HEAD CASE: Alexandra Rover (Jodie Foster) converses with her imaginary friend Alex Rover (Gerard Butler) in Nim's Island.
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MARRIED LIFE Now here's a movie with a cast worth salivating over, but what's the point when the end result turns out to be so negligible? I love the direction of Brosnan's non-Bond career (The Matador, The Tailor of Panama); Patricia Clarkson constantly earns her designation as an indie goddess; Rachel McAdams quickly (and deservedly) gained her footing as one of Hollywood's best young actresses; and Adaptation Oscar winner Chris Cooper is everyone's idea of an exemplary character actor. Yet director-writer Ira Sachs (adapting John Bingham's book Five Roundabouts to Heaven with co-scripter Oren Moverman) has assembled the quartet for a stifling domestic drama that promises mystery and intrigue yet only succeeds in wasting the talents of these exceptional actors. Set in 1949, this casts Cooper as Harry Allen, a pent-up businessman who seeks romance in a marriage in which his wife Pat (Clarkson, faring best of the four) wants only sex. Harry falls in love with a war widow named Kay (McAdams), and he tells his best friend Richard (Brosnan) that he plans to leave Pat and settle down with the fragile and much younger woman. What Harry doesn't tell Richard is that, because he can't bear the thought of Pat suffering after he leaves her (since he's sure she'll be devastated), he plans to murder her; what Richard doesn't tell Harry is that, from the moment he saw her, he's been plotting to steal Kay away from his longtime chum. Clarkson's presence brings to mind Todd Haynes' superb Far From Heaven (in which she had a supporting role), and one suspects that, like Haynes, Sachs was hoping to present an homage to the Douglas Sirk melodramas of the 1950s. Then again, it's impossible not to notice that McAdams' Kay is dolled up exactly like Kim Novak in Vertigo, so it's possible Sachs was shooting for Hitchcock comparisons. Either way, he falls woefully short, since Married Life lacks any semblance of genuine emotion, leaves out even one iota of sweat-inducing suspense, and collapses under the weight of an ending that not only isn't earned but contradicts its own key revelation. It's best to ignore these scenes from a marriage; stick with Ingmar Bergman instead. **
RUN FAT BOY RUN Run Fat Boy Run stars one of the two male leads (Simon Pegg) from Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, and, no, it isn't the fat one. Instead, it's the average-sized one, immediately nullifying this movie's title. Now if only someone had nullified this picture's very existence, we'd have one less bomb taking up valuable multiplex space. Instead, we're stuck with a wretched comedy whose greatest claim to, uh, fame is that it marks the directorial debut of Friends co-star David Schwimmer. But with friends like Schwimmer, who needs enemies? Along with writers Michael Ian Black and Pegg, Schwimmer has served up a broad, crass and spectacularly unfunny piece about a sad sack who abandons his pregnant fiancée at the altar on their wedding day. Five years later, Dennis (Pegg) hopes to somehow win back Libby (Thandie Newton), but time is running out since she's becoming more heavily involved with a successful businessman named Whit (Hank Azaria). The lazy and physically unfit Dennis is no match for the health-conscious Whit, but that doesn't prevent him from entering a marathon in an effort to gain back Libby's love and respect. It's a thin premise undermined by rampant stupidity at every turn, from the lazy decision to turn Whit into a paper-thin villain (so audiences won't have to strain their brains deciding who's better for Libby) to the infantile brand of comedy that appears at alarming intervals right up to the very end (literally; the final shot in the movie is a bare bottom). Any random episode of The Benny Hill Show looks as elegant and sophisticated as Top Hat when compared to this dud. *
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