The Dark Knight (2008) - EPIC Review

I suppose that by way of apology I should explain pour quoi this review was so long in coming. I know that after my first viewing - which was (be jealous) truly an IMAX experience - I was so overwhelmed that not only could I not speak for five minutes on the car ride home but I also knew on some level that any initial reaction to this movie would have been no more than one could get from a teenybopper seeing The Jonas Brothers for the first time.

So I had to see it again. Within 24 hours. And then again. And again. And guess what? I'm going back. Because it's the movie we need and the movie we deserve. <-- That's a reference to the movie. If you haven't seen it, it might not be a good idea to read this review since I'll both be liberal in referencing dialogue and discussing plot points (although I won't be revealing any on the scale of "Rosebud is the sled" I will be exploring issues with which even casual Batman fans should be familiar), and I'll be featuring a proliferation of images that (again) won't give too much away but might be better left unseen by the uninitiated. Just go and see the movie, then check back with me, since you'll get more out of this review. Back? Where do we begin? Three years ago a little director called Christopher Nolan made a little movie called Batman Begins which, if we're being honest, made only comparatively little splashes at the box office. But then again, it's not about the money. It's about sending a message. And the message was that comic book movies could be serious works of cinematic literacy without compromising the source material.

The Dark Knight is no exception to this rule and unquestionably is the golden standard by which all other comic book movies - and indeed perhaps all other movies, period - will be weighed. (I can feel nothing but pity for future directors of comic book movies who are destined to fall short of this cinematic perfection.) Picking up where the first movie left off, The Dark Knight finds its eponymous hero (Christian Bale, back in the role for which he was born) facing escalation in the form of amped up enemies and do-gooder Bat-doppelgangers -- and a new nemesis, the self-professed "agent of chaos" known only as The Joker (the divine Heath Ledger, who's receiving all the accolades he deserves for this, his final and most magnificent role). All the old cast are back for this one, save Katie Holmes who's replaced by the less irritating Maggie Gyllenhaal. And we have a few new faces, too - of course, Ledger as the "dog chasing cars" man supposedly without a plan, Eric Roberts as mobster Sal Maroni, and Aaron Eckhart as Gotham's white knight Harvey Dent, the straitlaced D.A. with a touch of destiny about him.
Why so serious? For some comic relief, we have (Sir) Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman back as butler Alfred and CEO Lucius, respectively, but a great deal of the laughs - uncomfortable ones though they may be - come from Ledger's Joker, upon whom I cannot heap enough praise without sounding like either a sheep critic who feels obliged to respect the actor in light of his ultra-untimely passing or a giggly fanboy (the latter of which is probably closer to the truth) marveling at this, the truest interpretation of Batman's greatest nemesis. Though his first scene on-screen - a heist brilliantly planned by The Joker - won't get a lot of chuckles, his second appearance most certainly will. The Joker holds the mob financially hostage, unveils his master plan for correcting Gotham, and executes - and I do mean executes - the strangest, most audacious magic trick since Nolan's 2006 magical mystery tour The Prestige. Should we laugh at something like that? It's difficult not to. He does that, makes us question our ethics and morals for laughing at the more gruesome moments of life. It makes one think, that's all.

Making us think is one of Nolan's specialties here. This is so much more than just a seminal entry in the world of comic book adaptations - which, make no mistake, it is. The Bat-gauntlet has been thrown down. But The Dark Knight is, among many things, a mature rumination on the very nature of heroism, of deceit, of good and evil and the mutual necessity one has for the other. The very concept of heroism is up for grabs here, as well-intentioned civilians doll up like the Bat and take on crime themselves. "What gives you the right?" one asks Batman. Hockey pads or not, one has to admit that it does take a certain brand of madness to dress as a Fledermaus and dive from rooftops. And "madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push."

Where the first film devoted a great deal of contemplation to mulling the power and pains of fear, here the main issue at stake is duality - the mirror relationship between good and evil - with a liberal dose of secrecy thrown in for good measure. The clearest example of duality is of course the nature of the battle between Gotham's Dark Knight and its anarchic harbinger of lawlessness, The Joker. "I don't want to kill you!" the Joker cackles at one point. "What would I do without you? You... you complete me." Earlier, in a home video of sorts, Joker grins as he decries Batman's need for secrecy and suggests "This is how craaaaaazy Batman's made Gotham."

Surely this is cause for contemplation; Batman's first villains in this series were mere mortals (not so mere, though, should Nolan choose to play up Ra's al-Ghul's immortality in later installments) with fear toxins and utopian aspirations. Gotham before Batman had never seen a man so without rules as The Joker, a man willing to allow himself to be killed for a punchline.
And no discussion of duality could be complete without Harvey Dent. Just as Scarecrow was the perfect way to explore fear, the district attorney - the white knight - is Nolan's masterstroke in the discussion of doublethink. "I believe in Harvey Dent," the oft-repeated aphorism goes. To believe in Harvey Dent, though, is to believe in a world that doesn't need Batman, a world where crime can be stopped in the courts. The Joker, of course, begs to differ and endeavors to "turn [Dent's] little plan on itself." Failing to corrupt The Dark Knight (even finding him "too much fun"), Joker turns to the white one. Because all it takes is a little push to win the battle for Gotham's soul. Aaron Eckhart's performance as Harvey Dent is sadly lost in the shuffle of praise for the movie - and undeservedly so. As Dent, Eckhart has the unenviable task of playing an optimist in a world without hope, a task made all the more impossible once everything is taken from him - even his Robert Redford good looks. In a way then, Harvey is a mirror of Batman as well; where Batman lost everything and chose good, Harvey seeks revenge and sense in a world gone mad - decency in an indecent time, as Dent cries at the film's second climax.

Oh, yeah. There are two climaxes to the movie. You read that right. The screenplay by the Nolans is a marvelous examination of the Batman mythos, drawing on all of the best Caped Crusader chronicles to create what is the most complete, most honest, most magnificent Batman story ever told. (And this from a reviewer who loves Jeph Loeb's The Long Halloween!) This two climax bit is part of the magic of the movie (and also a nod to the rise of Two-Face?); just as one major threat is defeated, Batman is reminded that the battle for Gotham's soul has yet to be won. This final act of the film is haunting - pure poetry. The chills that ran up my arms couldn't have been from the air conditioning in the theater, because I felt the hair on my arm stand up at all four screenings - in different venues, no less. As The Joker hangs upside down and taunts Batman with his notion that "I think you and I are destined to do this... forever" the camera slowly does a 180 and turns so that The Joker appears to be right-side up... but he isn't. The world, Nolan tells us in a brilliant use of visual language, has been turned topsy turvy, on its head just as the "SLaughter is the best medicine" semi earlier in the film.
For me to delve any further into scholarly analysis would be to give short shrift to my duties as a reviewer (although if I haven't by now convinced you of the film's marvelous nature, you might need a quick reminder - Rotten Tomatoes ranks it 94% fresh, but only because 6% of critics are afraid to join the crowd). Every actor brings an A-game or better to the table, so we might as well go right down the line. Christian Bale actually plays three parts here: gravelly Batman, "fake" playboy Bruce Wayne, and the real Wayne who legitimately wants to do right but understands the necessity of his facades. As butler and confidante Alfred, Michael Caine is pitch-perfect, providing the perfect amount of levity while also bringing gravitas by keeping the secret that could crush his employer's spirit. You'll never believe Gary Oldman is British, since he plays such a spot-on Chicago-style cop as Lt. Gordon. I've already lauded Aaron Eckhart's turn as Harvey Dent; the biggest compliments I can give Maggie Gyllenhaal is that she's not Katie Holmes and that she made me forget that I really don't like her - especially in a scene where she finally gives Harvey "an answer." And of course Morgan Freeman, who's rapidly becoming one of my favorites, is unindictable, saying more with an enigmatic smile than, oh, let's say Keanu Reeves can do with a whole movie. Heck, even Eric Roberts comes close to inciting curiosity that he wasn't in one of the Godfather movies.

Then there's Heath Ledger, who's in a caliber all his own. Where each other actor is physically recognizable (well, except for Eckhart in the second half), Ledger completely immerses himself in the role and disappears behind that David Lynch voice and a face only Baby Jane Hudson could love. If you thought Johnny Depp's turn as Captain Jack Sparrow was a physical transformation, wait until you see this. Ledger blows Jack Nicholson (as much fun as he was) out of the water with a dark and gruesome anarchist who delights in chaos and physical abuse. Moviegoers aren't screaming "Oscar!" for no reason, and it's got nothing to do with the tragic passing of Ledger back in January. It's got everything to do with the highest echelon of acting that I've ever seen.

There are some who say that the editing befuddles, but these must be the same nitwits that cried foul at the "confusing" plot of the second and third Pirates of the Caribbean movies. The only confusing thing about this movie is how it can be so irreproachable and still be made by humans. It's as layered as an Alan Moore plot, with little nuggets to reward repeat viewings - like the year imprinted on Harvey's silver dollar or the ballerina grace with which the opening bank robbery is choreographed. The script is endlessly quotable without being showy, by far surpassing 300 for "Most catchphrases in a single bound." A great deal of that is delivery, because when you get down to it there's nothing truly remarkable about the line "Here's my card."

The soundtrack, too, is everything a movie score should be - gentle in spots (courtesy of James Newton Howard) and aggressive in others (characteristically Hans Zimmer's work), all without screaming "Listen to me!" From the chaotically frenzied Joker theme ("Why So Serious?" on the soundtrack) to the majestic Batman action theme ("Like A Dog Chasing Cars" and "I'm Not A Hero" as best highlights), the score swoops like a - "Like a submarine, Mr. Wayne. A submarine." And the special effects - well, they're virtually nonexistent. You see, Nolan is an advocate of hyper-realism in his filmmaking, so almost none of what you see is CGI. Yes, Nolan really blew up the Brachs candy factory (which stands in for a somewhat more targetable facade). Yes, Nolan really flipped a semi on its head. Yes, Nolan really filmed a car chase scene on Wacker in Chicago. I'm pretty sure he didn't really crash a helicopter into a skyscraper, but it looks damn cool anyway.

I'm this close to announcing a new king in the land of cinema. No, I'm not abdicating my throne as The Cinema King. I'm mere centimeters (or one more screening, preferably IMAX) from placing The Departed at #2 on the list of Greatest Movies of All Time. Because here's another perfect movie. It's unquestionably the best movie of 2008, and I see no competition in sight.

Trailer Park: The Day The Earth Stood Still (2008)

In the words of the Watchmen trailer, "God help us all."

Not only is this a remake of an absolutely brilliant 1950s sci-fi flick (and we all know how often remakes are doomed to failure), but it's starring Keanu Reeves. A man whose emoting skills are limited to "...Whoa." I don't think I need to lament the fact that this emotionless mannequin is headlining yet another big budget movie.

What's truly galling about this movie is that it's not a legitimate remake. It's a cheap attempt to rewrite a product of MAD-era global politics into a parable about man's inhumanity to earth. Klaatu wouldn't come to earth because we're destroying it. He came because our conflict threatened regions of outer space - and eventually his planet. And to replace Michael Rennie, the paragon of dignified intellect and Christ allegories, with lifeless Keanu Reeves is an insult. I don't mind Jennifer Connelly as Helen, but what's all this crud about no impending nuclear warfare tonight?

And must Will Smith's kid be in everything?

AND WHERE THE HECK IS GORT? I mean, I know he's in that little frame at the end... but what the heck is Kathy Bates doing in a movie like this? And someone preserve John Cleese's dignity by editing him out of this before it's too late.

Whatever you do, don't pay to see this movie on December 12. Although I probably didn't help the case by giving this sludge free promotion. Just go rent or buy the better Michael Rennie version.

Trailer Park: Watchmen (2009)

Get ready. If you thought my anticipation for The Dark Knight was overwhelming, take a look at this comic book adaptation. Zack Snyder attempts to do the impossible - adapt Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons's magnum opus Watchmen - and he seems to be doing a pretty good job of it so far. This is twice I've been wrong about comic book movies. First Heath Ledger knocks it out of the park with a performance I didn't know he had in him, and now "the visionary director of 300" seems to have a strong handle on this adaptation.

What's spectacular about this trailer is it appeals to both the diehard Watchmen fans - who are sure to marvel at Snyder's almost photorealistic rendering of panel-by-panel shots from the original maxiseries - and those new to the series that changed comicdom forever. Newbies, I challenge you not to marvel at the three Doctor Manhattans or feel a cold shiver run up your spine when Rorschach says that "I'll whisper... 'No.'"

What the trailer doesn't tell you is that Watchmen is landing on IMAX screens as well. Take another look at those special effects and tell me it won't be glorious to see Archie (the owlship) take flight or the clock structure on Mars rise out of the red dust - all on the big screen. What the trailer also doesn't do is give a semblance of plot to the movie. But that's the function of a teaser. What this one does - and does well - is generate interest in the movie. How else would you explain a skyrocketing of graphic novel sales on Amazon?

Who watches the watchmen? Anyone who's interested can, on March 6, 2009. 3-6-09.

The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

Didn't I say Frank Darabont is the undisputed master of adapting Stephen King's writings for the big screen? Had I seen Darabont's work in chronological order, The Shawshank Redemption would have sold me in a way that The Mist already did. As it stands, though, seeing The Shawshank Redemption 14 years after its release (I know, I waited that long?) only solidifies my belief that Darabont-King is as powerful a partnership as Bonnie and Clyde.

I'm quite certain I'm the last person in the world who hadn't seen what IMDB.com consistently ranks in the Top Three Movies of all time, so is a plot summary really necessary? Doesn't everyone already know that this is a testament to the endurance of the human spirit as told through the example of humble Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) and his wrongful imprisonment in Shawshank? And do I need to highlight Morgan Freeman's equally pivotal and heartfelt role as fellow convict Red? Need I mention the venal and villainous prison staff, corrupt Warden Norton (a gruesomely inhuman Bob Gunton) and cruel Captain Hadley (Clancy Brown, who you'll never believe after this went on to voice SpongeBob's crabby employer Mr. Krabs)?

Do I need to tell you to see this film if you haven't already? This is excellent, moving filmmaking, unflinching in its depiction of prison life and unrelenting in its honest portrayal of integrity. Star performances abound here, from Robbins as the most decent man alive to Freeman who does more than just portray the wise mentor. Neither the direction nor the score call attention to themselves, the hallmark of a job well done.

The pace is leisurely, taking its time to explore character more than generate suspense. The plot meanders, turning to and fro through plot twist after plot twist - the acquisition of Shawshank's library is peaceful but surprising nonetheless. Then the end - in which a poster of Raquel Welch proves to be more important than anyone might imagine (save those who, like me, read Stephen King's original short story, Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption) - drops like a sack of potatoes, and as the film unfolds the truth of what happened the night Shawshank changed forever, your jaw will drop in "I should have seen this coming but wow what an ending!" glory.

Of course this is also the movie that gave us a sterling narration from Morgan Freeman. Freeman's the real reason I rented this one, being more than impressed with his performance in The Dark Knight, and he doesn't disappoint here. Nor does Tim Robbins, of whom I'm not a particular fan but who redeems himself and his character over the course of the movie. Credit a solid screenplay and solidly human acting for this Redemption.

Justice League: The New Frontier (2008)

Here's the second comic book movie in a row that's better than its source material. Don't get me wrong; I loved Darwyn Cooke's DC: The New Frontier and appreciated its Watchmen-esque treatment of superheroes after Korea. But the six-issue miniseries was a little long, packed with references to comic books of the Silver Age that were lost on me.

Condensed down to a 75-minute animated adventure and retitled Justice League: The New Frontier, this entry in the line of DC Animated Universe Original Movies is considerably less heavy than its source material and also carries with it a delightful new "look" that blows recent DCAU projects out of the water.

Superman and Wonder Woman have won the Korean War, yet the real war hero is Hal Jordan, who returns home to a lucrative job as test pilot for Ferris Aircraft. Meanwhile, a scientist in Batman's hometown accidentally transports the Martian J'onn J'onzz to Earth, and J'onzz assumes the moniker of John Jones to serve man as a detective. Earth's heroes eventually band together to fight the mysterious entity known only as The Centre, forming the Justice League in the process.

Perhaps I'm a little biased, but I always like these continuity-shirking company-wide stories (a la Mark Waid's Kingdom Come, as beautifully and artfully illustrated by Alex Ross). Yet I've been perennially disappointed by DCAU projects after Batman: Mask of the Phantasm. Recall my less than flattering review of Superman: Doomsday. Fortunately this new one is what a DCAU movie should be - fun, exciting, well-animated (with a style, that unlike The Batman on WB, doesn't make me want to take knitting needles to my eyes), and entertaining. Though the music is campy, the voice cast (predominantly comprised of less-than-A-listers like David Boreanaz as Green Lantern and Kyle McLachlan as Superman) does a great job of bringing these mythic heroes to life.

The villain is imposing but less thrilling than, say, a Lex Luthor/Joker team-up would be, especially in the context of a JLA origin story. And though the film doesn't give The Centre the attention that the miniseries did, that's okay. Because this isn't The Centre's story in the way that the source material could be. It's the story of how the Justice League came to be, with that elegant Silver Age-style animation and a relatively strong voice cast.

Another thing I loved about this is its use of the film noir style. Especially in the Gotham scenes, shadows are played to the hilt. The introduction of Martian Manhunter as a private detective is also a great touch, one that works well with his partnership with Batman. All in all, I can say I was pleasantly surprised with this movie, though I can't imagine a second viewing would be as enjoyable as the first - mostly due to expectation levels.

V for Vendetta (2006)

Verily, I can only think of a few remakes that have been better than the original - 1941's The Maltese Falcon, 2006's The Departed, and 2007's Hairspray spring immediately to mind. Even sparser, though, are movies better than the source material (books, most voraciously) on which they are based. In fact, only one rests at the forefront of my consciousness.

Here is unveiled V for Vendetta. Director James McTeigue did a valorous job vindicating Alan Moore's eponymous graphic visitation now envisioned as a profoundly first-rate political thriller that vociferates considerably less voraciously than Moore's original vista.

What if Orwell's vision of 1984 vandalized England? That's the vicious venality that 2038 London finds itself enlivening, villified with an iron fist by venal Norsefire High Chancellor Adam Sutler (John Hurt, verminously filling in for Big Brother - and Bush-era America? The vote is yours...). Vivified by sheeple-by-vocation like Evey Hammond (Natalie Portman - more on this casting later), England needs only a victor to shake them out of their stupor. That virtuous vigilante comes in the form of mysterious anarchist V (voiced by Hugo Weaving, of The Matrix fame, verbally expelling a delightful vichyssoise of verbiage), whose visage is cloaked with a vacant Guy Fawkes mask. Victor or villain? This vox populi dares to vindicate the votives of those who seek freedom in England once again.

My vocation being to review filmic visions the very better to aid your volitions, I vow to keep this vade mecum very far from verbose and shall continue to limit my verbiage to a vocabulary less than verbose. A vixen in her own right, Ms. Portman should not find herself the victim of a vicious villification; inded, her performance is virtuous - some might say commendable, though this vexes my otherwise vocabulary-based symmetry. Envision if you will a twenty-something British bon vivant, vitiated by a violating vermin! The verdict is that Keira Knightley ought have played Evey, though one must admire Portman's vitiation of vanity and emotive weeping as her head is shaved. On repeat viewings, one can more fully approve of Portman's vocation as an actress as the initial vice of not casting Knightley is removed from attention.

As an improvement on Moore's work, V for Vendetta unvexes a previously muddled and thinly veiled derivative of 1984, in which the protagonist was vigilant yet unconvincingly vocalized. Though Moore's ambiguous version of Adrian Veidt in his undisputed marvel Watchmen was enviable, V is less than convincing, part vigilante and part villain. Here the vanguard of liberation is given fair shrift, defending his land with vim and vigor. Ambiguity thrives in literature, yet sloppy ambiguation proves most vincible in analysis.

More vindicating than vindictive, McTeigue's version of V for Vendetta vehemently strives for victory in the celluloid realm, and as comic books go this re-envisioning of a predominantly virtueless work of a visionary soars. View it if you can, and remain vigilant. Because "a revolution without dancing is a revolution... not worth having."

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008)

"All you need for a movie," Godard said, "is a girl and a gun." Yet the latest in this popular franchise, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, runs on two things: adrenaline and nostalgia.

For devotees of the franchise, it's been a dry spell marked only by Harrison Ford's retiring of the hat, coat, and whip - nineteen years since 1989's Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. So when Spielberg and Lucas announced the action hero's imminent return, skepticism was understandably high. Fortunately this movie delivers in a big way. Indiana Jones (Ford) finds himself at the epicenter of another global race to the MacGuffin - this time, it's a crystal skull from a long-dead (or is it?) culture. The Nazis have been replaced with 1957's top foes, the Communists and their paranormal expert Irina Spalko (Cate Blanchett, who never slips out of her impeccable Ukranian accent). Indy gets by with a little help from his friends, though: young sidekick Mutt (a surprisingly talented Shia LaBeouf), old flame Marion Ravenwood (Karen Allen back for more), and addled prof Harold Oxley (a surprisingly irreverent John Hurt).

Now that most everyone has seen this movie already, I feel fairly safe airing my grievances with the MacGuffin here. The crystal skull, legend has it, was constructed by extraterrestrial beings, though all skulls have so far been debunked as little more than clever human constructions. The movie doesn't take a hard line on the skulls until the very end of the film, relying instead on a slightly more archaeologically fascinating relic, the location of Akator (or El Dorado, the city of gold).

Yet there's still something a little off about the movie compared with the neoclassics Raiders of the Lost Ark and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. On a few levels there's something wrong with this movie. There's a plot twist somewhere about Mutt's parentage, but really - did anyone not see this coming? And the MacGuffin isn't as compelling; there's something about Judeo-Christian artifacts that I just find more compelling. And as nice of a change of pace as the Communists are - and as wonderfully wicked as Cate Blanchett makes herself - it's just not the same as having Indy fight Nazis, the token cinematic villain. Plus, we all miss Sean Connery.

But this movie isn't about making a great piece of celluloid. It's about making a fun thrill ride and revisiting an old favorite. Dr. Jones scores points on being just as entertaining as he was twenty-some years ago, with the adrenaline pumping in a nonstop race to the gilded finish line that puts one in mind of the similarly adventurous Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. There's something to be said for a movie that makes me gasp in terror when a protagonist as immortal as Indy teeters on the edge of a cliff during a supremely climactic car chase. Additionally, it's great to see that a character like Indy ages well - physically and cinematically. He's like an old friend: not quite the same since the last time you saw him, but that's to be expected. As long as you can kick back, dig into a bag of popcorn, and have a good time, there are worse ways to spend a few hours at the cinema.

I can think of a few better, but not many.

Batman Begins (2005)

It's perhaps difficult to appreciate now, three years after Batman began, what director Christopher Nolan did for the comic book movie genre. For land's sakes, folks, Bryan Singer's Superman - the all-American Boy Scout ambassador of good will - was considerably more angsty in response to the smash hit called Christian Bale as Bruce Wayne, alias Batman. With a new take on the quintessential origin story, a few plausible revamps to the old rogues gallery, and a solid cast, Christopher Nolan redeemed the Batman franchise from the Schumacher debacle.

And all that with nary a Batnipple in sight.

How does every Batman origin story need to start? In the alley behind the theater where Thomas and Martha Wayne were gunned down by oft-faceless hood Joe Chill (not The Joker, Tim Burton, but nice try), right? WRONG. In typical Nolan fashion, Batman Begins toys with the audience's expectation of chronology that origin flicks like Spider-Man and Superman led us to anticipate. As Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale, one of the best living actors) receives his training from Ra's al Ghul (Ken Watanabe) and the League of Shadows - especially personal mentor Henri Ducard (the perma-divine Liam Neeson), his backstory is fleshed out. By the time he returns to Gotham to clean up the city and (in the words of Jeph Loeb, arguably one of the greatest Batman writers of all time) make good on his "promise on the grave of my parents to rid this city of the evil that took their lives." Among the evildoers are Scarecrow (Cillian Murphy, immaculately exuding creepiness through his eerie eyeglasses) and mob boss Carmine Falcone (Tom Wilkinson) - but there is good in Gotham. Detective Jim Gordon (Gary Oldman) and legal beagle Rachel Dawes (a bland Katie Holmes, the only strained link in a pitch-perfect chain), as well as Wayne associates Lucius Fox (the ever-eloquent Morgan Freeman, who just gets better at playing himself as time goes on) and butler Alfred (Michael Caine, whose moments of levity are well-appreciated), are on hand to assist in the neverending battle.

If it smacks of an ensemble cast, it's not. The focus, make no mistake, is on Bale's Dark Knight. With a cavalcade of great actors (only two of whom, I might add, hail from the continent which birthed Batman in the first place), it might be easy for any one of them to get lost in the shuffle, but thankfully each holds his own. You'll pardon the sexist language, but Holmes is out of her league here - then again, I can't think of an appropriate modern actress who wouldn't be (I say appropriate because Judi Dench would rock but might be more believable as Alfred's love interest). What helps the cast along is a whizbang screenplay by Nolan & David S. Goyer which not only sets the groundwork for a franchise but stands alone on its own merits, not the least of which is its clever use of repetition to further plot points and recall earlier hints and foreshadowings.

So the cast is mostly impeccable, the screenplay tight as a pimped-out ride. Of the direction I have only positive things to say. Nolan is a master both at intense action scenes such as a Batmobile chase scene and at moments of "arranging matches" drama as when Falcone explains the law of Gotham to Bruce. Relying on CGI to the point of nihilsm, Nolan gives his hyper-realistic take on Batman that extra layer of authenticity by showing us reality on the screen. Chicago never looked so corrupt - nor worth saving. Additionally, a score composed by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard deftly bounces between peaks and troughs of action. Though it's not as "listenable" as some of Zimmer's other soundtracks (such as the uber-catchy scores for the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise), the score here doesn't call attention to itself but rather supplements the visuals in a way that is almost subconscious.

It's an intelligent movie. The heroes are walking that fine line between good and evil, bending society's conventions and occasionally the laws to achieve real justice. The movie, in a theme that would be more fully fleshed out in its sequel, also asks where the line is and whether Batman is crossing it. The threat of escalation, too, lingers over the whole shebang, further questioning the label of "hero." And the villains are even less civil than previously; Scarecrow, for example, is less than reluctant to target innocent women and children so long as they fear him. Where Spider-Man 3 hit heavy the metaphor of "villain [Venom and the black suit] as revenge," Batman Begins is an elegant contemplation of fear and power, even if the bullet-train climax is less than wholly realistic.

And for a movie that drew applause not precisely at the end of the movie but rather 30 seconds prior to conclusion with the mere turning over of a playing card within an evidence bag, Batman Begins is a movie that needed no sequel. Certainly I won't grumble over The Dark Knight or even deem it unnecessary. But Batman Begins is more than able to survive and thrive in independence, with a complete ending that we might believe could occur in the real world.

Of course, then came a little film known as The Dark Knight, which shattered expectations - and box office records.

Mr. Nolan, I never got a chance to thank you for Batman Begins...

"And you'll never have to ."

WALL·E (2008)

[It might come as a total surprise to loyal readers that, on July 18, WALL·E is the movie I chose to see. "With The Dark Knight next door?" you might ask. There are a myriad of reasons for this strange choice - not the least of which being the possession of IMAX tickets for Saturday that might be spoiled by seeing this spectacle on a comparatively small screen. So for now, enjoy some family entertainment.]

Andrew Stanton, along with the geniuses at PIXAR who collectively brought to the screen new classics like Toy Story and Finding Nemo, has done something completely remarkable. He and his cohorts have given life to a few robots and created some of the most humanly sympathetic characters I've ever seen.

To give away too much of a plot summary would be to take away some of the magic of the film, which relies almost exclusively on visuals (rather than dialogue, which is almost nonexistent in the first half of the movie) to tell a story. Suffice it to say that WALL·E is the last robot on an abandoned Earth who finds a new purpose in life when a strange visitor, a robot called EVE, arrives. This sci-fi fable is as grand as it is eloquent, sweeping as it is sentimental, and touching as it is terrific.

Can we say much about acting here, aside from Fred Willard's classically and beautifully hammy turn as the Global CEO (the only live-action role in a Pixar movie to date)? Almost all the voicework is done by Ben Burtt - the man who brought you R2-D2's signature bloops and be-doops -who uses tech sounds rather than human vocalizations to give "voice" to characters who have no vocal chords. No, the real stars here are the animators at PIXAR, who breathe life into these robots with a simple twitch of the "eyes."

There's so much power in anthropomorphization that I actually - for the first time in a long while at the cinema - got choked up. I'm more prone to that sort of thing in the home theater, so for a big screen motion picture to do that to me in a room of about fifty people is significant in itself. These robots emote, something most of today's actors seem tragically incapable of doing. (Keanu Reeves, anyone? No thanks? I don't blame you.) Working simply with the eyepieces of WALL·E and a few longing stares at the "hand" of EVE elicited more tear-jerking feeling from me than the entire last act of Brokeback Mountain.

Visually the human characters (Willard aside) are cartoonish, on a par more with The Incredibles than with Ratatouille. But again, the movie aptly relies more on the nonsentient photorealistic beings to drive the plot forward and destroy that fourth wall so that we're too attached to the characters. I didn't care, for example, if the humans ever came back to the earth they abandoned. I just wanted WALL·E to hold EVE's hand once.

There's a political message in here somewhere about consumerist man's ability to repair an earth he has destroyed, but perhaps I'm reading too far into it. What's important is the beauty of a film that relies on simplicity itself to create one of the more complex movies to come from the Disney castle.

Gone Baby Gone (2007)

Memo to the Affleck brothers - Ben, stick to directing, but leave the acting to your brother Casey.

Based on the Dennis Lehane novel of the same name, Gone Baby Gone is less the story of a child's abduction than it is a character study of those searching for her - private detectives Patrick Kenzie and Angie Gennaro (Casey Affleck and Michelle Monaghan), the Boston Police (Morgan Freeman and Ed Harris), and the girl's own family (Amy Ryan, Titus Welliver, and Amy Madigan) - and how far they're willing to go to make sure the case ends happily. The plot is supremely revelatory, exposing piece by piece details of the abudction, building to a conclusion as shocking as Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express. Ultimately the film becomes a meditation, much like Alan Moore's magnum opus Watchmen, on the morality of making things right. Which lines (as I'm certain Christian Bale finds himself asking as Batman) are worth crossing?

Let it be known first and foremost that I am not the world's greatest Ben Affleck fan. He was supposed to be blind in Daredevil? He was supposed to be British in Shakespeare in Love? He got an Oscar before Martin Scorsese?! So that makes my enjoyment of his direction here all the more landmark since it makes me a convert to the church of Affleck. Ben displays a knack for direction that would surprise any who are familiar with his empty portrayals that ought not be as irritating as they often find themselves. Similarly, Casey Affleck is incredible as the lead detective on the case, proving that he's as versatile as he is worldweary-voiced, racking up the Oscar nominations that Ben thought he had coming with his dismal turn in Hollywoodland in what appears to be a mockery of George Reeves.

The ensemble cast is similarly powerful, with the exception of Monaghan, whose most powerful scenes take place behind closed doors where we can't even see her. Freeman and Harris are their usual selves, respectively wise and tempermental, but they do such a good job at those roles that their casting seems natural. And Amy Ryan, as the lackadaisical addict mother who seems that she couldn't care less whether her child returns, deserves every accolade she receives for her turn, up to and including the Oscar nomination that is rightfully hers.

As unpredictable as it is extraordinary, Gone Baby Gone does what a lot of movies do - get me to jump in my seat - but it also does what very few films can do these days - smack me with a contemplative surprise ending. To ruminate further on it would be to spoil the movie for anyone, but suffice it to say that this movie kicks you in the gut the way The Sixth Sense did when you realized the full import of the line "I see dead people."

Trailer Park: High School Musical 3: Senior Year (2008)

The Dark Knight aside (and a legion of readers rejoice at the start of something new on this blog), if there's one other movie coming out this year that gets me into the theaters, this is probably it. But the trailer's not helping the case, because it seems like some of the magic is gone.

Note the hackneyed heartbeat accompanying a black screen and flashes of familiar locations, right up to the "This will get them excited" shot of the #14 jersey. Then we have a brief exchange that, upon further consideration, doesn't really make sense. What do you mean, Troy, when you ponder whether or not you'll be getting diplomas? Are you in danger of failing geometry (I thought Ryan might be held back because of his presumed illiteracy), or is this an inside joke about how Disney won't let you graduate?

Then quick flashes of the whole principal cast just to remind you which end is up. There's something about the aesthetics here that seems... off. The video seems slightly blurry, lacking some of the pristine color hemorrhaging the first two movies bore. Plus there's something squeakier about Ashley Tisdale's voice. Maybe it's the nose job or maybe it's a poor quality recording, but my ears are pretty good at discerning little differences and my Spidey Sense is definitely tingling here.

Plus there's a lot in this trailer that's laughable. Prom never looked so organized, despite the somewhat raunchy and too-PG-for-Disney-Channel dance moves sported by Ms. Hudgens. And what's up with the Troy/Chad duet... in a junkyard?! Then there's the embarassingly corny moment where Troy needs to make the game shot, and all he can see is his girlfriend in the stands, singing to him that she believes in him. I haven't seen this much camp since a certain Adam West donned a certain Batsuit in a certain decade.

I do, however, like what they've done with Sharpay. It seems they're moving away from making her the villain again and having her just be more of a self-absorbed senior ninny with a pretty dress on the brain. And her brother's taking a backseat again. Marvelous.

Then again, Jeff Garlin once said that there's no point in reviewing movies like The Dukes of Hazzard because "Of course it's going to be bad! It's The Dukes of Hazzard! If you like this kind of thing, you'll like the movie!" So I suppose the same is true here; I enjoyed the first two, and I'll probably have just as good a time with this one.

Then again, I'm getting too old for this sort of thing.

Hellboy II: The Golden Army (2008)

One thing's for sure: with Hellboy 2, Guillermo del Toro is assuredly getting comfortable with his wholly unique cinematic sense of sight. Visually, this superhero sequel is a mesmerizing tour de force replete with stylizations to make even Tim Burton blush at outperformance.

That, and how cool is a superhero whose catchphrase is "Aww, crap"?

Ron Perlman is the titular Hellboy, a devilishly good hero rescued from a Nazi ritual by American forces led by Professor Broom (a nice cameo from original cast member John Hurt). Now a member of the BPRD (a supernatural covert task force that for all intents and purposes "does not exist"), Hellboy joins fellow adventurers pyrokinetic Liz Sherman (Selma Blair), aquatic Abe Sapien (Doug Jones, vocally and adequately replacing David Hyde Pierce, though the motions are still all Jones), and German ectoplasmic ghost Johann Kraus (the voice of Family Guy creator Seth MacFarlane). Hellboy's mission here is threefold - defeat the villainous Prince Nuada (Luke Goss), who's bent on destroying humankind; frustrate Tom Manning (George Bluth himself, Jeffrey Tambor), the boss of the BPRD; and find out what secret girlfriend Liz is keeping.

Where the first movie had all the earmarks of a Mike Mignola comic book - deep shadows, talking corpses, larger than life (literally) characters - Hellboy 2 couldn't be more Guillermo del Toro. I'm not sure how to encapsulate his particular "look," but you know it when you see it: lanky creatures with multiple eyes in all the wrong places, fascination with global mythologies, and an underreliance on CGI effects that have similarly earned Christopher Nolan a few heralds for his work. While superhero sequels often allow the writer to expand on a character without the burden of an origin story, this one allows del Toro to spread his visionary wings to create the artistic sight he's been bearing his whole career.

That's not to say that the movie is too dark or too "del Toro." Kudos to the team for finding a way to integrate humor in small doses to keep the tension of the film from crushing its audience; kudos also for the Baby Bear way of finding a "just right" amount of humor to inject without creating a self-mockery like Spider-Man 3. Perhaps the most classic example here, without giving too much away, is a moment right in the middle of the movie in which an intoxicated Hellboy and Abe sing along to Barry Manilow's "Can't Smile Without You" over discussing girl troubles (Abe has been smitten by Nuada's twin sister Nuala). Too much of this would have destroyed the movie, but a few sprinklings here and there can only help.

Admittedly some of this movie smacks of a cry for a threequel - Hellboy's "destiny" for example seems fertile soil from which a threequel can grow, as does Liz's penultimate-frame delivery of the peace sign (not quite the intention, but I'd hate to spoil it). And I'm glad to hear that A) del Toro has a plan for a third movie involving the Universal Monster crew, and B) del Toro and Perlman are more than willing to keep doing Hellboy movies as long as they can.

If nothing else, though, this one is visually stunning in a way that comic book movies seldom are. Good thing the rest of the movie lives up to the eyeball assault. We'll have to wait a few years for the next one? Aww, crap.

Harsh Times (2005)

Chalk it up to whatever you wish - my status as a self-professed Bale-ophile, the fact that I normally don't have to try too hard to enjoy a movie, or the nine dollars that I spent on this movie as a blind buy - but I wish I could have enjoyed this movie more than I did. I myself am prepared to blame misleading expectations and a predominantly unsympathetic dramatis personae (and if that smacks of a thesis statement, it's those college days coming back to haunt me).

It had been explained to me as the story of an Iraq war veteran (Christian Bale) climbing to the top of the mafia, but that couldn't be more distant from the truth than Sean Penn's (in)famous aphorism "Jude Law is one of our finest." It seems to be the story of one man (Christian Bale) and his refusal to grow up, torn between job opportunity and a carefree life with his best friend (Freddy Rodriguez). I had expected the movie to be filled with moments like this:

Instead, it was filled with conflict between Rodriguez's character and his wife Sylvia, as played by Eva Longoria. Lord preserve us. Though Rodriguez was adequately gruff and mysterious in Planet Terror, here he's just uninspired. And Longoria couldn't be more emotionless, with an acting range so limited that even Keanu Reeves can do little but marvel "Whoa" at the sheer entropy.

Of course Christian Bale turns in a sterling performance, inhabiting the skin of Jim Davis as comfortably as Lock Martin zipped into the role of Gort in The Day the Earth Stood Still (I'm refusing to acknowledge the remake, I'm refusing to acknowledge the remake, I'm refusing...). Physical appearance aside, it's difficult to recognize that this is the same man who became (not merely acted as) Bruce Wayne, Dieter Dengler, and career definer Patrick Bateman. It's also near impossible to find fault with an actor of Bale's caliber, considering the full-on Bronson demonstrated by his substantial weight loss for the underrated Serling-esque The Machinist.

Unfortunately Bale is no miracle worker. Certainly his performance merits a viewing, but if only there were some way it could have been in a better vehicle. The script here is shoddy, marked by an embarassing overreliance on words like "ese" and "homie" to give a 'streets' feel to the whole thing. How Bale got his performance out of this movie, I'll never know.

Save your nine dollars and just watch that embedded YouTube clip again. Because honestly? That's the best scene of the movie (J.K. Simmons's near cameo notwithstanding).

Top Ten Fears about THE DARK KNIGHT

10. The movie might not live up to the hype surrounding it. [But let's be honest, ten million critics can't all be wrong... can they?]

9. Maggie Gyllenhaal's "sad turtle" mug might drag the whole thing down.

8. A sudden turn towards the Schumacher.

7. An embarassingly over the top turn by Heath Ledger. [Actually I'm not at all worried about that, as the above clip dissuades any such notions, but it ought to be mentioned.]

6. No Morgan Freeman narration. [Actually, narration would probably kill this movie.]

5. The inevitable turn that there's no way that a threequel will live up to this one. [Unless someone listens to my idea about Brittany Murphy and Rose McGowan as Harley & Ivy... and Toby Jones for The Mad Hatter. Heck, throw in Ben Kingsley as Mr. Freeze.]

4. WAAAY TOO SHORT. Give me about four hours, Mr. Nolan, and I'll be happy.

3. Not enough Joker.

2. Get Smart Syndrome - all the good material being given away in the promotional spots.

1. This movie might be so awesome that as the credits roll I may just die of sheer ecstasy, which would be a shame since I'm sure that I'll want to see it more than once.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)

Don't let the gregariously prejudiced (and spoiler-iffic) title throw you. Don't let the total lack of publicity throw you. Don't even let the name of Affleck on the poster throw you. Director Andrew Dominik's sophomore showpiece is a masterpiece of high tension, nuanced characters, and one of the best screenplays of '07.

I knew very little about the history between Jesse James and Robert Ford - I was even, before hearing of this film, unable to name James's assassin. So in a lot of respects, the movie was a learning experience for me, a student of history. So I shirked my concern for spoilers upon reading the title but did not research further, letting the movie unfold history for me.

I suppose there isn't much in the way of plot synopsis, since the title seems to do all that for me. Casey Affleck (who looks more like a cross between Hugh Grant and Zac Efron circa Hairspray than his own dispiriting brother Ben, whose apple fell far from Casey's acting tree) does a sound job of portraying the hero-worshipping titular "coward" who slowly turns from utter idolatry to jaded enervation, while Brad Pitt is electrifyingly eerie as the waning bandit with a touch of destiny surrounding him. The other performances are negligible (in that they're by no means as dynamic as Affleck and Pitt) but by no means disposable; each fits perfectly within the era, especially Garret Dillahunt's role as the nervous Ed Miller.

The screenplay is a risky one, asking the thespians to tackle lines like "You're just like any other tyro who's prinked himself up for an escapade." The last time I heard dialogue that expertly crafted was on the short-lived David Milch drama Deadwood (sadly cancelled by the boneheads at HBO); ditto for the delivery, which flows like those liquid goodies in Canaan. Dominik has done a bang-up job adapting the eponymous novel into a first-rate screenplay, arguably the second-best of the year (after, of course, P.T. Anderson's There Will Be Blood, also an adaptation).

At two hours and forty minutes, the runtime of the film might intimidate a few. And for good reason - a few spots in the film drag, littered with loving long shots of desolate scenery that belong more in No Country for Old Men than they do in between the tense peaks of this film. Believe me, it gets tense, especially in a scene where Jesse James visits Ed Miller, who's heard that Jesse is wiping out the old gang, one by one. Recall the sensation you got from The Descent as you waited for the bang that you knew was coming, and amp it up when you see the absolutely spooky Pitt, who ominously leaves on his heavy black coat when he enters Miller's home.

Speaking of bangs, there's of course the big one near the end of the film. Not knowing the circumstances of Jesse James's demise, the whole of the movie felt like an intense build-up to what I expected would be a cataclysmic showdown, O.K. Corral style. But Dominik stages the much anticipated execution (and it is that, in clear gory detail) quietly, without fanfare or nobility. Instead, pure poetry plays out before us, with an air of tragedy to rival John Coffey's last walk in The Green Mile. Then Dominik does something risky - he continues the film for about twenty more minutes after James's death, reminding us that this is as much the tragedy of "the coward" Robert Ford (who, like Pancho's betrayer Lefty from the old Willie Nelson songbook, descends into ignominy faster than Amy Winehouse) as it is of Jesse James.

I'm going to have to re-evaluate my Top Ten of '07 List.

An Open Letter to Sir Ben Kingsley

(admittedly this is not the sort of thing The Cinema King does... although I felt incredibly strongly about the direction of Sir Ben's career. perhaps you'll see more of these "Open Letters" in the future)

Dear Sir Ben:

First of all, congratulations on an outstanding career thus far. Winning the Oscar for your portrayal of Gandhi was a well-deserved moment of glory for an actor of your caliber. While I admit I haven't seen all of the biopic, what I have seen is marvelous, immersive in a way I label very few performances.

I'm writing not as a critic or as a mean-spirited naysayer but as a concerned connoisseur who hates to see a good wine go sour. Moments ago, I overheard that you would be appearing with Regis & Kelly on Monday. Felicitations! A new Sir Ben movie! Yet my intrigue was tempered with maddened frustration when I heard that Demi Lovato, another divining rod of the Disney media blitzkrieg (to which I'll admit I succumb from time to time), would be joining you.

I wasn't mad, because I know you have no control over who appears on talk shows before and after you. And I further concede that I know little about Ms. Lovato or her acting prowess; though I admit to having seen a few episodes of her Disney short-sitcom As the Bell Rings, I can't speak to her ability to guide a motion picture, being that I refuse on several grounds to watch Camp Rock. No, it wasn't Ms. Lovato that got me a little bit worried.

It was the fruits of my impulse to see what your latest project was that you'd be promoting that sparked this letter. Now I know that you're a fine actor; everything of yours that I've seen has been splendid. Snippets of Gandhi, Schindler's List, House of Sand and Fog, Lucky Number Slevin, and You Kill Me (which, if you read this, has been reviewed glowingly on this blog already) are just a few of the shining moments in cinema that have your name attached. Heck, your self-parodic cameo on The Sopranos made that episode one of the best of the season.

But with all due respect, come on. I have no doubts that you give your all to every project that you undertake, and I'm certain that your performances in the films I'm about to bemoan are of the quality you always give. I'm just a little leery of a career turn that includes Hilary Duff and Mary-Kate Olsen. Sir Ben, you're a marvelous actor. While I concede once more that I haven't seen the films (and perhaps they're better than I anticipate), I'm confident that War, Inc. and The Wackness aren't using your talents to their full potential - though you assuredly are turning in the same caliber of work that you always do.

Wait, I forgot. BloodRayne? A Uwe Boll film? Sir Ben, I beseech you - doing a Uwe Boll movie is a surefire career killer. Much as I adore your body of work (and as quirky as I find Michael Madsen), I couldn't sit through BloodRayne. And hold the phone. That's you in The Love Guru? Heavens to murgatroyd! I sincerely hope that this dismal waste of your talents came with a suitably hefty paycheck, because Mike Myers hasn't done a good movie since Austin Powers. Even you, with your Atlas-like shoulders of acting, wouldn't be able to support the movie beyond a crushing catastrophe. I'm also a little bit unnerved that you had a hand in Thunderbirds, the live-action version of the puppetry camp-fest, but I think I'm more upset that commercials are heralding the film as "Starring Vanessa Hudgens!" while you're not even shown in the TV teasers. Again, not your fault.

But wait. You're co-starring in the new Martin Scorsese movie, Ashecliffe, due October 2, 2009? Forget it. There's hope. I suppose I can stomach a Love Guru if it means I get you and Scorsese in one celluloid bundle.

Signed,

The Cinema King

30 Days of Night (2007)

This ain't your mama's vampire movie, that's for sure.

Despite temptations to the contrary, I won't be writing the whole review in dialect. I will, for fair warning, be praising director David Slade and the source comic's author Steve Niles for their inventiveness within the vampire genre. I will also be lamenting a paradoxical lack of originality with regard to a few cliche characterizations and lack of decent thrills.

The premise of the film is maddeningly (in a "Why didn't I think of that?" way) simple: in Barrow, Alaska, the sun sets for thirty days of night. Marauding (possibly nomadic?) vampires, led by the vicious Marlow (Danny Huston), take this opportunity to pillage and plunder and all that gory stuff. It's up to Sheriff Eben Oleson (Josh Hartnett) and his wife Stella (Melissa George) to lead the survivors through the month-long night.

That's one of the major innovations of the movie. Vampire flicks heretofore had felt a little like the George Carlin cliche of westerns - that the whole film showed the cowboys preparing for the Indian assault. Ditto for vampire flicks, where the prime objective was to build up to a vampiric confrontation. Here, though, the object of the game is to survive, to ride out the long night in the hope that the sunlight will kill the vampires. And if we have to fight the vampires... well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Perhaps the most stark twist Niles & Co. have added to the vampire story is the way in which the vampires are fought. No, I'm not referring to the use of ultraviolet lamps to repel the bloodsuckers (creative as that is) but to the climactic confrontation between the humans and the vampires - which, unfortunately for completion's sake, would be criminal to spoil herein.

Though the plot has a lot of twists that lovers of the vampire tradition have never seen before, most of the characterizations of the survivors are as familiar as your father's cologne. Josh Hartnett again plays the tough brooding pseudo-loner, something he's been doing for quite some time. Melissa George (who I've adored since her Season Three stint as Vaughn's wife on Alias) is serviceable as the sheriff's wife, but I wish the writers hadn't dragged us through the "spouses about to separate reunite in the midst of disaster" storyline.

Indeed, the only characterization that really seems to get off the ground is Danny Huston's completely immersed portrayal of head vampire Marlow. Everything from the walk to the facial posturing (a perma-open mouth with fangs dripping blood) down to the language that Huston developed screams "vampire!" There are a few moments where Huston's performance made me sit up a little straighter and even feel a little quiver of terror in my stomach. Recall the way Johnny Depp stepped full-force into the shoes of Captain Jack Sparrow, and you'll be pretty near the mark of Huston's performance (although it's tough to match the Depp=Sparrow formula).

I realize it seems silly to dwell on acting and characterization in a horror movie, since the real stars are jump moments and arterial sprays - the latter of which 30 Days of Night delivers in abundance. Certainly there are few jump moments in the film, disappointing after the pulse-pounding rhythm of The Descent. The gore comes hard and fast, though, especially once the survivors realize the only sure way to kill these bloodthirsty vampires is decapitation. When a little girl wanders into the streets, covered in blood, her physical appearance on an abandoned avenue is more startling than the blood all over her face. Even the film's final battle has a gory moment beyond any "I've never seen that before" sentiment the movie generates.

As vampire movies go, this is a pretty clever take on the old tradition. Consider how Spider-Man changed the comic book genre - 30 Days of Night does the same for the vampire movie (at least, I hope it does). If it's a great work of film you're looking for, this probably isn't the right place to search, but as vampire movies go, you'll have a bloody good time.

Hairspray (2007)

At the risk of sounding horribly dull and cliched, remakes are a tricky subject. A lot of people don't like talking about them. To be fair, we've had two great remakes - John Huston's 1941 film noir masterpiece The Maltese Falcon (a remake of two previous adaptations of Dashiell Hammett's eponymous novel) and Scorsese's 2006 Oscar-winning epic The Departed (a remake of Hong Kong mob story Infernal Affairs).

But for every good remake, we get thirty like Gus Van Sant's Psycho or The Ladykillers (from the Coen Bros. slump of the early 2000s) or - God forgive me for even invoking this film's name - Steve Martin's The Pink Panther. And lest we forget, Nic Cage's version of The Wicker Man, unintentionally hysterical with lines like "Step away from the bike!" and "HOW'D IT GET BURNED?!", was a remake of a British suspense/horror film with Christopher Lee (automatically superior by default).

So you can understand why I typically roll my eyes when word of a remake whispers around IMDb - case in point, the pointless Keanu Reeves starring in a pointless remake of The Day The Earth Stood Still. I get even more skeptical when a film purports itself to be a remake of an obscure 80s movie from a midnight movie director with a strong cult following and no possible way of being family friendly.

Then a movie called Hairspray comes along and completely reinvents my concept of what a remake should be. Though technically a second-degree remake (being a filmed version of the Broadway musical based on John Waters's original 1988 film), Adam Shankman's Hairspray is, in my opinion, the third best film of 2007 (landing behind There Will Be Blood and Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street).

And, as it turns out, the difference between second and third place is one dud song; where Sweeney had no songs worth fast-forwarding, Hairspray sadly has one right in the middle of the movie. So, since it's a musical and since I fear becoming formulaic, I'll walk through the plot synopsis song by song. "Good Morning Baltimore," a peppy number about the power of dreams and the need to follow them (lest, as Cherry Darling informed us in Planet Terror, "dreams become the thing you talk about instead of the thing you do"), introduces us to pleasantly plump Tracy Turnblad, played to bubbly perfection by newcomer Nikki Blonsky (who seems thus far to have been a one trick pony). Then it's time to meet "The Nicest Kids in Town," the twenty dancers on the Corny Collins Show, a TV dance program hosted by exaggeratedly swanky yet slightly exasperated host Corny Collins (James Marsden). Among the Kids are lead dancer Amber (Brittany Snow, who takes the catty blonde cliche and plays it to the hilt) and top heartthrob Link (Zac Efron, finally getting a chance to spread his wings away from the Mouse).
When Corny announces that Nicest Kid Brenda is taking a leave for "Just nine months," Tracy sees her chance and auditions for the show. But she comes up against Amber's stage-mom matriarch Velma (a delightfully wicked Michelle Pfeiffer), "Miss Baltimore Crabs," who's determined to keep anyone who's different off the show (sensing the message yet?). Later, Tracy's sent to detention, a paradise of dancing and diversity where the races mix and groove - and where Tracy finally meets Link and falls in love. "I Can Hear the Bells" - can you? Finally the "Ladies Choice" gets a song all to himself, giving Efron the opportunity for his vocals to shine and giving Tracy the opportunity to have her dance moves seen.

To the delight of best friend Penny (Amanda Bynes, who [it seems] can actually act!) and Tracy's parents Wilbur (Christopher Walken, a caricature of himself but a lovable one) Edna (John Travolta, who with a Baltimore accent and a LOT of makeup actually passes as slightly feminine), Tracy snags a spot on the Corny Collins Show, to the predicted chagrin of Velma and Amber who both loathe "The New Girl in Town." They also hate Negro Day, Corny's monthly episode featuring African-American dancers and crooners led by Motormouth Maybelle (Queen Latifah) and her son Seaweed (Elijah Kelley, whose talent and resemblance to Sammy Davis Jr. ought to land him a spot in a biopic).

Tracy has hit the big time, even scoring a spokesgirl spot for Mr. Pinky (a marvelous cameo from Jerry Stiller, who played Wilbur in the original movie) during "Welcome to the 60s," in which Edna gets her makeover. In terms of pure fun, it's tough to beat "Run and Tell That," Seaweed's ode to being different. Even Maybelle's "Big, Blonde, and Beautiful" is sweet as chocolate cake, which Maybelle and Edna ingest in mass quantities to make the Coneheads blush. A reprise of "BB&B" features Velma attempting (hysterically fruitlessly) to seduce Wilbur, while Edna gets dolled up for her man, who she catches in an apparently compromising position with Velma. The two women collide, and Edna forces Wilbur to move out.
Wilbur atones with Edna in a catchy duet of romance, "You're Timeless to Me," which couples dated references to the Sixties with slightly insulting professions of love ("You're like a fatal disease, babe / But there's no cure / So let this fever rage"). Then comes the aforementioned dud, "I Know Where I've Been," Maybelle's message of racial integration no matter the price, layered over a march on the racist practices of Velma's station WYZT.

But the best number comes after the protest march, when Tracy is imprisoned in Penny's basement awaiting a trip to "the big house," when Penny is similarly tethered to her bed via jump rope, while Link waits for Tracy to come home, and while Seaweed aims "to rescue the fair maiden" Penny - it's "Without Love," by far the standout song in terms of vocals, lyrics, even direction a la Shankman. The rest would be criminal for me to describe in any detail (even Corny's last number, "Hairspray," is a barrel of fun), but suffice it to say that Tracy succeeds in teaching the whole world that - no matter what repression society places - "You Can't Stop The Beat."

I didn't say much about the perfect casting choices made in this movie, because the real star of the film is the music, including a few new numbers by the songwriting team of Wittman & Shaiman, such as the end credits tune "Come So Far (Got So Far to Go)" which will make you sit through the entire credit sequence, something I hardly ever do. But the cast is perfect, too; from Bynes to Walken, from Snow to Marsden, it's impossible to find someone who isn't spot-on for their specific role. Even Paul Dooley, in a small role as Ultra-Clutch Hairspray's exec, simmers with frustration at "that chubby communist" Tracy. The film is also addicting; it's one of those works that whenever it's on cable I can't resist turning it on just to see where they're at - and then stay until the end.

The dialogue (and occasionally lyrics) is hilarious, allowing the anti-racism medicine to go down with more than a spoonful of sugar. A great deal of the laughs come from the impeccable delivery of campy lines such as "Plastic little spastic" or "I am now a checkerboard chick!" (both delivered by Bynes, a real comedic talent whose roles here and in She's the Man tell me she needs the right vehicle to shine) The problem with Waters's original is the deliberate pandering to an audience seeking camp; as Edna, Divine seemed awkwardly masculine while trying to hard, and the original ending featured a roach bomb in one character's beehive do. This new interpretation of the story is effortless, intentionally yet subtly cheesy without calling attention to itself.

If I had a complaint, it's that two of the stage production's songs, "Mama, I'm a Big Girl Now" and "Cooties," have been cut - the former a foot-stomping temper tantrum shared by Amber, Penny, and Tracy at their overbearing mothers, and the latter serving as Amber's "talent portion" at the Miss Teenage Hairspray Spectactular. Maybe I'm just a Brittany Snow fan (and I have been since her turn as white supremacist Ariel on Nip/Tuck) who wanted to see more of her in the movie, but it seems these two songs might have made up for "I Know Where I've Been" (which really could have been cut). Sure, it'd give the film an almost 2.5 hour runtime, but I'm asking more from Zack Snyder in his Watchmen adaptation. Come on, Shankman; it's not too late to film these scenes and put them in a director's cut! (Versions of the songs appear in the end credits, but they're somehow not as charming without accompanying visuals.)

At one point, Link tells Edna that he was "just at home, practicing my new twist on the twist." All too often, "new twists" don't go over so well; Catwoman, anyone? Thank heavens this movie does so well at polishing a somewhat slipshod original production into a Top Five movie.