THE ADJUSTMENT BUREAU One person's religious beliefs is often another person's existentialist theories, and The Adjustment Bureau offers plenty of theological fodder to go around. Because it tinkers with notions involving God and chance and destiny and all that other stuff that's fun to discuss, it might turn off those types of folks who misunderstood Martin Scorsese's brilliant and heartfelt Christian ode, The Last Temptation of Christ. Other viewers, however, might appreciate the movie's ability to question omniscient authority with the proper mix of reverence and reflection. Based on a short story by Philip K. Dick, this stars Matt Damon as aspiring U.S. senator David Norris, who meets promising dancer Elise Sellas (Emily Blunt); the pair are instantly attracted to one another, but David soon learns from the members of a shadowy cabal that they are never meant to be together. But David refuses to accept his fate, leading the mysterious enforcers to resort to strong-arm tactics to contain the situation. The film's notion that true love conquers all would fall flat with the wrong leads, but Damon and Blunt possess a lovely, laid-back chemistry that allows us to believe in their union. Because their casting is so apt, this often feels like a romantic yarn first and a fantasy flick second, with some nifty chase sequences thrown in for good measure. ***
BARNEY'S VERSION Paul Giamatti's excellent performance earned him the Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Musical or Comedy, and he certainly deserved the honor over his embarrassingly weak competition. What isn't so clear, however, is why this film was thrust into the Comedy category in the first place. Certainly, this adaptation of Mordecai Richler's novel has its share of gentle laughs, many of them provided by Dustin Hoffman in an ingratiating turn as the father of Giamatti's Barney Panofsky. But ultimately, this decades-spanning look at the life of an often unpleasant man is more about heartbreak than humor, touching upon such subjects as Alzheimer's, infidelity and even murder. Moving back and forth in time, the film allows us glimpses into what helped turn Barney into a far-from-upstanding individual, even if it doesn't always excuse his behavior (for what it's worth, he's surrounded by equally annoying and/or unscrupulous individuals, played by, among others, Minnie Driver, Scott Speedman and the Twilight series' original Victoria, Rachelle Lefevre). Barney Panofsky is a rich character inhabited by an actor up to the formidable task, although it's worth noting that the Globe win didn't lead to an Oscar nod; instead, its sole nomination was for Best Makeup. It deserved to win over Rick Baker's been-there-done-that work on The Wolfman; frankly, Benicio Del Toro's hirsute countenance is no match for Giamatti's liver spots. ***
BATTLE: LOS ANGELES It takes a special type of hack to make Roland Emmerich look like Steven Spielberg, but Jonathan Liebesman appears to be the right man for the job. The less said about most Emmerich movies (like 2012 and Matthew Broderick Meets Godzilla), the better, but he did helm Independence Day, and for all that film's faults, it knew how to milk the hell out of its H.G. Wells-by-way-of-Hollywood premise and, silly as it sounds, make us proud to be human. Battle: Los Angeles is so feeble that we really don't care who wins the global skirmish: the E.T.s or the earthlings. At least if the aliens win, we won't have to sit through any more movies like this one. As the film begins, most of the major cities are being decimated, leaving LA as the last great hope for humankind's survival. "Retreat? Hell!" bark the Marines tasked with saving the planet, as a sign that they'll never back down. B:LA is such an ADD-afflicted action film that it's impossible to invest much emotion in its one-dimensional characters — "Where's Lenihan?" someone asks regarding a missing comrade, but they might as well have been asking, "Where's Waldo?" for all it ultimately matters. The design of the alien critters is the usual blend of crunchy on the outside and squishy on the inside, but that's OK, since the camerawork and editing are executed at such dizzying paces that we never get a good look at most of the CGI work anyway. "Retreat"? Hell, yeah! Where's the nearest exit? *1/2
BIG MOMMAS: LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON Big Mommas: Like Father, Like Son isn't like Some Like It Hot; instead, it's like every other witless sequel meant to prolong the life cycle of a flailing franchise. Like it or not, the fact remains that there's not much to like here, and it only escapes a bomb rating because it's more irritating than offensive — like an ant crawling across a countertop rather than a roach roosting in the cereal box. The second sequel to the 2000 box office hit Big Momma's House, this finds Martin Lawrence again cast as FBI agent Malcolm Turner, donning the wig and fat suit once more to elude some Russian mobsters. The added, uh, hilarity comes with the notion that Malcolm's stepson Trent (Brandon T. Jackson) must also disguise himself as a female — in his case, a student named Charmaine. Together, Madea — excuse me, Big Momma — and Charmaine head to an all-girls arts school to uncover some evidence that will put away the criminals on their trail. Big Momma gets romantically wooed by a hefty caretaker (Faizon Love) who's into hefty women, Charmaine ogles the young ladies as they strip down to their undies, and everyone involved dutifully collects their paychecks while hoping for better luck the next time out. *1/2
CEDAR RAPIDS Cedar Rapids is a low-rent version of the sort of raunchy comedy that's all the rage these days, but it wears its modesty rather well. In fact, its reliance on vulgar gags is so sparse that it's somewhat startling when this ends on an outtake of co-star John C. Reilly mixing flatulence and flick-a-BIC. But we're getting ahead of ourselves. The plot of this amiable comedy centers around Tim Lippe (Ed Helms), a dorky insurance agent who's never ventured outside his hometown. So it's a big deal when his company sends him to the annual convention in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, with the task of returning home with the event's top sales prize. But Tim's attempt to snag said honor frequently takes a back seat to hanging out with his new pals, including the obnoxious Dean Ziegler (Reilly), the reserved Ronald (Isiah Whitlock Jr.) and the flirtatious Joan (Anne Heche). It's the same outline often employed in these types of films (e.g. The Goods: Live Hard, Sell Hard, also featuring Helms), but because the writing is a bit sharper and the characters more fleshed out than expected, there's actual interest in seeing how the story pans out and what happens to these people. Empathic feelings aren't usually engaged with this sort of fare, but Cedar Rapids manages to sell the idea, if just barely. **1/2
THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: THE VOYAGE OF THE DAWN TREADER On the sliding scale of Narnia adaptations, 2008's Prince Caspian was slightly better than 2005's The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, but any hope for continued ascendancy in this franchise ends with The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. A costly tentpole that switched studios midstream, the Narnia series (based, of course, on C.S. Lewis' books) has always come across as timid fantasy fare, squeezing out all the danger and intrigue inherent in the Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings film cycles. Such an overly cautious approach especially nullifies the content of this torpid installment and renders it toothless — just the opposite of what we should expect from a series featuring a lion as its most powerful character. The protagonists — returning siblings Lucy and Edmund Pevensie (Georgie Henley and Skandar Keynes) and obnoxious newcomer Eustace (Will Poulter) -- are bruisingly boring (paging the Potter kids!), and their adventures aboard the title seafaring vessel are only slightly less moldy than their skirmishes on land. Forget the Titanic: The Dawn Treader is the real sinking ship. *1/2
THE COMPANY MEN The topic tackled in The Company Men — the alarming rate of downsizing in corporate America -- was already handled perfectly in 2009's best film, Up in the Air. This lackluster drama, on the other hand, is a superficial look at this contemporary crisis, following a group of polished suits — shallow Bobby (Ben Affleck), panicky Phil (Chris Cooper) and introspective Gene (Tommy Lee Jones) — who find themselves shown the door at the conglomerate for which they've long toiled. Humbled and humiliated, the men are forced to make sacrifices like giving up their country-club golf memberships and trading in their Porsches — and, in the movie's most cringe-worthy moment, Bobby's son discards his Xbox for no discernible reason other than to bloodily claw at viewers' heartstrings. Luckily, Bobby's brother-in-law Jack (Kevin Costner), a salt-of-the-earth construction worker, is on hand to remind everyone that it's better to dance with wolves than finagle with stockholders, or something like that. With its unconvincing stabs at real-world misery and a contrived ending that's one degree removed from a deus ex machina, The Company Men can easily be ignored for more pressing business. **
THE EAGLE It's a tricky business, casting the roles of Romans in period spectacles. It's not that Americans are expecting actual Italians in these parts — on the contrary, with rare exception, we've long been conditioned to believe that Roman soldiers, emperors and the like sound best with British (or Australian) accents. We accepted Russell Crowe in Gladiator and Malcolm McDowell in Caligula; we did not accept John Wayne as the Centurion overseeing Christ's crucifixion in The Greatest Story Ever Told (you haven't lived until you hear The Duke drawl, "Truly, this man was the son of God"). So here we have capable character actor Denis O'Hare, yet when he speaks as Roman officer Lutorius, his flat Yankee drone is enough to make the ears bleed. Similar instances of awkwardness can be found throughout this adaptation of Rosemary Sutcliff's The Eagle of the Ninth, which casts dull Channing Tatum as a Roman officer who marches into enemy territory to retrieve the titular golden emblem. The Eagle is a handsome production, but Jeremy Brock's ornate script flags at key junctures, and director Kevin Macdonald never convinces us that this is anything more than actors playing dress-up. For a comparable lack of verisimilitude, I'd rather just stay home and watch Mel Brooks' History of the World: Part I — a line like "The eagle is not a piece of metal. The eagle is Rome" doesn't stand a chance against the likes of "Don't get saucy with me, Bernaise!" **
GNOMEO & JULIET In this toon take on, what else, William Shakespeare's immortal Romeo & Juliet, the majority of the characters are garden gnomes who come to life whenever the humans aren't around. As in the original text, the families of the boy (voiced by James McAvoy) and girl (Emily Blunt) are constantly feuding, making their love a forbidden one. But unlike the current Rango, the film is strictly for small children, with only a few shout-outs to Shakespeare and a happy ending grafted onto the proceedings. The music score relies on slightly altered versions of Elton John standards, and while it's always nice to hear his classics in any form, they're usually integrated into the story in only the most perfunctory manner. Honestly, for all the difference it would make, they could have just booted the EJ tunes and instead employed, say, Gerry Rafferty's "Baker Street" or Cee Lo's "Fuck You." **
THE GREEN HORNET Seth Rogen, superhero? It's nearly impossible to wrap the mind around such an outlandish idea, almost on par with Sarah Palin as U.S. president or Ricky Gervais as the next recipient of the Golden Globes Lifetime Achievement Award. Yet it's Rogen's slovenly appearance and snarky asides that help transform The Green Hornet into not just another superhero movie. Having said that, this is still rough going in many respects. An update of the 1960s TV show starring Van Williams and Bruce Lee (and a 1930s radio show before that), this finds Rogen (who also co-scripted) giving the Judd Apatow treatment to the role of Britt Reid, a wealthy party animal who, along with his ingenious employee Kato (Jay Chou), decides to fight crime by donning a mask and becoming The Green Hornet. We're not talking Dark Knight territory here: The plot doesn't advance so much as lurch forward like an alcoholic making another trip to the bar, the villain (played by Inglourious Basterds Oscar winner Christophe Waltz) is a cinematic zero, and the initially exciting action soon becomes redundant. But the comic approach works more often than not, Rogen and Chou banter with ease, and some of the gadgets are indeed pretty cool. Note to self: I've got to get me one of those coffee makers! **1/2
HALL PASS It's hard to wax philosophic about a film in which a portly guy stoned out of his gourd elects to use a golf course sand trap like so much kitty litter, so let's just state that the latest from the Farrelly Brothers doesn't merely alternate between scenes that are dumb and dumber. It's actually a smart picture at times, both in its dissection of marital matters and in its ability to extract solid laughs from dubious situations. Owen Wilson and Jason Sudeikis play Rick and Fred, suburban hubbies who spend all their time ogling other women and imagining all the fun they could be having were they still single. After some debate, their wives (Jenna Fischer and Christina Applegate) elect to give them a "hall pass," the opportunity to take a week off from marriage and do whatever they desire. But getting back into the swingers' swing of things is harder than the men imagined. Perhaps in an effort to compete with the industry's younger raconteurs of raunch, the Farrellys go all-out with the gross-outs, leading to mixed results (two scenes featuring bowel movements is at least one — and probably two — too many). This, combined with a sloppy third act as well as the whopping screen time given to an annoying minor character (a crazed barista played by Derek Waters), admittedly dilutes much of the film's impact. Still, it's memorable enough to get a passing recommendation from me. **1/2
THE ILLUSIONIST It only takes one viewing of 1958's Mon Oncle or 1967's Play Time to be convinced that writer-director-star Jacques Tati was one of the great screen comedians of the 20th century, a French filmmaker whose recurring character, the bumbling Monsieur Hulot, was as beloved in some quarters as Charlie Chaplin's Little Tramp and Peter Sellers' Inspector Clouseau. Tati passed away in 1982, but now he returns — sort of — with The Illusionist, a French import that was up for the Best Animated Feature Film Oscar. Adapted by writer-director Sylvain Chomet from a screenplay that Tati penned but never filmed, this centers on a Tati-inspired magician struggling to survive in the late 1950s. Traveling to a small village in Scotland, he meets young Alice, who believes he practices real magic and soon becomes his surrogate daughter. It's a shame Tati never made this during his heyday, because as a live-action motion picture starring the man himself, it might have been a classic. As it stands, it's a lovingly crafted film that smoothly alternates between being bittersweet and simply sweet, yet the occasionally aloof visual style frequently keeps it at arm's length from our emotions. In short, there's enough magic on view to recommend it, but not enough to declare that it stands with the best of Tati. ***
JUST GO WITH IT Adam Sandler's latest catnip for knuckleheads is based on Cactus Flower, a farce that's been the basis for a French play, a Broadway hit, and a middling 1969 film starring Walter Matthau, Ingrid Bergman and Goldie Hawn in her Oscar-winning role. The base story — the usual formula about a man (in this case, Sandler's plastic surgeon) who spends all his time chasing the wrong woman (Brooklyn Decker's school teacher) before realizing that the Right One (Jennifer Aniston's office assistant) was by his side all along — is workable, there are a few genuine chuckles, and the child actors (Bailee Madison and Griffin Gluck) have more personality than the usual plastic moppets. But any potential is negated by bad casting choices — not Charlotte-raised bombshell Decker, who fulfills the minimal demands of her role, but screen irritant Nick Swardson, a useless Dave Matthews and a slumming Nicole Kidman — and the typical Sandler concessions to fratboy humor. Whether it's a kid pooping on Swardson's hand or Sandler describing his own poop as "black pickles," these witless interludes destroy the film's raison d'être: its romcom convictions. After all, it's hard to snuggle with your sweetie in the auditorium when both hands are required to cover your nose and mouth. *1/2
THE KING'S SPEECH Arriving on the scene like so much high-minded Oscar bait — indeed, it ended up winning four awards, including Best Picture — The King's Speech is anything but a stiff-upper-lip drama as constrained as a corseted queen. It is, however, perfect film fodder for discerning audiences starved for literate entertainment. Director Tom Hooper and particularly screenwriter David Seidler (both earning Oscars) manage to build a towering film from a historical footnote: the debilitating stammer that haunted Albert Frederick Arthur George (aka the Duke of York and then King George VI) since childhood and the efforts of speech therapist Lionel Logue to cure him of his affliction. The film is careful to paint in the historical details surrounding this character crisis — the support of George's wife Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter), the abdication of his brother Edward (Guy Pearce), the buildup toward World War II (Timothy Spall as Winston Churchill; love it!), etc. — but its best scenes are the ones centering solely on the unorthodox teacher and his quick-tempered student. Colin Firth (scoring an Oscar) and Geoffrey Rush are accomplished actors on their own, but squaring off as, respectively, George VI and Lionel Logue elevates their game. It's no wonder that they deliver the two best male performances of the year. ***1/2
LIMITLESS For a film about a drug able to turn its user into a genius, Limitless isn't exactly the brightest bulb in the box — or the smartest movie in the multiplex, as it were. Bradley Cooper stars as Eddie Morra, a struggling writer who gains possession of tiny pills that, after ingested, allow him to write an entire novel in the course of four days while learning to play the piano and mastering a couple of foreign languages on the side. It turns out that this miracle pill unlocks that mythological 80% of the human brain that we don't use, so Eddie decides to put his newfound intelligence toward becoming a good capitalist. But things aren't all rosy for our upwardly mobile protagonist, as he's pursued by dangerous men and the pill's side effects are starting to take hold. The philosophical ramifications of suddenly becoming the most intelligent man on Earth are largely ignored, with the peeks into Eddie's beautiful mind simply conveyed through saturated color schemes and letters tumbling down from the rafters. Still, pushing aside the ridiculous ending and a few risible moments strewn throughout — a skating-rink sequence, Eddie lapping up blood Cronos-style, co-star Robert De Niro pretending to be interested in anything other than his paycheck — Limitless is a fairly entertaining thriller, and viewers aware of its limited appeal beforehand will probably enjoy it the most. **1/2
THE MECHANIC In the annals of "tough guy" cinema, there's not much to say about the 1972 Charles Bronson vehicle The Mechanic except that its leading character displays a refreshing lack of sentimentality (not unusual in the days of vintage squinters like Lee Marvin, Robert Ryan and Bronson) and its script ends on a neat little "gotcha." This sleek new model retains that twist ending but jettisons the steely sensibilities, resulting in yet one more formula flick about a taciturn killer who, despite his penchant for slaying, turns out to be the kind of nice guy you might consider Friending on Facebook. Jason Statham fills the Bronson role: As Arthur Bishop, he's the best hitman around, although he's not thrilled when his next assignment turns out to be his mentor (Donald Sutherland). Preferring to work alone, he later decides to take on the old man's unruly son (Ben Foster) as his protégé, teaching him everything he knows about the art of the kill. This Mechanic largely follows the plotline of its average predecessor, yet it goes the extra kilometer to prove its inferiority by cowardly softening its protagonist (the oldest movie profession might be the hooker with a heart of gold but the second oldest is the killer with a mind of conscience) and even copping out at key junctions — meaning that couch viewers have been snookered in more ways than one. *1/2
PAUL Often lewd, frequently crude, but always more clever than expected, Paul is ultimately a sweet homage to pop culture geeks, sci-fi aficionados and anyone who came of age on a steady diet of Spielberg blockbusters. Created by the acting-writing team of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost — the British lads behind Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz — the film casts the pair as Graeme and Clive, who've traveled to the U.S. to attend a sci-fi convention and make their own pilgrimage to all the reported UFO sites (Roswell, Area 51, etc.). At one of these locations, they stumble across Paul (voiced by Seth Rogen), an extraterrestrial who's been held by the government for 60 years and has just made his great escape. The film is least effective when it wanders outside its comfort zone of cinematic homage — Christian zealots, bigoted rednecks and pompous authors all find themselves in the line of fire, and the barbs are rather obvious (albeit usually funny). But when it comes to mining its fantasy-flick material, Paul is often slyly subversive: At one point, Clive reveals that he's always been interested in aliens — not since Close Encounters of the Third Kind or E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial but since Mac and Me, a dreadful and justly forgotten E.T. rip-off from the late 1980s. The film's sneakiness even extends to the casting of the primary villain, and an inversion of a classic sci-fi line once spoken by this performer might well leave viewers cheering. ***
RANGO The pleasures of Rango are vast enough to wash away the bitter aftertaste left by any of the feeble family films of late, although I suppose I should hasten to add that this isn't a kid flick by any stretch of the imagination: Instead of a G rating, it sports a PG, and I daresay even a PG-13 wouldn't have been out of the question. Then again, that's perfectly in line with a work that in its finest moments comes across as a Coen Brothers film with anthropomorphic animals instead of flesh-and-blood humans. Pirates of the Caribbean director Gore Verbinski has teamed with The Aviator scripter John Logan and re-teamed with Johnny Depp to fashion a frequently warped and always humorous quasi-Western in which a chameleon (voiced by Depp) who had previously enjoyed the comfy life of a family pet winds up in the dusty town of Dust, where he gets elected sheriff after convincing the locals that he's one tough hombre. Rango is so imaginatively realized in terms of its camera angles and backdrops that the sense of detail brings to mind a live-action flick rather than an animated one — it's no surprise to see ace cinematographer Roger Deakins (True Grit) listed in the closing credits as "visual consultant." As for the narrative, it's a film buff's delight, expertly incorporating elements from, among others, Clint Eastwood's Spaghetti Westerns, Cat Ballou, Apocalypse Now and even Chinatown. ***1/2
RED RIDING HOOD The idea of combining a werewolf tale with a whodunit is an interesting one, and the notion of adding layers of Freud and feminism onto the wolfman saga is positively genius. These angles have been tackled before (The Beast Must Die and The Company of Wolves, respectively), but Red Riding Hood ambitiously tries to conquer the lycanthrope tale on both fronts. A well-cast Amanda Seyfried plays Valerie, a young medieval maiden whose village has long been plagued by a werewolf. A visiting moral crusader (Gary Oldman, in camp mode) reveals that the wolfman is actually someone from the village, and this causes everyone to view their neighbors with suspicion and — shades of The Crucible — hurl accusations of witchcraft. Had director Catherine Hardwicke and scripter David Johnson buried themselves in the lore and atmosphere of their setting while accentuating the legend's leaps into sensuality, violence and the allure of latent desires, it could have worked beautifully. Instead, the focus is on the love triangle between Valerie and the village's two cutest boys (Shiloh Fernandez and Max Irons), and while the teen angst that Hardwicke brought to the original Twilight was appropriate, here it creates a modernity that's at odds with the rest of the film. After all, it's hard to bury oneself in the moody period setting when the central thrust remains that Valerie basically has to choose between Justin Bieber and a Jonas Brother. **
TRUE GRIT It's been well documented the the Coen Brothers' take on True Grit isn't a remake of the 1969 film that won John Wayne his only Academy Award but rather a more faithful adaptation of Charles Portis' novel. That's all well and good, but when it comes to making that Netflix rental selection, the choice will be between the two film versions. By that token, no one will lose out, as both pictures are of comparable value. Forced to choose, I'd actually go with the Duke's at-bat, although Jeff Bridges is certainly more than capable in taking on the iconic role of boozy Marshall Rooster Cogburn, hired by young Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) to track down the desperado (Josh Brolin) who murdered her pappy. Sporting a sly sense of humor different than what was brandished in the '69 model, this True Grit mines its colorful characters for off-kilter comedy, from talkative Texas Ranger LaBoeuf (Matt Damon) to scraggly outlaw leader Ned Pepper (Barry Pepper, superbly channeling the original's Robert Duvall). Bridges is likewise amusing and might have been even funnier if we could understand his frequently slurred dialogue. As it stands, whenever he's talking, the picture needs English-language subtitles as desperately as Bergman's Persona or Kurosawa's Seven Samurai. ***
UNKNOWN I don't mind that Unknown is utterly ridiculous. Why? Because within the constraints of its absurdity, it always manages to play fair with the audience. This is a radical departure from many contemporary thrillers in which the filmmakers are so focused on the twist ending that they barrel toward that destination with little rhyme or reason. It starts with Dr. Martin Harris (Liam Neeson) and his wife (January Jones) arriving in Berlin to attend a conference. A subsequent accident while riding in a taxi cab leaves him with a moderate case of amnesia, able to recall his identity but not the details surrounding the accident — and utterly unable to explain why his wife insists that another man (Aidan Quinn) is the real Martin Harris. Alone in a foreign land, Martin tries to piece the mystery together with the help of the cab driver (Diane Kruger) and an elderly private detective (international treasure Bruno Ganz). Neeson is as compelling here as he was in his previous Euro-action yarn Taken, and the picture even makes some modest political jabs by presenting Kruger's illegal immigrant as a heroine who's smart, resourceful and tough, an asset to the population of any country. Mostly, though, the film keeps its focus on its central mystery, and when everything is finally explained, we can quietly smile at its outlandishness while simultaneously applauding it for not insulting our intelligence. ***
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