The Missing (IMDB) (Netflix)
Cate Blanchett is a Wild West frontier doctor with two daughters and no use for for her long-absent father (Tommy Lee Jones), who ran off to hang with the Native Americans years back. He's ostensibly returned for some doctoring and Cate's none too happy about seeing him. When one of her girls is kidnapped by slave-trading renegades, however, she needs his help, and thus is launched a story reminiscent of John Ford's classic The Searchers and the more recent The Last of the Mohicans. Directed by Ron Howard and featuring the least attractive Native American (Eric Schweig) seen in motion pictures, as the evil medicine man.

This is a tough one to assess—on a technical level, all the elements are there, and I was absorbed in the story as it unfolded, but nothing stuck to my ribs afterwards. Even though little is spared in terms of writing, well-portrayed characters, photography or violent action, it just doesn't have the "Searchers'" epic quality, nor "Mohicans'" sleek beauty and passion. It's not a failure, though, and absent the tough comparisons a reasonable pick for its empowered female lead and great scenery.

In America (IMDB) (Netflix)
The confusing-but-intriguing trailer for this film appeared a year ago, but wasn't followed up with the movie. Often a re-launch is a sign of a project in deep trouble, but this proves to be the pleasant exception.

Director Jim Sheridan (My Left Foot, In the Name of the Father) and his daughters tell a very intimate, semi-autobiographical story of a young Irish family coming to New York City so that the dad (Paddy Considine) can make it as an actor. It's tough going, especially living in the tenement dominated by drug users, and weighed down by the memory of a young son who died under tragic circumstances.

Heavy stuff, and these days it might be the more difficult movie-going decision, but there's much more than the melodramatic plot points, and its ambition and quality far outweighs the emotional risk. It got to me in the same way as Nowhere in Africa, but with even more impact, through a more intimate visual style and rawer performances from Considine and Samantha Morton, plus thoroughly impressive theatrical debuts from Bolger sisters Sarah and Emma.

Bad Santa (IMDB) (Netflix)
Billy Bob Thornton is the worst department store Santa of all time: a self-soiling drunk, a womanizer and a crook, with a uniquely seasonal scam, partnering with little person Tony Cox as Santa's helper to crack the store's safe after all the children and sales associates are nestled safely in their beds. Thornton's conscience is nowhere to be found, at least not until the biggest loser in movie kid history makes his acquaintance, and even then it takes a determined seige of pathetic innocence. With the late John Ritter as the appalled store manager and Bernie Mac as the security guy, and a too-good-for-him Laura Graham as the bartender with a puzzling thing for men in red suits. Directed by Terry Swigoff of Ghost World and Crumb and produced by the Coen Brothers.

If this seems entirely unappealling, then "Bad Santa" wasn't written for you, and there's far more wholesome fare available. If, however, you can the see the twisted comedic possibilities, then come on in and enjoy the orgy of inappropriate, hate-yourself-for-laughing humor that would give a college sophomore pause. Only with Robert Duvall's performance in The Great Santini has an actor been more determined to be so unsympathetic, or so successful.

Elf (IMDB) (Netflix)
In Swingers and Made, indie writer-director Jon Favreau chronicled the humorous, slightly pathetic lives of two hipsters manqué. Elf goes entirely the other way, with a big budget and Will Ferrell as a 6’3”, thirty-ish eight-year-old raised at the North Pole. Ferrell’s lacking the elfin necessities, and once he finally realizes his true human nature, strikes out for New York City to re-unite with his biological father, a “naughty list” mainstay in the form of Mr. James Caan.

There’s nothing hip about Ferrell’s character, fortunately, from the green-and-yellow elf suit to his complete naïveté about the world, least of all regarding the hard-boiled Big Apple (sorry, it was there, begging to go on the page). He’s as completely clueless, trusting and energetic as a puppy, and the rest of the cast (notably Bob Newhart, Mary Steenburgen and Zooey Deschanel) wisely stay low-key to maximize the effect. The climactic sequence doesn’t have nearly the impact one would hope for, but this is a strong mainstream showing for Mr. Favreau, and he owes almost all of its success to Ferrell’s talent for sweet self-mockery.

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (IMDB) (NetFlix)

Acting’s bad-boy Russell Crowe gets nautical, as “Lucky Jack” Aubrey, captain of HMS Surprise in the Napoleonic Wars, pursuing a Bismarck-like French juggernaut on the high seas around South America. It’s based on one of twenty (count ‘em) novels by Patrick O’Brian, and directed by Peter Weir, known for a small, highly respected body of original and quietly powerful works such as Witness, Picnic at Hanging Rock and The Year of Living Dangerously, plus a more energetic The Truman Show. So it’s a bit of a surprise that he’s trying his hand at a genre piece, albeit a category that’s been mostly dormant for some time. Co-starring Paul Bettany as ship’s surgeon, Captain’s pal and proto-Darwin (the Galapagos Islands figure prominently), and a complement of sweaty sailors.

It’s a solid entertainment with a goodly amount of thematic depth, and Crowe dispense discipline and encouragement in equal doses and with the same ease—an almost too-perfect leader (having him play the violin to show his sensitive side was pushing it). For most of the movie, the French ship is an under-lit cipher, like the trucker’s rig in Duel, imbruing it with a seeming invincibility.

I could have used more of Weir’s visual lyricism, but this is clearly the birth of a franchise.

The Matrix: Revolutions (IMDB) (Netflix)

OK, lets get this over with. The last of this trilogy, soon to be followed by the Lord of the Rings capper, another Harry Potter, and somewhere in the sequel pipeline, the sixth and final Star Wars installment. The Wachowski Brothers dial down the myth-making and gear up the action, with a final show-down between the humans and the machines, and Neo and Mr. Smith.

Despite the huge battle scene, a certain fatigue has set in, with Laurence Fishburne being almost invisible and the Neo/Smith duel an anticlimax compared to their fight in Part Two. Even the ad campaign has seemed half-hearted, although that might be more a recognition of how needless it would be to sell this picture to the fans, or equally pointless to convince non-fans to get on board after missing the first two. For the most part, a Star Wars episode, augmented with swearing.

The Human Stain (IMDB) (Netflix)

Escaping who you are and what you’ve done is a futile exercise. Anthony Hopkins leads a cast of troubled individuals (Nicole Kidman, Ed Harris, Gary Sinise), each uniquely damaged. Hopkins’s back story problem is the focal point, as a victim of political correctness run amok, the irony becoming more pointed the more we learn about him and his past. Based on the novel by Philip Roth.

Which is the problem. For those familiar with the plot’s slowly revealed conceit, it’s clearly one that works better in print, where a reader’s imagination can carry the load, but the literal nature of film makes this a tough sell, despite stellar performances by Kidman (maybe not everyone’s favorite personality, but she’s got chops), Harris, and the kid playing the Hopkins character as a youth. The film’s literary lineage also mars the coda, with the screenwriter seemingly (I haven’t read the book) cowed by Roth’s influence into going unnecessarily expository. A highly intelligent and mature work for those who can tolerate a shaky premise.

Alien: the Director's Cut (IMDB) (Netflix)
Twenty-four years ago, Alien was the scariest space movie ever, spawning a trilogy and making Sigourney Weaver a star. It's now been re-released as a director's cut, not so much because it was a seminal bit of movie-making that the world needs to see again on the big screen, but because—that’s right—there’s an Alien vs. Predator cage match due next year, and the producers want to warm the youngsters up to the Alien franchise.

Not having seen the original in some time, I wasn’t sure what footage was added, but it sure wasn’t any more of Sigourney in her impractically skimpy briefs (that part is burned into the consciousness of many a male moviegoer of a certain age), and it seems like a long time before John Hurt hocks up the ultimate loogie, but Ian Holm is still outstanding as Ash, the crew member with a secret. A somewhat dated and cynical undertaking, but worth the trip for those who'd like to understand where dozens of imitators got their inspiration.

School of Rock (IMDB) (Netflix)
"Those who can't do, teach" and rocker Jack Black reinforces the stereotype, possessing an uncontestable love for the genre, but lacking the talent (or interpersonal skills) to take his band to pay-the-rent status. He finally gets fired by the band he founded, and out of desperation lands a gig as a substitute teacher at a snooty prep school run by Joan Cusack. Black has no absolutely interest in teaching his kids until he hits on a scheme to use these prodigies to get back into the music game. It's the old fish-out-of-water comedy vehicle, one that gives Black plenty of maneuvering room for his signature over-the-top comic intensity.

The only real tension here is between the formulaic story and Black's force of personality; which will win out? Cusack is the priggish principle who longs to be liked by her subordinates, Mike White is Black's buddy hen-pecked by bitch-on-wheels Sara Silverman, and the kids are instantly and universally lovable. In the other corner are Jack's mobile eyebrows and total lack of self-governance, which won over much of the audience, especially the kids, but for the harder hearts it was more like a standoff.

Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (IMDB) (Netflix)
The cinematic descendent of movie violence stylist Sam Peckinpah has to be Quentin Tarantino, whose Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction made him the "it boy" director in the early-mid 90s. After some lesser efforts, he went on silent running for six years, but is making up for the absence with this two-parter. Volume One opens with Uma Thurman as the only survivor of a wedding-day hit squad, wanting payback and traveling the world to get it against Vivica A. Fox, Lucy Liu and the aforementioned Bill.

Peckinpah used slow motion and bits of hamburger in the fake blood squibs to give The Wild Bunch that little extra tingle, and Tarantino takes him one further, the predominant element being spurting, lots of spurting. Certainly not most people's brand of vodka, but there's also a fair amount of comedic leavening, and a heavy Japanese martial arts tone that somehow keeps this from becoming Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Thurman is one tough cookie, carrying all the action against a horde of Yakusa swordsfolk, and conveying an intensity heretofore lacking in her portfolio. Where Reservoir Dogs was overly sadistic and squirm-inducing, "Bill" is intentionally cartoonish, but still very messy, and the bouncing between gore and laughs is mostly, but not always, successful.

Those who abhore graphic violence won't be mollified by any of this analysis, nor should they, but the many who've acquired the thirst for "Q" will be happy he's back, and in form. Just don't ask for much in thematic take-aways.

Intolerable Cruely (IMDB) (Netflix)
The Coen brothers, Joel and Ethan, wrote this originally as a work for hire and it bounced around Hollywood for awhile, but when George Clooney expressed interest they brought it back in-house. Clooney is Miles Massey, a divorce lawyer non-pareil and creator of the Massey Pre-Nuptial Agreement, which "has never been penetrated." Catherine Zeta-Jones is major league golddigger who encounters Clooney across the negotiating table and in the courtroom. Their mutual interest quickly becomes clear, but not their motivations, and sorting those out consumes the back half of this screwball comedy, complete with Coen touches of slightly macabre humor.

It's been fun watching Clooney expand his portfolio from two-dimensional TV star (ER) to one-dimensional action figure (The Peacemaker) to comic performer (O Brother, Where Art Thou?) to well-rounded dramatic actor (Solaris), and "Intolerable" continues this progression with an open kimono performance that could have been embarrassing had it not hit the mark. Zeta-Jones goes very much the other way, focusing on her character's calculating side, which makes for an enjoyable contrast if not the most noteworthy role. As noted by fellow filmgoer Peggy Folz, the pace flagged in the middle, which tends to take the screwball out of the comedy, and many of the best lines are in the commercials, but there's more than enough left to surprise and sustain interest. The wide assortment of offbeat character actors, another reliable Coen element, rounds out an enjoyable 100 minutes. Coen aficionados might find this too mainstream, others will see it as a sign of maturity.

The Rundown (IMDB) (Netflix)
Former pro wrestler The Rock is in the retrieval business, in search of Seann William Scott (Stifler from the American Pie series, and one of the dudes who didn't know where he left his car). Finding him is easy enough, it's the getting him home part that proves problematic, with obstacles such as an evil goldmine operator (Christopher Walken) and an indominatable guerrilla leader (Rosario Dawson). Scott also claims to have found a mythical object that could change the fortunes of Dawson's oppressed people, so of course they have to find that thing.

The Rock is a pretty good actor/action star, which might not be a surprise to anyone who follows the WWF shenanigans. Scott's "what, me worry" charm is well-suited to the movie's tone, and Dawson's developing some decent acting chops. But casting Walken is a bit of a coup, bringing his offbeat sensibility to what often can be a thankless role, and giving the flick a little more depth than you'd expect. The action scenes are pretty inventive, with one of the longest rolling-down-the-hill scenes in cinematic history. Easy fun.

Once Upon a Time in Mexico (IMDB) (Netflix)
When Robert Rodriguez finds a topic he likes, he mines it for all it's worth. Following the third Spy Kids flick, "Mexico" follows up El Mariachi and Desperado, completing the story (we think) of the musician/gunslinger. While all three films are essentially excuses for the same popcorn action, violence and humor, this time we get Johnny Depp, Willem Dafoe, Ruben Blades and Mickey Rourke, along with Desperado's Salma Hayek and El himself, Antonio Banderas.

The extra casting is welcome, especially Depp, who handles his role of a slightly out-of-control CIA agent with same wry humor as Pirates of the Caribbean, and brings some needed dialog to the proceedings (Mr. Mariachi's not a big talker). In addition to the usual evil drug kingpins, there's an evil general in the mix, and bigger political theme you didn't see in the first two films. Lots of shooting, lots lots of laughs, but lets hope this is the end of line.

Matchstick Men (IMDB) (Netflix)
Nicholas Cage is an obsessive-compulsive compendium of mannerisms, phobias and tics (especially the tics), which makes it tough to be a smooth-talking grifter. Somehow he makes it work, though, and has a decent house and a partner (Sam Rockwell), but no life whatsoever. Running out of his medication sparks a chain of plot-propelling events, including meeting the daughter he never knew (Alison Lohman). Written by Ted "Ocean's Eleven" Griffin, and in a departure, directed by Ridley Scott, known more for action pics like Blade Runner and Blackhawk Down.

Con game movies are tricky to write, because if you reveal too little, the audience feels manipulated; reveal too much, the audience gets ahead of the story and loses interest. Having seen too many of these deals, I got ahead of the story about two-thirds in. While that certainly took the edge off the film's big payoff moment, the performances (Cage is perfect for his role, and the kid is impressively precocious) and the directorial skill carry the film home, albeit with less impact than intended.

A sap-free (in one respect at least) father-daughter flick that's ideal for those who get their kicks from figuring out the plot before they're supposed to.

Lost in Translation (IMDB) (Netflix)
Being alone in Tokyo is a tough gig, whether you're an over-the-hill movie star doing some commercials that will only be seen in Japan (Bill Murray) or the wife along for the ride of her photographer-husband's business trip (Scarlett Johansson). There are so many people, no hiding that you're a foreigner, a language that you can't begin to decipher and the cab drivers wear white gloves while they pop open the passenger door from their seat (as the Brits might say, "Mind the steel panel hurtling for your naughty bits"). Directed by Sophia Coppola, who was widely reviled for her last-minute substitution performance in her dad's Godfather III, but lauded for her directorial debut The Virgin Suicides.

Having done Tokyo under similar circumstances, I can confirm that "Lost" nicely captures that truly alone feeling, reminding me that the scariest part is being forced to confront who you really are. The early scenes of Murray doing his whiskey ads are terrific, if perhaps too Murray-esque, and the relationship between him and Johansson seems authentic. The supporting characters and their performances are less nuanced, but a minor distraction. A nice little relationship movie that even guys will handle with aplomb.

September 11 (IMDB) (Netflix—not available)
Without expecting to enjoy the experience, I willingly accepted Sara K. "This will be good for you" Schneider's invitation to see this collection of short films on the most traumatic day in America's recent history. The subject had weight, the time lag would provide perspective on the event, and the global nature of the project would no doubt be educational.

I learned or confirmed several things; the easiest thing to lose in a short film is subtlety, much of the world is pretty pissed off at the United States, and, while I have any number of misgivings about the direction that the U.S. is taking, I don't take criticism from foreigners all that well. Afterwards, I was tempted to wallow in some Fox News flag-waving to even things out.

While four of the eleven films (from Iran's Samira Makhmalbaf, Mexico's Alejandro González Iñárritu, France's Claude Lelouch, and the U.S. entry from Sean Penn) were thoughtful, creative and/or powerful reflections on that day, many of the others seemed opportunitistic, heavy-handed political point-scoring exercises that will no doubt play better abroad. Sara reacted much more rationally, seeing an example of filmmaking's power to convey important messages.

American Splendor (IMDB) (Netflix)
You may remember Harvey Pekar from the first Dave Letterman show; he was the angry guy who didn't quite get the Letterman "this is all a big joke, just play along" schtick. While he was the most unlikely (and ultimately, unsuitable) of celebrities, Pekar's illustrated autobiographical musings American Splendor on life in the Rust Belt had become an underground classic. With Paul Giamatti as Harvey Pekar, Hope Davis as his equally neurotic wife Joyce, and Harvey Pekar as Harvey Pekar (the film occasionally jumps between the actors and the real people).

This was mostly a crowd-pleasing, self-referential comedy. Giamatti is scary-good as Pekar, almost better than the person, in the sense that it Alan Alda was said to have done a better George Plimpton than George Plimpton in Paper Lion. I could have done with less of the arguing between husband and wife, and more of the real Pekar, who naturally has mellowed over time, but in ways that make him more interesting, someone who looks at his angry past with pride, a little bemusement, and a tiny amount of regret.

Dirty Pretty Things (IMDB) (Netflix)
If you're an illegal immigrant, your dreams are prey to all kinds of people, not just John Ashcroft. Amelie's Audrey Tautou plays a very different role, a young Turkish hotel maid in London, dreaming of going to New York but lacking the paperwork. She's befriended by Okwe, another illegal, who discovers one of the more sordid false identity scams being run by fellow hotelier "Sneaky"(Sergi Lopez). Directed by Stephen Frears, responsible for the successful High Fidelity and Dangerous Liaisons.

It's billed as a thriller, and the poster of an undressed Tautou promises other attractions, but the film is neither. Usually that kind of marketing misrepresentation is the signal for junk, but this is a case of hiding quality under a cheesy wrapper. The story is mostly Okwe's, and the actor who plays him (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is first-rate, creating a tone of dignified torment as he tries to figure out an honorable way out of his and Tautou's predicament. Lopez is the perfect opportunist, and Benedict Wong is the ideal philosopher-mortician. The tension builds slowly and the payoff is quietly satisfying. Not the slickest or quickest film, but an original one that has something useful to say.

Open Range (IMDB) (Netflix)

One of the great battles over land use in the United States took place in the late 1900s between land-owning ranchers and free-rangers, the cowboys who drove their cattle across the prairie to market, largely ignoring property rights. In most Westerns, the cattle drivers wear the black hats, but this time it’s the ranchers, typified by Michael Gambon, who are the bad guys. Probably has something to do with Kevin Costner and Robert Duvall playing the cow punchers. Gambon adopts the-best-defense-is-an-overwhelming-offense posture, going too far and inciting Costner and Duvall to take matters into their own hands. Sortof a buddy revenge movie, with Annette Bening threatening to break up the team.

The Canadian Rockies never looked better, or rainier, and Costner hasn’t been this grubby-looking since Waterworld and The Postman. Yet the dialog is often clunky, with too many speeches, and everybody’s got such a troubled backstory that you'll think you’ve stumbled on a French Foreign Legion outpost. Paced beyond leisurely; apparently Costner was thinking he was directing an epic, or at least the sequel to Dances with Wolves. Duvall overcomes the material, and the gun battles have a messy, awkward brutality that’s refreshing. While a respectable effort, given the dearth of Westerns in the theaters, it’s a shame this wasn’t more on the money.

Step Into Liquid (IMDB) (Netflix)
A documentary about surfing, in the tradition of The Endless Summer and The Endless Summer 2, done by the people who gave you Endless Summer and Endless Summer 2 (it's not a big genre). From California and Hawaii to less obvious locales such as Ireland's County Donegal, Vietnam's DaNang and Wisconsin's Sheboygan, we're treated to intimate, hypnotic shots of the best surfers riding the biggest waves with the latest surfing technology, and more humorous takes on the most successfully self-deluded ones (the Sheboygan guys, of course) and the kids. To the filmmakers and their subjects, surfing is far more than a sport, it's a search for higher truth and beauty that Plato would applaud.

As did the audience. Although Step Into Liquid is clearly an uncritical love letter to the lifestyle, the photography, editing, music — and most of all the subjects — make you long for its simplicity and intensity. Sell the condo, chuck the Bimmer, get a VW Microbus and head for the ocean. Other than stirring that subversive impulse, a family-friendly film.