The Big Lebowski (1998)

To say that I'm a fan of the Coen Brothers is something of an understatement: they're among my favorite filmmakers, abundantly entertaining and deftly profuse. So to say that The Big Lebowski is my favorite Coen flick is probably also an understatement (though Barton Fink kind of muddles that statement).

There are two Jeffrey Lebowskis - The Dude (Jeff Bridges), amiable stoner hero extraordinaire prone to swilling White Russians, and The Big Lebowski (David Huddleston), a prime mover in the L.A. region. When the two are confused by a pair of nitwit goons - and one micturates on The Dude's rug - looking for The Big Lebowski's wife Bunny (Tara Reid) and the money she owes to one Jackie Treehorn, that's where the trouble begins. It only gets worse when The Dude tells bowling buddies Walter Sobchak (a perfectly over-the-top John Goodman), a Vietnam vet obsessed with his service and his religion ("Shomer Shabbos!"), and Donny (Steve Buscemi), who can't seem to get a word in edgewise, Walter convinces The Dude to petition The Big Lebowski for rug compensation. After all, "that rug really tied the room together."

That's all in the first ten or so minutes. The rest is a tangled web of mystery, blackmail, kidnapping, Creedence Clearwater Revival, pornography, deceit, and bowling. Eat your heart out, Raymond Chandler. Speaking of Chandler, this is the best adaptation of The Big Sleep since Bogart and Bacall bantered back in the Forties. It's also the most comprehensible, although I'll admit it took me a second viewing to fully understand just what had happened. This is a top-notch screenplay from the Coens, poetically profane and tantalizingly tangled.

Much as Sweeney Todd was for Tim Burton, this is the movie that the Coens have been aiming to make throughout their whole career. It's got all the Coen staples - both plot points and cast members - and it's their pinnacle film. Nothing before or since - not even No Country for Old Men, Oscar-winner though it may be - has matched The Big Lebowski.

The film takes place in a world populated by classic Coen characters, The Dude and Walter not least among them. There's John Turturro as pederast bowler Jesus Quintana, who talks a big game; Philip Seymour Hoffman as bootlicking sycophant butler Brandt; Julianne Moore as feminist artist Maude, who wants The Dude in more ways than one; Ben Gazzara as mysterious smut peddler Jackie Treehorn; Arthur Digby Sellers, a classic TV writer now confined to an iron lung; his son, a sloppy juvenile delinquent; and Sam Elliott as The Stranger, a narrator soothing enough to give Morgan Freeman a run for his money.

It's difficult to say much more about The Big Lebowski beyond "It must be seen." This is a wholly original movie that really escapes description. Relaxed and entertaining, The Big Lebowski is certainly my favorite Coen Bros. picture - and may even land a spot on my irregular-around-the-margins Best Movies of All Time list.

Hot Fuzz (2007)

I've been an unabashed fan of Edgar Wright since taking the advice of a dear friend and renting - later purchasing- his zombie (the Brits call it "the Zed word") spoof masterpiece Shaun of the Dead. So when Wright decided to go for the cop film's jugular, I was more than willing to go along for the ride.

And the team doesn't disappoint, although it's not as inspired a venture as Shaun was. Hot Fuzz is the story of Nicholas Angel (Simon Pegg), a cop who's so good at his job that he's reassigned to a small hamlet for "making us all look bad." There he meets Constable Danny Butterman (Nick Frost, "Ed" from Shaun) and Danny's dad, Chief Frank Butterman (Jim Broadbent, who's as creditable a casting choice as he always is). As a series of grisly murders seize the town, Angel begins to believe that these are not, as the rest of "the fuzz" believes, mere accidents (for instance, the florist may not have actually fallen throat-first on her enormous shears). He finds Simon Skinner (a delightfully suspicious Timothy Dalton), a local supermarket baron, to be Suspect Numero Uno.

Like Next, Hot Fuzz tries to be two things - simultaneously a cop film and a dissection of that genre. Unlike Next, Hot Fuzz succeeds in its endeavor to keep one foot in each sandbox, only it doesn't do it quite so well as its "Zed word" predecessor. Hot Fuzz, you see, certainly leans more heavily toward cop film than satirization. Though that's not to say the film suffers for it - Hot Fuzz is a great cop film; it's just not as funny as Shaun of the Dead. That's my lament. (Look for a parallel observation when I review the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy.)

The cast is superb, from its aforementioned headliners to cinephile's-dream cameos from Bill Nighy, Martin Freeman (Tim from The Office UK), and even Cate Blanchett (apparently a big Shaun fan). As the exasperated Angel, Pegg does a firstrate job of bouncing between understandable frustration and guffaw-inducing cliche-bashing. Frost is more than comfortable in the shoes of dimwitted but lovable Danny; although at times he seems more like an overeager Ed than a totally new character, he's adorable - and funny - enough that it doesn't really matter.

Wright's direction is showy, calling more attention to itself than I remember in Shaun (maybe it's time to re-view and review?), though again - and here I invoke Jerry Seinfeld - not that there's anything wrong with that. Cop films are often showy spectacles, so why should this one be any different? The editing deftly works with Wright here, delivering an adrenaline shot of chuckles from a well-placed cut.

I've pointed out that the movie takes itself seriously - but fortunately not too seriously. That's why Hot Fuzz works at being of two minds and - oh, let's keep kicking Nic Cage - Next didn't.

Trailer Park: Disaster Movie (2008)

Continuing with the "God help us all" theme we've seen so far on this blog, I must warn you to stay away from what looks to be another steaming heap of cow... well, you fill in the blank with whatever scatological terminology best suits your moral vocabulary. Disaster Movie earns high marks for being the least funny trailer for a so-called comedy.

For starters, where are the jokes? Iron Man gets flattened by a cow. Um, what? Hulk's pants come off. Hancock hits a lamp post. Miley Cyrus is crushed by a meteor. Sarah Jessica Parker is played by a dude who gets beat up by Juno's baby in an even less funny version of a lame shtick from Adam Sandler's You Don't Mess with the Zohan (oh, trust me, I wouldn't dream of it). It's not that it's in poor taste. It's just not even remotely close to resembling humor. I got more laughs out of the trailer for The Day the Earth Stood Still. (Ha ha, I'm still giggly over that one.) The only time I sniggered was when the princess from Enchanted got hit by a car, probably because I've seen funnier movies where a character was involved in a motor-vehicular collision and was then reminded of them. I could direct this dreck, yet I won't - out of nothing less than pure altruism.

The movie stars Carmen Electra and Kim Kardashian. Do I need to keep going? It parodies High School Musical. It almost wasn't worth even linking to the trailer, although I suspect Disaster Movie is going to be added to several countries' "interrogation techniques" lists. Certainly falls under cruel and unusual punishment to me. Skip at all costs - this from a guy who regretfully sat through most of Scary Movie 4, despite every red flag to the contrary. (Hey, it was in HD, and I have a Y chromosome. You do the math.)

There's one good thing about the trailer. It warns you in advance that the movie you might be thinking about seeing is a complete federal DISASTER.

Disaster Movie limps into theaters on... oh, who cares. If you still want to see this movie, I won't help endorse it any further. Go do your own homework, Mr. and/or Mrs. Tasteless.

Next (2007)

It's almost blasphemous that this movie replaces The Dark Knight as the first article that my readers see when they log on, but here goes.

Next is the film that convinced me that Nicolas Cage has lost his edge. Granted, I had ample evidence - The Wicker Man and Ghost Rider among the most recent - but here I stand convinced that Cage is sadly incapable of making a good movie anymore.

On the surface, Next ought to be a reasonably intriguing movie. Cris "Frank Cadillac" Johnson (Cage) is a Vegas mentalist who actually possesses the ability to see two minutes into the future. Enter Liz Cooper (Jessica Biel), Cris's love interest and the woman who allows him to see farther (further, father?) into her future, and FBI Agent Ferris (the ever-intense - or is she just aggravated? - Julianne Moore), who's out to use Cris's ability to stop a terrorist cell from going nuclear.

If that plot thread seems out of left field, it is. Director Lee Tamahori (who brought us Die Another Day, arguably the least of the Pierce Brosnan Bond movies) tries to make Next two very disparate things; at times a Nolan-esque examination of the fantastic in the real world and at other times a Jack Bauer-style counterterrorist actionfest, Next doesn't really succeed as either by fault of the other. If Tamahori had picked one or the other, the film might not have suffered as it does. Instead, the film waffles between genres without wholly committing.

I've beaten up on Cage for losing his edge, yet it's not as though the other actors aren't pulling their weight. Moore is serviceable as the stereotypical federal agent, making me a little nostalgic for her turn as Clarice Starling in Hannibal. And Biel seems determined to prove to me that she's an actress in her own right, because she seems to be doing more "acting" and less "eye-candying" the more I see her. And an almost-cameo from Peter Falk makes me lament that he's not given a bigger role as the comic relief sidekick. Still, Cage's performance led me to wonder (several times aloud), "Was that supposed to be funny?"

The villains are less than one-dimensional (they're evil, okay? that's all you need to know), but my most significant gripe comes with the ending of the fim. So if you wish to remain unspoiled, best to stop reading here and take away the nugget that I can't in good conscience recommend Next. Essentially, the ending of the film is the largest cop-out since Superman reversed the rotation of the earth back in 1978. Just as the film builds to some really cool stuff and instills a sense of hope that maybe - just maybe - Next is about to redeem itself, SURPRISE! None of it really happened! The last time I felt this cheated by a movie, I chucked a bowl of quinoa at Inland Empire. Thanks, David Lynch - and thanks to Lee Tamahori for completely invalidating ninety minutes of my life.

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."