Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009)

Here's a movie with a boastful title that truly lives up to its name! Adapted to our wit's end by film nerd Wes Anderson and fellow director Noah Baumbach from a Roald Dahl children's story, FANTASTIC MR. FOX is such a joyous movie viewing experience that my face hurt when its all-too-brief running time came to an end. I was smiling that much.

Wes Anderson is a well-loved director in film snob circles, but I have to confess that, until now, I've always appreciated and respected him far more than I've ever enjoyed him. His filmscapes are so meticulously created down to the finest detail that they have felt vacuum-sealed, devoid of air. His quirky characters have all circulated in worlds of white, Holden Caulfield-like privilege: boarding schools, families detached by their own wealth, pasttimes of the rich. I have always had a hard time getting into these stories, and yet I've always noticed a genius comic timing and a batch of discussion-worthy, quirky and insecure characters absent from the majority of films in need of them.

FANTASTIC MR. FOX has all of the comic timing and quirkiness, but this time, Anderson focus his anal-retentive eye for details on the art of stop motion, to the point where he slows down the film's frames-per-second to specifically draw attention to the medium itself. The result is, frankly, pure genius. Tempered color palates and visual symbolisms, sly dialogue, symbolic mise-en-scene.

But this fox is truly a sly one. It is, at times, silly to the point of being giddy. It will remind audience, I'd suspect, of a Wallace and Gromit cartoon, with the misadventures of animals on display for humans to enjoy. But Anderson takes even further the notion that we are truly spying on the animals' world. These are not Disney animals, made to personify human character traits. Rather, they are busy and fussy creatures who are irritated by us humans, and they are no longer willing to sit by idly without doing something about it.

For those who don't know the basic story, Mr. Fox used to pull off some sneaky heists in his day but is now a domesticated father and husband who welcomes his nephew for an extended vision. But - as the film reminds us more than once - he is still a wild animal, and his urges have never left him. One more heist, he insists. The classic heist film convention...this is my last one. So Fox rounds up a few helpers but unloads a ridiculous plan. The heist will be three-pronged, seeking revenge on not one but three local farmers who have in some way or another terrorized the local animals.

Played by George Clooney, who does little to affect a different cadence or sound than the George Clooney of any other film he's in, is perfectly dry here, resulting in gut-splitting hilarity in moments such as when Anderson and Baumbach replace the typical foul language of adults with the word "cuss." The joke never got old. Clooney inserts "cuss" in every part of a sentence just as we creatively use the f-word today.

The rest of the vocal cast is equally great, with Meryl Streep (what a year for her!) as Mrs. Fox, Jason Schwartzman (an Anderson staple) as their son, Ash, and Bill Murray (another Anderson favorite) as a badger.

The script is Award-worthy. It is ridiculously clever to a fault, pure joy from start to finish. I can't type enough superlatives about it. Nor can I do justice in words to compliment what was clearly a daunting feat of artistic direction. As with all Anderson creations, the images in the film don't exist simply to tell the story. They are pictures to be mined for information on repeat viewings, rich with symbolism and cultural psychology.

I would have to say that FANTASTIC MR. FOX was not only my favorite animated film of the year, but perhaps one of my favorite films, period. It has made me want to dive back into the Anderson filmography and, perhaps, give some of his stuffy, formalist comedies another shot.

Were you planning to skip this one? The cuss you are! See it NOW. You will fall in love, too.

4.0 out of 4

Sugar (2009)

SUGAR is one of those movies I should be raving about but, if I'm honest, left me a little cold. I should be raving about the fact that it's one of the only sports film (specifically, baseball) that I have scene that avoids tired cliches. I should be raving about the naturalism of the acting performances and the sheer sense of honesty conveyed by the actors. I should be shouting from the rooftops my agreement with a film that does not glamorize professional sports as a "way out" or a "fast track" to success. SUGAR succeeds in all of these areas, and more.

And yet, like "Half-Nelson," the previous film by directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck, I ended up liking this movie a lot more in theory than in practice. Its slow, natural pace lacked any spark of excitement. In fairness, this is likely intentional and perhaps the point. But I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else I wanted from the film that I wasn't getting. And in the end, I have to go with my gut feeling about this, even if I can't clearly communicate it.

"Sugar" is Miguel Santos, a baseball pitcher from the Dominican Republic who is scouted and sent "up" to a farm team in Iowa to pitch for an MLB team in the hopes of one day making it to the big show. Played so humbly by Algenis Perez Soto, Santos is so meek that he could be wiped off screen or forgotten about, if not for his talent.

Arriving in Iowa, the language barrier makes Santos functionally illiterate, and an elderly couple from a farming community offer him a room; we learn that they are long-time boarders of ball players from their local team and that they are not strangers to immigrant players of the Spanish-speaking persuasion. We also learn that the couple, Earl and Helen Higgins, know their baseball. And they're not afraid to share that knowledge with their young boarders, whether they can understand it or not.

Truth be told, baseball is more of a initial incident for SUGAR's narrative, a backdrop. This is really an immigrant's tale. And it's a quietly engaging one. We see Sugar on the phone with his mom regularly, trying to pass along the idea that all is well, whether it is or not. For while Sugar is appreciated and welcomed by the Higgins family, he is a 20-year-old forced to exist as something of a much younger teen because of the cultural barriers. He is invited to bible studies and frustrated by the mixed signals that the white girls send out about their carnal interests. Before long, he's not even sure if the whole baseball thing is going to work.

My favorite thing about SUGAR is its subtle criticism of the dream factory of professional baseball and the perceived ideology that it is the only path to economic success for young men from the Dominican Republic and areas of similar economic status. Yankee Stadium is their White House, their Wall Street, quite possibly their Heaven. And 99% of these young men will fail, not even because they are not strong-willed enough, but because a line of young men waits in the wings to take their spots and a single misfortune, such as a minor injury or a bad game, can give that patient young man a chance to replace someone in their spot.

From an immigration story point of view, SUGAR is gentle and non-judgmental. It reminds us of the hardships that immigrants (illegal or otherwise) must go through every day just to work for two quarters to rub together. It avoids politics completely and traffics instead in humanity and hope.

In addition, and as I've mentioned before, SUGAR steers mercifully clear of every past baseball film's stereotypes. There is not a single bottom-of-the-ninth, two-outs-and-two-strikes scenario in the entire film. Not a moment of slow motion as a popped-up ball arcs through a blue sky en route to right center field. Come to think of it, the scoreboard is rarely shown at all. And if it is, it has more to do with the number of innings Sugar has pitched or feels able to pitch than it does with which team is winning and which is losing. Even the ending is not what you might expect, though it is certainly logical. I won't spoil it for you here, but it is a sobering reality check of a clincher.

Baseball is a damaged sport, not quite the American dream game it once was. With today's rampant steroid scandals and the high number of non-American, non-English-speaking athletes in the game, maybe we needed a movie like SUGAR to remind us of the sport's original promises and simple dreams.

As I reread what I've written here, I still don't feel that I've said anything to diminish this refreshing, quiet little film as anything short of a four-star film. And yet, in deference to my gut, I remain in like with SUGAR, but not in love. There's something very somber about the movie, and for some reason, the emotional impact of the film never delivered for me. I felt like I was held at arm's length from a genuine emotional connection. I was never truly absorbed by the film. Not all of the camera work achieved impact for me. The song choices were terrible (most conspicuously, a Spanish version of the please-put-it-to-bed "Hallelujah"). SUGAR was very good in a lot of ways but, for me, not good enough in enough ways.

3.0 out of 4

Public Enemies (2009)

If you want to know why John Dillinger did what he did, why he became one of the most well-known and legendary criminals in American history, you will not get any answers from watching Michael Mann's PUBLIC ENEMIES. Content with showing you the "what" but not really the "why," PUBLIC ENEMIES is to be commended for eschewing the standard Hollywood bio-pic treatment. The only trouble is, a small helping of that traditionalism would have made this particular film viewing experience a bit more satisfying.

Dillinger was an enigma during his time, and Mann is content with keeping him so. The film is a sequence of action scenes strung together, a timeline of some of Dillinger's famous bank robberies, scrapes and encounters meticulously recreated here to get every possible detail right from the look and sound of the man himself to the clothing worn by the woman who ultimately assisted in his final capture and demise. The soundtrack is a seemingly non-stop spray of machine gun fire; dialogue is often mumbled or mixed down in the sound editing mix.

One curiosity is why the film is titled in the plural, as its focus is exclusively on Dillinger. The captures of Pretty Boy Floyd and Baby Face Nelson appear as momentary diversions here, window dressing. So unimportant is Nelson to this version of the story that if you scour IMDB for the name of the actor who plays him, you must click on the link for the full cast list and scroll clear to the bottom to find the credit. Channing Tatum, not a very good actor, fares little better as Floyd. Ultimately, neither of Dillinger's side kicks are very recognizable in the film. There are so many similarly-dressed men with machine guns and the script does little to help us distinguish one man from another.

This is not the case, naturally, with Dillinger himself, and though I've heard some criticism of Johnny Depp's performance as being less than dynamic, I think it proves once again how spot-on Depp's work is. Dillinger was only dynamic in ideas, not in the way he moved around. No peacock he, Dillinger lasted longer than he should have exactly because he could move among the crowds as that guy you feel like you've seen somewhere before but you can't quite put your finger on it. Add in a little mustache here or a pair of sunglasses here, and Dillinger slightly shifts shape. Depp nails that.

Even better than Depp in this film is Marion Cotillard, fast becoming one of my favorite film actresses. As Billie Frechette, Dillinger's girlfriend, Cotillard is stunningly beautiful in a plain way, needy and intense, cautious and passionate. An interrogation scene where Frechette is grilled about Dillinger's whereabouts is the film's acting focal point; Cotillard is spectacular.

It's odd that over a dozen additional recognizable names in film appear in roles in PUBLIC ENEMIES but you don't really remember any of them when the film is over. Instead, you feel capably of visually recreating the bank robbery scenes. And yet, for all of Mann's talents as a preeminent action director, I found these moments to be no more creative than that TV commercial where a guy programs his Direct TV from his cell phone when an ongoing bank robbery threatens to force him to miss his show.

The art direction and period location and set work in PUBLIC ENEMIES is top-notch. I enjoyed, as a Chicagoan, studying the locations in the tri-state area that were meticulously used here - many of them the original locations where Dillinger moved and operated. PUBLIC ENEMIES is a fantastic film to watch, to be sure, and Mann knows how to block action and keep things exciting.

What about Dillinger's psyche, though? How is it that this man was ballsy enough to walk into the office at the Chicago Police Department assigned specifically to tracking him? The film contains almost no conversations that help us understand him at all. Perhaps that is the point. Maybe Mann's thesis is that robbing banks is what he did and there really was no reason why. I find that hard to believe, and even some historically inaccurate speculation would have made this a better film.

Mann avoids historical inaccuracy and speculation at all costs, however. And for all that I've read and seen, PUBLIC ENEMIES deserves praise for being a rare historically-based film that actually could work as a history book lesson. That is very rarely the case.

Dense on action, long in running time, and focused more on connecting the dots of Dillinger's whereabouts than allowing us to get to know any of the story's players better, PUBLIC ENEMIES is a solid film that simply failed to give me enough of what I was looking for.

2.5 out of 4

Humpday (2009)

In its execution, HUMPDAY is a sort of mumblecore film for audiences a decade past the 20-something mumblecore sell-by date. It's also a bromance film that strips away the mostly crass and bratty gloss of the Hollywood bromance films of the last few years. More profound than provocative, more dramatic than broadly comedic, HUMPDAY might be one of my favorite hidden treasures of 2009.

The premise of HUMPDAY will keep many viewers away, and even for those who watch, its appeal might be limited to a certain age group and social station. As it happens, I happen to be the film's target audience, and its charms worked effortlessly on me. The film's poster and taglines point out that the movie is about two old college buddies, both straight, who decide to make a gay porn film. And yes, this does factor into the plot. But it's the catalyst for much deeper stuff, the spark of significant conversations and hilarious exchanges. As directed by a woman, Lynn Shelton, HUMPDAY is more accurately a meditation on masculinity and jealousy. It's ridiculous premise will, sadly, shield some audiences from a film with deep intellectual and emotional layers.

The silly construct comes about when, in the middle of the night, Ben (Mark Duplass) and his wife Anna (Alycia Delmore) are visited by Andrew (Joshua Leonard), a former college buddy of Ben's. The two haven't seen each other in years, and it's instantly apparent that they were once thick as thieves, the "I love you, man"s coming on faster than Ben can explain Andrew's place in his past to his cautiously bemused wife. The years that have passed have not changed Andrew, still a Kerouac in his own mind, a vagabond dreamer, an artist without a portfolio. Ben, on the other hand, has married and moved to the suburbs. Like so many men in his (and my) age group - and if my wife is reading this, I mean no disrespect - he has forced himself to cut loose his once dominant and now less practical passions for what feels right as a married guy.

Ben quickly realizes upon Andrew's reentry into his life, however, that his passions were merely dormant, not gone completely. Seeing how wild and free Andrew still can be, he feels the need to prove to Andrew (and himself) that just because a guy is married doesn't mean he can't have some fun. The fun comes in the form of a wild party involving lots of alcohol and some marijuana. And before it's over, Ben has forgotten about the nice dinner Anna had planned for the three of them. Even more crazily, he has entered into a dare with Andrew in the company of the other artsy partygoers to make a gay porn film starring himself and his friend. Two straight guys making art, it'll be "beyond gay," they figure. True to standard macho posing, neither feels willing to back down from the dare once both of them are sober the next day, even if the dare itself will be far from macho. The hotel room is rented, the camera equipment is being gathered.

Like the mumblecore genre it loosely follows (Duplass is a star in that low-budget, talkie genre), HUMPDAY's charms are the conversations throughout the week that lead to that dreaded, scheduled event. These two men can say "I love you" to each other easily, drunk or sober. They can rub up against one another on the basketball court. But can they use their bodies to make "art" together? And is it even art, or something else?

Naturally, the plans test Ben's marriage and force him to question decisions he's made along the way and feelings he's supressed from his past. I found myself so able to relate to some of the natural, largely-improved conversations so well that I stopped laughing. It was too real and sometimes too relateable. I think every young man hits a spot after getting married where the grass is always greener, and under the light banter of comedy here, HUMPDAY has this serious undertow. It is a film about society's judgment of male love in its platonic friendship form. It's about the need for the artist to be more provocative than is perhaps sometimes necessary, to the point where a relationship doesn't seem valid unless certain lines are crossed. I was engrossed instead of grossed out.

Surprisingly, HUMPDAY is nowhere near as graphic as I'd have suspected, with no more foul language, nudity or sex than any R-rated Hollywood film. The natural performances, especially those of Duplass and Leonard as the two old friends, are so real as to make you forget you're watching a movie. By the time the film makes it to the hotel room where the porn film is to be shot, the moments that ensue are capable of making you laugh uncontrollably and simultaneously giving you serious pause. The men begin to dissect and unravel their own masculinity, their relationship with one another and to women, their perceptions of their own successes and failures.

HUMPDAY is not a perfect film. Visually and stylistically, it doesn't aim high enough - content to be a low-budget mumblecore cousin when it was capable of more. It's matter-of-fact, turn-the-camera-on style of presentation satisfies the naturalism Shelton was likely going for but also threatens the film with moments that veer toward the mundane. Fortunately, this film is so good in terms of what it has to say and what it lets the audience think about that it makes up the difference.

I have always struggled with society's confusion over male friendship. Not having a close relationship with my own father and surrounding myself with more close female friends than male, I was nurtured by environment to be a much more gentle and emotionally-attentive friend, more willing to talk about feelings than just football. It's made it virtually impossible for me to have a "bromance" of my own. I'm not sure I'd understand those perameters. HUMPDAY made me sad, in some ways, because Ben and Andrew were willing to have a friendship so intense that they would take it to extremes. They also had respect enough for each other to do what was best for that friendship in the end.

Happy HUMPDAY.

3.5 out of 4

The Blind Side (2009)

We can get the obvious out of the way first; Sandra Bullock is fantastic in THE BLIND SIDE. I still think she was better in "Crash," but her transformation here feels physical as well as emotional. She, along with a scene-stealing turn by Jae Head as her son, S.J., is the only real reason to see THE BLIND SIDE, an entirely safe slab of cinematic comfort food that, I fear, takes the very interesting story of a young African-American man struggling to get out of the depths and turns it instead into a movie about a white woman who is wonderful enough to save him.

It's interesting that I'm writing about this on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, and while I'm sure that my last comment might upset some people or even force them to accuse me of something that I might not be politically or socially, hear me out. I am not going to argue what I've read before - that THE BLIND SIDE is really the story of Michael Oher and not Leigh Anne Tuohy, the well-to-do, conservative, Christian woman who takes him in and encourages him to be a football player. It's very clear that this film specifically makes Tuohy the focus of the narrative and not Oher, and it is what it is. I have no interest in engaging in a poitical discussion about how movies time and again show whites as the saviors of blacks, coming to their rescue and improving their lives. Because, let's face it, sometimes that does happen, though certainly Hollywood's portrayal of those moments is disproportional to reality.

My beef on this issue with THE BLIND SIDE is purely a narrative and dramatic one. In my mind, had the film centered more on Oher, the film would have been less flat, less typical and more interesting. What was it like for Oher to get into the Tuohy's car that first night? What was it like to look around the family's living room when he spent his first night there? Could he even sleep? Did he really want to play football? It looked like he was more interested in basketball...did the conservative Tuohys consider basketball to be too stereotypically black a sport and not a real way out? Did Oher feel forced into football? The questions in my mind go on and on, and none of them were answered because Oher was on the periphery of the narrative. Everytime the film approached a dramatically-interesting moment involving his struggles in a school he didn't belong in or a place he didn't feel comfortable in, the film would cut back to Leigh Anne.

Because this film is about Leigh Anne and not Michael, none of these interesting dynamics are explored, leaving the only real conflict in this film to be that of her image in the eyes of her friends who are shocked that a big black boy is living in her house in the room right next to her white, teenage daughter. The horror!

I know I'm coming down hard on THE BLIND SIDE, but it's frustrating to think how much more engaging and interesting this film could have been, because the story is as inspiring and uplifting as everyone says it is. And, as I said before, Bullock is great. She does not overplay her scenes for melodrama: erring on the side of a tough and occasional catch in the throat instead of slamming her back to a hallway wall and sobbing over what Michael doesn't have. You buy her, through and through, and at every moment.

I bought newcomer Quinton Aaron a little less as Oher, but he was probably enough for this film, given that he was not truly the focus. The version of the story in my mind would have been a lot more demanding on the actor playing that role, and Aaron is not asked to convey much more than bewilderment and tentativeness, which he does effectively. This could have been a tale of a young man's struggle in the vein of the struggle of the young woman in "Precious," but it isn't.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't completely engaged in THE BLIND SIDE, even uplifted by its depiction of beautiful Christian charity. I love the message that family is anyone who's "got your back" and not necessarily those related by blood. I have always felt called to one day adopt myself, and this film's themes resonated with me on a heartwarming and profound level. Perhaps my criticism is unfair; ultimately, I should accept THE BLIND SIDE for what it was intented to be - a mainstream, middle America, feel-good crowd pleaser of a film. It is certainly this, and certainly effective as this.

It is also certainly true that we need films that uplift the human spirit, and THE BLIND SIDE delivers. But I worry about the cost at which it does so. Tribune critic Michael Phillips described the film as "poverty tourism." Other critics have stated that it replaces gritty realism with cliches at every turn and that it's a "feel good film that never stops feeling good." I have to agree with these sentiments. It is a film that lacks depth and levels, delivered with assuredness and heart so that you can't exactly hate it.

I didn't hate THE BLIND SIDE. Not at all. But I wanted so much more from it than what I got. No offense to director John Lee Hancock, but maybe this film only further points out the need for more work for black directors in Hollywood. Even the real Michael Oher has hesitated to say much in support of the film. But in the hands of better artists, maybe THE BLIND SIDE and the fantastic work by Sandra Bullock could have really turned some heads.

2.0 out of 4

The Princess and the Frog (2009)

As a long-standing addict of Disney's traditional hand-drawn animated musicals, I was excited for THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG. While there's no denying that Pixar has hit a home run (or at least a double) with everything it's done since ditching traditional animation for computers, the songs (dominated by Randy Newman, who coincidentally composes here) were used in traditional film form (read: not sung by the characters as part of the plot) and the computer animation lacked the familiar warmth of the movies I grew up loving.

And that's what THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG feels like - for better or worse; it's familiar. In just about every way possible, it tucks itself into the classic Disney canon. I suppose I intend this to be both a compliment and a criticism, because I thoroughly enjoyed the film but was not blown away by it. To some extent, it felt like I was watching a DVD from my collection that I didn't remember owning.

One thing I do like about THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG is its strong sense of time and place. Having just visited New Orleans for the first time this past summer, I could recognize how well this film captures the flavor (if not the socio-economic hardships) of the Crescent City. The beignets served up by the film's heroine, Tiana, wouldn't have meant much to me had I seen the film before ever visiting Cafe Du Monde in the heart of the city. Since I had, many moments in THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG made my mouth water for those cajun flavors so frequently spoke about in the film.

Disney has made a big deal out of the fact that Tiana (wonderfully sung by Anika Noni Rose) is their first-ever African-American princess. This is of little consequence, however, when she spends the majority of the film green instead of black after being turned into a frog when a voodoo-cursed prince expects her kiss to reverse his curse. It's a fun twist on a classic fable, Disney's stock in trade. Oddly enough, the prince and princess in the film are some of its least interesting characters, though the film's co-directors, having once helmed "The Little Mermaid" and "Aladdin" respectively, slyly address the cultural criticisms of the Disney princess phenomenon by making Tiana a girl who does not expect -or need - a prince to come. Rather, she reiterates that only her hard work will help her realize her dreams. Quite humorously, one of the film's few white characters fills the classic role of the girl who goes out of her way to get a prince to fall in love with her so that all of her dreams will come true. And, quite honestly, they play her to be something of an idiot.

Ray the firefly and Louis the trumped playing gator are excellent additions to the stable of Disney sidekick animals, and witch doctor Facilier is adequately Jafar-ish. Oprah Winfrey and Terrence Howard have brief voiceover roles as Tiana's earnest and hard-working parents, and Jenifer Lewis is a hoot as Mama Odie, the blind conjur woman sought out by the two frogs in the hopes of returning to human form.

As for the music, well, it's Randy Newman on cruise control. "Almost There," which tells us of Tiana's dream to one day open her own restaurant through her hard work and savings, is probably the best song of the bunch. "When We're Human" covers the same ground as "Human Again," cut from "Beauty and the Beast," and there's a bit of "You've Got a Friend in Me" that creeps in to the mix here...rehashed stuff. All told, the songs aren't as memorable as those in past Disney musicals, though I would still argue that the New Orleans/jazz vibe Newman authentically brings to the tunes makes him a better choice to score the film than Disney's other go-to composers Alan Menken and Steven Schwartz.

THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG is nowhere near the revelation of Pixar's "Up," but it's nice to see that the folks who draw cartoons by hand still know what they're doing and can put a story together that is charming and cohesive. And while this film is largely paint-by-numbers Disney with maybe just a touch of modern sass, it's a better film than other recent traditional attempts like "Home on the Range." Not amazing, but completely respectable.

3.0 out of 4

A Serious Man (2009)

A SERIOUS MAN, the latest film from the Coen Brothers, is fantastic. Not only that, it is so rich in subtext that I have no business writing about it so soon after seeing it. There's just too much to take in; the film is deceivingly simple until you start thinking about it.

Michael Stuhlbarg is Larry Gopnik, a small-town Midwestern college professor plastering the gigantic chalk board in his classroom with impossible mathematical equasions that are perfectly logical and tidy to him. If only the same could be said of his life. Literally every member of the Gopnik family is a study in melodrama. His wife is leaving him for a widower who is a longtime family friend. She frequently imposes on Larry to sit down for business-like meetings with the other man himself, who speaks calmly to Larry and even embrases him to console him as if he's an outsider who can't believe this is happening to Larry, either. His son is on thin ice in Hebrew school, preparing for his bar mitzvah but distracted by the Jefferson Airplane pumping in his ear via a contraband transistor radio in class. His daughter steals money - she wants a nose job - and can't be around her brother without fighting. And Larry's own brother, a directionless louse, is living with the family and getting into a variety of troubles with the law.

In addition to all of this, Larry is being blackmailed and bribed by a Korean student who refuses a failing grade in his class. So much is going wrong in Larry's life, in fact, that we completely forget about where we first see him when his story begins after the film's prologue until it reenters the story at the end.

There's no denying that Larry is a 1960s version of Job. So fantastically Jewish is A SERIOUS MAN that religious references are invited and, to some extent, an understanding of them is required. As I am fantastically un-Jewish, the Gopnik family was as quirky and foreign to me as the characters in "Fargo." In fact, this film reminds me of that masterpiece in many ways, from the ridiculously perfect and lived-in character performances to the parallels between Larry and Fargo's Jerry Lundegaard as men who are helpless in their own lives and unable to gain ground. Certainly the humor in A SERIOUS MAN is as dark and intelligent as that in "Fargo." Indeed, what happens to the main character here is equally serious and heartbreaking. In some ways, it's as dramatic as their Oscar-winning "No Country For Old Men."

As I mentioned, the performances in this film are fantastic, especially Stuhlbarg and Sari Lennick, a newcomer whose tart glances and stern condescension make her a secret riot as Larry's wife, Judith. She reminded me of Frances McDormand's work in "Fargo," another favorable comparison between the two films. Essentially, the most reconizable actor in A SERIOUS MAN is likely Simon Helberg (Wolowitz on "The Big Bang Theory"), if you don't recognize two David E. Kelly TV alums, Adam Arkin and Fyvush Finkel.

I suspect that many filmviewing goys will be off-put by the extreme "Jewishness" of A SERIOUS MAN if they're unwilling to let it wash over them. I loved it. I am not Catholic, either, and the culture in this film reminded me of the opening scene of "Doubt" when Meryl Streep's nun was keeping kids in line during the priest's homily. You start out not knowing the culture but eventually, you come to understand a little something about it.

Most likely, the Coen Brothers are cashing in here on the capital they've acrued as Oscar-winners in the picture, director and screenwriting categories. Though I know little about their personal lives, A SERIOUS MAN seems intensely autobiographical. It is a film about the suburbs but reminds us that the suburbs can be soul-crushing and as devestating as the deserted West is in "No Country For Old Men."

There are things I'll appreciate more about A SERIOUS MAN when I get to see it again. As I said before, I probably shouldn't be reviewing it so soon after seeing it. I'm not positive that I get the connection between the film's old-world Yiddish prologue and the family (though I think I get it). I'm not recently brushed up on the book of Job, so some of those references might have gone by me too. And, in what is certainly a Coen Brothers trademark, the ending is offputting, sudden and unsatisfying. It was a reason why some people said they hated "No Country..." while I defended that ending as perfect. This time, my instant response was "Huh? Not sure I liked that." And now as I sit here pondering that ending (which of course I won't reveal to you here), it's starting to become more and more perfect. The film ends with our suburban hero getting a few more helpings of shit sandwich. Another sinister Coen joke. And I'm reminded that these guys are brilliant when it comes to endings that stick with you longer than most films exactly because they are unfinished, unsatisfying and confusing.

While I enjoyed "Burn After Reading," that film felt a little lightweight in some ways. This one feels important, all the moreso because the simplicity with which it is delivered allows its messages to breathe. Cinematographer Roger Deakins shows his genius once again, too. He is the third Coen Brother, for sure.

In the end, A SERIOUS MAN might be one of my favorite Coen Brothers films of the decade, and what a decade they had! Makes me excited for the next one.

4.0 out of 4

It's Complicated (2009)

I have talked to friends who are at least a decade older than me who have said that IT'S COMPLICATED is far deeper and "important" that it appears on the surface. I don't really see it that way. To me, IT'S COMPLICATED isn't complicated at all. But it was fun, and on the day that I saw it, that was all I was looking for.

The great Meryl Streep (certainly one of the four heads if ever a Mount Rushmore for actors is ever erected) plays a divorced middle-aged woman who has nothing juicy to contribute to her regular girls-night-in meetings with her three friends until she allows herself to get swept up in an affair with her now-remarried ex-husband. Keeping their rekindled relationship a secret from her three grown kids, only her oldest daughter's fiancee figures out what is going on, and he is too stunned to report it. To complicate the picture, Streep's Jane was just about to get something going with another divorcee, a charming and sensitive architect. Jane quickly goes from boring middle-aged woman to shady lady, and the results are hilarious.

People who hate Meryl Streep must do so because they are uncomfortable with her formidable talent. Yes, it's not cool to love people who are too popular. But at some point, and I hate to say this, maybe the majority is right. I dare you to watch IT'S COMPLICATED and not be totally overwhelmed with joy in watching Streep work. She is funnier here than in any comedy she's done before, more bubbly than even her work in "Mamma Mia!" She's a pleasure to watch.

Equally a pleasure are both Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin, actors who are not everyone's cup of tea. I know plenty of people who are annoyed by one or both of these actors, but they are both spot-on here: Baldwin as the daring charmer and Martin as the put-upon nice guy. While Streep is steering the ship here, IT'S COMPLICATED is doubly-blessed with the talents of these two co-stars.

As for the film? Eh. It's fun. It's good. It's not great. IT'S COMPLICATED certainly continues Streep's streak of being the best thing about every movie she's in. She hasn't been in a true masterpiece, one could argue, since "Sophie's Choice."

Director Nancy Meyers is worthy of credit when it comes to knowing how to tap in to the feelings of women, and there's not enough of that being done realistically in Hollywood. Meyers wrote "Private Benjamin" and "Baby Boom" and wrote and directed "What Women Want" and "Something's Gotta Give." She's an important, if somewhat fluffy, voice in modern film. There's a lot of truth and a ton of relatability in what she does, and it's her style to go for the laugh when she does it.

And yet, I can't say that Meyers has hit one out of the park yet. There is too much that is conventional about each of her films, and that's true of IT'S COMPLICATED, too. There's not much that you haven't seen before. Even the HIGH-larious penultimate scene here involving a naked Baldwin seems calculated as a repeat of the naked Diane Keaton scene in "Something's Gotta Give" that worked so well for that film and brought so much attention to it. I hope Meyers has higher aspirations than simply being the director who can get middle-aged actors to drop trou. More realistically, though, she's an "if it ain't broke" type of writer and director who doesn't seem interested in stretching herself and trying anything new.

That makes IT'S COMPLICATED cinematic comfort food. Fortunately for Meyers, the film's release is well-timed for such a nugget. Most releases in theatres right now are films about the end of the world, war and rape. The comedies, like "Leap Year," are dreadfully written and unlaughable. So when you take a perfectly well-written, if not entirely new, story like this one, you have yourself a winner. You don't feel guilty laughing with IT'S COMPLICATED because the dialogue is sharp, the story is smart, and the acting is great.

But complicated? Not so much.

3.0 out of 4

The Lovely Bones (2009)

Juxtapose a dingy, early-70s Pennsylvania suburb with a bright, vibrant and pastoral "heaven," and you have what is perhaps the most fatal mistake of Peter Jackson's THE LOVELY BONES. Arguably in the hands of the wrong director, Alice Sebold's chilling and semi-autobiographical novel is too special effects-heavy, too beautiful, too emotionally flat and on the surface. There are stunning pieces, but no satisfying whole. Ultimately, THE LOVELY BONES is a poster child film for "the book was better than the movie."

There had been lots of talk leading up to the film's release that Jackson had changed too many things from the novel, and that's never been something that's left me uptight because I can separate film from source material. And truthfully, from what I can remember from having read the book years ago, I can't say that any changes were so flagrantly disrespectful that the film is worthy of my scorn for that reason. What I can say is that the scenes in the film don't flow well. It feels like Jackson and his wife/co-screenwriter flipped through the book and, every five pages or so, jotted down a sentence. The pieces don't connect well.

As book readers know, THE LOVELY BONES is the story of a family coming to grips with the loss of their 14-year-0ld daughter at the hands of a neighbor who rapes and murders her. While Susie, the murdered girl, looks on from a more-heaven-than-purgatory place Sebold dubs "the In-Between," her mother struggles under her grief to remain a contributing member of the family and her father becomes obsessed with the ongoing criminal investigation to discover Susie's killer and bring him to justice.

While all of these plot points do transfer from page to screen, Jackson's film version so heavily tips in favor of the special-effects-laden In-Between that the earthly terror seems, at times, inconsequential. Actors Rachel Weisz and Mark Wahlberg give perfectly competent performances as the parents but are entirely unmemorable because Jackson edits the film to favor shots of Susie ("Antonment"'s Saoirse Ronan) exploring the In-Between, often with the assistance of another girl who suffered the same Earthly fate as she did. Ronan is a good young actress but it seems clear to me that she was mis-directed by Jackson. So in awe of the mysterious beauty of the In-Between is she that we're almost made to think she's crazy for hanging on to the Earthly world when it's clear that something much more beautiful and peaceful awaits her and it's just up to her to move on and let go. But this is not "Ghost."

Another problem is Stanley Tucci's turn as the rapist/killer (though the film avoids discussion about the rape part) George Harvey. Tucci is excellent insofar as he's in full character actor mode here. His Harvey is so undistinguishable from Tucci himself in almost every imaginable way that the performance almost begs for award recognition. Taken in the context of the story, however, no other member of the family's town even seems like a likely possibility as another potential killer. Tucci plays Harvey as the only potential neighborhood pedophile. I like what Roger Ebert said in his review - that if only it was this easy in real life to pick out these guys. Here in this film, there shouldn't be any problem.

For all of my bashing, it's worth noting that Peter Jackson does some things incredibly well. The moments of Susie's entrapment by Harvey are tight and tense, with dread hanging invisibly in the air. And Jackson's decision to avoid any graphic depictions of Susie's killing (not even glimpses like those shown when Precious Jones is raped by her father in "Precious") is a decision I agree with. I, like Jackson, don't believe that it's a requirement to show these moments. Our imaginations can do far worse, anyway.

In addition, Susan Sarandon appears as the drunken grandma in a deliciously-70s performance: the emotionally-detatched matriarch who swoops in to pick up the pieces when her daughter shuts down and is unable to care for the family. I'm not sure that Sarandon isn't a little too campy, but because Jackson is so off with what I believe the tone of the film is supposed to be, I didn't seem to mind the chance to have a little fun watching Sarandon work here.

As for the In-Between, the setting that pulls far too much focus in the film version of THE LOVELY BONES, it is a wonder to look at, and as special effects-heavy as Jackson's Lord of the Rings films or the green screen world of "Avatar." But, returning to my original comments, here is the film's problem. THE LOVELY BONES is so dependent on these special effects that the gut-punching domestic drama that should have been brought to the fore in this story is placated, misplaced, lost and downplayed. A wide-eyed Susie watching the leaves flying off a tree as birds is the dominant image instead of the anguish on the ground, on Earth. You get to feeling like Susie got the better deal by dying. What message does THAT send?

I hate to jump on the bandwagon of "it was the wrong director for the film," because Peter Jackson is a fantastic filmmaker and a true artist, and I think the directors should decide what kind of films they make by example of their choices, not the audiences who want to pidgeon-hole their favorite directors into the genres they most enjoy them in. That said, it is difficult not to notice that Jackson brings little more to THE LOVELY BONES than what is firmly within his wheelhouse. One can almost sense a slight degree of directorial paralysis here, like Jackson is resisting the urge to be as edgy as he is wont to be and is trying to make a movie for teenage girls, an audience that is neither his to begin with and, I'd have to say, one that this film should not be for.

To say that THE LOVELY BONES is a terrible film is, I think, a bit of a mistake. There is certainly worse stuff out there, and I did experience moments of great tension. But there should have been devestating sadness here, and I didn't feel that. In tone, this film should have most closely resembled "Precious" but comes nowhere close to that film's level of exhausting devestation. This movie is too pretty, too emotionally flat. THE LOVELY BONES is, indeed, lovely. But it shouldn't be. The book is better than the movie.

2.0 out of 4

Brothers (2009)

As I suspected, BROTHERS could not live up to my expectations, and I blame two factors for this. The first is the fact that Jim Sheridan's "In America" was not only a movie that I loved; I picked it as my favorite film of the recently-concluded decade. BROTHERS attempts to mine similar family anguish, but it feels much more paint-by-numbers this time. The second reason is the fact that I saw "The Messenger" first. That film, by a first-time director, follows a similar home-front story but explores much more genuine, much deeper emotional depths.

I wonder if the secret is Samantha Morton, the wonderful actress who played the mother in "In America" and a new widow in "The Messenger." Too bad there was no role for her in BROTHERS.

Based on a Danish film of the same name, Sheridan's brothers, I'm told, closely follows the original film about two brothers, one who follows in dad's footsteps and joins the Marines to serve in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the other who ends up in jail, the opposite of his brother and father in his inability to discipline himself. Here, Tobey Maguire is the military brother and Jake Gyllenhaal the screw-up. Caught in the cross-fire is Sam's (Maguire) wife, Grace, played by Natalie Portman, and their two daughters.

The best part about BROTHERS is, really, stuff that Sheridan excells at, and that's the moments of family dynamics in flux. In a fantastically tense and complex dinner table scene, for instance, a newly-released-from-prison Tommy (Gyllenhaal) is barely welcomed home by his emotionally detatched father, well-played by Sam Shepard. The always-good Mare Winningham is the boys' step-mother, and we sense the subtext that the marriage between dad Hank and his first wife, the boys' mother, was ruined by his changed psyche post-Vietnam the way the marriage between Sam and Grace will be strained by Sam's time in Iraq.

As hard as it tries, though, I'm not sure that BROTHERS had much new to say about the phenomena of post-traumatic stress disorder. I'm not sure, as much as Maguire spookily transformed into Travis Bickle by the time the film reaches it's powerful climax (as previewed in the film's trailer), that the subtext of the movie brought out that much more about how those who don't go to war can't possibly relate to what soldiers who have fought have seen.

And that's a shame, because the pieces are all there. Here, Sam is reported dead, and brother Tommy, doing his best to get on the straight and narrow, starts to fill in for his brother as a father-figure to Sam's two little girls. Grace, who never liked Tommy, is warming up to him, thanks to the positive improvements he's made in his life and the little things he does to help her out. Sadly, when Sam returns home, alive after having been a prisoner of the Taliban forced to partake in unthinkable acts to secure his release, we see that the family learned to get along fine without him. The girls have accepted Tommy as a new dad and Grace begins to grapple with different feelings for him.

Something about the way the script was written caused me to feel bad for the family that Sam was back, instead of feeling joy. So dark is Maguire's performance and so unhappy are the girls that Sam's return looks like a party crashing. The tone is instantly heavy, a cloud of distrust descends immediately as Sam speculates that Tommy has moved in on his territory - his wife - in the physical sense. In a true moment of heartbreak, yet again at the dinner table, one of the daughters is forced to admit that Sam's return has screwed things up for all of them, that they were good with Tommy instead of their father. I hate to say it, but I don't think you can blame her. There is nothing to like about Sam. Nothing at all.

Gyllenhaal is probably the best of the three leads here; his performance is natural and conflicted and quietly believable and has lots of range to it. Portman is good but seems to not have been asked to do much in the film. Sometimes she feels like little more than a prop or plot device. And Maguire, though certainly intense, is so good at playing shellshocked that I couldn't buy him in the tender moments when his character spent time with his daugthers prior to deploying. Best of all in this film, however, are the two little girls. Bailee Madison and Taylor Geare are just heartbreaking as Isabelle and Elsie. They remind me, in fact, of the similar impact the two daughters had in "In America."

BROTHERS is by no means a bad film. Actually, it's quite good. It's just a let-down to me, a bit of a disappointment largely of my own making because my expectations were likely too high. There are still plenty of moments to discover and discuss in the film, such as how the behavior of Hank prior to where the film's story begins has affected the family structure, and Sheridan's sly storytelling choices, like letting the audience wonder right along with Sam as to whether or not Grace and Tommy consummated their relationship. The war torture scenes were equally intense and engaging.

Still, for all of these compliments that I have, I was left with the feeling that these great little pieces in BROTHERS didn't add up to enough. Sheridan remains a master at telling intense stories about families, but maybe he's better when those ideas are his own and not someone else's.

3.0 out of 4

The Cove (2009)

There is no comfort to be had watching THE COVE, and much anger. The documentary film, which chronicles a renegade team's persistent investigation of the mistreatment of dolphins in a Japanese fishing town, was this year's Audience Award winner at the Sundance Film Festival. One might tend to expect that films that win this award are movies that uplift audiences, and this one does not. The only thing uplifting here is the knowledge that there are people in this world like those who made the film who are trying to do something about a terrible atrocity.

First-time documentarian Louie Psihoyos makes Richard O'Barry the central focus of THE COVE, and his position as the film's fulcrum is a clever choice. Having worked as the trainer of dolphins used on the 60s TV hit, "Flipper," O'Barry admits that he is largely responsible for the public image of dolphins as smiling and fun-seeking animals who love to be pet and give rides to humans.

He changed his mind, he tells us, when one of the dolphins used for "Flipper" died in his arms. In fact, O'Barry is so bold as to speculate that the dolphin "committed suicide" because she was "severely depressed." And lest we think that these are human-only conditions and decisions, THE COVE reminds us of the magical intelligence of dolphins and even speculates that they are more intelligent than we are. Regardless of what is fact here, O'Barry has dedicated his life to freeing dolphins in captivity and fighting against the slaughter of the animals.

He has paid a high price for his actions. The film explains that O'Barry has been kicked out of most of the professional organizations to which he's belonged. When asked how many times he's been arrested for his protesting, he answers the question with another question: "This year?" And yet all of this is justified collateral damage to him.

The seaport town of Taijii, Japan is exposed in THE COVE as being notorious for capturing dolphins. Those that closely resemble Flipper are sold for somewhere in the neighborhood of $150,000 apiece to places like Sea World around the globe to entertain screaming humans. The rest are slaughtered. Shockingly, their meat is sold, sometimes repackaged as something else, much of it containing toxic levels of mercury.

What makes THE COVE an intense film viewing experience is that the director and O'Barry assemble a team of specialists, "Oceans 11-style" (as they put it), to smuggle cameras and sound wave technology into the area in order to prove what is going on. In this way, the film is similar to and every bit as exciting as last year's "Man on Wire," another film that turned the documentary genre into a heart-pounding thriller.

Regardless of your politics, it will be hard to come away from this film not siding with the filmmakers, and it is in this area where I hold out with just a bit of caution. My 8 year-old daughter, who watched the film with me, was outraged and couldn't wait to get to school the next day to tell all of her classmates that the Japanese are killing all of the dolphins. Indeed, the film steers dangerously close to vilifying the entire nation. True, a section is included to explain that most residents of major cities like Tokyo are unaware of what is going on, but even the inclusion of this information feels to Western viewers like a state of ignorance and reduces Japanese credibility. Only a few Japanese are shown standing up for what is right.

In the end, THE COVE works as a better documentary film about the environment than movies like "An Inconvenient Truth" because it seems to steer clear of a political agenda. Here, this environmental catastrophe is a social injustice, an oceanic Holocaust. It's hard not to agree, and virtually impossible not to care. The film is not pleasing to watch, but when it's over, you feel enlightened, thankful to know about it. And that's what good documentaries are meant to do.

3.5 out 4

Up in the Air (2009)

UP IN THE AIR has been getting a lot of positive press for being a movie that is completely of its moment. With a plot centered around a for-hire hatchet man who fires people from their jobs for a living, the story is so relatable to today's tenuous work force and skyrocketing unemployment that director Jason Reitman actually hired non-actors - real people - to play the parts of the men and women being fired.

I would agree with the sentiment that UP IN THE AIR is so powerful because it captures the aura of this moment in American culture, but in my opinion, it is for a different reason. I think Reitman has fantastically captured the results of our corporate and digital age mentalities. This is a film about people who struggle to make meaningful and real human connections, who get off on the impersonal details of travel arrangements and customer loyalty perks but function at levels barely above strangers to their families. UP IN THE AIR is what has happened to us, and it's a fantastic film.

I must admit that I didn't want to like UP IN THE AIR, and it's not because of Reitman, who for my money is now three-for-three as a feature film director after the promising feature debut of "Thank You For Smoking" and the Oscar-nominated follow-up, "Juno." Rather, I hoped to dislike the film to have an excuse to complain about George Clooney, an actor with, I feel, very limited range who has done little to flex that range in the last decade, save for maybe "Syriana" and "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" To see trailers of this film showing Clooney in a suit and tie in alpha male mode is to see nothing new. It's George Clooney starring as himself, same as he did in "Michael Clayton" and a half dozen other films.

But I know now that I sold Clooney short. Perhaps he is our generation's Cary Grant, an actor who will cause frustration for seeking out roles that fit his main persona like a glove and yet seem like the only choice to play the parts he takes. That sure feels like the case here. As Ryan Bingham, Clooney is breaking no new ground, but he is absolutely the perfect actor for the part.

Even if I had been able to keep my guard up against Clooney's charms, there would have been no way for me to overcome my sense that this movie was all but perfectly directed. I got the sense at almost every moment that there was nothing Reitman could have done differently to make the film better. It is beautifully shot and snappily edited to move at a crisp pace. The film is as slick as Bingham's suits and as shiny as his platinum member reward cards.

And then, of course, there's the story. Bingham is a man who enjoys traveling for his job. He spends under 50 days a year at his all-but-unfurnished and non-decorated apartment, and refers to that time as hell, rather than the time he spends away. He radiates excitement in his pursuit of breaking a record for frequent flier miles but balks at a family request to take photographs in various cities he frequents using a cardboard cutout of his sister and her fiancee, a request for their wedding.

The closest thing to love for Bingham is Alex Goran, because much to his surprise, she is basically a female version of himself - a rare woman with no ulterior motives for attachment or involvement. The only baggage between them is their regulation carry-on-sized luggage. But despite the coldness of the arrangement between the two to meet up in hotels as often as their travel plans intersect, there is a genuine affection between them. Maybe they don't love each other, but it's clear that they definitely like and appreciate each other.

Alex is played by Vera Farmiga, a name I suspect you'll be hearing come award season. Sexy but sturdy, Farmiga plays the no drama Alex with a confidence to match Clooney's. Watching the two of them trade lines is one of the film's great strengths.

A foil for Alex and Ryan comes in the form of Anna Kendrick in a spunky, youthful performance as Natalie, a fairly recent college graduate who impresses the company boss (a smarmy, bearded Jason Bateman) with her research demonstrating that people can be fired by video phone, saving the company millions of dollars in annual travel expenses. She is instantly Bingham's nemesis because she is a threat to his very way of life, not just his job. For the bulk of the film, we watch Natalie tag along with Ryan to see how he does his job and hear why he feels that it is the only way for the job to be done.

Natalie, being young and naive, believes that it's possible to find and marry the person who meets all of the criteria a girl writes in her journal. She lacks the experience, both personal and professional, to "get" Ryan and Alex. It is ironic, then, that the only main character who seems capable of genuine human connection is the one who is suggesting that her company should Skype-fire people.

Jason Reitman is starting to show signs of some auteur flourishes, with J.K. Simmons and Bateman showing up again in this film after appearing in "Juno." Corporate world criticism seems to be a favorite Reitman topic, and is indeed the focus here.

I'm not sure that I think UP IN THE AIR has the weight of a Best Picture Oscar-winning film. It feels like a smaller character piece. But the smaller scope and often lighthearted use of humor is what supports the film's greatest gift, the opportunity to observe the behaviors of humans navigating the current corporate world. The lack of meaningful connection in a text messaging society.

Yes, UP IN THE AIR is a snapshot of what's going on right now. And, with any luck, it can act as a time capsule piece years from now, reminding us how strangely we behaved during a time of economic crisis and great personal stress. Maybe then, the comedy aspect of the film will feel like something we can truly laugh at, instead of the current sadness that sits beneath the film's jokes. Whatever ends up happening, I'm sure that this is one of the best directed films of the year, all but perfect for what it aimed to be.

4.0 out of 4

The Top 40 Films of the 2000s: 5-1

5. THE PIANIST, Roman Polanski (2002). With the character of Roman Polanski under fire anew due to his recent arrest for his decades-old crime, I am willing to remember him for this...a film that not only stands among the finest of his illustrious career but deserves a place next to "Schindler's List" as one of the finest cinematic documents of the Holocaust. I love how this film complements Spielberg's film almost without overlap. Spielberg's scope was wider, more panoramic. Polanski brilliantly humanizes "six million Jews" by focusing on just one, Wladyslaw Szpilman. Anchored by a breakout Adrien Brody performance so stunning that it's now comical to have been so surprised by his Academy Award win, the film is a prologue of sorts to "Schindler's List," and, by focusing on the ghettos that preceded the concentration camps, fills in the gaps left by Elie Wiesel's "Night." The juxtaposition of Szpilman's beatiful musical abilities up against Polanski's blunt depiction of violence (remember the wheelchair sequence?) creates a terrifying and unsettling swirl of emotions. Ultimately, the film is to be remembered for taking a now-sadly mundane statistic and breathing it back to shocking life by focusing on just one man. Less was more, and this was a stunner.

4. A.I.: ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE, Steven Spielberg (2001). A.I. always had the respect of film lovers, but not necessarily their praise. When Spielberg agreed to complete what was said to be the next project of legend Stanley Kubrick, everyone wanted a look. The film became the oddest movie experiment since Gus Van Sant's head-scratching, shot-for-shot remake of "Psycho" a few years before. And, indeed, the criticism of A.I. has been that there is an "oil and water" quality to the movie - that sections of the film are so clearly "Spielbergian" or "Kubreckian" and the blend never really happens. For me, these criticisms are but additional strengths. I suspected at the time and still maintain that A.I. will eventually be regarded as one of Spielberg's true masterpieces, a non-commercial film because of its bleakness and philosophical importance. I think it's significant to note that Spielberg had not written a screenplay since 1982's "Poltergiest," and not one of his own since "Close Encounters." And yet, here, (and certainly thanks to Kubrick's notes), he writes a story that could stand along side works like "1984" and "Fahrenheit 451" as a cautionary tale of the over-mechanization of our lives, the dehumanization caused by electronic convenience, and the emotional displacement of our age of technology. I am so sold on the brilliance of this film that, even as I write this, I wonder if ranking it at #4 is even good enough. It is certainly Spielberg's greatest film of the 2000s. And its lenthy, tone-shifting tale brilliantly displays the three-act structure of film, the bleak chill of Kubrick and the fairytale warmth and hope of a master at the top of his game.

3. PAN'S LABYRINTH, Guillermo del Toro (2006). It's a compliment when I say that this is not the kind of film that would usually attract my attention, much less merit such a high ranking on a list such as this. But that's what "Pan's Labyrinth" did to me. The film stands at a cinematic crossroad as precarious as the crossroads faced by Ofelia, del Toro's Alice. It is a fantasy film and a horror film, a World War II film set in the unusual location of Spain and a psychotic children's film that teaches morals with terror. It is, quite frankly, unlike anything we've ever seen. And so fun to dig into! Del Toro loads the film with symbolism as thick as a classic work of literature, from his use of threes (three fairies, three tests from the faun, three main characters, etc.) to grander themes about imagination and believing, childhood innocence and adult cruelty. This film was brilliantly conceived and created and magically produced, with some of the most memorable art direction I can think of. And while it deserved far greater rewards from awards contests that year, its reward will be the extent to which this film is loved, re-watched, and talked about as a modern masterpiece for years and years to come.

2. CITY OF GOD, Fernando Meirelles (2002). Have you noticed that three of my top 5 films were created outside of the United States? This one is "Goodfellas" for the 2000s, set in the slums of Rio. With an ironic, misleading title, "City of God" is a brutal, graphic film of gang violence that shocks audiences with the reality of the young ages at which kids become involved in gun play and the drug trade and a tense tale of hope as one boy attempts, against all odds, to turn a negative into a positive and survive his life, much less make something of it. There was a big uproar when the film was not nominated for Best Foreign Film, but the resilient film was also the recipient of the greatest revenge at the Oscars this past decade, taking nominations for Director, cinematography, editing and screenplay: all more than worthy. Newcomer Meirelles instantly added himself to the list of directors to look out for, and his follow-up, "The Constant Gardener," cemented his promise. But if you've not seen this film yet, you are missing out. And that's not just my opinion. At the moment, "City of God" is in the top 20 on the Internet Movie Database's all-time list, ahead of movies like "Rear Window" and, ironically, just behind "Goodfellas." And while there is much to compare between the two films, starting with the main character's voiceover narration, I daresay that I like this one even better.

1. IN AMERICA, Jim Sheridan (2003). Written and directed by master storyteller Jim Sheridan, no movie in the 2000s had the emotional impact on me as did "In America." A tiny, quiet film, it stands out as the film that haunts me the most...that moved me the most...that filled me up the most. A more modern immigration story, "In America" follows the struggles of a young Irish couple (played memorably and hearbreakingly by Paddy Considine and Samantha Morton) and their two daughters who illegally relocate to New York City so that father Johnny can have a shot at an acting career. The film is all about pursuing the thin possibilities of hope without losing hope completely, and an element of magic and mystery is injected by Mateo, an enigmatic neighbor played by Djimon Honsou. The relationship between Mateo and the girls is powerful, and the struggles demonstrated by Johnny to provide for his family against all odds left me feeling stronger emotions than everything else I've seen these past ten years. And Sheridan does it in small and quietly-profound ways. I dare you to watch the scene where Johnny attempts to carry a heavy air conditioner up to the family's apartment and not have your heart broken - and not be able to see that in this one small moment, you are witnessing the extent to which a father who truly loves his family is willing to go. "In America" might not have been a technical or cinematic masterpiece, but for me, it was perfect.

Where the Wild Things Are (2009)

I suppose I like WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE precicely because I can't quite put my finger on it. Is it a brilliant masterpiece? Is it a one-tone, one-level piece of art direction? All of the reviews I'd read of this film seemed to indicate that you would either love the film or hate it. So why do I find myself somewhere in the middle?

Regardless, that's where I do find myself. On one hand, I could sense the profound philosopical subtext of Spike Jones' film and grasp the fact that it's simplicity allows for a complex reading for those who look for it. But then there's the other hand, the one that isn't sure he's okay with the way Jones brings the storybook's Max into the wild world differently from Sednak's original tale. The one who found the narrative a little flat and even found the beautiful imagery to level out after a while. Hmm.

As much as I think I bought into it, there's a part of me that feels that Jones and co-screenwriter Dave Eggers used WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE as an opportunity to simply impress upon us their interpretation of the story. The morals and deeper meanings about childhood, after all, are far easier to detect in this film than in the sparcely-written children's book. In a sense, the film is lower on imagination, which is crazy because Jones is one of film's boldest dreamers of late, and there are plenty of reasons why visible here. But the message is SO heavy-handed. At times, it's like he's yelling at you: this is what you missed when you were reading the book! Childhood is cruel!

The film puts a key twist on the book, having its protagonist, Max, run away from his house and into a world where the wild, shaggy beasts he encounters are hanging out. From a cinematic narrative standpoint, I think I understand why Jones made this change. It raises the dramatic stakes. Now, the whole time he's gone, Max is literally lost in addition to being figuratively lost. The change also all but destroys the book's lighthearted elements, which I also think was intentional. In the book, Max retreats to his bedroom...conjures up this world in his imagination and makes something special out of a boring day. Jones doesn't address this aspect at all.

So what happens now is it becomes the director's clear interpretation against the ones we formed over the dozens of times we've read the book. This makes it a tough sell, and though I certainly admired this film greatly, my strong feelings about what the book has to say are assaulted by Jones here. And I don't want him to "win." Sure, what Jones has to say about childhood is a small component of how I interpret the story. But it's not all I think about it. Jones is far too heavy-handed.

Visually, WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE is charming. It's beautifully shot, even when it's intentionally dingy. Max Records, the boy who plays Max, is phenomenal. It's probably the best performance by a kid I've seen this year. Only James Gandolfini, who is hearbreaking as the voice of the monster Carol, really gets as much screen time as Max to have a strong impression on you. Other wonderful actors like Catherine Keener and Mark Ruffalo make brief appearances and remind you that Spike Jones has major cache and clout. He's a creative force that hip actors will want to work with. But the other characters are sidebars to this story.

In the end, WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE leaves the viewer with unsettled feelings and unanswered questions. If Max escapes to this magical world, why are the monsters so unhappy? If it was necessary to make his excursion a true journey rather than one in his imagination, why does surprisingly little seem to happen in this film's narrative? If this is one of the best-loved children's books of all time, why not make a film for that audience? It's hard to find satisfaction from the film in any of these areas.

And yet, when it's all said and done, this is a movie that masterfully, maybe even brilliantly captures tone. And, for as labored as the message is, it is also deeply affecting and moving. I found myself choked up at the end, not knowing exactly why. Ultimately, WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE fits nicely in the ecclectic, head-scratching canon of Spike Jones films, and it's saying a lot to say that I did like this movie but it might be my least favorite of his. That's how good Jones is. I am curious to see how a little time gone by will treat this film...how it will be regarded by audiences down the road. It's one of those movies that really could turn out to be regarded as a modern masterpiece. But for now, it wasn't quite wild enough for me.

3.0 out of 4

The Top 40 Films of the 2000s: 10-6

10. THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD, Andrew Dominik (2007). Just today, the Chicago Tribune listed this film as one of those from the past decade that was unjustly overlooked. He mentioned that it took "Blade Runner" about a decade to go from box office disappointment to genre stadard-bearer. I think the same can - and should- happen with this film. The 2000s saw an exciting upturn in the production of Westerns, albeit often very unconvential hybrids like "Brokeback Mountain" and "No Country For Old Men," the film that pulled focus away from this film in 2007. And while Javier Bardem was haunting in that film, there might not be a more revelatory performance this decade from someone you'd least expect than Casey Affleck's work here as a hero-worshiping Robert Ford. Brad Pitt is perfectly cast as Jesse James, and the entire cast does lovely work here. Roger Deakins, who never gets the credit he deserves, might have done his best cinematography on this film. It's Terence Malick-like in beauty. This slow-paced Western allows for deep psychological penetration. I can't speak highly enough about it. If you missed it, do yourself a favor and see it.

9. CHILDREN OF MEN, Alfonso Cuaron (2006). So many things are terrifying about Cuaron's masterful apocolyptic thriller. The film begins by telling us that the world's youngest citizen has died at the age of 18 and, in the year 2027 (not that far from now), no child has been born in 18 years. The human race faces extinction and London, where the film is set, is being bombed and terrorized. Sounds like Cormac McCarthy's The Road meets Brave New World, but what stunned me about this film was its sense of hope. Clive Owen is fantastic as a disillusioned man who must take it upon himself to protect a miracle: a woman he discovers who is pregnant. The Christian symbolism is obvious and gives a rich depth to this movie without beating viewers over the head with it. And the Orwellian landscape is highlighted in the film's best - and now quite famous - sequence: a frightening, kinetic car chase sequence handled deftly by Cuaron with one continuous camera take. It's mind-blowing direction for any film junkie, and a movie that truly put a director up to the next level. I am deeply affected by "Children of Men" each time I see it, and my jaw continues to drop even when I know what's coming. Profound, haunting and significant filmmaking.

8. THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY (Le Scafandre et le Papillon), Julian Schnabel (2007). The concept of this movie probably doesn't sound interesting...the main character cannot speak. He can't even move. He's in a bed. And the film's in French. Even I worried that this would be a boring obligation as I set out that year to watch award-nominated films as I do every holiday season. So imagine my surprise when this film turned out to be one of the most profound, moving, haunting and memorable experiences I've ever had at the movies - not only in the 2000s but in my life. Schnabel tells the true story of Jean-Dominque Bauby, former editor of Elle magazine who suffers a stroke and is left with "locked-in syndrome." Through his use of stunning, point-of-view camera work, we hear the thoughts of a perfectly-cogent Bauby and see as he sees, through one working eye. A compassionate nurse works with Bauby to create a system of associating letters of the alphabet with patterns of blinking, moving the audience from frustration to absolute wonder. Monotony goes to miracle when we learn that Bauby plans to use this system to write his memoir while he is still alive. Admittedly a bleak film, it is also one of the most profound movies about the power of the human spirit out there.

7. MILLION DOLLAR BABY, Clint Eastwood (2004). People who know me know the now-famous story of how, as the credits to this movie were rolling, my wife had to pull me out of my seat because she was embarassed by the "snotty cry" I had broken into in the theatre. A punch to the gut of the audience to mirror the punches taken by the film's protagonist, the film had Hilary Swank and Morgan Freeman in Oscar-winning form, forced us to consider the messy human debate about the quality of human life anew, and put an excellent gender spin on many of the conventions of the classic boxing film genre. This was Eastwood working with the kind of material he works best with, taking one person's life and making that person's peaks and valleys serve as an example for all of us. And while Eastwood films are often dismissed as simplistic on a technical level, I think that's an unfair statement to make about this one. It's virtually flawless.

6. WALL-E, Andrew Stanton (2008). I'm not sure why more animated films didn't show up on my list, especially Pixar films, which have been excellent all decade. I had both "The Incredibles" and "Ratatouille" on my short list as I ranked my films, but "Wall-E" was always intented for my top tier of movies for the decade. The fact that it's animated is almost beside the point. Who would have thought that one of the most pitch-perfect love stories of the decade (and certainly of the year of its release) would come in the form of two robots? The first third of the film is, essentially, a silent film, and Stanton injects all of the warmth and humanity of Charlie Chaplin's "City Lights" in a future Earth where humans have so trashed the environment that they cannot live there anymore. Wall-E, a clean-up robot, and his romance with EVE, a robot looking for plantlife to prove that humans can someday return to Earth, are magical. Yes, the film barely conceals a liberal, pro-environment agenda. But it does not alienate audiences politically in being so. Instead, it is a masterpiece of visual brilliance, and a movie that simply transported me and made my heart sing.