Reviews

Adkins might be a decent fighter but he couldn't act if his life depended on it. He's even worse than Schwarzenegger and that's saying something. Beats me why I bought this Blu-ray in the first place.

I first learned of Jesse Eisenberg watching "The Squid and the Whale" a few years ago, and it wasn't just the movie that blew me away but the sheer screen-presence of this self-assured young actor. Since then he dazzled me in - among other films - "The Education of Charlie Banks," "Adventureland," "Zombieland," and he was a welcome participant in minor projects like "Cursed" and "The Hunting Party." All that said, his depiction of Mark Zuckerberg, the socially awkward computer genius who created guess-what internet behemoth, is simply incredible, and I am thinking Oscar nomination which, of course, will not happen since Mr. Eisenberg hasn't even reached 30 yet and, hopefully, has a long and prosperous career still in front of him. But wait, there's more. Andrew Garfield is impressive as Eduardo Saverin, dodging the clichés of a role that could have easily drifted into self-pity. Justin Timberlake shamelessly steals every scene he's in, and hats off to Armie Hammer who plays both Cameron Winklevoss and his twin brother Tyler with natural ease which is no small feat considering he had to play off himself. I have no idea how David Fincher did it, all I can tell you is I didn't waste a single thought whether there was one or two actors in front of the camera. Which brings me to the main masterminds: Fincher and wordsmith extra-ordinaire Aaron Sorkin. The big question was after "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" is there any way Fincher can top this? Well, there isn't but, together with Sorkin who - at his core - is a playwrite, he was able to maintain the high level of quality entertainment you've come to expect from this director. I don't give a damn how much of the story is fiction or how little of it is fact - all I know is this two hours+ movie went by in a blink without a single dull moment, and that might as well be the biggest compliment I can pay a film in general and "The Social Network" in particular.

In times of high concept, big explosions, multi million dollar extravaganzas, Hachi is a rare breed. He's not a flying dog. He's not a talking dog, either, let alone a computer generated mutt. Hachi is a living, breathing Japanese Akita who - as a puppy (cute as a button which he continues to be even when he gets older) - stumbles upon music professor Gere who gets smitten with him and takes him under his wings. For the next ten years, the faithful four-legged friend returns to the place of their first encounter - the local train station. The reason why and to what consequences is subject of this simple but moving story, straightforwardly told by director Hallström without frills or audience manipulation. Based upon the Japanese film "Hachiko monogatari" about true events that took place in the early 1920s. A bronze statue of the dog can be found at Shibuya Station in Tokyo. Strangely enough, the film was never released theatrically in the U.S.. It premiered on the Hallmark Channel, instead.

Unbeknownst to Heigl, hubby Kutcher is an ex-assassin for the government who "got out" when he and his then future wife met cute in Nice. Three years into their marriage, he learns the hard way that a $20 million reward has been set out for his head, the once picturesque neighborhood is turning into a playground for wanna-be bounty hunters, and he has to rearrange his marital life, reluctantly returning to his roots. Helped by the pitch-perfect, attractive Heigl-Kutcher pairing and skillfully choreographed fight sequences, director Luketic expertly molds the familiar material into an infectuously entertaining, unpredictable blend of Nick & Nora Charles comedy-mystery and modern day action flick. If all that can't convince you, simply watch it for the scene stealing shenanigans of Catherine O'Hara as Heigl's ever so thirsty mother.

Sandler (who also co-scripted), Spade, Schneider, James and Rock are a group of friends who've known each other since childhood. Kids and spouses in tow, they meet for the funeral of their beloved high school basketball coach. Soon, mourning makes way for nostalgic pranks, which means conjuring up innocent times for some and suppressing the dire present for others. Helmer Dugan throws in everything, including the kitchen sink, and sees what sticks. Out comes a sporadically - at times hysterically - funny comedy, more episodic than coherent, with bouts of the trademark Sandler-Dugan sentimentality. These guys do know each other for decades, and the natural ease that accompanies their actions is the major asset of this film. On the distaff side, Maria Bello is memorable for all the wrong reasons, and it would be interesting to know how the executives at Sony got Salma Hayek and Joyce Van Patten committed to the project. For undemanding audiences only, though Rob Schneider's rendition of "Ave Maria" is bona fide charts material.

The third and final installment opens with a bang and never lets go. Brilliant doesn't even begin to describe the emotional treasure trove that is "Toy Story 3." When he's off to college, intending to take Sheriff Woody with him, Andy wants to move the other toys to the attic but they eventually land at a children's daycare center where trouble awaits. What follows is a rousing, hilarious, heartwarming tale of friendship, reliability, and the fact that childhood - like it or not - will always be an intrinsic part of our being. Newly introduced characters blend seamlessly with the cuddly bunch we've come to know so well for the last fifteen years. Told with panache and a light hand for side gags that will please kids and grown-ups alike, especially - but not necessarily - in 3D. The wizards at Pixar did it again, bringing their most beloved film series to a gratifying conclusion with no loose ends and a finale that will leave you reaching for your handkerchiefs.

DiCaprio, a master at extracting secrets out of the minds of sleeping targets, accepts the assignment to plant an idea into someone's mind - a task he managed once before with disastrous results. The first forty-five minutes of Christopher Nolan's thriller are a riveting roller coaster ride of overboarding imagination. Unfortunately, it doesn't live up to its initial promise. A story that, at its core, is a dream taking place in a dream taking place in a dream taking place in a dream has limitless possibilities. And yet Nolan the writer provides Nolan the helmer with not an ounce of fresh ideas once the inception-mission is set into motion, surrendering to - and relying too heavily on - trite shoot-ups, car chases and explosions that can be found in every ho-hum action yarn. The final showdown is a kicker, though. After "Revolutionary Road," "Shutter Island" and this project, DiCaprio should seriously think about a change of pace. By now, he can play this kind of character in his sleep...obviously. Academy Award winner Cotillard gets constantly reminded why she got the Oscar in the first place (it can't be that Nolan chose this particular song by accident), Ellen Page's wryness is always welcome, and Michael Caine is wasted in a throw-away role. Expert, mood setting score by Hans Zimmer. All in all, "Inception" is a good (and good looking) movie. Pity, it could have been a great one.

Courtesy of indie filmmaker Bart Freundlich, who gave us the wonderful "The Myth of Fingerprints," this is not a romantic comedy (as it was heavily promoted at least in German speaking territories) but a drama with humorous undertones. Two bruised souls, a mother of two, who recently separated from her cheating husband, and a young(er) man, whose ex-girlfriend basically used him to get a green card, meet, then meet again during a women's self defense class (arguably the seriously funniest bit in the entire movie) and finally they agree on a business arrangement: he is gonna watch the kids while she is trying to get her life back on track. Zeta-Jones and Bartha carry the film almost single-handedly with finely attuned, irresistible performances. They're helped by a great supporting cast of living, breathing human beings - not a single caricature in sight. Turning a genre on its ear...refreshing.

I am one of approximately three people on the globe who never saw the 1984 original "Karate Kid" but I promise I am gonna right this wrong as soon as possible. Good thing is I could watch the updated version unbiased, and what a pleasant surprise this film was! Young Mr. Smith, who obviously inherited the one or other acting gene from his parents (who, among others, produced this movie), gives an eye opening performance as a fatherless teenager who moves to China with his mother and learns that school bullying exists on any continent. It is a local maintenance man who teaches the kid self confidence, friendship and - yes - karate. Jackie Chan is remarkable in a purely dramatic role. Broad comedy you won't find in this long but exhilarating and rewarding crowd pleaser.

Pompe, a genetic disease where the human body is missing an enzyme and therefore can't break down a certain kind of sugar so that it builds up in muscle cells, first of all the heart, skeletal muscles and the diaphragm which leads to having a hard time breathing. Organ failure and slow paralysis of the limbs most likely ensue. This is one family's unimaginable fight against seemingly never ending hurdles to get enzyme treatment for their two Pompe-ridden kids, and it's a race against time. Loosely based upon real events, suffice it to say that this is the first outing of CBS's recently established film division, and it's very well acted throughout. Still, like "Lorenzo's Oil" eighteen years ago, a project like this one first and foremost strives to raise awareness, hence defying any kind of criticism.

No embarrassment of riches but rich in embarrassments, "Cop Out," an abysmal attempt at resuscitating the buddy cop action comedy genre, is not what vintage Kevin Smith fare looks like, feels like or sounds like. As a screenwriter, Smith is a vivid storyteller with an uncanny ear for - often racy - dialogue, so using him merely as a director on hire maybe wasn't such a clever idea after all. "48 Hrs." this ain't, though its running time sure feels like it. Willis is enduring it all with stoic expression. Not since his Stifler days has Seann William Scott been that annoying, with Tracy Morgan a close runner-up, that is unless you dislike his obnoxious "30 Rock" persona. In that case, knock yourself out. Uninspired foulmouthed adlibbing and expletives galore, still it's achingly unfunny.

"Greenberg" has all the ingredients of an independent film and then some. Ben Stiller is a revelation as the titular character, freshly out of a mental hospital, who is housesitting for his vacationing brother. Between reconnecting with the past - first of all former band members - and trying to build a future with his brother's personal assistant (Greta Gerwig, a real find and the secret star of this movie), he proudly is doing nothing and telling everyone about it. Believable slice of American life with dialogue that sounds refreshingly improvised at times and therefore depicts pulsating, breathing human beings instead of formulaic cutouts. Jennifer Jason Leigh, who has a bit part as Greenberg's ex-girlfriend, developed the story together with writer/director Baumbach, who - after the disappointment that was "Margot at the Wedding" - is back to his old form and hits yet another bull's eye.

More of the same. Serious wooing and cooing on screen, yearning in the audience; the man-sized CGI wolves still look unconvincing and cheesy; their human counterparts still roam the woods predominantly shirtless (why is that, by the way?); Bella still can't decide between the hot vampire and the hot lycan and takes her father for a nincompoop (okay, in some ways he is); the Cullen clan is still too good to be real (or alive); the Volturi are still evil vampires...but this time around they created an army of newborns, recently turned bloodsuckers ready to rumble. So we finally get a battle good vs. evil - all within the PG-13 confinement, of course. That's the one thing we haven't seen in "Twilight" or "New Moon," all the other goings-on in this installment are strictly by the book (and I don't mean the novel, though I think it would apply). But Kristen Stewart is so good as the brooding heroine and the photography is stunningly beautiful, so this kind of makes it worth your while. A warning: All the protagonists are flawlessly pretty, so when you leave the theater be prepared to fondle the inferiority complex you grew while watching the film.

Fashion designer Tom Ford's entry into moviedom is a surprise in every aspect. Not only did he accomplish to film Christopher Isherwood's novel about a man in circa 1962, who tries to pull his life together (or does he?) after his boyfriend of sixteen years died in a car accident, without pathos or tear jerking, both Ford and his d.p., Eduard Grau, rise to the occasion and are presenting not just a feature but moving portraits, where colors get drenched and enhanced, the actors are positioned like a work of art and every shot in this amazing movie is suitable for framing. Granted, I never understood the fuss about Colin Firth who - for yours truly - is the unsexiest man alive, but - boy! - can he act. His scenes with Julianne Moore (in another powerhouse performance) are operatic in the best sense of the word. That's "About a Boy's" Nicholas Hoult, all grown up and considerably slimmed down, as Firth's doting student who might bring back some meaning into his professor's existence. Honest and heartrending. A must-see.

After six seasons of nipping and tucking, Dylan Walsh changes his pace - if only a little bit - strangulating and bludgeoning people, preferably whole families, instead. Which again makes you wonder: Why does Hollywood remake a film that has fan favorite status and was perfectly cast, perfectly written and perfectly directed the first time around? Ah yes, because it can. The results here are tepid even for undemanding audiences. The thesps are giving it their best, though, with especially Penn Badgley chipping in a balanced and believable performance. Two years ago, helmer McCormick blessed us with another so-so retelling of another classic cheapo - "Prom Night" - he should've learned his lesson back then.

Somewhere in-between the lines of the script for "Old Dogs" - well concealed and protected from the audience's eyes - there lie the makings for a decent family comedy. Pity then that director Walt Becker has chosen not to film the in-between stuff but the actual words, which add up to gags that have already been old when Laurel and Hardy did them (and did them better, mind you). Rule of thumb for filmmakers: When a leaking dog (as in "incontinent") is the funniest thing at hand you know you're in trouble. The only reason to watch anyway is Robin Williams, still the only comedic actor alive who knows his blend of lunacy and poignancy off pat...and there is a mildly amusing bit where facial paralysis and distorted depth perception collide. Dax Shepard, Luis Guzman and Paulo Costanzo appear unbilled.

After receiving a heart transplant, genuinely nice guy Lucas encounters both the very attractive female doctor who cares for his seriously ill daughter and visions of murder and mayhem he has to make sense of. Very loosely based on Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart," which is at its core an inner monologue of a mad man that lasts only a few pages, scribe Dave Callaham expanded, embellished and embroidered the story for the modern age. In the gifted hands of helmer Michael Cuesta ("L.I.E.," "Twelve and Holding," TV's "Dexter") the so-so plot gets elevated to art-house standards with Lena Headley and Josh Lucas oozing believable chemistry, and the always exceptional Brian Cox making a lasting impression as a cop with an agenda of his own. Ends as abruptly as a punch in the guts, but it's definitely worth a glimpse

Perception is a funny thing. On your next field trip, try and put a tutu on a regular rock. What you will get is something not extraordinarily humorous, but - though you won't see it every day - it's not sorely against nature either. It's simply a rock with a tutu. Now try and put The Rock (as in Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson) into a tutu...see what I mean? It's still not extraordinarily humorous and it's sooo against every law there is in nature, but it seems to be fascinating enough for scribes Lowell Ganz and Babaloo Mandel to weave a story around it (both are old pros, so you gotta trust them, right?). Good thing is, when Johnson disseminates disbelieve amongst children he gets promoted to Tooth Fairy status which makes room for - amongst others - the wonderful Julie Andrews having fun as the fairiest of them all, the hilarious Stephen Merchant as a fairy in the making (no pun intended) and an unbilled Billy Crystal who is priceless as, essentially, a fairy version of James Bond's Q. Yes, all that and the affable Mr. Johnson in a tutu. So, is this a movie worth watching?...Well, you see perception, indeed, is a funny thing.

Just when it thought it was safe from being used under false pretenses by a certain South Carolina governor while visiting his Argentine mistress instead, the Appalachian Trail gets once again haunted by the ravenous, short sighted undergroundlings that made the original "Descent" so much fun five years ago. OK sequel - taking place later the same day - has nothing new to offer in between its rocky crevices and leaves the most interesting questions still unanswered: Who are those creatures? How did they get there and how many hundreds of them are dwelling beneath the surface? Why didn't the producers at least try and ask governor Sanford for a cameo appearance?

The title notwithstanding, Nancy Meyers' films are everything but. They are deliciously featherweight soufflés you can enjoy after a day's work. Fluffy escapist fare in gorgeous settings, populated by beloved stars in stories that defy scrutiny, but who cares? At her son's college graduation, Streep (in great comedic mode), who's trying to cope with, let's call it Empty Nest Syndrome, lands in bed with Baldwin, her ex-husband she divorced nineteen years ago. In Movieland stuff like this always happens when you meet a possible Mr. Right, Steve Martin, playing it straight for a change, unless - that is - he's smoking some weed. That's about all you need to know. Sit down, fasten your seatbelt and enjoy the ride, belly laughs included. Oh, and by the way, John Krasinski is a riot. For further exploring the topic, watch "That Old Feeling," which is even sillier but none the less entertaining.

Haven't we always known it? Specially trained guinea pigs are gonna save us from global termination. Rollicking, frolicking spy farce, combines meticulous digital wizardry from the Mouse House and eye popping action sequences only Jerry Bruckheimer can provide. Seriously, where else can you see coffeemakers and other kitchen appliances running amok? The computer generated rodents and assorted crawlers look stunningly lifelike, with every star behind the microphone doing a great job. Even your common housefly gets a personality of its own; and Bucky, a bad tempered hamster voiced by Steve Buscemi, is a comedic standout. The only quibbling: do the human characters have to come off that pale and superfluous? Fast paced, good natured fun for kids and grown-ups alike.

So, here's the next stupidity by the Hess spouses that makes "Napoleon Dynamite" look tame and mature by comparison. This time around it's home schooled teens who visit a literary festival. Imagine one kid's surprise when he finds his novel, "Yeast Lords," published under the name of a down on his luck science fiction author, who was supposed to be the star of the event. What follows is hard to believe story-wise and talent-wise, respectively, and it's hard to decide which one wins the prize for the dumbest premise: "Lords" or the real life plot wrapped around it. To be honest, neither of the two is compelling enough to justify this movie. You can't help wondering whether cast members were chosen solely because of their idiosyncratic looks, and was it hard to act that badly or did it come naturally to them? The inherently funny Jennifer Coolidge, who faces the camera barely wearing any makeup, and Michael Angarano as apparent loser you just wanna hug are the single bright spots. With all the others it's strictly amateur night at your local dinner theater.

Wes Anderson never tells traditional stories and never in a traditional manner. Since he entered the artistic world with "Bottle Rocket" in 1996, he treated us to accessible fare (the likes of "Rushmore" or "The Royal Tenenbaums") and bits that are a little harder to swallow ("The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou," "The Darjeeling Limited"), constantly keeping it entertaining and whimsical. So who better to discard CGI imagery and take one big step back to good ol' fashioned stop motion animation in order to tell Road Dahl's classic story (with a few liberties taken in the script)? George Clooney's recognizable voice is ideally cast to bring sly Mr. Fox to puppet life, and Meryl Streep, sounding a little restrained, is a pleasure as his wife - that would be Mrs. Fox. Long-time Anderson regulars (Jason Schwartzman, Owen Wilson, Adrien Brody, and - yes - Bill Murray) lend their voices to all sorts of critters. The story eases along fluidly with wryly funny - but not sitcommy - dialogue, and the scenery is so stunningly beautiful that you tend to forget how many hours of work must have gone into this little gem. Yet it all looks so deceptively simple.

You know the sunny season is approaching with giant steps when Luc Besson's latest don't strain your brain shoot 'em up, stab 'em down, blow 'em out extravaganza is hitting theaters. Travolta is at his very best, playing - once again - the laid back, foul mouthed, wise cracking, trigger happy psychopath. Same can not be said for Rhys Myers, who struggles with his American accent and looks like he wished to be in a whole different movie...or occupation. It's troubling when a 90 minutes picture peaks at the 60 minutes mark and the actual denouement - meant to be thrilling - is yawn-inducing (at best) or laughable (at worst). Be prepared for an admittedly shocking dinner scene, though. This is Pierre Morel's first directorial effort since 2008's "Taken," which is by far the better picture. "Paris," on the other hand, has its tongue firmly placed in cheek, but make no mistake: this is not a sightseeing travelogue.