deed-goes-unpunished phenomenon. Colin Farrell does just that, however, and he's going to have a very bad day, provided by Kiefer Sutherland, the voice on the other end. A public relations flack of the lowest order, Farrell covets other women and manipulates clients, media types and employees with equal disdain. Sutherland is a wrathful avenger who also can play the game, and he's got Farrell in his sights—literally—as his next morality remediation project.

This flick is a delayed showcase for Farrell, 9/11 having made the idea of a Manhattan street being terrorized a little too painful. He proves here that he can act his way out of a phone booth (sorry), if only the length of the receiver cord (apparently constraints do indeed set you free). We only get to hear Sutherland, who uses those deep, voiceover-friendly tones to menace Farrell mercilessly toward humiliation and possible redemption. In addition to the taut, streamlined plot, there are decent-but-unmemorable supporting performances by Forest Whitaker as the unusually perceptive police captain, Rahda Mitchell as the wife and Katie Holmes as the covetee, and some bad writing for the "lets just shoot him" role. Given the narrow focus of the piece, the crisp 80-minute run time is both wise and appreciated, and perhaps the start of a well-needed trend.

Laurel Canyon (IMDB) (Netflix)
Preachers' kids are the wild ones, so a bohemian record producer's son must be an uptight psychiatry student, and an uncomfortable L.A. houseguest. His fiance, on the other hand, finds this new setting most liberating, and from there the roux thickens. Frances (Fargo) McDormand is the wild mom, Christian Bale is the son with baggage, and Kate Beckinsale the tempted intended, with Allesandro Nivola as Charmer #1 and Natasha McElhone as Charmer #2. It's not exactly Temptation Island, but headed that way.

This situation could easily have become soap opera pulp, but writer/director Lisa Cholodenko excels at skirting the potholes, creating tension and releasing it at just the right moment, and getting great performances by the entirely competent cast. McDormand is the "it woman" of middle-aged actresses (her supporting performance stole the show in the wonderful and underseen Almost Famous). I particularly liked Bale's subtle choices, and Nivola's character can be read as "lovable rogue" (by the women in the audience) or "imminent threat" (by the men). McElhone apparently is the new Meryl Streep, unveiling a new accent for each role. While it's intentionally easy to see where the film is generally going, the journey is the entertainment, and the ending refreshingly ambiguous. A small film embedded with a lot of quality.

Basic (IMDB) (Netflix)
A U.S. Army Ranger training mission run by a sadistic Sergeant (Samuel L. Jackson) goes seriously awry, with guys shooting each other and at least one soldier dead. When it's over, nobody's talking, least of all to Captain Julia Osborne (Connie Nielsen), so they bring in an unsavory DEA agent (John Travolta) to dope out the situation. Everybody's got their own version of the story when they finally do open up, and it's not that intellectualized subjective reality nonsense—people are just plain lying—and Nielsen's not happy about being subordinated to a cop under investigation for taking bribes.

Lots of story angles, and they're all played hard and fast, creating a fog of audience confusion that says "let go of trying to understand the plot, but hang on for the banter and romantic byplay." The technical advisor should be brought up on Dereliction of Verisimilitude charges for allowing berets to be worn by the characters during training ops and letting a woman be a Ranger (a line that has yet to be crossed). Shining through the many holes, however, are entertaining performances by Giovanni Ribisi as one of the dissemblers and by Nielsen, whose character rises pretty forcefully to the occasion. On balance, though, often frustrating and mostly forgettable escapism, which ain't all bad.

Nowhere in Africa (IMDB) (Netflix)
Kindof a "Little House on the Veldt," plus politics, both global and sexual. A Jewish couple and their young daughter quit pre-war Nazi Germany for Kenya to start a new life, where each adapts differently to the new surroundings and circumstances over the next dozen years. These personal changes create a myriad of stresses in the three relationships, particularly between husband and wife, less so with the kid, who naturally grows into the new world with aplomb and grace.

Maybe it's the angst-ridden times in which we live, but this film somehow dove under my skin in a hurry and tapped into a deeply buried vein of emotion, and is just now extracting itself. Aside from a few ill-advised camera moves, too-perfect natives and a tendency to overplay the more dramatic moments, there's a very human, endearing story of people in trying circumstances, and coping awkwardly with each other's maturation process. For good reason it's been nominated for Best Foreign Film Oscar.

City of God (IMDB) (Netflix)
A nearly apocalyptic blend of Mean Streets and Lord of the Flies that takes place in Rio de Janeiro slum named—with bitter irony—"The City of God." The lack of jobs and ensuing poverty creates a favela that is dominated by an evermore-powerful hoodlum subculture, and whose rise is narrated by "Rocket," one of its few seemingly redeemable denizens.

If you had trouble with the violence of Gangs of New York, this could push you over the edge. It's shot in a quasi-documentary style that strips away any veneer that could have distanced viewers from this societal trainwreck, and laid out in such a forceful way that, for those of who aren't repulsed, it becomes a searing-but-fascinating experience. Critics are stumped as to why this wasn't nominated for the Best Foreign Film Oscar, and you too will be mystified.

The Pianist (IMDB) (Netflix)
The true story of Wladyslaw Szpilman (played by Adrien Brody) and his epic struggle inside the World War II's Warsaw ghetto. It was genocide in slow motion, taking years to complete, and we experience it all through Szpilman's story, told by Roman Polanski, director of Rosemary's Baby and Chinatown. It's nominated for seven Oscars, including best picture, best actor for Brody and best director for Polanski (although you won't see him at the Academy Awards show, at least not without handcuffs, after fleeing a California statutory rape charge that has kept him out of the U.S. since 1977).

This is exactly the kind of story that the Academy voters love: historical, tragic, featuring the best and worst of the human spirit. There almost should be a special category, just to be fair to the other genres. It's beautifully shot in a way that doesn't call attention itself, and the performances are uniformly restrained, refreshingly free of the pathos you would expect given the situation. That choice of tone, however, means that there is little more than a nodding glance at Szpilman's inner conflict as he makes the choices that determine his fate, taking the film a notch down from perfection. For lovers of Schindler's List (surprisingly, not available on DVD)and Life is Beautiful.

About Schmidt (IMDB) (Netflix)
A rapid succession of life events (retirement, marriage of an only child and worse) cause Warren Schmidt (Jack Nicholson) to re-evaluate his life in this most solemn of comedies. Taking to the road in his RV, he comes to grips with loss, the looming horizon of mortality and in-laws---lots of in-laws, richly played by Kathy Bates, Dermot Mulroney and Howard Hesseman, plus Hope Davis as his daughter.

It's instructive that when Schmidt cries at the end, it's essentially an upbeat ending that Elisabeth Kubler-Ross would approve of. This movie walks a tonal tightrope that's realistic, touching and instructive, and Nicholson is on a streak of vulnerable performances that began with As Good As It Gets and The Pledge. Bates and Mulroney are here for comic relief (we can retire the waterbed jokes now, OK?), and Davis has a fairly brave role as the daughter who's trying to break free just when Dad needs her the most. One of the most sincere and effective films about Middle America in some time.

Intacto ("Intact") (IMDB) (Netflix)
Another Spanish flight of fantasy, featuring serious consequences. Max Von Sydow is a Holocaust survivor with incredible luck, and if that weren't annoying enough, can steal your own mojo from you. He's got some challengers for his top spot, though; they live among us and use up our precious karmic fluids for their own gain, knocking off the competition for the opportunity to "play" for the ultimate stakes with Max. It's as intriguing a premise as you've seen in a while, and almost as confusing, but hang in there, you might be rewarded.

For someone whose understanding of the vicissitudes of fate barely reaches "unlucky in love, lucky in parking," this was a challenge. You're continuously left to piece things together as you follow the story of people who survive plane crashes and attempt to run blindfolded across busy highways, and somehow use photographs of others to build up their ability to win at roulette, both the casino version and an insanely turbo-charged Russian variant. It's all very conceptual, but somehow I was drawn into this world, trying to puzzle through the rules of this world, and hooked by Von Sydow's gravitas and solemnity (his hit-man character in Three Days of the Condor has haunted me for almost thirty years). None of this is to suggest that the film's meaning is now clear, however, or that the payoff is overwhelmingly rewarding. For those who appreciate originality, have a tolerance for ambiguity and enjoy the process of solving the puzzle more than the result.

Daredevil (IMDB) (Netflix)
The latest comic book popcorn movie, but not the last (X-Men 2 opens in May, followed by Ang Lee's The Hulk, and the next Spiderman has just started filming). Daredevil (Ben Affleck) is one of the lesser-known superheroes, blinded at an early age by biotoxins that sharpen his remaining senses to such a pitch that they become both a blessing and a curse, and require a sensory deprivation chamber for him to get any sleep. It's hell on relationships. He also has the classic genre baggage of seeing one of his parents die before his eyes (so to speak), and a desire for "justice" that approaches obsession. There's also a love interest in Alias's Jennifer Garner, who has the martial arts bug in a big way, the evil Kingpin (played by Michael Clark Duncan, the deep-voiced XXXXL black dude from The Green Mile) and an eponymously tatooed assassin, Bullseye, performed by Russell Crowe manqué Colin Farrell.

You're seeing so many of these films today thanks mostly to risk-averse studios, but computer-generated imagery has gotten so sophisticated that just about anything a superhero could do on paper can now be believably rendered on the screen, and Daredevil uses all this technology to wonderful effect. The way the filmmakers depict Daredevil's "second sight" ability is the highlight of the film, which is much darker than its peers, featuring large doses of noncartoonish violence. Garner has one of the most grrrl-like roles since Linda Hamilton's Sarah Connor in Terminator 2, but the movie doesn't transcend the genre so much as burrow deep inside it, and the amount of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon-style swooping is excessive for a movie that reaches so hard for realism. Certainly not a failure, nor a standout. My money's on The Hulk.

Lost in La Mancha (IMDB) (Netflix)
Cervantes's "Don Quixote" defeated legendary filmmaker Orson Welles, and you certainly haven't seen Terry Gilliam's attempt, "The Man Who Killed Don Quixote." This documentary, which starts out as a typical little "making of" film, explains what happened to the latter project, laying out a director's slow-motion nightmare in the same way that Hearts of Darkness revealed Francis Ford Coppola's near-Waterloo, Apocalypse Now. One of my few brushes with greatness involve trying (I suspect unsuccessfully) to take a leak while standing next to Gilliam, so I feel a bond of sorts with the animator for Monty Python and director of minor classics like Brazil, Time Bandits and the Fisher King. He also was responsible for the awful Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas (only one of two times I've walked out of theater) and the financially Cimino-esque Adventures of Baron Munchausen. Gilliam has a slightly overstated rep for biting off more than he can chew, which no doubt drew the documentarians. Nothing like a disaster to spice up reality.

"Lost" sits closer to the impressive Hearts of Darkness than HBO's drawn-out Project Greenlight; we're really inside the production, and in the head of Gilliam, who encouraged the filmmakers to keep shooting as things fell apart. There's little of the back-biting that marred Greenlight, but because "Lost" hasn't been released, there isn't that instructive opportunity to compare the finished film to the star-crossed production that preceded it (you see enough to appreciate that the story was right up Gilliam's stylistic alley, however, and to wish that it had been finished). On balance, it's an entertaining lesson on what a crapshoot movie-making is, and counter-intuitively, it somewhat rehabilitates Gilliam's reputation. His heartbreaking loss has resulted in a minor delight of a documentary.

The Quiet American (IMDB) (Netflix)
The world might really appreciate a quiet American just about now, but not necessarily Alden Pyle's (Brendan Fraser) variety, a member of the U.S. legation to Vietnam in 1952. He befriends gone-native journalist Thomas Fowler (Michael Caine), who has a Saigon mistress while the missus stays back in London, but it quickly gets awkward when Pyle declares his smitten-ness with Phuong (Do Thi Hai Yen). Pyle has other intentions as well, which ultimately challenge Fowler's role as an impartial journalist.

Based on the Graham Greene novel and filmed in Vietnam, this is a layered, textured story that taps the themes of loyalty and betrayal, objectivity and involvement, self-determination and external manipulation. Caine believes he's done his best work here, and it's difficult to disagree, and Fraser finally establishes his acting bona fides by blending the multiple facets of his complex character into an archetype of American dangerous idealism. The Year of Living Dangerously may have pushed the same buttons with more impact, but The Quiet American's restrained quality serves it and the audience well.

The Recruit (IMDB) (Netflix)
Welcome to yet another movie version of the CIA, where "nothing is as it seems," as recruiter, instructor and spymaster Al Pacino never tires of telling newbie Colin Farrell. Pay attention, you'll be seeing many more of these flicks in the coming years. Farrell is a recent MIT grad; a computer geek, tops in his class and able to maintain a three-day stubble for weeks on end, but he's obsessed with finding out what really happened to his father, who died under mysterious, maybe clandestine, circumstances. Pacino exploits that baggage, and blurs the line between training and real world so much that Farrell doesn't know which way is up, or who's good or bad.

It's a competent thriller that keeps the audience guessing, and the characters are engaging enough (Bridget Moynahan is a wonderful distraction) to want to see what happens to them, but it's formulaic in the extreme, with blatant foreshadowing that results in underwhelming payoffs, and a couple critical plot points that fold under a moment's reflection. Passable entertainment for those who choose to be in an uncritical frame of mind.

Morvern Callar (IMDB) (Netflix)
Your boyfriend has just a) finished his first novel and b) killed himself in your apartment. What do you do? My guess is that you wouldn't make any of Morven Callar's (Samantha Morton) choices, which are mostly inexplicable and off-putting.

Small, non-traditional films are often a crapshoot--there are the little gems that make you want to run out of the theater at the end to tell everyone that they just have to see it, and there are the ones that, well before the end, just make you want to run out. "Callar" is the latter kind, minimally plotted and featuring enigmatically motivated characters, a let's-just-roll-the-cameras-and-see-what-happens pacing, and a so-what point. It's also a bad sign when the character you most root for has died before the film starts.

After delivering the best performance in Minority Report as one of the "pre-cogs," Morton does what little she can with the opaque material, but this adaptation from Alan Warner's novel likely suffers from the screenwriters being too faithful to a book consisting of extensive internal dialogue and exposition that, as the movie professionals say, "won't shoot." At least, not without wholesale re-conceptualization for the screen (fellow traveler Erica Lauf lauded The English Patient for working both as a novel and as movie, but only by being two very different treatments of the same story). I stopped trying to care about Morton's character after ten minutes, and felt sorry for Scotland, which is the geographical and cultural whipping boy of the film, again for no apparent reason.

Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (IMDB) (Netflix)
George Clooney's first directorial gig, based on the real-and-almost-certainly-imagined life of Chuck Barris, a songwriter (Palisades Park), game show producer (Dating Game, Newlywed Game and the Gong Show) and contract killer for the CIA. Or so he said in his autobiography, claiming an impressive/absurd 31 successful assignments. Making this dubious story shootable is a job for the equally dangerous screenwriting mind of Charlie Kaufman, whose Adaptation is still in theaters, and follows up the inventive Being John Malvovich.

When most actors try their hand at directing for the first time, they're pretty conservative, thinking "let's just get it in the can on time so I can do this again later when my acting fee drops." Clooney, who doesn't take a lot of risks with his own performances, goes the other way, letting his crew make some aggressive stylistic choices, and allowing the cast, well led by Sam Rockwell, to be outrageous enough to sell the material--but believable throughout its broad tonal range. Drew Barrymore is sweet as Barris's victimized girlfriend without being a doormat, and Julia Roberts makes a respectable femme fatale. In the moment of watching, the film works better as a dark comedy than the reflections of man repulsed by his low-brow success, but in the ensuing hours, burrows into the psyche. Your reaction to Kaufman's other work should be an accurate predictor of whether you'll enjoy "Confessions."

25th Hour (IMDB) (Netflix)
Tomorrow, drug dealer Monty Brogan (Edward Norton) goes up the river for seven years, but today he's saying goodbye to his friends, one of whom probably ratted him out--perhaps his girlfriend (Rosario Dawson). He's also more than a little doubtful of his longevity as an inmate. This is the first post-9/11 New York film, directed by Spike Lee, from David Benioff's adaptation of his novel. Who better to do it than Spike?

I haven't seen all of his films, but this is the best of what I have seen--less self-conscious and less confrontational, and the better for it. There aren't that many twists in the plot--this is pretty much about a guy who's going to prison in the morning and doing what most people would do in that situation--spend time with intimates, find someone to take care of his dog, have a meal with his Dad. So hold the action, go heavy on the subtext and characterization, watch out for the unmarked flashbacks, and add a couple of Spike Lee Joint side orders, which are wonderful monologues/montages by Norton and Brian Cox (as the father). These two sequences (the second in particular) lifted what would have been a very competent-but-unremarkable genre piece into something more mature, more profound, more...poignant, taking on a New Yorker's love/hate for the city, and even more affecting, the road that could easily have been taken. As the audience member behind me noted, it's "heavy," but not exactly a downer.

Talk to Her (IMDB) (Netflix)
Real men don't let a little thing like a coma come between them and their loved ones, at least not in the imagination of Pedro Almodóvar (All About My Mother, Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!). Benigno and Marco each have someone in the vegetative way, but approach their circumstances differently, one seeing it as problem, the other, an opportunity (and what might that be...). This leads to, as the IBM manuals used to say, "unpredictable results."

Almodóvar's typical looseness with reality is more under control here, mostly contained in some plays- and a movie-within-a-movie pieces (the movie bit is also a good litmus test to see if your date has any prudish tendencies, but is mainly good clean--we hope--fun). Javier Cámara, as Benigno, does a really subtle job with a role that could come off the rails any time. And while Talk to Her works on the whole, there are a few too-convenient moments, and at least one missed opportunity (the second bullfight) that would have built in some tension and generated more affection for two of the characters. It's also too languid by half, making this relatively short 112-minute film play like 150. A Golden Globe nominee for best foreign film, however, so somebody likes this a lot, but for me, more work has been done with less concept in other films.

Nicholas Nickleby (IMDB) (Netflix)
This Charles Dickens classic has been remade more often than Enron's financial results, from Victorian theatrical productions to a 1903 silent film to a nine-hour Broadway play. And why not, it's got all the elements of a great populist yarn: evil financiers, abused street urchins, beleagured families and heroic youths railing against oppression. The Nicklebys, minus the recently deceased father, unwittingly put themselves at the mercy of Uncle Ralph (Christopher Plummer), whose unctuous manner poorly masks his exploitive tendencies, and even blood relatives aren't safe. Nicholas (Charlie Hunnam) ends up teaching at Mr. Squeers's abusive school for unwashed boys, and Sis (Romola Garai) gets fixed up with one of Ralph's leering investors.

A host of other character actors, including Jim Broadbent, Edward Fox, Tom Courtney, Nathan Lane and Juliet Stevenson, fill in the supporting roles with relish and wit--there's no subordination to the leads here and they make the most of their screen time. There's also no grayscaling in the personas; you're either bad person or a good one, and character development is nil over the two-plus hours. No matter, this story is about bad guys getting their comeuppance, and us enjoying it. Some of the logic of the ending escapes me, but by that time I had been well won over by the humor, heart and warmth.

Adaptation (IMDB) (Netflix)
Every writer has a story about being blocked—the humorist Robert Benchley supposedly started one such day by typing "The" on a fresh sheet of paper, stopped, went to a bar and drank himself stupid, returned to the typewriter that evening newly inspired and continued with "hell with it." Then he went to bed. Screenwriter Charlie Kaufman (a real person who wrote Being John Malkovich and the upcoming Confessions of a Dangerous Mind) has to adapt "The Orchid Thief" by Susan Orlean (a real author, played by Meryl Streep, and Chris Cooper is the real-life orchid obsessive John LaRoche). Played by Nicholas Cage, Charlie is a successful but self-conscious wreck on his best days who can't get a handle on how to approach the screenplay. Adding to his misery is twin brother Donald, who decides to also take up Charlie's profession, but blithely foregoing the angst of realizing how hard this stuff is to do.

It may be a common premise and seemingly too self-referential, but the Kaufman boys (the real ones--correction, Charlie's real, Donald isn't, but shares screenwriting credits, which is a clue for what's in store) sail from humorous reality for more absurd shores, spinning into a recursive loop that tickles the brain and tweaks the screenwriting game, including real-life guru Robert McKee. The fun comes from being in on the joke, and is essential for appreciating the third act. Director Spike Jonze is a clear match for this kind of conceptual material because he can do it without being campy, and Cage's innate intensity serves him well, especially when he's playing Charlie. Lots of fun.

Catch Me If You Can (IMDB) (Netflix)
Based on the true story of a hall-of-fame paper hanger and trickster Frank Abagnale, who kited millions of dollars in checks around the world in the 60s, courtesy of Pan American Airways. Leonardo DiCaprio has the lead, and Tom Hanks is the obsessive, humorless G-man just one step behind the con game curve.

This has more substance than the breezy romp it's positioned to be, maybe by being mostly true, and because Christopher Walken resonates as Abagnale's down-on-his-luck dad who is the oak tree to Leo's more successful acorn. DiCaprio is fine, but as with Gangs of New York, someone else–Hanks this time–has the more interesting role and exploits it most effectively, combining his rubber face, jerky body language, a Boston accent and heavy black glasses to great effect, carrying the comic relief load while typifying the narrow dedication of the ideal civil servant. Great post-holiday fare.

Chicago (IMDB) (Netflix)
Two-timing murderous dames, wondrous gams, mouthpieces and mealtickets, thrown together in a musical tribute to ambition and amorality. Rene Zellweger is a chorus girl manqué who gets exploited by her boy on the side, but not for long, and ends up in prison with a bunch of other leggy women who were severely provoked while premenstrual. Catherine Zeta-Jones is one of Zellweger's rivals for sympathetic publicity, and Richard Gere is the never-lose lawyer with more chutzpah than a Jewish cat with all nine lives.

While its recent predessor Moulin Rouge was groundbreaking but exhausting, Chicago is more conventional but lighter on its feet. To use the reviewer's cliche, it "crackles," with snappy 1930s patter, aggressive editing, endless black lingerie and no apologies for the outrageous behavior of its lead characters. Zellweger is as far from "you had me at 'hello'" as she can get and Zeta-Jones is bitchy to the core. Gere really sells it, and has to, because in reader Sara Schneider's eyes, he's strayed too far from his old bad-boy persona (those Buddhists will do that to you). Musical fans might quibble about some of the vocal performances (which are by the actors), but this is a musical that works for people who think they don't like musicals. Like me.

Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (IMDB) (Netflix)
When director/producer Peter Jackson and his cohorts were pitching Lord of the Rings, their initial funder insisted that the trilogy be done as two movies, to reduce cost and risk. Jackson gulped and soldiered on, eventually shedding that vulgarian, but was convinced that Hollywood would only pay for two films (quick, name a non-animated fantasy flick that had done big business in the previous decade). During his quest for financing, after he aired a video presentation of the concept to New Line Cinema, the suit in charge said, "I don't get it." Hearts sank. "It's a trilogy. Why aren't there three movies?" And there was much rejoicing throughout Middle Earth, and in the glands of literate adolescents everywhere.

For a Part Two, this ranks up there with the second Godfather film. Trilogy aficionado and discerning cinephile Alan Asper found it "amazing," and though I never made it past The Hobbit and lack the details that would have filled in much of the backstory, I have to agree that this is a terrific movie. It helps to start with quality material that provides all the elements: good vs. evil, pure-of-heart romance, truly scary bad-beings and heroes who will sacrifice for the greater good, plus a top-shelf battle scene. Viggo Mortensen couldn't be more heroic as Aragon, and the pacing gives the audience time to breath without dragging out the proceedings, making this three-hour epic play like two hours. The CGI rendering farms rose to the task as well, with a digitized character, Gollum, who interacts unusually well with the human actors (the scenes were shot with an actor, who was later replaced by the digital version) and is unconventionally creepy.

Worth pretty much every one of the gazillion pennies it'll ring up, and a film that George Lucas should study frame-by-frame and line-by-line if he wants Star Wars: Episode Three to avoid embarrassing comparisons.

Santa Clause 2 (IMDB) (Netflix)
A sequel, with two Tim Allen characters, for better or worse. Santa discovers he's subject to a "Mrs." clause, meaning he's got to get married by Christmas Eve, or no more Santa, Christmas or happy children. Plus, his teenage son is acting out at school, so he's got some work to do, and creates an ersatz Santa to hold down the North Pole fort while he's back in the real world. Unfortunately, the clone has some misguided ideas of his own and begins to wreak havoc with the

The niece and nephew liked it, but can't explain why (the critic genes, such as they are, seem not have jumped any branches or are laying dormant). Mom thought they could have done more with it, which is true: there's not much sense of jeopardy given that half of the retail industry's economy is on the line, and it's pretty easy to see where most of this is headed. Yet it's done over $125 million at the box office, making the exhibitors, the studio and Santa very happy.

Gangs of New York (IMDB) (Netflix)
An epic struggle between two men – each a relentless, irrestible force – that may end tragically for both. And that's just the relationship between director Martin Scorsese and Harvey Weinstein, the head of Miramax Studios. Scorsese grew up in the New York gangs, and has been trying to make this film for 30 years. To do it, he had to go to Italy and build a 1.5 square mile re-creation of New York's tempestuous Five Points district from the mid-19th century, requiring a financial backer with equal brass, which Weinstein, the bête noir of the movie business, has in spades. Both men are control freaks and perfectionists, and each apparently met his match in the other.

The story allows Scorsese to explore all his favorite themes: religion, gangs, crime, violence and the immigrant experience. Leonardo DiCaprio's Irish immigrant father is killed by Bill the Butcher (Daniel Day-Lewis) when Leo is just a tot, and sixteen years later he's out to settle the score, just as the Civil War is heating up, bringing about a new and unwelcome concept in citizenship: conscription. Leo befriends Cameron Diaz, a pickpocket and Bill's old girlfriend, at the point of a knife (the interesting part is who's holding it) and worms his way into the Butcher's inner circle.

It's a part of American history that's largely unexplored and needs telling, especially in the movies, and if effort and intentions guaranteed perfection, this would be one of the best films ever made. It's not, but you have to admire the scope of it, the noble ambition. Day-Lewis is already being talked up for an Oscar (no argument here) and the set should get best supporting actor. DiCaprio doesn't have the juicy part to balance off his co-star, but holds his own in the performance, as does Diaz. Some connective tissue, however, seems to have been lost in the editing, which might be a surprise given the two hour and forty-five minute length. Gangs of New York may have over-reached, but by forcefully exposing one of our darkest periods, serves a larger purpose than mere spectacle. Vegetarians might want to pass.

Personal Velocity (IMDB) (Netflix)
Three character studies of women in transition, each written and directed by Rebecca Miller. Delia, a former high school trollop and an impressively dislikeable human being, escapes from her abusive husband. Greta has settled in her life in more ways than one, but is then confronted with sudden success. Paula is newly pregnant, almost becomes the victim of a fatal accident, and picks up a hitchhiker in need of care. The title refers to our unique arcs of development, and how they're a combination of timing, circumstance and latent desire.

Miller is depressingly multi-talented, also being an actor, a sculptor and a writer of the short stories that formed the film. The narration has a certain literary quality, and quickly fills in the expository gaps and backstories — necessary given the ground that needs covering. The male characters, well, now I know how it feels not to share the writer's gender, but there are so many of them. While none of these stories is worth a full movie, they all stand on their own, and each has something to say that's in danger of being missed in the swarm of over-hyped holiday films. As loyal reader Janet Borggren observed, exactly the opposite of the new Lord of the Rings movie; I'm sure the other three people in the theater would have agreed.

Star Trek: Nemesis (IMDB) (Netflix)
The latest, and if you believe the promos, the last Star Trek film. The Next Generation crew is aging nicely (couldn't say that about Kirk and company), and Riker is about to finally assume command of his own vessel. But wait, there's trouble on Romulus, which is all of a sudden missing a Senate, and a new player has emerged, who wants something very dear to Captain Picard. We're also introduced to the Remans, the Romulans' red-headed step-children, who have notions of upward mobility.

This installment has its own ambitions–it's darker, more thoughtful, less glib–but they're not fully realized. Picard and Data each are confronted with questions about their identity and what it means to be unique, and there's a nature/nuture thread, but it doesn't really explain the bad guy's motivation. The action generated a host of "why don't they just...?" reactions, and frankly, I was hoping we were past the days of weapons of mass destruction that took seven agonizing minutes to deploy. Picard's Patrick Stewart seems to have recognized these holes and taken his performance in as somber and introspective direction as possible; a heroic effort to counter-balance the script at the same time he's saving humanity.

As with the recent Bond film, Nemesis upholds the tradition without raising it to a new level.

Evelyn (IMDB) (Netflix)
Based on the true story about a landmark legal case in 1950s Ireland. Pierce Brosnan is the hard-drinking, irregularly employed father of three children, whose mother abandons them. Da runs afoul of the family-unfriendly child welfare laws and loses the kids, setting up his struggle to get them back.

It's a good thing everything's incredibly Irish, or this could be unwatchable. You've seen each moment before in countless movies of its ilk, from the drinking dad to the good nun, bad nun characters to the dramatic courtroom finale, but I was chuckling and empathizing even while ticking off the entire genre checklist in my head. Maybe it's the scenery, the lilt or the relentless heart that gives it that slipping-into-an-old-pair-of-sneakers feel. Loyal reader and Eire-phile Mary Murphy enjoyed it, and I, like a coed meeting her first Frenchman, was charmed within an inch of surrender. Yet, when the lights came on, I went home alone, knowing it was the right thing to do, but wondering what might have been.

A winner for the sentimentality-inclined.

Beat the Devil (IMDB) (BMW Films)
You won't find this nine-minute film in your local theater listings, but you might see it before the next feature you attend, and it's a great reason to get there on time (you can also download it at the BMW Films link above). After last year's successful marketing campaign, carmaker BMW has commissioned another set of "shorts" by top-shelf film directors like John Woo, Ang Lee and the late John Frankenheimer. The point of this largesse is to sell Bimmers, but calling these efforts "commercials" is a minor unjustice. Tony Scott (Top Gun, True Romance, Enemy of the State) directs this one, which features Clive Owen as The Driver, Gary Oldman as The Devil, singer James Brown as himself, the Godfather of Soul, and a shiny brand-new BMW Z4 roadster. The hardest working man in show business wants a new soul, and will drag-race the devil to get one.

Director Scott empties his very large bag of tricks to make this hyper-active onslaught, and while one's head would explode if it were a full-length feature, here the barrage of music, quick cuts, special effects and subtitles (Brown has enunciation trouble) is powerfully effective. There's no letup, right through the last scene, which is best left as a surprise. I've seen it three times, and could easily see it another three, and hope that its success will bring shorts back to the theater, and give us more of our money's worth.

Standing in the Shadows of Motown (IMDB) (Netflix) (Soundtrack)
The musical common denominator of the Motown era wasn't impresario Berry Gordy, but a loose bunch of studio musicians known as The Funk Brothers. Singers like Marvin Gaye, The Temptations, Stevie Wonder, The Supremes and others would come into the studio with some lyrics and maybe a concept for the melody, and the Brothers would do the rest. Name a Motown hit from the 60s, and they almost certainly played the music that transcended racial boundaries and made Detroit famous for something other than cars. I remember my parents hosting a party when I was eight or nine years old, and as I listened to the music from my bunk bed, I heard a knock on the bathroom door, and the words "Come on, honey, it's the Supremes."

This documentary finally gives them the recognition these musicians deserve, through the usual interviews with the surviving members and a reunion concert fronted by modern-day artists like Ben Harper, plus evocative recreations of key incidents. Missing are scenes with almost all of the big-name artists who made millions off the Brothers' talent, which is telling, but we don't really need their opinion, because the music, and its success, speaks for itself.

Analyze That (IMDB) (Netflix)
The sequel to Analyze This, the movie that for better or worse brought out Robert DeNiro's broadly comedic side. His wiseguy character is acting up in prison, alternately singing show tunes and going catatonic, which drags Billy Crystal in to see if he's really crazy. Of course, he's not, but the ploy springs DeNiro and sets him up as Crystal's house guest from hell, and an outplacement firm's worst nightmare. The rest of the loosely constructed story turns on DeNiro's coping with the real world: will he go straight despite the threats on his life, or build on his core competency, competitive threat mitigation (whacking people)?

From the outtakes running alongside the closing credits, this was fun movie set, and there were a fair number of laughs, particularly early in the film. Crystal excels at this kind of humor, which, despite the R rating due to the strong language, is pretty middle-of-the-road, easy "I'm hosting the Oscars" stuff. Seeing DeNiro cry is still a little creepy (where have you gone, Mr. Taxi Driver?). There's mirth, but it's not all that memorable.

Solaris (IMDB) (Netflix)
What would you do, given the opportunity to correct a tragic mistake and re-unite with the one you love, or at least a re-created version of your inamorata? How far would you go, and what would you sacrifice to get there?

The 1961 classic novel by Stanislaw Lem inspired a highly respected 1972 Russian film (playing now on the Turner Classic Movie Channel and the Independent Film Channel), but this is the first Hollywood version, by director/writer/cinematographer Steven Soderbergh, with George Clooney as the man with the black hole in his life, and Natascha McElhone as the chance to fill it. Although technically in the sci-fi genre, this is really a love story made possible by a writer's imagination, and Soderbergh wisely strips the technology to the bare essentials, keeping the story in the foreground.

The dialog is equally spare, as are answers to tough questions about the power of human longing. Clooney challenges those who think he's just an empty T-shirt, and McElhone impresses as the too-real and increasingly self-aware apparation. Soderbergh's photography is arresting without being too clever by half, which is more than can be said about Jeremy Davies, who might be one of the most mannered performers short of the early Jim Carrey. You might want it to move faster, and you might leave wondering what the film was all about, but you'll also know that you've been somewhere new.

Treasure Planet (IMDB) (Netflix)
Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island, animated, plus an assertively dubious interpretation of the laws of physics that my 4th-grade niece and nephew instantly deconstructed. Jim the troubled teen finds a map to Treasure Planet, commissions a voyage aboard a galleon/spacecraft, and does some growing up while searching for the loot and fighting off a ne'er-do-well crew.

There aren't many surprises, but some decent messages about loyalty, responsibility and selflessness. The voicing cast of Emma Thompson, Roscoe Lee Browne and Martin Short, among others, is sharp and the action well-paced. The kids responded well to the humor. Not the next Disney Classic by any stretch, but you could do worse.

Die Another Day (IMDB) (Netflix)
The latest in a 40-year string of Bond flicks, with Pierce Brosnan and Halle Berry, who's recovered from her Oscar meltdown and plays an American agent from the National Security Agency (not that the NSA does this kind of wetwork, but no matter). This time the writers are picking on the non-Islamic leg of the Axis of Evil, the North Koreans, and gene therapy makeovers and death rays from space are the plot-enabling technologies. Refreshingly, the fate of the world doesn't even hang in the balance, just a critical piece of it.

As with most action films, this one starts out better than it finishes and progressively gets more conventional. The opening sequence is a doozy that Navy SEALs should check out, and not a throwaway one; it has consequences for Bond that set up the rest of film. All the trademark scenes with Q, Moneypenny and M are there, but they're fresher and even inventive at times. The action is mostly stunt-a-licious, with a couple chases across the Icelandic, um, ice, the plot more inventive, and the dialogue far less smarmy than the Roger Moore days. Also, the women have decent spy chops, reminiscent of Michele Yeoh in Tomorrow Never Dies (Berry's character will be getting her own movie). The final scene doesn't live up to the first 3/4 of the movie, but on whole, a very above-average Bond flick that won't convert the anti-Bond populace one whit but will more than satisfy fans of this venerable genre.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (IMDB) (Netflix)
(Warning: this review is rated "C" for Cranky, due a exercise/caffeine/sugar hangover, combined with viewing the film from a front-row seat only 8 feet away from the screen)

Harry's back with all his friends from the first movie, which did $965 million worth of business (#2 all-time), dodging danger and doping out mysteries that elude the Hogwart's braintrust, who seemed less concerned with their in loco parentis responsibilities than a drug-addled foster parent. There's a chamber of secrets that may or may not have been opened by this or that person, kids being petrified, and the school's in danger of closing, and so on.

The audience seemed to like it just fine, although many of the youngsters (and some of the parents) had trouble with the 2:21 running time (why do they insist on doing this for kids' movies?). Due to the chemical imbalance, I had trouble concentrating and it all seemed a lot like the first movie, although the kid playing Harry has traded in his continuously wide-eyed "I'm amazed" expression for something approximating grim determination. The other kid characters have far more personality. There's a new digital elf, Dobby, who's not nearly in the same annoyance league as Jar Jar Binks from Star Wars I & II, Kenneth Branagh debuts as a self-promoting empty cape of a sorceror, and this will be Richard Harris's last movie, but beyond these elements and some improved digital effects, not much new. If you have kids, you're going, so suck it up, and make sure they've had their nap first. And you've had yours.

Far From Heaven (IMDB) (Netflix)
It's 1957-1958, the International Geophysical Year, when life was simpler and more genteel, a seemingly idyllic time of family values that some wish we could return to. But probably not Julianne Moore's character, who's got an alcoholic husband (Dennis Quaid) trying to "cure" his latent homosexuality, a "colored" gardener (Dennis Haysbert) with whom she feels a special kinship, and scandalized friends who are no help whatsoever.

This is a restrained, thoughtful melodrama that re-creates a period in America when the tension between personal desires and societal norms bubbled beneath the surface, waiting to explode a few years later in the 60's. It's the semi-modern American version of a Jane Austen novel, and tricky stuff that could easily have become clichéd in the realization. Fortunately, the writer-director and actors keep a lid on the material, creating just enough pressure to rattle the pot but not blow its contents all over the ceiling. The Moore and Haysbert characters are a little too saintly, but not so much that you can't feel for their plight, and Quaid's performance is brave without being ostentatious. A film for the thoughtful adult.

Comedian (IMDB) (Netflix)
Jerry Seinfeld makes his way back to stand-up comedy after his hit sitcom has ended its phenomenal run. The challenge is that he's not recycling old material, but building up his act from scratch bit-by-bit, showing up late at New York City comedy clubs and asking for a few minutes to go on, try out some jokes and get back the funny. There's also a parallel story of still-struggling Orny Adams, who's working the same spots, asking Seinfeld if he should hang it up at the age of 29.

Even with the private jet that Seinfeld now flies in, it's a terrifying and anxiety-laden lifestyle ("Trying out new material is like working a normal job in your underwear"). Neither of these guys are particularly charming offstage, but the commitment they exhibit to the craft and their uncontrollable need to perform are almost endearing. Adams is incapable of being happy for more than a few minutes, and an awed Chris Rock tells Seinfeld how the venerable Bill Cosby still does two 2-hour-and-twenty-minutes shows a day, of new material no less, just when Seinfeld's proud of reaching the hour mark. While more could have been done with this subject (Seinfeld was the executive producer, and presumably had a lot of say over what got shot and the final cut), it's still a compelling portrait of two people driven to succeed, whether they enjoy it or not.

Femme Fatale (IMDB) (Netflix)
After an impressive string of box office stiffs (Bonfire of the Vanities, Mission to Mars, Snake Eyes), director Brian De Palma (Carrie, Scarface, The Untouchables, Mission: Impossible) moved to France to lick his wounds, then write and shoot this stylish-but-absurd noir thriller. Supermodel Rebecca Romijn-Stamos is the bad-ass femme and Antonio Banderas the struggling photographer who crosses her path, and as with the recent The Truth About Charlie, there's a McGuffin (Alfred Hitchcock's term for the thing that everyone's chasing after), lots of guns and it's set in Paris, but the movies couldn't be more different.

The upside of the writer and director living in the same head is that the writer's vision doesn't get mucked up during production, but there's also no one to question his thinking. The metric tonnage of coincidences and glossed-over plot holes would strain the suspension cables on the Golden Gate Bridge, so analytical types with high blood pressure are advised to steer clear (there's a twist toward the end that resolves some of the absurdities, but it'll be far too late for these people, or just tick them off further). Banderas has never overwhelmed with his performances, and Romijn-Stamos is still more supermodel than actor, but thankfully she hasn't picked up any annoying scruples about taking her clothes off (wait until the first award nomination, though).

Those who appreciate filmmaking bravado and can check their left brains at the door, however, should give this a shot, because De Palma knows where to put and move a camera, build suspense and cut a film together in ways that few others can.

Nosferatu (IMDB) (Netflix)
The 1922 German classic Dracula story, with the names changed (Dracula is "Count Orlock"), but this is the original from which all the other vampire movies have sprung. It played at the local art house, complete with a live organist to round out the experience.

Eighty years is a long time to ask a film to stand on its own two feet, so Nosferatu has to be seen as a historical artifact--but an important one. It's a movie that not only defined its genre, it now highlights how far we've come technologically and in the language of film. What was a groundbreaking moment of horror then is often a giggle-inducing cliche now, and the young kids in the audience didn't seem to require counseling at the conclusion. Still, there are some compelling moments, and it's a movie that every horror/vampire film buff should see, so they can give props to whom they're due, director F.W. Murnau.

For a well-done remake from the modern era, try Bram Stoker's Dracula by Francis Ford Coppola, and for an entertaining speculation that Max Shreck, the actor playing Orlock, was so good in Nosferatu because he actually was a vampire, see Shadow of a Vampire.

Roger Dodger (IMDB) (Netflix)
Roger Swanson (played by George C. Scott's son Campbell) is an ostentatiously articulate ad copy writer with a utilitarian view of relationships (as does the woman in his life) who suffers a blow to his self-esteem. Fortunately, his 16-year-old-nephew Nick (Jesse Eisenberg) shows up looking for advice on meeting the ladies, and Roger can't resist the opportunity to mold Nick to his cynical world view, taking him on a one-night post-doc seduction seminar through the New York City singles scene.

There was a recent indie film on the same topic that demonstrated the pitfalls of this sub-genre and never got out of the one town it opened in, but "Roger" shows that you can teach an old premise new tricks. Eisenberg manages to be simultaneously naive, desperate and charming, and Scott is misogynist, tour guide, performance coach and evolutionary psychologist all rolled into one very entertaining and forceful package. The women (Isabella Rossellini, Jennifer Beals and Elizabeth Berkley, among others) are neither victims or saints, and manage to pull off some tricky sequences with grace. I could have done without the dim lighting and poorly color-balanced photography, but these are minor flaws in a gem that cuts darkly comic glass.

Those who liked "Igby Goes Down" should also enjoy "Roger."

Auto Focus (IMDB) (Netflix)
That a German World War II prison camp could be the setting for a highly successful TV sitcom (Hogan's Heroes) has stood out as an entertainment industry oddity, but but that strangeness is surpassed by the troubled private life of its star, Bob Crane (played by Greg Kinnear). He was a sex addict before there was a term for it, and enabled by hipster John Carpenter (Willem Dafoe), makes a long trip down the behavioral rathole.

Paul Schrader has made a career of writing or directing about people's dark sides, notably Taxi Driver, Hardcore, Cat People, American Gigolo and Affliction. Auto Focus extends that vein, and is a powerful comeback to the smirk that comes to some peoples' faces when they hear that someone suffers from sex addiction. From the cheesy 60s and 70s decor to the watery black-and-white videos Crane and "Carpie" make of their exploits, there's nothing glamorized about the lifestyle, and Dafoe is the poster child for "the wrong kind of people" you could meet along the way. If you go to see skin, you'll get it, but you're much more likely to be repelled than aroused.

The Truth About Charlie (IMDB) (Netflix)
A Jonathan Demme remake of the 1963 Grant/Hepburn (Cary/Audrey) vehicle Charade, with the two lead roles going to Mark Wahlberg and Thandie Newton. Newton's cad of a husband, Charlie, gets done in, and Wahlberg runs into Newton suspiciously often all over a very rainy Paris while some bad guys (and a gal), an American government official (Tim Robbins) and an aggressive police detective (Christine Boisson) each manipulate her for their own ends. What's a widow to do, and who's she going to trust?

Demme brings an energy and style to the film that I suspect the successful original didn't have, and the score/soundtrack nicely supports that sensibility, but Marky Mark's no Cary Grant (some vocal cord stretching might help bring his voice into adulthood) and the relationship between him and Newton generates less heat than the autumnal Parisien skies. On balance, watchable, but a good rental alternative would be The Thomas Crown Affair remake with Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo.

Barbershop (IMDB) (Netflix)
What was the fuss all about, that brouhaha about one of the characters saying that Rosa Parks didn't do anything special that day on the bus? It was a barbershop for Pete's sake, a free speech zone where any nitwit can have an opinion, like the corner bar, the op-ed page or a sports call-in show.

Fortunately, the movie is more than the controversy it engendered, and more than guys spouting uninformed opinions. There's a story here, about one of the rapping Ices--in this case, Cube--who owns a struggling South Side Chicago barbershop and makes a business decision he soon regrets, and a couple of mooks who steal an ATM devoid of money. And while the characterizations aren't always the most imaginative, and a little too much explicit telling instead of just implicitly showing, there's plenty of heart. Cedric the Entertainer is also such a font of slightly outrageous opining that the film chugs along to a satisfying conclusion. Not destined to be a comedy classic, but an endearing little movie that gently humanizes a part of society that's closer than we sometimes want to admit.

The Good Girl (IMDB) (Netflix)
Friends' Jennifer Aniston goes indie, with this morality tale of a bored, restless wife in a small Texas town. She gets caught up with a younger co-worker who insists on being called Holden (as in Caufield), and you know there's going to be trouble. Everything that could go wrong with this fling in fact does, creating an ever-stickier web that Aniston seems unable to untangle.

Fellow viewers liked the relaxed pacing, Aniston's performance and less-than-Hollywood ending, but I had trouble with some broad, unflattering portrayals of small-town Americans, some too-easy laughs and the I-see-where-this-is-headed storyline. Aniston does have some acting range beyond what's required in a sitcom, and Tim Blake Nelson's role of the husband's best friend displays edge and texture, but overall it's less than special.

Punch-Drunk Love (IMDB) (Netflix)
If you were a guy with seven sisters who liked to call you "Gay Boy," you might be a lot like Adam Sandler's character, Barry, a struggling, lonely entrepreneur with a torqued-up psyche and a few anger management issues. In an effort to connect with someone, anyone, he gets caught up with some predatory criminal types, and the girl he doesn't deserve (played by Emily Watson, who was very affecting in the recent Red Dragon and last year's Gosford Park).

This is not your typical Sandler, the comedian-writer-producer whose patron saint can only be H.L. Mencken, but a deft romantic comedy from Paul Thomas Anderson (Boogie Nights and Magnolia). The offbeat story and score, plus Barry's mix of mostly affable pathologies, create this not-unpleasant tension that's broken periodically by small eruptions of violence between Barry and the bad guys, and sweetness between him and Watson, who wisely underplays her part to balance off the manic Barry/Sandler. A small movie that plays big.

The Transporter (IMDB) (Netflix)
OK, let's go slumming. Jason Stathan (from Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch) is the ex-special forces operator and titular courier of sensitive cargo who violates one of his three self-imposed rules, "Don't Open the Package," and unleashes a Pandora's box of complications that, ah, drives the movie to its conclusion.

"Drive" might be a little generous. The first half is promising, with a decent chase scene through Nice, a damsel in distress with moxie and a we're-not-taking-ourselves-too-seriously puckishness. It all goes pear-shaped, however, when at the end of Act Two, the screenwriter apparently chucked the typewriter at the stunt coordinator and said "My work here is done. Bring it home, Philippe." The girl's role is reduced to squealing in the back seat of Daddy's car and Stathan's character, bucking to be the British Jackie Chan, bores through a panoply of Euro-thugs with mind-numbing ease.

Martial arts buffs might get off on this one, but few others.

Red Dragon (IMDB) (Netflix)
The prequel to Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal, and a remake of Manhunter. Anthony Hopkins returns as Dr. Lecter, with Edward Norton as the former FBI agent pulled back into the profiling harness. This time Ralph Fiennes (the commandant in Schindler's List) is the psycho, and Emily Watson is a blind woman who unwittingly befriends him.

"Dragon" starts fast and steadily rachets up the squirm factor, and Hopkins is as creepy as ever, but what distinguishes it from the rest of the series is the relationship between Fiennes and Watson, which generates a host of strong emotions. The last big scene will be anticipated by many, but is fresh enough that it works.

Moonlight Mile (IMDB) (Netflix)
We open with parents (Dustin Hoffman and Susan Sarandon) and a young man (Jake Gyllenhaal) preparing to attend the funeral of a young women; their daughter, his fiance. She was in the wrong place at the worst time, and now everyone is coping in their own way with the aftermath. Complicating matters is that Jake is living with his in-laws, was about to go into business with Dad, and has additional burdens placed on the hell he's going through.

On paper, this seems to contain enough melodrama potential to gum up every gear in the projector, and there are most definitely those kind of moments, but good writing and great acting, plus a relationship Jake strikes up with newcomer Ellen Pompeo, are able to break free from the sticky bits to move the story along. Gyllenhaal, the brother of Secretary's Maggie, has the goods, as does the rest of the cast, although Sarandon's part seemed written a little too hip for credulity, and the movie's title seems to be the concoction of a publicist favoring alliteration over relevance and meaning.

On the whole, well-conceived and executed.

Spirited Away (IMDB) (Netflix)
The latest animated feature (or as aficionados of the genre say, anime) from the "Japanese Walt Disney," Hayao Miyazaki, who also wrote and directed Princess Mononoke. Our protagonist is Chihiro, a timid and slightly spoiled 10-year-old who becomes trapped in a spirit world of anthropomorphized frogs, radishes and assorted tubers. Her parents are stuck in this same world, but they've been transformed into pigs, and desperately need saving before they become breakfast bacon. With a little help from the friends Chihiro makes along the way, she transforms into a plucky "you go girl" hero and it's no surprise that everything turns out just fine at the end.

The animation is spectacular (it's difficult to tell if the digital projection in the theater contributed to the quality) and the level of creativity far exceeds what you'd see in any American animated feature. On the other hand, it's clearly a children's movie, with plenty of made-up-on-the-spot logic and personality shifts (reminiscent of a lucid dream state) that kids will let slide and grown-ups might find tiresome. It's also a bit long for an animated feature at 124 minutes, but judging from the army of animators listed in the credits, that may be an effort by the Japanese government to boost the employment rate. Some great messages about conquering one's fears and fulfilling your responsibility to others that parents will appreciate.

Secretary (IMDB) (Netflix)
It was never like this at the big firm. Maggie Gyllenhaal is a reluctantly de-institutionalized submissive who also dabbles in self-injury, and James Spader is the lightly sadistic lawyer who doesn't like her typing skills. It's a match made in Krafft-Ebing heaven. As with any boss-secretary relationship, however, there's a subtle tug-of-war over who's really in charge, and inside each character as they come to terms with what really makes them happy.

There's not a clichéd moment in the script, which makes every word count and keeps things interesting, albeit at a leisurely pace. Given his career-long stranglehold on endearing creep parts, Spader is nicely typecast but doesn't mail it in, and Gyllenhaal nails what should be her breakout performance; she's got nuance, spunk and a glowing comic charm that you wouldn't expect from such a role. Much fun in the I'm-so-naughty-for-seeing-this sense.

Sex and Lucia (IMDB) (Netflix)
A woefully inadequate title for this rich, complex and sometimes confusing movie; try "Sex, Lucia, Lorenzo the writer, Two More Women, Another Guy Who's Really Well-Equipped and a Senseless Tragedy." The range of plot summaries in other reviews gives one the sense of being in a film criticism version of Rashomon.

We move back and forth in time, and between reality(?) and Lorenzo's writing. There's also plenty of con brio action that, as stimulating as it is to watch (Paz Vega may be the most beautiful woman in film today), seems at the end to have been mostly a diversion from more substantive but murkier messages. Get to the theater on time, don't check out mentally if you lose the scent for awhile, and you might be rewarded.

Lawrence of Arabia (IMDB) (Netflix)
An epic's epic, nominated for ten Oscars, winner of seven, re-released for at least the second time. Peter O'Toole, Alec Guinness, Omar Sharif, Anthony Quinn, Claude Rains, Jack Hawkins, Jose Ferrer and Anthony Quayle. Written by Robert Bolt (Dr. Zhivago, A Man for All Seasons) and directed by David Lean (Dr. Zhivago, Bridge on the River Kwai). Surprising relevance to today's events.

Not taking advantage of this opportunity to see this on the big screen verges on the criminal, but take a nap and pack a lunch; it's 227 minutes long.

Igby Goes Down (IMDB) (Netflix)
Kieran Culkin is Igby, the too-cool-for-any-school teen (parochial, prep and military--nailing the disaffectedness trifecta) with an institutionalized father and a pill-popping, shrewish mom (Susan Sarandon) who's dying of breast cancer. He gets beat up at least three times and the opening scene has him and brother Ryan Philippe killing their mom. A sure-fire comedy premise.

Sure, but the writing is knife-edge sharp, charming without ever becoming maudlin, varied in tone while holding its center. Kieran is the least cute and maybe the best of the acting Culkins, and the rest of the cast is rock-solid and even inspired, adding Jeff Goldblum, Amanda Peet, Claire Danes, Bill Irwin and especially Jared Harris to an already rich mix of alienating personalities.

War Photographer (IMDB) (Netflix)--na
Robert Capa, perhaps the most famous combat photographer ever, said "if your pictures aren't good enough, you're not close enough." It wasn't an empty aphorism; a landmine in Vietnam killed him in 1954.

This Oscar-nominated documentary of today's version of Capa, James Nachtwey, adopts his credo, using tiny video cameras attached to Nachtwey's still camera as he documents the aftermath of Kosovo and Rwanda, the workers' hell-on-earth in the sulphur mines of Indonesia, the continuing tragedy in Ramallah. It's tough viewing, not from poor execution, but from its unflinching images of the worst aspects of humanity, and Nachtwey's compassionate dedication to bringing them back to the rest of the world.

24 Hour Party People (IMDB) (Netflix)
Beginning in the late '70s, Manchester, England was the leading edge of the punk music scene, and TV host and idealistic music impressario Tony Wilson (Steve Coogan) was its muse of sorts, helping bring seminal acts Joy Division, New Order and Happy Mondays to the world through his Factory Records label and the Hacienda nightclub.

"Party People" recounts Wilson's rise and fall through his own Cambridge-educated eyes (as he continually remind us, just like Harvard alums), and with Coogan's wry comic touch and well-executed breaking of the fourth wall by director Michael Winterbottom, it's an inventive, entertaining and even educational ride through an important part of modern music history (Joy Division's name had an appalling Nazi origin). Here's hoping Coogan makes it into more films.

City by the Sea (IMDB) (Netflix)
There are days when it seems that every bad decision you've made in your life comes back to haunt you. NYPD Detective Vincent LaMarca (Robert de Niro) thought he had finally built a simple cozy life for himself, but then his estranged junkie son is accused of murdering a drug dealer, and the dealer's boss comes looking for revenge. Then it gets worse.

De Niro is mostly his competent self, and the moments between him and girlfriend Frances McDormand are the best parts of the movie. Seeing De Niro cry somehow just doesn't seem right, though, and the rest is stubbornly bleak, with little action or humor to break it up, and the pacing in the first half was slow enough to prompt a fellow audience member to say "I kept looking for a remote control to change the channel." The film takes off in the second half, but not before its undercarriage gets torn up by the trees at the end of the runway.

One Hour Photo (IMDB) (Netflix)
Following the disastrous Death to Smoochy and the well-regarded Insomnia, Robin Williams completes an exploration-of-the-dark-side triptych with this mesmerizing character study of a lonely, tightly wrapped photo shop clerk (he would say "craftsman") who covertly adopts the Yorkins. They're an iMac'd, Mercedes-driving, stainless steel kitchen brand of perfect nuclear family, or so Williams has believed, but as he gets closer, he discovers a flaw under the veneer, causing him to respond the only way he knows how.

While many of Williams's roles have been overly sentimental or "too Robin," he's well-restrained here, and submerges under the make-up to truly become Sy the Photo Guy. The creepiness and tension ratchets up smoothly and smartly, and while it's a reasonably challenging film, there's nothing gratuitous about the action. Will do for photo stores what Fatal Attraction did for extra-marital affairs and Marathon Man did for dentists. Me, I've switched to digital.

Mostly Martha (Bella Martha) (IMDB) (Netflix)--na
A charmer, with the title character as at least the second-best chef in Hamburg, a neurotic whose life gets rapidly more complicated when her niece comes to stay and a new cook threatens her dominance of the kitchen. For Martha, preparing great food is her raison d'etre, but as she's beginning to realize, not enough to make her truly fulfilled.

There are some Lifetime Channel moments, few surprises, and the tasty soundtrack is a little repetitive, but Martina Gedeck's performance is first-rate, sucking you into her world, and foodies will be in their element with the kitchen scenes. A confection for sure, but with more than just empty calories. Stick around for the credits.