Those close to me wonder how I can justify liking John McClane over Optimus Prime. Jean-Luc Godard once said that the best way to criticize a movie is to make another. And though LIVE FREE OR DIE HARD is not a remake of TRANSFORMERS, it is the superior action film, and comparing both reveals one’s strengths and the other’s weaknesses. Yes, both movies involve spectacles of mayhem and destruction, and involve preposterous plots, but DIE HARD 4.0 is a fine example of how managing expectations and a coherent visual strategy can be crucial in gaining a rapt audience.

Take the first half of TRANSFORMERS, where Michael Bay does an excellent job of presenting decepticon danger. A base is dismantled, defense networks are corrupted, and malevolent machines hide in plain sight. Believable menace (based on the premise) is established. Then how does he reward his audience? He presents naive robots as being racially stereotyped (Jazz: “What’s crackin’ little bitches?”), anthropomorphic (Bumblebee urinating lube oil), and unreasonably stupid (hiding in a backyard). If a director wants us to take his movie seriously, he should heed his own advice, rather than have us believe the leader of an altruistic mecha race would use eBay to locate an artifact which gives life to his brethren.

On the other hand, DIE HARD 4.0’s Len Wiseman does his surname proud, by not pretending that his plot should be taken all too seriously. We see early on a group of uber-computer hackers, led by Thomas Gabriel (Timothy Olyphant), executing an uber-cyberattack called a “fire sale”, taking over critical government, infrastructure, and financial computer systems, both online and off. Though this threat is not as unlikely as it sounds (see the Estonian cyberattacks earlier this year), the way the film gives it the full Hollywood treatment, one might think SkyNet wandered in from TERMINATOR 3. But make no mistake; Wiseman knows how to maintain the appropriate mix of suspense and silliness, whereas Bay sets us up for a treat only to lay an egg.

When it comes to filmmaking techniques, TRANSFORMERS also reveals Bay to be a one-trick pony. His trademark frenzied shaking points-of-view are so disorienting that they would make bobble-head dolls dizzy. He loves the use of CGI and finds some creative imagery now and then, but when it comes how his scenes play beside each other, he becomes aimless, causing the viewer to lose focus on character juxtaposition (Which transformer got killed? Who fired what? Who did what?). And not least of all, Bay has become one of the worst offenders of slow-mo overload, which causes some beautiful sequences to draw too much attention to themselves.

The great John Frankenheimer didn’t believe in using slow-mo sequences in his action movies, because where’s the “action” in slow motion? Wiseman knows this, letting the action speak for itself. His methods provide clarity to what happens, whom it happens to, and where it happens. His sequences are quick but easy to follow. No cameras are shaken because there is no need to. And numerous chase scenes are given a sense of placing that makes them easy to understand how they unfold.

It even feels refreshing to see that most of the action that occurs in DIE HARD 4.0 has been more or less physically staged. Bruce Willis’s character has to evade Parkour-practicing Frenchmen along with an Asian femme fatale (Maggie Q) who gets to kick him off a building. And where would you get to see a police car ramping into a helicopter, an SUV in an elevator shaft scene that would make Spielberg smile (see THE LOST WORLD), or an F-35 giving chase to a 16-wheeler? In an age where CGI dominates every blockbuster, it’s satisfying to know that there are still risks being taken to have us entertained. Sure it’s more dangerous, but would you rather see Jackie Chan with or without wires?

And then there’s John McClane, who’s like a boorish old pal you’re glad to see again. He’s still foul-mouthed, demanding, ill-tempered, and foolish. But he’s dependable, selfless, and decisive; traits most audiences will love, particularly if you’re American and tired of government ineptitude (as the movie points out with its FEMA references and bungling agencies). Despite bleeding a lot more than most victims, he’s still the stubborn force. Like that turd that just won’t get flushed down the toilet, he just keeps on coming back.

I apologize if this review has sounded like an extended pan of Bay’s latest work, but I only do so to highlight what action film is truly worth seeing. TRANSFORMERS is not a bad film, but it is powered solely by nostalgia, and as an action film, it’s wanting. LIVE FREE OR DIE HARD knows what it is and does its job with competence and gusto. It even respects your intelligence, something that Michael Bay rarely does.

In my adolescence, I once thought that THE TRANSFORMERS: THE MOVIE (1986) was one of the best films ever made. Age and access had not yet tinged my moviegoing experience. Such is youth, forever sentimentalizing our early lives and its subjects. Many of us who grew up on these Hasbro heroes still hold them in reverie, regardless of the profound silliness of it all. But we’ve all been young, and boys will be boys in love with their toys.

For followers of the series, how much you love Michael Bay’s TRANSFORMERS will depend on how much you have grown up (and probably how many decibels your eardrums can take). It seems natural that many of us who collected toy autobots and decepticons might have had great interest in the fields of science, as the mechanics of how these robots transform required inquiry during our younger years. So if you’re like me, watching this movie may not only reveal an onscreen battle between good and evil, but also one's own personal battle between nostalgia and common sense.

I know that I shouldn’t be applying logic against a concept that was never meant to be logical. Optimus Prime, Megatron and their ilk were not meant to be opposing leaders of a mechanical alien race set against a space epic. They’re cool toys representing the fanciful idea of having normal everyday vehicles transform into humanoid mechas. That’s killing two birds with one stone in toy marketing.

The problem is that the level of detail and seriousness the film initially builds up begs us to consider its plausibility. The movie’s opening sequence of where a decepticon infiltrates a US military base (apparently in the Middle East) is well-executed and as convincing as can be. Explanations on how these mechas are able to speak English are humorous but (barely) believable. And the initial electronic strategies the decepticons use to hamper US defense systems make sense.

But when the deeper questions are asked, the house of cards falls apart. These robots transform to blend into earth’s general populace, but why did they ever need to transform in the first place? Was there an evolutionary advantage that morphing gave them on their home world or are they just God’s toys? Why do they speak to communicate as they are electronic beings? If they can reach the earth through space, why do they travel slowly as grounded transport? Couldn’t they all have chosen aircraft functions to replicate? And why in one inexplicable scene are they reduced to comedic stooges hiding from a kid’s parents in his backyard?

Surely these and other queries are supposed to be ignored, but my inquisitive side keeps on tugging on my id. If your inner child wins out however, there are worthy sights to behold. The transformers themselves have been bravely redesigned, which is refreshingly the correct choice as opposed to keeping their original forms. Though some characters from the cartoon series will be familiar, the vehicular alter-egos have been totally revamped to fit current tastes (and toy franchising needs). Mecha battles engaged in Los Angeles are at times breathtaking, none more than Starscream’s low-flying dogfighting maneuvers. Fans will likely warm to some in-jokes (a decepticon police car motto), a jab at “My Little Pony” (a fellow Hasbro franchise), and surely, hearing Peter Cullen’s voicing of Prime.

Speaking of which, this gloriously authoritative father-figure lacks presence and warmth. Animated characters by their very nature more stylized and symbolic; highlighting their traits to an almost elemental level. How ironic that Optimus Prime in all his CGI glory projects less heroism and gravitas than his hand-drawn version. Perhaps it is our youth that taints our view, plus the all-to realistic detail of the film’s special effects makes him look more of a machine and less of a hero (or maybe it’s because now we can see his mouth move?). Shia LaBeouf, as the young Sam Witwicky who stumbles onto the robotic conflict, is the only well-rounded character worth following. He keeps it interesting, but can only do so much.

From a cinematic view, Michael Bay was born to direct this movie. He just loves toys, as not one of his films to date has had an unexploded vehicle. In filming convincing human dynamics however, he hasn’t got a clue, as evidenced in one scene where he tries miserably and awkwardly in getting us to feel bad for an autobot’s capture. His methods have deteriorated as he irritatingly refuses to stop using shaky camera movements during conflict, and dozens of slow motion sequences, mistaking disorientation and distraction for a frenzied perspective. For the life of me, I don’t understand why he cannot just let the action speak for itself.

As you can see, I’ve grown up a bit too far from my guilelessness to enjoy TRANSFORMERS. I do not disdain this kind of entertainment. Truth be told, its writing is better than I thought it would be, but its fancy façade can’t hide its flaws for those who want more substance. I find Prime deserving of better treatment, but considering its source, this might be as good as it gets. So enjoy it if you can. I tried and couldn’t.

This year, computer animation studios are going ape over animals. ICE AGE: THE MELTDOWN (20th Century Fox) and THE WILD (Hoytyboy Pictures) have come and gone, while BARNYARD (Nickelodeon), FLUSHED AWAY (DreamWorks), and OPEN SEASON (Sony) have yet to arrive. No wonder Pixar, CGI animation’s gold standard, decided to breathe life into CARS instead. With all these assorted beasts from of the farm, the forest, the sewer, the past, and the zoo, can any of these creature features set themselves apart?

One good bet is OVER THE HEDGE (DreamWorks), which tells the tale of a clever and acquisitive raccoon named RJ (Bruce Willis) who cons a small group of woodland denizens to grab a wagonload of snacks, all to save his hide from Vincent (Nick Nolte), a grouchy bear intent on making RJ pay for waking him from hibernation. The unfortunate dupes of RJ’s plans are Verne the turtle (Garry Shandling), Hammy the squirrel (Steve Carell), Stella the skunk (Wanda Sykes), Ozzie the possum (William Shatner), his daughter Heather (Avril Lavigne), Lou the porcupine (Eugene Levy), his wife Penny (Catherine O’Hara), and their kids Bucky, Spike, and Quillo.

Verne is the head of this family, and is suspicious of RJ’s motives. The rest of the group is more obliging, especially when they realize their dwelling is an island; the last remaining scrap of wilderness in a sea of suburbia. Fortunately, they’re walled off from neighborly sight by a wide hedge, which to them looks like a cross between Fenway Park’s Green Monster and The Monolith from 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY. RJ thus convinces them to take suburbanite sustenance, by rendering them helpless to the powers of MSG, much to Verne’s chagrin.

You’d be surprised by how much mileage is squeezed out of the plot’s simplicity. Yet it perseveres, due to an uncommon wit absent in many of its peers. It jabs its well-timed inside jokes like a confident pugilist. Its barbs on how prosperous societies value food are both hilarious and perceptive. Its CGI animation is crisp, but not overly flamboyant. Its characters’ mini-adventures are most of the time impressively conceived, such as Verne’s careening through the neighborhood, to RJ’s rescue of his friends. And few animated films can claim to have a reference to Tennessee Williams, a dig at Pepé Le Pew, or the best bullet-time joke I’ve ever howled at.

It also helps that its characters are so damn cute (Verne and the porcupine tykes are adorable in appearance and temperament), as opposed to those in inferior versions who ham it up (e.g. SHARK’S TALE, THE WILD). The film’s casting is wonderful, with each voice evoking crystal clear personas. Nick Nolte’s gruff growl is perfect for a bear. William Shatner lampoons his very reputation as a possum who emotes even while playing dead. Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara as the friendly porcupines, have accents that make you think they were residents of FARGO. Bruce Willis’s raised tone evokes a naughty enthusiasm for his raccoon. Steve Carrell embodies his squirrel as if he were on speed. And Gary Shandling achieves a sublime delight, with voicing that suggests gentleness, caution, intelligence, and nerve.

One thing that detracts from its enjoyment is its willingness to cite its lesson, which in this case is that family comes first. I have no doubt that family is important, but it’s a letdown for film with clever bouts to stoop for something so evident. Still, with its creative humor and stunning absence of product placement (despite its mountains of smorgasbord), OVER THE HEDGE is a welcome gem of family entertainment.

If you’ve been vacationing away from Earth for the past two months or so, you might have missed the hubbub surrounding the release THE DA VINCI CODE in theaters this past week. Called blasphemous and misleading, Christians around the world have been calling for bans and boycotts. Though I myself believe in God but not in religion, I understand the Church’s desires to defend their creeds. But isn’t calling for suppression of Dan Brown’s ideas odd, when religious groups have been calling for the free expression of their own beliefs in places where they’ve been suppressed?

As you can see, I’m against the film’s censorship. But I hope you understand why I must now tell you to avoid it if you can. Not because it is false, but because it is faulty. It contains historical information that must have been laboriously researched, but its two mistakes, which are its 1st and 3rd acts, are as equally arduous. How ironic that a movie that relies heavily on a Passover image, must itself be passed over.

Now, to inform you illiterate vacationers from Mars, the movie involves Robert Langdon (Tom Hanks), a renowned Harvard Professor of Religious Symbology who comes upon and is asked to solve the murder of Jacques Sauniere (Jean-Pierre Marielle), a curator of the Louvre who is found murdered and sprawled naked in the position of Leonardo Da Vinci’s “Vitruvian Man.” Along the way he gains the help of Jacques’s granddaughter and cryptographer Sophie Neveu (Audrey Tautou), along with his old colleague Sir Leigh Teabing (Ian McKellen), an authority on the Holy Grail.

Naturally, this being a murder mystery, our three protagonists uncover who murdered whom and why. But as every reader by now well knows, the whodunit is a clothesline on which Dan Brown hangs his controversial claims on. I need not go over what these assertions are, as everyone else already has (including yours truly), but they really are interesting even if they do sound ludicrous, as they represent the underlying concerns (e.g. gender inequality, religious politics, and Christ’s dual nature) of the Church in contemporary times.

Yet it is that very meat of the story that is undercooked. With its languid buildup and unfocused priorities, the movie nearly loses us, with initial clues that lack urgency, character backgrounds that are incoherently introduced, and exotic locales without wonder. Could it be the drab lighting? The drawn out pacing? A prior knowledge of what to expect? Tom Hanks’s mane? Whatever it is, it only inspires annoyance and ennui.

Thankfully, the film’s 2nd act is nearly its saving grace, and is bookmarked by the entrance of Ian McKellen. His exuberance and charm wake us up as his character gets straight to the point. His royal diction and rhythmic delivery interlaced with fascinating historical renderings feel like National Geographic at its best. A particular depiction that stands out is the (1st ) Council of Nicaea, as it has always evaded my imagination. No one of course can say for sure what it must have really been like, but it was nice of director Ron Howard to try.

The movie maintains this middle ground quite nicely with an extremist priest Silas (Paul Bettany), a scheming bishop (Alfred Molina), and a relentless police captain (Jean Reno, who seems to have wandered here from RONIN). And right up to its climax, with its twists and revelations, it seems ready to redeem itself. But it commits the same mistake, protracting more tract than was thought possible. With even more elucidations and information, it’s as if it falls on its own dagger after careful removal, bleeding whatever life it has left.

To counter such criticism, fans will say the movie is merely being faithful to the text. Friends, what works for a book will not necessarily work for a film. Some of the greatest films (e.g. THE GODFATHER, 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, JAWS) deviate significantly from their sources, and surpass them. Though there are others that are true to a fault when adapted, regardless of how well known their material is before being brought to the big screen (e.g. The HARRY POTTER and LORD OF THE RINGS series), such films rely on visualizing what was once deemed unfilmable; on creating new images to feed our imagination. When it comes to Dan Brown’s work, the visual scope is not as large, the locales not too distant, and its participants all-too-human.

Tom Hanks is gold when his characters’ motivations are clear. Robert Langdon is not one of those characters. Aside from being claustrophobic, there is little personal substance behind his vast encyclopedic knowledge. Aside from being told of a trauma in his youth, any glimpse of it or its effect is never on the film’s mind. Audrey Tautou can be the queen of subtle whimsy and vulnerability, but here she’s totally miscast when more direct and varied emotions are required of her character (Juliette Binoche might have been the perfect fit). And Ron Howard is a fine filmmaker who can direct any genre with bouts of inspiration (e.g. APOLLO 13, PARENTHOOD), but cracks are showing in his armor, as his torpid pacing and missed moments become all too obvious here.

Groups who are concerned about how they might be depicted shouldn’t be concerned, as the film even points out the very aberrations and key debating points that they mention. But the main reason why they have little to worry about is because the film shoots itself in the foot. Twice. For all the good Ian McKellen brings it, THE DA VINCI CODE is a bore.

THE DA VINCI CODE film is upon us, and from the Southern United States to South Korea, from Manila to Malta, from Italy to India, calls abound to ban or boycott it. Many Christians of all denominations have denounced it as blasphemy; lies purporting Jesus as a family man, with his descendants living amongst us today.

Some view these reactions as signs of the church’s deep insecurity over losing its flock. Others see it as a virtuous defense of slighted beliefs. I for one feel the Church is entitled to its arguments, but so is the film, whether its points are serious or not. Demanding prohibition is narrow-minded, as no one segment of society should have say over what the entirety is entitled to.

Regardless of how one feels about this backlash, no one can deny that THE DA VINCI CODE is a hit. Long before the current brouhaha over its film release sparked protests, the novel steamrolled through countless bestseller lists. But why has it done so well? Can we simply chalk it up to its controversial claims? Of course not. Does anyone recall the controversy caused by the book HOLY BLOOD, HOLY GRAIL in 1982? Hardly any attention was paid to it then, until this year’s failed plagiarism case against Dan Brown, despite its non-fictional claims.

Part of the book’s success can be attributed to its approach. If Dan Brown really wanted to rock the boat, he would have produced a non-fiction book with the same ground-shaking claims with references to his research. Instead, he took the commercial route, integrating his contentions within a whodunit, while taking advantage of audiences’ longing for escapism after 9/11, as evidenced by the resurgence of fantasy tales such as THE LORD OF THE RINGS and HARRY POTTER series.

The rising negative perception of religion in the public’s consciousness has also fanned the book’s flames. Coinciding with the priest sex-abuse scandals, creationism versus evolution court battles, and the increasing Islamist extremism of recent years, religion has become increasingly viewed as a divisive force as opposed to a unifying one. The book only gains from this disillusionment.

Another reason why THE DA VINCI CODE thrives is that it strikes a nerve in choosing to deal with subjects that seem impenetrable or unreasonable to the casual reader or Christian. Jon Stewart’s THE DAILY SHOW made a hilarious point on this in a THIS WEEK IN GOD segment by Rob Cordry:

Cordry: The book’s about a professor who discovers that the Church has covered up Jesus’s marriage to Mary Magdalene and his descendants who walk among us to this day. (Laughing) Come on! Who’s going to believe that? Jesus was born by Immaculate Conception and later rose from the dead! USE YOUR HEADS PEOPLE!

As you can see, a prophet (Jesus) as human as the rest of us who becomes a family man sounds more levelheaded than one who would die and then rise from the dead. Another such topic that becomes palatable to secular readers is the subject of gender inequality within the Church, which must be comforting particularly to the book’s female audience.

But the central aspect which implants interest in the book is the subject of Jesus’s humanity. As Roger Ebert perfectly states in his review of THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST, “Christianity teaches that Jesus was both God and man. That he could be both at once is the central mystery of the Christian faith.” Of course, the very thought of Jesus having sexual intercourse and having children provokes the ire of believers who have very strong ideas of Christ’s divinity. But Christians can’t deny that Jesus was fully human as he was divine. To be so would mean that Jesus would have the burden of free will, meaning he could fall in love and raise a family. Is this not what God had intended of man and woman? If Jesus could not make this choice, was he less than human? These are the kinds of questions that are asked by people who honestly value their faith. And by moving in this direction, Dan Brown at the very least discusses what we have always wondered, yet were afraid to ask.

This is not to say, that the book is factual, but it is convincing in its detail, which worries the Church. With its clergy rates dropping, its credibility eroding, its mores being challenged, and its most charismatic and unifying figure in Pope John Paul II now gone, its presence is fading. But with these problems as with any come opportunities. Perhaps the Church feels that it is making the most of them, but it cannot afford to turn away potential followers by appearing inflexible. On this front against THE DA VINCI CODE, it should now embark on a battle cry of clarification and information, not censorship. The only thing it’s succeeding at now is giving Dan Brown a bigger paycheck.

I haven’t seen THE POSEIDON ADVENTURE, which many consider to be a crest in the wave of 1970s disaster movies. So I won’t be able to reference Shelly Winters’s aquatic exploits that have become part of movie lore (wait a sec, I just did). Perhaps that puts me in a better position to evaluate POSEIDON on its own. Just as with FLIGHT OF THE PHOENIX (2004), if you haven’t seen the original, this might be a good place to start.

The movie’s story is as clear as its trailer, in which we see the colossal cruise liner get blindsided on New Year’s Eve by an even more colossal rouge wave. As it keels over, its captain (Andre Braugher) calms its survivors to wait for a rescue, while a few others are certain that waiting is a death sentence. These “others” consist of ex-navy Dylan Johns (Josh Lucas), former fireman and mayor Robert Ramsey (Kurt Russell), the mayor’s daughter Jennifer (Emmy Rossum), her fiancée Christian (Mike Vogel), architect Richard Nelson (Richard Dreyfuss), stowaway Elena Gonzalez (Mia Maestro), and the mother-son pairing of Jacinda (Maggie James) and Jimmy Barrett (Conor James).

Detailing each character’s subplots and background stories is pointless, since the movie makes little to no use of them during key moments. Some may complain about this; its lack of character development. But the movie doesn’t have so much a plot as it does an escape route, which its protagonists follow (or try to follow) all the way through. As the ship sinks no time can be spared to develop their relationships or reveal emotional depth, when ocean depth is of graver concern.

The movie is a visceral experience, not so much an intellectual one. It moves briskly (99 minutes) and is extremely well-paced. It establishes the risks and what has to be done. There are no inside references, no political undercurrents, no cute moments. The film does have moments of humor, joy, and hope, but none of its protagonists make macho, silly, or pretentious gestures. Those who do are satisfyingly struck down.

Being a summer blockbuster, what would the movie be without its awesome sights? Its tsunamic opening sequence is clearly inspired by TITANIC (as it inspires nearly the same trepidation). Aside from the obvious dangers of inundated rooms and malfunctioning elevator shafts, the film comes up with creative imaginings of others. Such as a pillar of flame within the ship’s atrium and a masterfully claustrophobic sequence involving a flooded air vent.

When this much chaos is simulated within the film, panic comes easy for the cast to play. But Josh Lucas and Kurt Russell provide the film’s center. Providing the sensibility and gravitas we would crave for in the same situation, our attention and admiration never flees them. Both of their characters make the key choices. Dylan (Lucas) makes one that is breathtaking, while Robert (Russell) has one that is heartrending. But upon reflection, their decisions make perfect sense, as they embody decisiveness in the midst of desperation.

If there’s anyone in recent memory who should direct a sea story, it’s Wolfgang Petersen. Director of the best submarine movie ever made (DAS BOOT), he merely crackles his knuckles here (as he did in THE PERFECT STORM). Not only does he thrill us, he fills with dread and remorse. Unlike many recent disaster films that cutaway from death, this one is unafraid to show the unlucky. Not for exploitation, but for realism. Seeing so many bodies is jarring, but hey, there are a lot of people on that boat.

So many inferior action movies step wrong in so many ways. They inject the unnecessary or bring up the topical (even MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE 3 can’t help itself near the end). What makes POSEIDON gripping is that it wastes no time, since its people have little of it. It’s a lean thrill machine.

Regardless of what you think about Tom Cruise, whether he be an immensely talented actor who is cursed by his good looks, or a narcissistic megalomaniac of the highest order, one thing is certain: He’s money in the bank. Aside from another Tom (Hanks), no other Hollywood superstar is as consistently bankable when it comes to his movies. Love or hate him, he’s worth every penny.

Once again he delivers the goods as (his very own James Bond) Ethan Hunt in MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE III, filling the summer blockbuster mold to a tee. Packed with as many stunts and action sequences as both of its predecessors combined, it still manages to be coherent and thrilling if not quite convincing. An action film of this sort never sets out to make us believe in its rationale; just excite us with its execution. And that it does.

In this installment, long-retired Ethan Hunt is asked to return and rescue a fellow spy too valuable to be disavowed. Assigned a team with new members Zhen (Maggie Q) and Declan (Jonathan Rhys Meyers), along with trusted teammate Luther Strickell (Ving Rhames) their extraction is somewhat fruitful, as they unearth the workings of a ruthless arms-dealer in Owen Davian (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and his impending sale of the “rabbit’s foot”.

This MacGuffin sounds like a spoof, yet is being sold by Davian for just below a billion dollars. Any appendage costing that much begs us to take it seriously, and at one point is boot-shakingly described by one of Hunt’s associates as the “Anti-God”. After a cold scolding from his big boss John Brassel (Laurence Fishburne), Ethan’s little boss John Musgrave (Billy Crudup) gives him the go signal to go after Damien.

Much of this ado is done behind the back of Mrs. Hunt. Yes, between missions, Hunt marries the lovely Julia (Michelle Monaghan), a doctor who believes her husband to be an air-traffic controller. With this sore spot straight out of TRUE LIES, he hides the stress and perils of the job from his sweetheart. In a scene with a true attempt at sincerity, he asks her to trust him. And she does.

If you found that hard to swallow, try to avert your eyes from rolling once the villain states his reasons in trading for the rabbit’s foot. Still, we don’t go into any conventional action movie to find out why the action is happening. We just want it to see it happen, and what rousing sights there are to behold here. The movie’s initial rescue operation is taut and precise; with the best helicopter chase (through windmill farms) since TERMINATOR 2. Its infiltration of the Vatican walls is engaging and becomes an unwitting teaser for THE DA VINCI CODE. A siege on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge brings to mind those Harrier jets in TRUE LIES.

This kind of setup is nothing without exotic locales. The first two installments gave us England and Australia. This one hops around Italy and China. Though I cannot conceive why any terrorist would want to buy arms in the Vatican, or store nuclear weapons in a Shanghai high rise, it still makes the film darned pretty to look at. The film’s casting of Hunt’s crew has more to do with audience reach than it does with capability (Rhames for the African Americans, Q for Asians, and Meyers for Europeans). At least Mr. Meyers now plays a more masculine role for once.

Seeing Tom Cruise and Billy Crudup act side by side is an odd experience. Mr. Crudup (the golden god rocker of ALMOST FAMOUS) is the Tom Cruise of non-mainstream films, and watching them together underscores this polarization even more. He seems out of place and step with nothing noteworthy being required of him here, but perhaps his merely being cast is recognition of his marvelous work. There are better ways to reward him though.

As for Cruise, he’s the star. His focused intensity is the film’s engine, and if Harrison Ford owns the best intense look of a man in dire straits, Tom Cruise has the best intense look while running (he pretty much invented it with THE FIRM). Like Jacky Chan, he understands the intimacy a character generates once it performs its own stunts. And like a modern Errol Flynn, he dives, swoops, and ricochets through every physical scene.

If the movie has any failings, it’s that its hero’s sensibilities are out of step with the times. The idea that a super spy should have a love life is beyond comprehension. Sure Schwarzenegger pulled it off in TRUE LIES. But in essence, that movie was a comedy, whose premise depended on marital duplicity. In an era where no-nonsense agents such as Jason Bourne and the Transporter know how relationships can interfere with work, Ethan Hunt needs no such complications. Even James Bond knows that.

One only need look back at the first MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE to find why it was so satisfying. Ethan Hunt then could be vulnerable to moments of passion, but would also step back and be calculating as his opponent. Now that Daniel Craig is being groomed to play Bond as someone harder, colder, and less suave, Tom Cruise has to do the same with Hunt. MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE III has the thrills; the next has to be tightened up.

Michael Douglas gets a lot of flak for playing victims. His most memorable characters seem to be one ever since FATAL ATTRACTION, as he has the unique ability to blend presence with vulnerability. But what most audiences have forgotten is that he can be one of the steeliest of leading men (has there ever been anyone more presidential than he was in THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT?). Let’s face it, when he’s in a suit and a tie, very few actors are as commanding.

In THE SENTINEL, he plays Pete Garrison, a top Secret Service Agent assigned to protect President Ballentine (David Rasche). In the course of his duties, his friend and colleague is murdered, just before he can be informed of a mole in the agency and, lo and behold, a plot to assassinate the president.

As in past offerings where Mr. Douglas’s characters commits grievous mistakes for which he needs to atone for during the rest of the movie, Pete doesn’t disappoint by having an affair with the 1st Lady Sarah Ballentine (Kim Basinger). This liaison gets him into trouble with David Breckinridge (Keifer Sutherland), another lead agent heading the murder investigation. Pete and David, formerly best friends, butt heads every time they meet, due to Pete’s past indiscretion. What’s a Michael Douglas role without infidelity? Make it two this time!

Soon enough, Pete gets suspected of treason. But this doesn’t come about in an obvious manner, as his affair isn’t revealed to the rest of the players until late in the film. How it does get him into hot water is one of the more interesting situational predicaments to come along in recent thrillers, as it is treated with care and skill. The same can be said of Pete’s flights from the agency hunting him down. If there are cracks in the film’s realism, they only become apparent in retrospect.

Stephen Holden of The New York Times calls the events of the film “deeply ridiculous”, and so they are. But if a film can depict such a situation in an expert fashion, it can be as involving as one that’s dead serious, and this is precisely what THE SENTINEL does. With its attention to detail, serious mood, and refusal to kid around, it grabs hold and rarely lets go. Yes, a Secret Service Agent with a history of romantic trysts having an affair with the 1st Lady should have never gotten as far he has, but there you have it: the premise.

Who else but Keifer Sutherland could have played the fastidious Secret Service Investigator? Reprising his signature “24” role, his edgy archetype speaks for himself. Eva Longoria is surprisingly convincing as Jill Martin, an agent who once served under Pete and now under David. Unlike Mr. Sutherland, she sheds her well-known “desperate housewife” persona completely, with a character that is calm, steady, and professional. David Rasche, known more as Clint Eastwood-lite in the SLEDGEHAMMER TV series, is surprisingly presidential. And Kim Basinger, as the 1st Lady, is reason enough for any Secret Service Agent to drop his guard.

Some complain that the movie contains few surprises, but I think director Clark Johnson is hardly concerned with final plot twists that have become so commonplace since THE SIXTH SENSE. As in his previous film S.W.A.T., the key antagonist is easy to figure out. The difference here is that the tension feels palpable, and the stakes tangible. We begin to appreciate Secret Service practices and tactics, and realize the dilemma of trying to save the President while being targeted as the assassin. That’s a tall order for today’s thrillers, and THE SENTINEL does just enough to clinch it.

In the 90s, Walt Disney could do no wrong when it came to animated films. It revitalized the genre with THE LITTLE MERMAID and BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, and continued its dominance through the decade with classic after classic But after its last such masterpiece in TARZAN, it lost focus. Animation’s balance of power started shifting from hand-drawing to CGI, with audiences drawn to new vibrant images not possible before. Disney still produced a few memorable pictures, but the exodus had begun.

Pixar, a small company focusing solely on CGI animated films, became Disney’s special effects’ godsend. It produced the first full featured CGI animated film in TOY STORY, and since then has only gone to make the same kind of classics Disney (its film distributor) used to make. It’s secret to success isn’t so much its technical virtuosity (which is masterful), but its storytelling, which in animation circles is rivaled only by Japanese masters Hayao Miyazaki and Satoshi Kon. While other CGI animated films focus on being unrelentingly cute and frenetically topical, Pixar chooses to be reticent and poetic.

Which leads me to Disney’s latest offering THE WILD, which falls squarely in the “other” corner. With its countless in-jokes, unfunny slapstick, and recycled storylines, it has no ambition to be anything but another attempt to cash in on family audiences still “wowed” by CGI imagery. It’s amazing that if we wouldn’t laugh at human stories involving corny dialogue, bumbling tomfoolery, schmaltzy relationships, and hackneyed characters, why on earth should we do so for those in a CGI animated film?

If you must know what it’s all about, the film tells the story of a Zoo lion named Samson (Kiefer Sutherland) who loses his cub Ryan (Greg Cipes) due to a misunderstanding. To the rescue he and his neighbors go! Surprise! Surprise! Their journey leads them through a city (guess which?) and eventually a jungle. Does he save his son? Does a lion pee in the wild?

The movie’s animal escapes (MADAGASCAR) and patching of father-son relationships (FINDING NEMO) have been done before (and better). “Wink-wink” moments pollute the story leaving younger children wondering what their grownups are most likely groaning over. The plot is as predictable as Arctic weather (and about as interesting). And emotional cues are so revoltingly insulting to one’s intelligence, that you can almost hear BRUCE ALMIGHTY’s Jim Carrey screaming, “Cue the cheesy music!”

The movie has a handful of funny moments, such as those storied reptiles lying in the sewers of New York (start googling), and a good joke about Canadian immigration policies. Visually, its animal renderings and lip synchronization is outstanding. But to what end? Bereft of ideas and of spirit, THE WILD is a less than half-hearted exercise, all for the money and nothing for the mind. Its visuals amaze, but its tale is soulless. And any film that can make a koala bear irritating or wildebeest break-dance deserves to be damned.

Every movie lover by now knows what a breakthrough BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN has been. It is the first major acclaimed film that has dealt head on with the taboo of homosexual romance (I’m sure that there have been others before it, but can you remember them?). But aside from this, it has another distinction. I have seen no other movie that has deterred so many men from the theatre, yet engrossed just as many women. It even inspired Larry David (creator of SEINFELD) to pen a hilarious op-ed piece on why he won’t see it. Though his musings are meant to be funny, they mine some truth.

The Philippines is more or less quite open to the gay community (it’s one of a handful of Asian countries showing the film in wide release). Though discouraged by the Church and quietly ridiculed by the heterosexual majority, most Filipino gays are openly “out of the closet” and fear little rebuke or reprisal. Male homosexuals are stigmatized as “effeminate” (bakla) and lesbians as “butch” (tibo). Yet the younger generation is beginning to shed these stereotypes, particularly due to Western literature and media. Quietly, gays are being accepted.

So here comes Ang Lee’s unconventional love story, putting this theory to the test. And suddenly, old beliefs are returning to the fore. Straight men are staying away from it like avian flu, unless accompanied by their female companions. If you had never heard of it, BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN might have seemed to be the most effective specialized horror movie of its time, regardless of its tremendous emotional craftsmanship. Even close friends of mine, guys whom I had thought to be open and understanding, refuse to see it, even in private (on pirated DVDs).

One would think that such men are deeply biased against homosexuality. But how come we never hear of the same type of abhorrence whenever lesbianism is portrayed onscreen? We all know that a double standard exists against women in society. This also translates to one in homophobia, where male homosexuals are taboo, but lesbians are turn-ons.

God knows how many movies have used female homosexuality to entice male audiences (particularly teenagers). Whether explicitly (as in WILD THINGS) or suggestively (CHARLIE’S ANGELS 2), lesbians are just another form of female objectification. They’re loin-candy if you will, satisfying our fantasies but rarely engaging us intelligently. These sweets aren’t just limited to film, as girl-girl action is tantalizingly referred to more and more in advertising and television.

This is not to say that sexual fantasy has no place in film (it’s been there ever since Valentino). But how can we denounce homosexuality when we can hardly lift a finger against the use of lesbians as enticements? Where was the uproar over Madonna and Britney locking lips at the MTV awards? Some will argue that if a serious film about a lesbian relationship had been made, it would still spark controversy. But think about this, if BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN had been about two lesbian rodeo queens (like the one Anne Hathaway played) struggling to be accepted in the Midwest of the 1960s, straight men would be flocking to the theater in droves, with their partners struggling to keep in step.

So is gay love really taboo? Hardly. What’s really at issue here is the insecurity of the heterosexual male (you know who you are) in dealing with male homosexuality. At the risk of sounding sexist and cliché, women are much more mature in dealing with sexuality, as more of them are willing to see and depict such behavior in movies. If you don’t believe me, watch out for it soon in theatres, onscreen and off.

To watch SYRIANA is to be dropped into the path of a tsunami. It cares not what you think of it as it rushes towards you with urgency. Getting caught up in it is maddening, and trying to make sense of it takes a Herculean amount of focus. But dealing with it is necessary and worthwhile. And realizing just what it is, where it comes from, and what it has wrought, is humbling.

Trying to recap the movie’s plot is itself a formidable task. I won’t attempt to summarize it, just merely give its ingredients. It involves two oil companies (Connex and Killen, pun intended apparently), an unnamed Middle Eastern country with vast huge reserves (guess which), two of its Emirs (played by Alexander Siddig and Nadim Sawalha), and an energy analyst (Matt Damon).

Now only if it were that simple, as the plot also includes a Washington law firm hired more or less by the two oil companies to iron out their merger. Its head (Christopher Plummer) assigns one of his prized lawyers (Jeffrey Wright) to make sure that no obstacles lie in the way of a Connex-Killen union, as the US Department of Justice scrutinizes whether their dealing violates anti-trust laws.

Also thrown into this mix is Robert Barnes (George Clooney), a CIA operative who is used in the earlier part of the film to stop illegal arms trafficking in the Middle East, and in the later part to assassinate one of the Emirs mentioned above. Another prominent figure is Wasim Khan (Mazhar Munir), one of many Pakistani migrant workers working at Connex. His company’s maneuverings have many unwanted effects on him and his father (Shahid Ahmed), causing him to go down a fundamentalist path that we know all too well.

I’ll leave it at that, but if the devil is in the details, Beelzebub would feel at home in SYRIANA, as the amount of its fine points and information is staggering. It bears strong resemblance to David Mamet’s great SPARTAN, where its world and characters could hardly give a damn about what its audience thinks. Politicians, Intelligence officers, clerics, energy analysts, lawyers, construction workers, all speak the lingo, and we come to understand how everything is connected not because it is spelled out for us (which the film never does), but by how each subplot is juxtaposed against the other. If we can’t get it, tough.

Another remarkable feat the movie achieves is how despite its wealth of characters and storylines, it is still able to treat each of its characters with equal importance. From the prince to the pauper, practically every point of view is given great care, nuance, and inspection. It might be easy to miss that each prominent figure has a father-son backdrop. I at first found it unnecessary, but later realized that it was a simple attempt to humanize them. Emirs, lawyers, businessmen, and spies may do dastardly things, but they’re also family men and many of them (if not all) recognize how what they do will affect their children.

Though it might have sounded as if I found fault in the film for indulging in its thoroughness, I found its approach necessary and intriguing. It is usually not a good sign when a film leaves you confused. But like a massive jigsaw puzzle, confusion is the film’s intention and not a careless result. It doesn’t leave us perplexed because it haphazardly leaves out important information (all of its loose ends are tied up as far as I can tell). Like the great MASTER AND COMMANDER, it immerses us in an uncompromising yet frighteningly real environment, and leaves us to our wits to figure it out. If we leave the film bewildered, it will be because we couldn’t handle its pieces.

The film’s authentic feel is shored up by its steely frontline of actors (Matt Damon, Christopher Plummer, Amanda Peet, Chris Cooper, and Jeffrey Wright), and their talent is more than matched by their lesser known counterparts. George Clooney, an underrated leading man valued more for his presence than talent (nominated for Best Supporting Actor here), has a torture scene so unsettling that it will have you sitting on your hands. The one actor who stamped himself into my mind (however brief the moment) is Tim Blake Nelson, whose “Corruption is why we win” speech will be forever remembered alongside Michael Douglas’s “Greed is good”.

It’s hard to believe that this is only the second time Stephen Gaghan has directed a film. I have not seen his previous work ABANDON, though I’m sure that its scope could hardly compare with that of this one. Though it is true that he wrote his Oscar-winning screenplay in TRAFFIC, directing and writing are two entirely different things (David Goyer’s BLADE: TRINITY is painful proof). He seems to have taken a lot of notes from Steven Soderbergh (Executive Producer on this one), as TRAFFIC and SYRIANA are almost eerily similar in terms of looks and technique.

If the film has any failing, it is that it doesn’t have moments where we can deeply connect with its characters (despite its allusions to fathers and sons). Some have said that how can it, when with its method, it has so much to say and so little time to do so? Well, Fernando Meirelles’s THE CONSTANT GARDENER is a better film that does so, with a global conspiracy that is just as labyrinth and important (if not more so). What it has that SYRIANA hasn’t is a central character whose emotions we can latch onto. There, when Ralph Fiennes’s character has his realizations and feels his outrage, we’re there right with him.

Nonetheless, what SYRIANA does is too impressive to discount, and its message, though not new, too important to ignore. It shows the hold oil has on all of us. How the West enjoys its benefits, and how ordinary citizens of the countries that produce it (as shown in a haunting title shot) hardly do. Now that $60 a barrel is considered cheap, and Islamic extremists are funded from it, isn’t it time we found an alternative?

A friend of mine recently asked me what good love stories of the past year he could go see at the cinema or on DVD. Aside from THE NOTEBOOK, I could not come up with a single worthwhile recommendation. Filmmakers these days seem to be averse to making good old fashioned romances, probably because today’s audiences go to the cinema more to be entertained than to be moved. But a movie that makes you cry can be just as meaningful (if not more so) than one that makes you laugh. Though it makes us feel vulnerable, it is cathartic, and underlines our common humanity.

If you’re looking for just that, look no further. BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN is the most moving love story I have seen since Vincent Ward’s MAP OF THE HUMAN HEART. It isn’t big on sweeping emotions, nor is it epic in scope. Its moments are never melodramatic or sentimental. Its happenings never feel fabricated and no messages are ever laid out bare. Yet it is sincere, intimate, and heartbreaking. A work of tremendous honesty and sensitivity, this is Ang Lee’s masterpiece.

Yes, the film’s romantic pairing is not traditional. It has been called “the gay cowboy movie”, and that it is (as even Ang Lee will attest to). But calling it such, as Roger Ebert rightly says in his review, is “a cruel simplification”. It shares the same misfortune of MILLION DOLLAR BABY, which people call a boxing drama, when it is really a parental love story (whose protagonists who just happened to be in boxing). BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN isn’t just about the pains of hidden homosexuality; it’s about the universality of love, and the barriers that it breaks through. Its same-sex context can be substituted with any other constraint, be it race, religion, profession, or tradition. Romeo and Juliet would have welcomed these lovers.

The lovers in question are two men with deep cowboy roots. Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) has a ranching background, while Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) has his in rodeo. Set in the 1960s, they meet by chance while looking for work, and end up tending sheep on a Wyoming mountainside. They go about their duties over the seasons (one is a lookout for predators, while the other keeps close watch over the herd), and hardly spend any time together, let alone converse.

I remember feeling an acute tension within the audience when I first saw it. Knowing of the film’s subject, the theatre seemed to be waiting for that wanton look, touch, or dialogue. But the film never gives us that satisfaction. Gone are those comfortable homosexual clichés most of us have been accustomed to. In those first 30 minutes, Ang Lee calms us down.

Instead of what we expect, we are treated to Ennis and Jack doing their jobs, and doing them impressively. It dawns on us how lonesome and difficult their toil is, and what a glorious backdrop the mountain makes against it. By the time their desires come to the fore, I cared less for their orientation than I did for them.

Ennis and Jack don’t fall head over heels in love. After a cold night of much drink, they are surprised by their passions as nothing prepares them for how to deal with what they’ve discovered. The next day, they’re in denial:

Ennis: “I ain’t queer.”
Jack: “Me neither.”

But after a second night together, they know they’re in deep. Once they go their separate ways in the most awkward of partings, they both wed and start their families: Ennis with his longtime girlfriend Alma (Michelle Williams), a regular country girl who mothers his 2 children; and Jack with Lureen Newsome (Anne Hathaway), a rodeo-queen whose father heads a successful tractor business.

When Ennis receives a letter from Jack, his spirit soars. Devoid of contact for several years, their longing consumes them upon meeting once more. The concerns of their spouses fall on deaf ears, as each tryst they embark on becomes more and more essential. They return each year to Brokeback Mountain, their haven, their solace, and in a way, their prison.

There have been those who have criticized the film as much ado about nothing; that if both of its protagonists were heterosexual, it wouldn’t have garnered much attention or acclaim. Such comments overstate the obvious and completely miss the point. Of course it wouldn’t have been as significant, as the film is meant to addresses this specific type of forbidden love. But forbidden love has always been a powerful subject, regardless of its type. The most powerful of love stories have always shown that love is beyond such matters. It’s no wonder why this film has struck a chord among viewers, regardless of affiliation or sexual orientation.

The film also does something that I’ve never seen before. Aside from showing the hardships that homosexuals have in the face of overwhelming societal pressure, it shows the indirect victims of “staying in the closet”. Jack and Ennis marry their women not out of affection or duty, but out of the need to conform and be accepted. As fathers, they love their children dearly as any other, but emotionally are always at arm’s length from their wives. Needless to say, this affects them and their families in profoundly painful ways.

One cannot overstate the contributions of Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal to this movie. Mr. Ledger’s Ennis Del Mar is a clenched fist. Withdrawn, sinewy, a man of few words, he is the archetypal cowboy. Yet his closed nature belies a simmering pain. Here is a man who has been taught (by his own father at that) to hate his own nature, and it shows when he and Jack first have sex. Wrangling, afraid, and resistant, he is the more physical of the two. Mr. Gyllenhaal’s Jack Twist however is more accepting. At peace with himself, he willingly risks retribution for their happiness. But due to Ennis’s trauma, he becomes the long-suffering lover, as he thanklessly tries to persuade Ennis to consummate their relationship (his rant towards the film's end is heartfelt and angry). Together, they are one of filmdom’s most memorable star-crossed lovers.

Michelle Williams, as Alma, provides an insightful moment in the film upon her character’s discovery. As when Jack and Ennis discover their feelings, nothing equips her for her own realization. In a way, it is both trauma and disbelief, as she confronts him years after the fact. Her pain is sad in that she still holds hope that what she saw, though obvious to us, might have meant something else.

It also doesn't hurt when you have Gustavo Santaolalla (AMORES PERROS and THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES) providing the music (Ang Lee listened to his recordings during filmmaking as continuing inspiration). His guitar driven score is resonant and expansive, giving the film a larger-than-life quality. Adding to the movie's texture is Rodrigo Prieto (21 GRAMS and THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES), who gives us the widest and bluest skies one could ever want. His shots of vast swaths of sheep herds moving across mountain vistas not only look majestic, but alive.

Ang Lee has always one common thread running through his films: A love and willingness to understand characters struggling with their contextual norms. Whether it be Elinor Dashwood of SENSE AND SENSIBILITY, the family members of THE ICE STORM, Wai-Tung of THE WEDDING BANQUET, Jiao Long of CROUCHING TIGER HIDDEN DRAGON, or even right down to the green goliath in HULK, he weaves careful and affectionate portraits of misunderstood people who are pressured by what is expected of them. When asked in an interview whether a gay director would have been best suited for this film, he wisely replied, “I don’t think it’s important that you’re gay. I think it’s important that you’re sensitive.” And that he has always been.

BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN isn’t just an important movie, it’s a cultural hallmark. Rarely has a film made me realize this kind of worth. It shows cowboys, the great symbols of independence, lacking the freedom to pursue their happiness, as the mountain becomes their damnation and salvation. Ang Lee has crafted one of the greatest love stories of our time. It’s a portrayal so honest that anyone who has ever loved deeply and with abandon cannot deny its truth. This is the best film of 2005.

THE EXORCISM OF EMILY ROSE has been marketed as a horror film, yet frights are furthest from its mind. It chronicles supernatural happenings based on true-to-life accounts, but not merely for shock value. It doesn’t reject the paranormal ideas that it presents, yet it doesn’t completely give them the benefit of the doubt. Here is a movie that gives both points of view, secular and religious, on what might have led to the death of a tortured soul. And at its end, we, like the jury, are called to question our reasoning and faith, for the fate of the accused, and for ourselves. This is the kind of false advertising that I approve of.

The movie tells the story of Emily Rose’s arduous ordeal before her eventual death (which is revealed early on). Father Moore (Tom Wilkinson), her parish priest and exorcist, is charged with her murder, and it’s up to Erin Bruner (Laura Linney), his defense attorney, to prove his innocence. A task that cannot be easy in today’s world where facts are deemed closer to the truth than religion, especially in a court of law. Yet she takes up the challenge for reasons more pragmatic than principled.

Though Father Moore seems unlikely to be able to afford a lawyer of Erin’s caliber, she is assigned to him by her high profile firm as his archdiocese is footing the bill. One intriguing aspect of his trial is that the Church is willing to support Father Moore since they sanctioned the exorcism, but are averse to having him take the stand. They’d rather settle than have the media tarnish what’s left of their reputation (Those child-abuses quickly come to mind). If only he’d accept a plea bargain, but he has no intention of doing so: “All I care about is telling Emily Rose’s story.”

Father Moore wants to testify, but the archdiocese won’t let him. If he won’t get to, he won’t cooperate. If she won’t heed the Church’s instructions, her career becomes at risk. This movie makes this ethical speed bump an interesting hurdle, but the more important one she must clear is that of her defense. How can she adequately defend a man whose actions seem unjustifiable by science and medicine? Her initial strategy to counter expert medical opinions with others is doomed to fail (I’ve never heard of a medically endorsed exorcism before). Once she changes her line of attack the movie really makes its mark, using the court room to make a rationale for the seemingly irrational.

Emily Rose (Jennifer Carpenter) is evoked in flashback scenes during testimonies. Whether you believe she was demonically possessed or subject to a medical condition, she was surely in agony. She sees nightmarish images and suffers excruciating loss of control. Her body betrays her by seizing, locking, and contorting. Her mind splinters into a different personality, as she speaks in foreign tongues. She loses her appetite and hence her weight. Near the end she relies solely on those closest to her, one of them being Father Moore.

The movie has its share of scares as it recollects Emily’s dark moments. Though these scenes are not of primary focus, they extend a horrifying reach. Not because they are frightening, but because they are heartrending. Like THE EXORCIST, it delves into its characters, as compared to contemporary slasher flicks, which are merely content with slaying their players like so much meat. We share Emily’s hopes, her dreams, and the love of those dearest to her. Once we relate to their horror, it becomes ours. How terrible it must be to see a loved one undergo such misery, let alone endure it. That is the one terrifying certainty the movie supplies.

Its other truths reside mainly in its audience. Since the movie doesn’t pick a side, it encourages both. If you’re spiritual, Father Moore was justified in his actions. If you’re an agnostic, Father Moore was an unsuspecting murderer with the best of intentions. Some people with medical backgrounds might criticize the film’s knowledge (there is no such condition as “psychotic medical disorder”), but it is merely a device used to make a long explanation short, and relates to a larger idea the film touches on: Our desire to explain unexplainable ideas, away. Just because these certain ideas can’t be made clear as of yet, doesn’t mean they don’t happen, or don’t have meaning. If one day we are able to elucidate what love is, does that make it cease to exist? Or meaningless? If we find out that after death there are no actual demons, does that mean there is no evil in the world?

These are the kind of questions the movie entices, and is able to do so since it is so well-written and acted. Laura Linney and Campbell Scott, two of the most underrated Hollywood actors working today, lend authority in conveying the strong cases and sharp criticisms of the worldly and devout, without being heavy handed or ham-fisted. Their roles supply the irony of seeing Erin (Linney), an agnostic defending a priest, and prosecutor Ethan Thomas (Scott), who is religious, going after a holy man.

As Emily Rose, Jennifer Carpenter gives a fearless and exhausting physical performance. It isn’t as astonishing as Linda Blair’s in THE EXORCIST, but it's no less difficult. And Tom Wilkinson, who has always given great performances, lends his archetypal dignified persona to his deserving character. As Father Moore, his sincerity is never in doubt (remarkable for a guy who just played a menacing crime boss in BATMAN BEGINS). When he tells Erin of “dark forces,” we don’t believe him, but we want to.

It’s admirable that among all of the film’s characters, Father Moore is the only one who has the singular devotion to tell Emily’s story (we need more non-demonized priests in movies). But in the end, it is one clouded by what Emily believes in, what Father Moore believes in, and what the prosecution believes in. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. So is truth. It’s not that the film plays it safe by not taking a definitive stand. It’s that it wants to give credence to both sides of the story and that’s what keeps it from being a truly remarkable film. But of course, that doesn’t keep it from being admirable one. THE EXORCISM OF EMILY ROSE is an insightful look at what might have happened at an exorcism. And despite all the information we are given, nobody can explain it away.

When one watches GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER (1967), it is easy to dismiss it as preachy, obvious, and dated, not realizing the bravery it took to make it and the impact it had on American audiences in the late 60s. Telling the tale of a young white woman taking home an upstanding black man to meet her parents and tell them of their plans to marry, the film is a watershed in American Cinema. Interracial marriage was illegal in 16 states at the time, and the movie had the courage to take on its racist implications head on. It helped that the man being introduced is played by a young Sidney Poitier, an actor whose name is synonymous with dignity, as well having two of Hollywood’s greatest, Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy, play the welcoming parents.

Times have changed. How much depends on whom you ask. If you ask me, the issue is nonexistent. Though cultural differences still distinguish us, apart from the color of our skin, it should never get in the way of two people who want to be with each other. GUESS WHO knows this, and has no intention of taking on the subject of interracial marriage with the same elegance and gravity that its originator had wrought. It merely shows how silly our remaining prejudices are, remnants of an ignorant past. Most of all, it just wants to make us laugh, and that it does very well.

The core of this comedy’s plot is the same as its predecessor, although races are reversed. The receiving family is black and the guest white. Since the film aims at hilarity instead of illumination, these new versioned characters also have different natures. The guest is Simon Green (Ashton Kutcher), a Wall Street trader who has just quit his job. His fiancée Theresa Jones (Zoe Saldana) has brought him to meet her folks in time to surprise them during their 25th Wedding Anniversary, by announcing their plans to marry. It goes without saying that she does not know of his employment status, and he has no intention of revealing it, since no man wants a future father-in-law to think that you’re a bum.

Percy (Bernie Mac), the Jones’s patriarch, is understandably wary of Simon, exhibiting knew-jerk rigidity upon finding that he isn’t a “brother”. But as the movie goes on, his defensiveness becomes defensible, as he finds Simon at times insincere. His wife Marilyn (Judith Scott) is more understanding, as are most movie wives when contrasted against their spouses. She wants him to be more understanding, and focus more on their upcoming renewal of vows. Sure enough, Simon’s inconsistencies pile up, putting the story on autopilot. You know where this will go.

When a movie starts becoming all too familiar, the only the thing that saves it from itself is its execution. So we know what’s coming, is it still done well? Is it funny? The answer is a resounding yes. Regardless how sitcomesque many certain seem, they're all done so well that I didn’t mind or hardly noticed. This is not the kind of movie where the highlights are sadly revealed in its trailer. It has way more laughs than advertised.

Yes we see Theresa struggle to get her lingerie off Simon and end up in kinky position when her father walks in. The setup does seem more awkward than what plays out, but you know what? I bought into it, because Ashton Kutcher is exactly the kind of guy I would expect to try something like that (all you guys out there, you know you’ve made fun of your lovers in a similar way). We see the go-cart crash Percy gets Simon into. Regardless of how manufactured it may seem, I enjoyed it, because I believe Bernie Mac is exactly the kind of father-figure who would outrageously dare a future son-in-law in that way. Whoever cast these two should get a bonus.

The movie is not all laughs, as it has moments that touch on how sensitive “mixing” still is. None more effective than at a family dinner where Simon tells one black joke too many. It’s not how offensive the joke is, it's how it occurs. Simon’s reasoning, Percy’s goading, Theresa’s understanding, and a grandfather’s fuming all ring true. What is even more refreshing is how Theresa deals with it once the dust has settled. Moments such as these are the film’s most dear.

A lot of critics have pointed out that the movie could have benefited itself more so if it had more of these genuine moments. I think doing so would have made the film another type of creature altogether, which would divert it from what it is trying to do. It isn’t trying to say that interracial dating/marriage is right, for that message has been made for some time now. It’s trying to show, in a lighthearted manner, how silly we are in still considering it an issue. Percy's rash actions are understandable, but they're ridiculous, and soon become supplanted by more important issues, such as honesty, common sense, and getting his wife to stop being mad at him.

The film’s cast has glowing chemistry. Judith Scott’s character Marilyn provides the sound judgment that Percy needs, and gives us his most satisfying comeuppances (Husbands in the audience will cringe and laugh in agreement). The beautiful Zoe Saldana, who was radiant in DRUMLINE and as the customs officer in THE TERMINAL, has that Audrey Hepburn charisma which makes her impossible not to love, and supplies the equability that compliments Ashton Kutcher’s confusion.

Ashton Kutcher is a curious fellow. He is capable of endearing goofiness (THAT 70’S SHOW) and nasty prankishness (PUNK’D). It’s obvious that it all stems from that inner kid. Thankfully, he reins in his childishness and reveals a handsome charm. His acting can be raw at times, but he successfully translates the frustration of trying to impress Percy. His reaction at seeing Percy being rebuffed by Marilyn is priceless.

Bernie Mac is the Charles Barkley of comedy. Fearless, brash and imposing, he always becomes the funniest guy in the room, whoever he’s with (Chris Rock ain’t got nuthin’ on ‘im). But as he proved in OCEAN’S ELEVEN and BAD SANTA, he knows how to command respect, as he does here. He portrays a man unsure of how to handle a situation with unmet expectations. His false worries transform into real ones once he stops worrying about race and concentrates on truthfulness. His character isn’t an insecure complainer spewing race-related tirades. He is shrewd, cautious, and protective. As Simon puts it, “He’s a good father.”

How I wish the film’s detractors had noticed that the movie doesn’t take potshots by using stereotypes. There are no collar greens or chicken jokes, no hood or homeboy remarks, no shallow tributes to its origins, and no cameos. GUESS WHO doesn’t need to explain why it’s okay for its lovers to be together. It just wants laugh at why they make it so difficult for themselves. When you see Bernie Mac doing a Lou Rawls, you just have to laugh with it.

A gulf war veteran returns to the U.S. after surviving a fatal head wound, and after a surreal series of events, finds himself in an even stranger mental institution. Its chief doctor treats his supposed psychosis with a straightjacket and morgue drawer. But that’s not the strangest piece of what happens to Jack Starks (Adrien Brody of THE PIANIST). What is is what he finds in his dark prison, and where it brings him.

Such is the storyline behind THE JACKET, a movie that baffles me with its marketing strategy. Though it is advertised as a thriller, it really has no intention to scare. It’s an intriguing science fiction mystery dipped in darkness, desolation, and anxiety. But it also has just a hint of romance, saving itself from its own bleak ambiance. Think of it as a fully realized TWIGHLIGHT ZONE episode, like a cross between TWELVE MONKEYS and SOMEWHERE IN TIME. Though that may seem like a bad proposition, its better than it sounds.

Back to the story. While Jack Starks is confined, he discovers that he is able to project his consciousness through time, finding himself sifting through past events, and existing in the fullest sense in the future. He realizes this during one of his “trips,” after he befriends Jackie Price (Keira Knightley), a young woman he had met long before his commitment.

After telling Jackie who he is, with the expected disbelief and reassurance, Jack discovers something else, and with her help, he oscillates between his two existences trying to set things right. A movie such as this is difficult to opine on, since noting its special qualities entails revealing too much for those who wish to see it. All you need to know dear reader is that his dilemma involves two doctors: The cold Dr. Thomas Becker (Kris Kristofferson), and the weary Dr. Lorenson (Jennifer Jason Leigh).

Many SF fans might scoff at the movie’s underlying time travel premise, where Jack’s thoughts propel him 15 years into the future. But it’s not so much the film’s believability that makes it absorbing, but of Jack’s undeserved travails. The film asks us to ride on its “what if” possibilities, and see where Jack ends up. It isn’t concerned with how Jack is able to do what he does, but with what he does with his abilities to free himself from his yoke.

To say that his suffering is hard to bear is like saying Manila in monsoon time is moist. He gets shot, rejected, wrongly convicted, drugged, distrusted, and locked away in what is basically a tomb. Dr. Becker’s methods are so wrong, that you wonder if any of his staff have any common sense to call the authorities. When he orders Jack to be sedated without warning, strapped into a straightjacket in uncompromising positions, and confined in darkness for hours, you know that he’s more insane than his patient.

Jack isn’t the only character abounded by gloom. Dr. Lorenson looks as if she’s one of her own patients, worn and jaded about what she does and whether she helps anyone. Jackie, though beautiful, looks as if she’s teetering on the verge of breakdown. She is lonely and guilt-ridden ever since her mother died, and helping Jack, who has a lot more to worry about, is the only thing that uplifts her. Rudy Mackenzie (Daniel Craig), a fellow patient, is the resident nut job, nervous tics and all. And Dr. Becker, though dispassionate, seems to have inner demons of his own. For most of its running time, the movie is dim and desolate, with stylistic flourishes, jolts, and imagery that would make Christopher Nolan (INSOMNIA) and David Fincher (SE7EN) proud.

The film is invariably tied to Adrien Brody, an actor who conveys moroseness and suffering with the best of them. Though he mostly wallows in pain and confusion, he also conveys depth and reserve, knowing the right times when to show his distress and when to rein it in, sometimes holding a line just before it snaps. Keira Knightley, who seems to be the most beautiful young actress anywhere right now, isn’t as effective. Her American accent is labored at times, and is distracting. Her efforts are laudable, as she does her best to reach beyond what her looks can bring her, but her performance is a bit mannered. Kris Kristofferson is one of those actors who uses his gruff voice and looks to convey a seen-it-all gravitas as good as anyone. His facial features accentuate the film's laden feel.

Though I have made the movie sound hopelessly depressing, its burdens get lighter past its halfway point. As we find out what Jack needs to do, we root for his salvation. Like FREQUENCY, SOMEWHERE IN TIME, and even GROUNDHOG DAY, it is a time travel movie that is mostly unconcerned with the workings or different eras. It cares more for the characters who happen to be wrapped up in them. At the end of it all, I didn’t care whether a mind could send me to the future, but if Jack and Jackie would make it. Didn’t I say the movie gets lighter as it goes along?