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FRED CLAUS Does cynicism have a place in Yuletide flicks? Judging by the abysmal likes of Deck the Halls and Christmas With the Kranks, the answer is no. But sometimes a little spice can enhance a seasonal dish, and this joins Bad Santa and Scrooged as a way to avoid the pure sugar rush of treacle like The Santa Clause. A prologue establishes that Fred Claus grew up resenting the attention showered upon his younger brother Nicholas, who in time became known the world over as Santa Claus. Cut to the present day, and the adult Fred (Vince Vaughn), who has long broken off all family ties, is coerced into coming to the North Pole to help Santa (Paul Giamatti) with his annual gift-giving. But Fred's presence prevents the operation from running smoothly, a problem since a dour efficiency expert (Kevin Spacey) is hoping for any excuse to fire Santa and move Xmas HQ to the South Pole. There are plenty of cringe-worthy moments in this overlong film, including the ill-conceived decision to cast normal-sized performers in the largest of the elf roles via digital wizardry (a slap to Peter Dinklage, Tony Cox and other accomplished dwarf actors). But Vaughn and Giamatti make a fine "odd couple" pairing, a stellar supporting cast (Spacey, Rachel Weisz, Kathy Bates, Miranda Richardson) lifts the proceedings, and Fogelman and director David Dobkin (Wedding Crashers) do manage to find the right mix of sweet and sour. **1/2
I'M NOT THERE It wasn't necessary to be a Beatles fan to enjoy Julie Taymor's Across the Universe, and it's not required to be a Bob Dylan devotee to appreciate I'm Not There. Of course, some familiarity with the life and times (and personas) of the former Robert Zimmerman can't hurt, but equally integral to one's appreciation of Todd Haynes' latest is a willingness to allow the standard screen biopic to push through the sides of that ever-confining envelope. Having said that, it also should be noted that Haynes (whose Douglas Sirk homage Far From Heaven was the best film of 2002) has crafted a picture that's as infuriating as it is inventive, hindered by a strain of affectation (some would say pretentiousness) that turns entire sections into a tough slog. Six performers play variations of the musician, each representing different stages in his life: Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, Cate Blanchett (achieving high scores in both appearance and attitude), Richard Gere, Marcus Carl Franklin and Ben Whishaw. Like Taymor, Haynes pays tribute not only to his subject but to music's relationship with cinema. But while he admirably doesn't pretend to "know" the real Bob Dylan, neither does his movie suggest any possible insights, preferring to merely offer clever riffs on the icon's established reputation. A second showing would doubtless reveal more of Haynes' intentions, but a solitary viewing leaves too much blowin' in the wind. **1/2
LIONS FOR LAMBS Say this for Hollywood: At least it's trying to inject some semblance of sane debate into the Iraq War debacle. But do their recruitment tools have to be so ineffectual? On the heels of Rendition comes Lions For Lambs, another drama whose noble aspirations are bungled by hamfisted storytelling. Working from a script by Matthew Michael Carnahan, director Robert Redford uses three concurrent tales to stir debate about what's happening around us. The best finds a reporter (Meryl Streep) interviewing a Republican senator (Tom Cruise) on his strategy for winning the war on terror. In the second plot thread, which functions as little more than connective tissue between the other two tales, two soldiers (Michael Pena and Derek Luke) involved in the senator's master plan find themselves stranded on a snowy mountaintop in Afghanistan with enemy combatants closing in fast. And in the third story arc, college professor Stephen Malley (Redford) urges a self-absorbed student (Andrew Garfield) to get off his complacent behind and take a stand on major issues. This part is too bald-faced and heavy-handed to be effective; Redford would have had more luck personally distributing get-out-the-vote pamphlets at movie theaters nationwide. **
THE MIST The Mist marks writer-director Frank Darabont's third adaptation of a Stephen King property, and because he's not shooting for Oscar gold this time around (the previous titles were the reasonably enjoyable but grotesquely overrated pair, The Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile), he's able to ease up on the pedal of self-importance and deliver a "B"- style genre flick, albeit one offering some evaluations of human nature in between all the bloodletting. Owing a nod in the direction of John Carpenter's The Fog, this concerns itself with a group of people who are gathered at the local supermarket when a mist envelops the entire area. It soon becomes clear that something evil resides in the fog – oh, about the time that a bag boy gets shredded by a monstrous tentacle – and the shoppers decide that they should remain indoors rather than venture out into the parking lot. It's here that Darabont's script reveals its cynical roots, as a religious zealot named Mrs. Carmody (Marcia Gay Harden) converts many of the frightened survivors to her mode of thinking, a path that leads to a Jim Jones-like environment and at least one human sacrifice. Propelled by Harden's scary performance, Mrs. Carmody is a genuine threat, and she validates Darabont's contention that times of crisis are as likely to turn people against each other as they are to unite them against a common enemy. His pessimism extends to other areas of the script: It's not always easy to figure out who will survive, and the ending will keep viewers' tongues wagging as they exit into the parking lot – one hopefully not blanketed by a similarly impenetrable mist. ***