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PREACHING TO THE CHOIR A small movie with big emotions, Preaching to the Choir -- directed by York, SC, native Charles Randolph-Wright -- receives this month's Truth In Advertising Award: There's not much on tap that's particularly surprising, meaning that this may have trouble luring anyone besides the faithful (read: target audience) into the fold. Yet the lack of pretension, the exuberant musical numbers and the conviction of the actors easily overcome some narrative rough spots to transform this into an agreeable picture for moviegoers of all persuasions. The story centers on two orphaned brothers growing up in Harlem; Wes (Darien Sills-Evans) becomes the neighborhood preacher while Te (Billoah Greene) goes on to become a hardcore rapper in Hollywood. But circumstances force Te to return home, and his decision immediately affects all the members of this staid community, particularly his brother. The two lead actors are as likable as everything else in this dulcet entertainment. ***
THE SHAGGY DOG Borrowing elements from 1959's The Shaggy Dog and 1976's The Shaggy D.A. but mostly wandering off in its own direction, this turkey -- excuse me, dog -- casts Tim Allen as a lawyer who periodically turns into a canine after being bitten by a 300-year-old sheepdog. Allen is given far too many opportunities to grotesquely ham it up -- for his next film, how about a nice, quiet role as a corpse? -- while Spencer Breslin adds to our misery as Allen's son, a dweeb with a jones for all things Grease (his rendition of "You're the One That I Want" sounds like a cat being shoved tail-first into a blender). In between Allen's mugging and the lame slapstick sequences, we're treated to a parade of creepy CGI effects; still, even these aren't as disturbing as the sight of Allen lifting his leg while using a urinal, or a shaggy Allen telling another dog that "maybe later" he'll sniff his butt. *
SLITHER If nothing else, this deserves credit for offering a break from the current trend of nihilistic horror flicks whose sole purpose is to devise groovy new ways to kill people. Make no mistake: Slither offers gore by the bucketful, but the movie's in the spirit of those enjoyable, us-against-them monster yarns that ran rampant in decades past. Starting out as an alien invasion opus before switching gears to become a quasi-zombie flick, the film involves a gelatinous E.T. whose master plan employs hundreds of slugs that take over humans' bodies by entering through the mouths; naturally, the entire planet is doomed unless an amiable sheriff (Nathan Fillion) and a concerned housewife (Elizabeth Banks) can figure out a way to shut down the otherworldly operation. Slither takes its time getting started, but once it does, it never lets up, throwing the blood, slime and one-liners (some woeful, most witty) at the screen with feverish abandon. ***
TAKE THE LEAD Inspired by a true story, this centers on the efforts of ballroom dance instructor Pierre Dulaine (Antonio Banderas) to teach his elegant craft to a high school class of rowdy inner-city youths. Initially resistant to his efforts, the kids eventually come around once Pierre agrees to mesh his moves with their hip-hop music. The issue of whether the best way to reach troubled kids is by diluting what they should learn with components of what they like is an interesting one -- it would take a more courageous movie than this one to even attempt to answer that, but for its part, this allows both sides to weigh in on the argument. The climactic dance competition is clumsily presented, and I could have done without the heavy-handed "villains" of the piece. Still, Banderas and his young co-stars are appealing, and the subplots involving the students' troubled home lives carry more currency than one might expect. **1/2
THANK YOU FOR SMOKING The so-called "culture of spin" gets taken for its own spin in this lacerating adaptation of Christopher Buckley's 1994 novel. Even with a too-brief running time of 92 minutes, the movie manages to pack in all manner of material both saucy and dicey, yet when the smoke clears, what's most visible is the emergence of Aaron Eckhart as a major talent. He's terrific as Nick Naylor, who excels as chief spokesman for the tobacco industry even though he realizes he's despised by a significant part of the population. Nick earns the admiration of Big Tobacco's Big Daddy (Robert Duvall), but he has his hands full bonding with his own son (Cameron Bright), who adores his dad but often asks tough questions about his profession. Writer-director Jason Reitman keeps the laughs flying during the first half, then slows down enough to lay the groundwork for a satisfying conclusion. ***1/2
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