ARTHUR Here’s the dirty secret about 1981’s Arthur: It’s no classic. So the fact that Hollywood has dared to serve up a remake is hardly an earthshaking scandal; after all, it’s not like somebody foolishly decided to remake Citizen Kane or The Godfather or Psycho (oops; scratch that last one). The result is that the new Arthur is a minor guilty pleasure, a freewheeling comedy that offers a fair number of laughs for those who haven’t yet grown tired of Russell Brand (a rapidly shrinking demographic, admittedly). Brand is (dare I say it?) the equal of Dudley Moore, who enjoyed a career high mark (and an Oscar nomination) for the original but whose luster dimmed once it became apparent that he tackled every role as if he were portraying a drunk. For his part, Brand draws upon his own party-animal status to play the childlike millionaire, a perpetually inebriated ne’er-do-well who’s blackmailed into agreeing to marry a strong-willed socialite (Jennifer Garner) but instead finds love with a sweet girl (Greta Gerwig) from the wrong side of the tracks. Certainly, the best component of the original was John Gielgud’s hilarious, Oscar-winning turn as Arthur’s droll butler, Hobson. Here, the character has been reconfigured as Arthur’s long-suffering nanny, and while Helen Mirren conveys the role’s requisite bite, she simply doesn’t make the same impact as her predecessor. Also detrimental to the film is its lurch toward contemporary political correctness (the ’81 model was cheerfully, unapologetically rude), most obvious in the dreary attempts to show Arthur learning about the dangers of alcoholism and the joys of a hard day’s work. These sequences prove to be a real drag; like its protagonist, Arthur is at its best when making a spectacle of itself. **1/2
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
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 CONSPIRATOR Boston Corbett, the soldier who fatally shot John Wilkes Booth after the latter assassinated Abraham Lincoln, had years earlier removed his own testicles (with scissors!) so he wouldn’t succumb to the feminine wiles of prostitutes. Dr. Samuel Mudd, one of the men convicted as part of the conspiracy to kill the president, is believed by many to merely have been a victim of circumstance, unaware as he tended to Booth’s broken leg that this man had just murdered the nation’s leader. Clearly, there are many fascinating stories surrounding the death of one of this country’s most revered presidents, and The Conspirator relates one of them. But it’s a doozy: the arrest and trial of Mary Surratt, the only woman charged with taking part in the plot to kill Lincoln. The guilt or innocence of Surratt remains a mystery even to this day, although director Robert Redford’s solid film leans strongly toward a “not guilty” verdict. Presented primarily as a principled widow and a protective mother, Mary Surratt (Robin Wright) has the support of her idealistic lawyer (James McAvoy) but not many others — certainly not prosecuting attorney Joseph Holt, played by Danny Huston, nor Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, portrayed by Kevin Kline as an oily cross between Donald Rumsfeld and Alexander Haig. Surratt’s fate — freedom or the gallows? — is hardly a secret, but since the studio has opted to build this up as a historical cliffhanger, I won’t ruin the ending here. But The Conspirator hardly needs this manufactured suspense, as it does a compelling job of presenting a lesson not found in most school texts. ***
FAST FIVE Stating that Fast Five is the best of the Fast and the Furious series is perhaps like claiming that the Big Mac is the best hamburger served at McDonald’s: It’s not so much a declaration of excellence as an example of damning with faint praise. Still, fans of this high-octane franchise will find plenty to enjoy, newbies should be able to hop aboard the ride without getting left behind (any references to past pictures tend to be negligible or easy to absorb), and dates dragged against their will can at least enjoy the Cowboys & Aliens trailer that precedes the picture. OK, so the viewing experience admittedly offers more than just a sneak peek at an anticipated sci-fi summer blockbuster. Even with a generous 130-minute running time, the film never brakes for boredom. There’s also a notable attempt on the parts of director Justin Lin and writer Chris Morgan to give everyone a moment to shine in the spotlight. And considering this entry brings back various characters from all four previous installments, that’s a lot of illumination taking place. Front and center, of course, is the triumvirate of bad-ass Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel), bad-ass wannabe Brian O’Conner (Paul Walker) and tough yet tender Mia Toretto (Jordana Brewster). Return offenders include Tyrese Gibson (who still can’t act a lick, bless him) and the always engaging Chris “Ludacris” Bridges as two of the numerous car-crazy accomplices. New to the cast is Dwayne Johnson as a federal agent in hot pursuit of our anti-heroes. As for the plot, it concerns the efforts of — oh, who am I kidding? All that’s important is that it involves lots of car chases, mucho macho posturing, a nonstop barrage of wisecracks (some amusing, some anything but), and the continued sight of Brian O’Conner trying to look like a bad ass (or did I already mention that?). Oh, and it all takes place in Rio de Janeiro. Look fast and you can even spot a cameo appearance by Blu, the animated star of the current hit Rio. OK, not really, but wouldn’t Rio and Fast Five make for a more intriguing cross-promotion than Rio and Angry Birds? **1/2
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.” **
HANNA With a young girl as its steely-eyed, bloodletting protagonist, Hanna can’t help but be compared to Kick-Ass, what with its steely-eyed, bloodletting Hit Girl. Bring it on: This is one film that can take down its competition. While Kick-Ass was criticized in many circles for glorifying the mayhem exacted by its pint-sized heroine, director Joe Wright is careful not to allow the same charges to be hurled against his new picture. As ably portrayed by Atonement‘s Saoirse Ronan, Hanna likewise is out to avenge a dead mother, but Wright and his three writers treat her cat-and-mouse game against the person responsible — a hissable CIA operative played by Cate Blanchett — with a hardcore efficiency that eschews any sops toward gorehounds. But that’s not to say the film is cuddly within the confines of its PG-13 rating. With even Hanna’s dad (Eric Bana), the ex-agent who teaches her how to survive at all costs, opting for tough love instead of tender moments, this is a brutal and uncompromising motion picture — at least until it cowardly tries to sidestep the obvious fate of some of its most likable characters, hoping that audience members won’t remember to question it afterward. The choppy denouement could stand to be longer — the film wraps up even as we’re still trying to process new information and fill in the blanks (some of which remain glaringly empty) — but with its crisp action sequences and unfussy acting, Hanna is a chase flick that on balance is worth catching. **1/2
INSIDIOUS While it’s probably time to call for a moratorium on both haunted-house thrillers and creepy-child sagas, Insidious milks a bit of innovativeness from both these sub-genres before self-destructing. Patrick Wilson and Rose Byrne make a believable couple as Josh and Renai Lambert, who move into an old mansion with their three kids in tow. An accident in the attic leaves son Dalton (Ty Simpkins) in a comatose state, and soon afterward, all sorts of supernatural shenanigans begin occuring. No problem; the Lamberts simply pack up and move out. But when strange things start happening at their new abode, they suspect that it wasn’t the former house itself that was haunted… Director James Wan and scripter Leigh Whannell don’t allow a PG-13 rating to temper their work: Rather than relying on gore, they manage to conjure some genuine tension by keeping both the characters and the audience off-kilter for much of the running time. But the film slips drastically with the introduction of two paranormal investigators whose painfully unfunny comic relief (we’re not talking Bill Murray and Dan Aykroyd) disrupts the unsettling mood. Late arrival Lin Shaye (a grotesque foil in Farrelly movies) is excellent as the two clods’ all-knowing boss, but her elaborate — and exceedingly daft — explanations regarding the otherworldly occurrences further deflate the project, and the frantic finale is simply overkill. And the less said about the awful last-minute twist, the better. **1/2
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
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
OF GODS AND MEN The evocative employment of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake was merely one of the reasons why Black Swan emerged as the best movie of 2010, but director Darren Aronofsky and co. were hardly the only filmmakers last year who turned to the 19th-century Russian composer to service their motion picture. Strains from Tchaikovsky’s classic ballet feature prominently in one of the climactic scenes in Xavier Beauvois’ Of Gods and Men, and its use functions as an emotional release for both the film’s anxious protagonists and its equally worried viewers. Loosely based on a true story, this thoughtful drama centers on a group of French monks who have devoted themselves to living peacefully among a Muslim community in Algeria during the 1990s. But when Islamic terrorists bring violence to the area, these Christians are forced to decide whether to flee to France — and safety — or remain with the needy Muslim villagers and possibly forfeit their own lives. Reminiscent of the 1945 Gregory Peck drama The Keys of the Kingdom, which found a devout man of the cloth struggling with his own human failings while embracing his religion in a foreign land, Of Gods and Men takes it a step further by examining the ease with which different cultures and different religions can peacefully coexist (importantly, the monks never try to convert the villagers) as long as politics, proselytism and power plays are kept out of the picture. Resolutely refusing to be misinterpreted as an anti-Muslim screed, the movie instead warns against rash judgments, harmful hate mongering and ugly stereotyping — a film ultimately as much about Rush Limbaugh and his ilk as it is about Osama bin Laden and his. ***
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. ***
POTICHE A Continental cousin to those plucky British comedies in which working-class peons struggle against their bourgeois employers (latest example: Made in Dagenham), the French romp Potiche is primarily an excuse for audiences to once again spend quality time with those two titans of Gallic cinema, Catherine Deneuve and Gerard Depardieu. Set in 1977, this finds Deneuve cast as Suzanne Pujol, the trophy housewife of a right-wing chauvinist (Fabrice Luchini’s Robert Pujol) tyrannically running her late father’s umbrella factory into the ground. With the prodding of the town’s Communist mayor, Maurice Babin (Depardieu), the workers go on strike to demand better hours and better wages, a protest that eventually leads to the agitated Robert being confined to bed rest for a lengthy period of time. As someone is required to take over running the factory, Suzanne ends up assuming the position. Yet unlike her dictatorial husband, the increasingly assertive Suzanne is willing to talk, listen and make compromises, and before long, the factory is far more successful in her progressive hands than it ever was under Robert’s fascistic fist. Adapting a play originally penned during that era, writer-director Francois Ozon has made a film that is only lightly interested in tackling any major sociopolitical issues. True, the story charts Suzanne’s rise from submissive housewife to freethinking feminist, but Ozon’s top priority is making sure everyone is having a breezy time both up on the screen and in the audience. Luchini’s sputtering provides some comedic madcap elements, Judith Godreche and Jeremie Renier offer an easygoing contrast as the Pujols’ grown children (she’s conservative, he’s artistic), and Ozon himself serves up some nice visual touches (dig that fuzzy phone!). As for Deneuve and Depardieu, their willingness to just show up on the set and allow themselves to be filmed is reward enough, methinks. ***
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. **
RIO As straight-ticket children’s fare, Rio is better than many toon flicks aimed squarely at this undiscriminating audience (Gnomeo & Juliet, for example), with its visual splendor and Jesse Eisenberg’s patented nerd shtick helping overcome deficiencies in the narrative and a slew of humdrum ancillary characters. Eisenberg provides the voice for Blu, a macaw raised from infancy by a Minnesota bookworm named Linda (Leslie Mann). A bumbling scientist (Rodrigo Santoro) convinces Linda to bring Blu to Rio de Janeiro so he can mate with Jewel (Anne Hathaway) in an attempt to prevent the extinction of the species, but the feathered pair hardly prove to be “lovebirds.” A smuggler (Carlos Ponce) steals the rare birds with the assistance of his two imbecilic minions and a Scar-like cockatoo named Nigel (Jemaine Clement), and it’s up to the timid Blu and the feisty Jewel to extract themselves from this dire predicament. Except for its use in one stunning aerial sequence set in the skies around the Christ the Redeemer statue, the 3-D is (as is often the case) negligible and only in place to justify elevated ticket prices. Visually, the film commands attention on its own, not only in the flight sequences but also during the musical numbers. But the story is drab and uninvolving, and the big-name cast (Hathaway, Jamie Foxx, will.i.am, George Lopez) is ill-equipped to bring the dull characters to life. The exception is Eisenberg, who is accorded the script’s few decent lines and draws some mild laughs from them. Of course, coming so soon after The Social Network, it’s hard not to recall Eisenberg as Mark Zuckerberg; as continuing proof that Rio misses its mark at connecting with adults, there are no references to Blu as the creator of FaceBeak. **1/2
SOURCE CODE Has Duncan Jones already sold out? It’s hard to say, but Source Code, his sophomore effort as director, can only be considered a disappointment given his knock-it-out-of-the-park debut. 2009’s Moon, which missed my 10 Best list that year by one spot, was a dazzling achievement, the sort of heady sci-fi extravaganza one would expect from the son of David Bowie. Source Code is far more mainstream; that’s not meant as a knock, but this highly entertaining movie concludes with what will doubtless remain one of the worst sell-out endings of the year. Jake Gyllenhaal stars as Colter Stevens, a soldier who’s being used in an experiment that allows him to occupy the body of one Sean Fentress, who’s about to be killed, along with all the other passengers, by a bomb planted on a Chicago commuter train. Colter’s mission is to use those last eight minutes in Sean’s body to ferret out the killer’s identity and thereby prevent any future attacks. As explained by his military contact (Vera Farmiga) and the experiment’s creator (Jeffrey Wright), he will keep being sent back to those eight minutes until he acquires the knowledge being sought. It’s a Groundhog Day scenario mined for tension rather than laughs, and while it’s not that difficult to ID the assassin, the fun comes in watching Colter repeatedly interact with the other commuters and use knowledge from previous “trips” to inform the decisions he makes on subsequent jumps. There’s really only one way for all this to end, but scripter Ben Ripley jerry-rigs his own storyline by coming up with a conclusion that’s illogical, infuriating and impossible to defend. It provides Source Code with a sour coda that cripples an otherwise sweet ride. **1/2
SUCKER PUNCH It wouldn’t be quite accurate to call Sucker Punch the ultimate fan-boy film, but it’s a designation that nevertheless offers a near-perfect fit. It’s a (wet) dream come true, an orgy full of Dolby sound and CGI fury. To finish the paraphrase by stating that it signifies nothing would be to drag Shakespeare into a world — and a conversation — that would baffle him. Front and center for most of the picture is Baby Doll (Emily Browning), who’s thrown into an insane asylum by her despicable stepdad and prepped for a lobotomy. She mentally escapes that reality by imagining herself in a bordello, where she’s verbally and physically abused. To escape from that scenario, she performs hypnotic dances that allow her to visualize herself and her sisters-in-arms — Sweet Pea (Abbie Cornish), Rocket (Jena Malone), Blondie (Vanessa Hudgens) and Amber (Jamie Chung) — battling formidable opponents in fantasy worlds in an effort to secure certain items that will allow them to break out of the asylum way back on the first level. Just call this Inception for Dummies. The only reason Sucker Punch escapes a one-star rating is because writer-director Zack Snyder’s story is ambitious enough to allow for multiple interpretations, a plus in this age of lobotomized entertainment. But Snyder sacrifices any real desire for discussion by tricking this project up with every fetishist and/or pop-geek card up his sleeve. Even more than Battle: Los Angeles, it’s an all-out assault on our senses — not in the fun, roller coaster ride sort of way but in a manner that’s exhausting rather than exhilarating. *1/2
WATER FOR ELEPHANTS This adaptation of Sara Gruen’s mammoth bestseller manages to be tasteful, mature, and even on occasion insightful. But that can only take a movie so far when there’s no one around to constantly fan those flames of literary respect into something inherently, pulsatingly cinematic. Robert Pattinson, best known for Twilight, and Reese Witherspoon, not especially known for Twilight (but in a Trivial Pursuit aside, she did star alongside Paul Newman and Susan Sarandon in a 1998 movie with that name), respectively play Jacob and Marlena. He’s an orphaned vet-school dropout who winds up landing a gig looking after the animals (including a soulful pachyderm) at a ramshackle circus; she’s the big top’s main attraction, as well as the wife of the quick-tempered owner, August (Christoph Waltz). August is already sadistic enough, but when he notices an attraction growing between his wife and this newcomer, his rage becomes even more pronounced, resulting in a jealous fit that threatens to destroy not only the lovebirds but the circus itself. Waltz’s ringleader is almost as heinous as his Nazi in Inglourious Basterds (for which he won an Oscar), but the actor’s excellent performance keeps his character from deteriorating into a buffoonish villain. He far outclasses the two stars, whose lack of chemistry undermines the love story that rests at the film’s center. Visually, the picture is exquisite — the art direction by Terrence Malick regular Jack Fisk and camerawork by Brokeback Mountain cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto immerse us so thoroughly in the circus world that we almost smell the sawdust (though thankfully not the elephant dung) — but emotionally, it proves to be as airy and insubstantial as cotton candy. **1/2
WIN WIN If life is indeed about enjoying the little things, then it’s entirely appropriate that the best scenes in Win Win are the little slice-of-life ones. Coming off a great performance in Barney’s Version, Paul Giamatti again works wonders with his sad-sack routine — here, he’s Mike Flaherty, a struggling lawyer and high-school wrestling coach whose backhanded dealing with a dementia-afflicted client (Burt Young) eventually leads to the elderly man’s grandson, a troubled runaway named Kyle (Alex Shaffer), entering his life. Mike and his wife Jackie (a terrific turn by Gone Baby Gone‘s Amy Ryan) reluctantly decide to help Kyle out, only to grow genuinely attached to him. But this bond gets threatened when Kyle’s irresponsible mother (Melanie Lynskey) turns up, just out of rehab and ready to drag her unwilling son home. Writer-director Tom McCarthy (The Station Agent) occasionally stumbles into unlikely scenarios that generally exist only in the movies, but he makes such slip-ups easy to ignore (or excuse) because the vast majority of the picture strikes the right notes in terms of its characters and the ways in which they interact with each other. Win Win is by no means a perfect movie, but it’s a lovely one that deserves its designation as one of the top-seeded films currently in theaters. ***1/2
YOUR HIGHNESS As screen couplings go, the less charitable might gaze upon the union of Danny McBride and Natalie Portman and be reminded of Princess Leia forced to sit half-naked and chained next to Jabba the Hutt. But this unlikely match is the least of the problems plaguing Your Highness. God almighty, this is one awful movie, a real feat considering that even the most juvenile of comedies can score at least a couple of guffaws off a steady stream of pot and dick jokes. But this stinkbomb manages the unpardonable sin of being boring for long stretches of time as well as unfunny all the time. As a dim prince, McBride’s stoner act can’t touch that of either Cheech or Chong; as his heroic brother, James Franco seems as out of it as he was hosting the Oscars; as a warrior woman, Portman somehow maintains her dignity while wasting her talents; and as a damsel in distress, Zooey Deschanel is unpardonably ill-utilized. Meanwhile, a minotaur tries to engage in butt-fucking before getting his appendage lopped off, McBride and Franco are forced to give a hand job to a lecherous Yoda rip-off, and a traitor (Toby Jones) turns out to be as junk-free as a Ken doll. For comparable entertainment value, you might as well watch a Renaissance Festival employee take a leak behind the costume and pottery booths. *
This article appears in May 10-16, 2011.
