Reviews by lotr23

Relentlessly engrossing and visually majestic, David Fincher's The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is an astonishingly great motion picture. This is one of the most awe-inspiring meditations on life I've ever witnessed on a big screen. It's so deeply observant about the process of living and aging, and at the same time it's also a wonderfully unconventional romantic story, with a nice helping of comedy for good measure. This is something we rarely get from a wide release - a movie that is irrefutably great in every respect, managing to establish a flawless balance between pure entertainment at the movies while also constantly challenging the viewers' minds and plucking their heartstrings.

It's 2005 in a hospital in New Orleans, and Hurricane Katrina looms. Caroline (Julia Ormond) watches over her dying mother, 80-year-old Daisy (Cate Blanchett). Daisy asks Caroline to start reading from a diary found in Daisy's belongings. Daisy claims she won't necessarily be listening to what Caroline reads, but she does want to hear her daughter's voice. Caroline sees that the diary belongs to a man named Benjamin Button (whom she knows nothing about), and rather than just being a series of written pages, it also contains several photographs and mementos that will be of great explanatory importance as Caroline reads specific entries. She starts reading said diary to her mother, and we are taken back to 1918, to the day in which World War I ended, which also marks the day in which Benjamin (Brad Pitt) was born the size of a baby, yet with all the physical features and health problems of an old man. More plot summary would simply be detrimental to the experience of watching this film, which contains so many revelations that it's almost unfair to compare it to so many other films that have attempted the same sort of thing and have ended up limiting their scope so much. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button fully exploits the potential of its greatly interesting premise, which is probably why it lasts nearly three hours, but don't let that dissuade you from watching this - this is such an involving picture that you won't even notice the time that passed once it's over.

Some may feel turned off by the arguably weird, if outlandish, premise of this story, but the main thing to take away from Fincher's film and what makes it an unbelievably amazing work of cinema is the fact that, even though Benjamin observes what transpires in his life as someone who gets younger with each day instead of following the regular aging process, the observations he makes are the same type of observations that a person who ages normally would make about his/her life. Benjamin meets a wide array of people, sees them die, sees others get born, finds love, laughs, cries, connects with some people more than he does with others, has sex, goes to different places, and the list goes on. Without going too much into spoiler territory, I'll point out that the forgetfulness that Benjamin experiences at the end of the film once he's a child is the exact same type of forgetfulness old people go through. Fincher's thesis is that it doesn't matter whether you age forward or backwards because you still end up in the same state - as one characters wisely puts it at one point, "we all end up in diapers, no matter what." Though a seemingly odd quote, it's a great one in terms of summing up the feeling you get from this film, which is incredibly insightful yet is always good-humored in imparting said insight and never wallows in dryness or melodrama. As Benjamin learns, regardless of whether you age forward or backwards, you simply have to take advantage of everything that life gives you.

I say all of this about the film's premise because of how it has been the subject of negative commentary in so many other reviews. Roger Ebert, known even by those who don't know much about film criticism, is certainly one of today's best critics, but I have to disagree with the basis of his review for this film. Right from the beginning of the review, he basically lets us know that he is dismissing the movie entirely because of the premise, and claims that it is impossible to care about what happens during this film because of the way the story is constructed, and this simply couldn't be further from the truth. I'll admit that, in the wrong hands, that could've EASILY been the case, but in Fincher's hands, it MORE than works. It works perfectly. The film is sublime, yet never moves at a glacial pace. It's funny, yet never ridiculous. And it is a dialogue-driven drama, yet it's never monotonous. We readily accept the premise, and that is what makes it so easy to get engrossed in the film.

After "growing up" and leaving home, Benjamin goes to Russia where he meets Elizabeth Abbott (Tilda Swinton), who is staying with her husband at the same hotel as Benjamin. They start having late-night talks in the hotel lobby, with no one else around, and start getting closer and closer to one another. Benjamin makes an observation that I've often thought about, which is that when a place like a hotel is so quiet late at night, it sort of amazes you that a place that has so many people in it can actually have a moment in which there's so much silence, that even a mouse jumping isn't noticed by anyone. He takes pleasure in being present and awake during such a moment of stillness, and moreso in sharing it with Elizabeth, who tells him a story about how she once swam in the ocean for 34 hours until she simply couldn't move anymore, but claims she'd never be able to do it again. One day, Elizabeth simply leaves the hotel and leaves him what SEEMS to be a disappointingly short and empty message, yet the few words she writes are deeply resonant - as Benjamin notes at one point, sometimes the people you know for the shortest amount of time have the most impact on you. All you need is to "meet" them, as Elizabeth puts it in her message. Later in the film, Elizabeth makes a brief appearance in a hope-inducing moment that is sure to make everyone smile as much as it makes Benjamin smile: you can do anything, no matter how old you are. You just have to make yourself do it.

As you might expect, a lot of the funny moments come from the awkward situations Benjamin sometimes gets in as a result of his, well, curious case, with people often confused by his sexual vigor and other anomalies. There is a scene during a religious service in which a reverend tries to get Benjamin to walk as though his walking stemmed from a miracle of God, and it's one of those things you shouldn't laugh at, but you just have to, and you can just tell that comedy is exactly what Fincher was going for here, which makes the scene's jarringly tragic ending all the more surprising. Many of the laughs also come from a character in the film who makes spontaneous appearances and claims to have been struck by lightning, yet always gives a different version of how it happened. It's the sort of joke that, eventually, you know exactly what's going to be said, but rather than being dull and repetitive, you just start laughing before it's even told because you know what's coming and you can't help finding it endearingly funny.

The last time that Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett starred in a film together was two years ago in Babel, a movie that basically had the butterfly effect (or chaos theory, or whatever term you prefer) as the center of its plot: the idea that one action by someone in a certain place can have a huge impact on someone else who is perhaps miles away and has no relation to that first person. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button features a sequence that pushes the envelope of said theory even further in that it presents several acts by several people all of which could have prevented an event from taking place, had they not happened. Some might think the sequence is unnecessary because it is short and it doesn't seem to have an immense effect on the plot, but well... without spoiling anything, it should be noted that what happens doesn't only affect Daisy's career as a dancer; it greatly impacts the futures of both Daisy and Benjamin, and that is exactly why this seemingly disposable sequence is actually nothing but brilliance on Fincher's part.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button deserves all possible praise and awards recognition for its achievements in terms of visual/technical and make-up work. The combination of CGI and actual make-up flawlessly depicts the aging process (forward for Daisy and backwards for Benjamin, of course). In addition to that, though, the film is more than beautifully shot, with some incredibly breathtaking locations that serve as stunning backgrounds to the development of this breathtaking story. The film essentially covers the whole of the 20th century (from 1918 till 1985, and then jumping to 2005 for the hospital scenes) and the set designs and period details are impeccable.

The final moments of the film feature a zoom-out in the hospital room, after Caroline has finished reading Benjamin's diary and heads over to find out what is happening with the hurricane, leaving a moribund Daisy in bed. The zoom-out is coupled with background noises that signal the impending doom of the present time, and as soon as the screen fades to black, the movie proceeds to display its final images, with a voiceover by Benjamin, who imparts deep observations about each individual person's role in life, as we get a glimpse at several of the people we met throughout this stunning journey of a motion picture. If, by this point, anyone was not convinced of the greatness of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button this final sequence is all the proof they need.

Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett are perfect star-crossed lovers, playing a very different couple than they did in Babel, and indeed, playing a very unorthodox pair of star-crossed lovers (even though the term "star-crossed" fits perfectly, for obvious reasons). If you look at current pictures of Pitt he's arguably hotter than he's ever been (even though he's into his 40's), so you'd figure it'd be impossible to make him into a plausible crotchety old man at the beginning, and you'd be wrong. Pitt gives a fierce performance, deftly capturing every age stage, and co-star Blanchett is every bit as regal an actress as she always is in films she stars in. Julia Ormond, I believe, redeems herself here for her sub-par work last year in the critically-panned I Know Who Killed Me, never overplaying the part of the suffering daughter who is startled by the revelations she comes across in Benjamin's diary (even when the biggest revelation, which some may predict, is unveiled). Taraji P. Henson is delightful to watch as Queenie, the woman who raises the title character, stealing essentially every scene she takes part in. As Elizabeth, Swinton has a relatively short role, but doesn't fail to impress; it's quite something when a character whom we only meet for a short while shows up later in a film and makes you smile, yet that is precisely what Swinton accomplishes here.

Fincher is obviously aware of Pitt's magnificent potential, which is why he's worked with him in so many of his films. In Se7en and Fight Club, Fincher extracted much toughness out of Pitt's performance, but in this case, the situation is different because this last film is far more sublime, though the actor-director collaboration still yields great results.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is a visual tour de force and an amazing feat of storytelling. Everyone, old and young, should be curious enough to see this, and I have no doubt that they all will walk away from it in a deeply enlightened state, having witnessed an excellently-crafted meditation on life and one of the best cinematic achievements produced in 2008.

As I watched the first 50 minutes of Religulous, Bill Maher's anti-religion documentary, I had a familiar feeling. I soon realized that the film was working for me in the same way that Maher's great HBO show works for me: a sharp observation of important issues served with a sizable helping of humor. And I thought, "Wow, if he can pull off making a full-length film be just as good as so many of his episodes, then this should definitely turn out to be a good documentary." The goal is almost achieved, but not quite.

The first half of Religulous features some great moments in which the interviewer essentially outwits followers of Christianity into revealing just how crazy and outlandish their staunch beliefs are, at least according to Maher. These scenes are especially marked by several instances in which audience members will surely gasp and say "Oh my God! He did not just say that to him" followed immediately by a fit of laughter. Those who criticize Maher's film for being one-sided are correct only in the sense that Maher makes his viewpoints quite clear, but the way he operates isn't unethical in the least bit, because you get a sense during the interviews that those he questions are being given a completely fair shot at defending their beliefs. Sure, as with all documentaries, editing was surely used adroitly to skew things even more in favor of Maher's thesis, but much of the footage depicting Maher's interviewees contradicting themselves and unsure of how to respond to certain questions is enough to make us aware that we're not being manipulated here.

Unfortunately, the second half of Religulous descends into mediocre territory. Maher makes a decision to stop focusing solely on Christianity and to cover Islam and Judaism as well. This is a respectable decision in the sense that it shows that the arrows aren't being aimed at just one target, but the problem is that as soon as it moves in this direction, the movie curiously loses its sense of humor, and becomes a fact-spewing film that drives on neutral and doesn't add much insight to the proceedings. Instead, it just rehashes much of what has already been said in the film (minus the humor), which leads to a feeling that the filmmakers just ran out of steam at this point. In this second half, Religulous also provides brief commentary on Mormonism and Scientology, but these segments are half-assed and feel more like filler than anything else. The final few minutes of the film feature Maher summing up his already-evident thesis into a final statement, and while he is undoubtedly eloquent in his closing remarks, this moment is edited with a jumble of sequences featuring explosions in order to reference the Apocalypse, and all they do is make this feel way too grandiose and self-important, in what would've worked as a more straightforward and simple final declaration.

One gets the feeling that the first 50 minutes of Maher's documentary would've made for a terrific episode of his TV show, with a perfect balance between insight and comedy. But everything that follows it is entirely unnecessary, thus making Religulous not exactly work as a full-length motion picture.

Director Nanette Burstein insists that her latest film is a documentary (you know, a movie that depicts actual events and that is supposed to have nothing scripted in it). And that begs the question: does she really think we're that asinine?

American Teen didn't fail to entertain me, but I also have to note that it's been ages since I've snorted so many times while watching a movie. If someone didn't go into this film knowing it's supposed to be a documentary, they'd more than likely think that it is a scripted film. It's already been criticized in dozens upon dozens of other reviews, so in the spirit of not being too repetitive, I'll simply say that it is just IMPOSSIBLE that the camera crew here was able to be present during so many crucial situations, or to find out what text message one kid sent to another or to capture an exact moment in which someone reacts to something. Not only that, but the situations that the kids get into and that the cameras manage to capture totally seem like scripted situations because, well... you've seen them tons of times before (assuming you've watched at least an episode or two of Dawson's Creek or if you watch any of the shows currently playing on the CW network). It's because of all of this that it's impossible to view American Teen as a realistic depiction of the average U.S. adolescent. Also, the movie features a couple of animated sequences that are supposed to be a colorful way of portraying the struggles the kids are enduring, yet these sequences are nothing but annoyingly imposing and entirely distracting and detrimental to the overall flow of the film.

Now, just so I'm not too harsh on Burstein and her crew, I'd like to offer another possibility for the reason why this film feels so artificial. Obviously, these kids were told that their lives were going to be documented in a film that would be seen by millions of people, and they knew that this would help them gain a heck of a lot of exposure. So, while Burstein may have actually been setting out to capture reality and encouraged her subjects to behave normally, the kids may have chosen not to give that to her, and instead chose to spice things up for her by purposely creating lots of drama (heck, a lot of teens do that in their daily lives regardless of whether or not they have a camera recording their every move, so this isn't a far-fetched theory in the least bit). It really would disappoint me if this were true, though, because it'd make me wonder if kids like Hannah and Jake (my favorite characters in the movie, simply because they're the ones I could relate to most, but then again, I knew that in the first 10 minutes when the film let me know the stereotypes they fell into) were simply playing a role and weren't actually the characters we saw them as. I sure hope that's not the case. Megan, who falls into the prom queen/student council president/most popular girl at school stereotype, is extremely serious about getting into Notre Dame University, which is notoriously hard to get admitted to, yet she allows Burstein and her team to film her committing an act of vandalism. Seriously?

The reasons that make American Teen feel artificial are the same reasons that make it enjoyable at times, in the same sense that you'd enjoy an episode of a show on the CW and quickly forgot about it afterwards. It's not a memorable diversion at all. What's funny is that even if this film had been released just as it is and had NOT been identified as a documentary but as a scripted work, it would've still not been a good movie because of the fact that all of the drama and struggles featured here are things we've seen dozens of times in said TV shows. So, even if American Teen had a more authentic feel to it, it still wouldn't be a groundbreaking work of cinema because it offers nothing in the way of insight, which should be the aim of any decent documentary. A good comparison here is to the MTV show The Real World, billed as a reality show yet clearly featuring staged drama, and the reason for the creation of said drama is that the producers don't feel it'll be entertaining to those watching if said drama isn't created. And maybe it's fine to do that with an MTV show, but I feel like the endeavor should've been handled more honestly by the makers of this documentary, which could've been an extremely insightful examination of the adolescent mind. It's a mistake to think that something realistic can't be enjoyable. Just look at Man On Wire, one of the other documentaries released this year - it gives you nothing but facts about the events it covers, yet it is a thrilling piece of work.

I have mixed emotions towards American Teen because I enjoyed it on the surface, but couldn't for a second shake off the feeling that I was being cheated.

I guess someone forgot that musicals are supposed to be entertaining.

In the summer of 2005, I was in New York for a few days with my family and was fortunate enough to see Mamma Mia! the musical. It's actually the only Broadway musical I've ever seen (not because they don't interest me, but because the opportunity doesn't exactly come along too frequently). It was incredibly fun - the mixture of ABBA's contagious songs and the energetic cast made for an extremely worthwhile experience. I figured it was inevitable that a movie would be made about it. I also thought it was inevitable that a film adaptation of the musical would at least come close to being as enjoyable as the actual musical, because, I mean, come on, you can't go wrong with those awesome ABBA songs and a beautiful Greek island as your setting. Well, apparently, you can.

This film is an insult to the musical it is based on and to the tunes of ABBA. It is one of the worst musicals I've seen in a very long time. There isn't a single musical number with any pizzazz or energy to speak of, the dance sequences are entirely lame, and the placement of songs in particular moments is often completely wrong not only in terms of plot coherence, but also in terms of the failure to build up to having the better songs at the end. "Dancing Queen" is a wonderful song with all the potential in the world to make for a great musical number, and it's hard to even begin to describe the mediocrity with which it is handled here. The RT consensus has this just right: you definitely won't feel like "you can dance." And that's a big shame.

The charisma of Amanda Seyfried and Meryl Streep as lead characters Sophie and Donna does very little to keep this from being utterly bad, especially because they are stuck with a severely poor supporting cast. One very significant comparative note I have to make is that, in the stage musical, Donna's friends Rosie and Tanya were extremely awesome and funny characters and the actresses playing them were hugely cheered for at the end; in the film, these characters are massacred by Julie Walters and Christine Baranski, bringing no humor whatsoever to the proceedings, and with the former in particular being severely annoying. The three actors playing the men who are the possible candidates for being Sophie's father (Colin Firth, Pierce Brosnan and Stellan Skarsgard) are not only equally as bad, but give what I can describe as nothing other than terrible singing performances.

Since the film covers all 12 ABBA tracks, it doesn't have much time for plot development, which should be fine, as long as the half hour or so of plot development is handled skillfully, which is far from the case in this film. The only scene that rings true in terms of dramatic effect is the sort-of turning point conversation between Sophie and her fiance Sky (Dominic Cooper) when they each discover that they'd both probably prefer to just travel instead of getting married, seeing as they're so young. But the scene is too short to have much of a positive impact. I mentioned that Seyfried and Streep's charisma is helpful in keeping this from being a painful experience, but their work is absolutely nothing special, and the moment in which I felt most strongly about this is when Sophie asks her mother if she will give her away at the wedding. When watching the stage musical, this was a hugely emotional moment felt by the entire audience and it seemed to bring about a sense that we were nearing the climax of this incredibly fun and satisfying story. However, in the film, it is rushed, awkward and completely unconvincing.

To make matters even worse, the cinematographers here take absolutely NO advantage of the scenery of the Greek island. Sure, it's fine that the movie doesn't have enough time for plot development, but it's NOT fine that it can't provide great vistas as the background to these musical numbers. Considering the cheerfulness of ABBA's songs, it would fit perfectly, yet it's not employed here at all. The camera focus is often completely off, and the outdoor scenes are illuminated by sunlight that couldn't look more fake, so the attempt to have brightness add spice to the proceedings falls totally flat.

As far as purely fun musicals are concerned, last year's Hairspray is a very good example of above-average fare, largely because it featured a final musical number that will get even the most boring and dry person to want to get up and dance. Mamma Mia! is, well, waaaaay below the average. The rolling, fiery ball of energy that the makers of Hairspray created during the film's final sequence with "You Can't Stop The Beat" is something that the makers of Mamma Mia! don't even come close to doing with ANY of the musical numbers, which is a travesty, considering how good most of ABBA's songs are. They say that the only way you'll like this movie is if you actually like their songs; well, I like their songs, and I detested this film, so while that theory should be right, it doesn't seem like it is. This is just wasted potential.

Frost/Nixon is a thoroughly engrossing battle of wits, a film that could've easily been a dry and caricatured re-staging of David Frost's interview with President Richard Nixon, yet manages to enter the thriller realm, and admirably so. Ron Howard's direction, Peter Morgan's screenplay, and the performances given by Frank Langella and Michael Sheen turn an entirely dialogue-based film into a nail-biting experience that depicts the interview which concluded with Nixon's final admission of guilt for the illegal acts he committed during his administration. The movie effectively maintains the audience engaged by slightly fictionalizing some details, but without straying too far from the facts.

I was shocked by the fact that this film has a 2-hour running time; the interview scenes make Frost/Nixon such an intense experience that they make the time pass very quickly. What's interesting is that the way the tone of the interviews unfolds and ends up shifting is quite conventional: initially, Nixon (Langella) undoubtedly has the upper hand, going on long, eloquent rants, preventing the seemingly helpless Frost (Sheen) from digging into the former President and asking him questions that would make him sweat. In fact, Howard's film suggests that Nixon accepted doing the interview because he thought that Frost was not journalistically savvy enough to break him - prior to the interview, Nixon's advisor Jack Brennan (Kevin Bacon) reassures the former president that "there's no catch" to the interview and that "it'll be a big, wet kiss," and later even tells him that "Frost is not in [Nixon's] intellectual class," and it certainly seems that way until the final day of interviewing, when the tables are turned. Some may be skeptical of Frost's sudden spurt of assertiveness and his ability to finally get Nixon to sweat and ultimately give in to admitting that he made some monumental mistakes, but in its slight fictionalizing, the film tries to come up with an explanation for said transformation on the journalist's part. Before that final day of the interview, there is a scene in which a drunk Nixon calls Frost late at night and, predictably, reveals more than he would have in a sober state. This prompts Frost to do some research that ultimately materializes into new evidence against the former president. Right before cameras start rolling for the final interview, Frost mentions the late-night call, which a disoriented Nixon seems not to recall, thus initiating the turbulent climax to this enthralling on-screen duel.

Obviously, the phone call scene IS the film's turning point, and some may have qualms as to whether or not this is going too far in terms of fictionalization, but the thing is that when a movie that is chronicling a historic event doesn't have all of the puzzle pieces, the filmmakers HAVE to use their imagination to fill in the gaps, and I think they do it decently here. The phone call scene isn't necessarily reflective of what actually happened, nor it is necessarily the most effective way to justify Frost's ability to suddenly get the upper hand, but I still give Howard and Morgan credit for inventiveness that doesn't stretch the lines of credulity. I will point out, though, that all the prefacing during the first half hour or so of the film, which introduces us to Frost the TV personality and depicts the logistics of arranging the interview, is certainly necessary but goes on longer than it should. A lighthearted moment involving Oliver Platt's character's rendition of Nixon is appreciated in terms of amusement but does little to further the plot and seems misplaced in a film like this. These initial scenes aren't poorly crafted, but it just seems like they more than delay the supremely entertaining interview scenes, which are certainly the meat of the film. In addition, there's a scene later in the film in which Nixon is playing the piano and wife Pat enters the room to ask how the interviews are going, and when she is told they are going well, she responds "That is so gratifying," and not only does this moment feel unnecessary and out of place in the film, but it is also delivered unconvincingly by the actress playing Mrs. Nixon.

One of the reasons why, as I said, the prefacing about Frost as a person isn't all that necessary is because Michael Sheen does a good enough job at portraying Frost's breezy, diligent personality that we don't really need all of those other details. The smiling fierceness that Sheen brings to Frost is more than enough to make us believe his ability to finally get Nixon to break (however, I was more impressed with Sheen's performance two years ago in The Queen, a very authentic impersonation of former British Prime Minister Tony Blair). For all of Sheen's good work, though, this is Langella's film. The veteran actor has every facial expression, every aspect of the voice, every nervous tick down, and is amazingly convincing as Nixon. Even more incredibly, towards the end of the film, Langella succeeds in getting us to sympathize with the character, despite our awareness of all the wrongdoing committed by the actual man. Langella is a lock for an Oscar nomination.

Ron Howard chooses to go for a sort-of documentary approach by having "confessionals" in which the film's supporting characters give their take on what is happening, as a way to give us an idea of what the secondary figures in the duel between Frost and Nixon were thinking - while this doesn't really help the film much in terms of giving it an authentic documentary-style look, it does help with keeping the minor characters in the film from being mere flies on the wall with no development whatsoever as real people. Still, the film's focus remains on the two title characters, and because of that, Frost/Nixon largely succeeds in portraying a riveting war of words.

The word "timely" has been used repeatedly in reviews for Gus Van Sant's Milk, and while I try not to reiterate things in my reviews that have already been stated far more eloquently in professional reviews, it's hard to avoid talking about just how perfect it is that Milk was released precisely when it has been. That's not to say that it wouldn't be the excellent motion picture it is if it had been in theaters last year or whatever, but its release at this point in time makes its greatness that much more palpable. Milk is the best kind of political film - it steers clear of the tedious, sermon-y and heavy-handed approach that most movies of its kind take, yet also manages not to fall into simple-mindedness and/or one-sidedness, which is the other popular path taken by most political films. Milk is a stunning biopic, flawlessly directed and acted, particularly featuring one of the best lead performances of this decade.

When President-elect Barack Obama gave his victory speech over a month ago, one of the initial things he mentioned was that the results showed that all "groups" had come together in this election, and he went ahead and mentioned "old and young," "black, white, Asian, Hispanic and Native American," "Democrat and Republican," and "gay and straight"... prior to hearing this, I was already extremely emotional by the mere fact that he had won, but when he said this, it was like that jolt of hope that he clearly wants everyone in America to get charged with pierced right through me, and it gave me that inspiration that he's already imparted on so many others. It sucks to admit it, but he probably would've never been able to say "gay and straight" during a campaign speech, but I was so glad that he brought it up in his victory speech, and I don't know if much is gonna be accomplished during his administration in terms of the issue of gay rights (and I'll admit that he certainly has other more pressing issues to attend to), but when he said that, it just... it gave me hope. And the fact that it gave me hope would not only please Obama himself, but it would also please Harvey Milk, the first openly gay person to be elected to political office, whose campaign focused on that exact same thing: hope. In fact, Van Sant's film closes with the line "you've got to give them hope" being repeated by Milk several times, thus making it an intensely resonant statement. It's just such a great coincidence that Milk was released as Obama is gearing up to take on the role of president, and I say this not only because of the hope factor, but also because Milk is not really a film about homosexuality: it's a purely political film and an incredible one at that. As Milk puts it at one point, "This is not just about jobs or about all the other issues: this is our lives we're fighting for!" Of course, the other coincidence in terms of timing is that Van Sant's film features Milk's struggle in 1978 to thwart the Briggs Initiative (known then as Proposition 6) to ban gays and lesbians and anyone who supported gay rights from teaching in California's public schools, and earlier this year, California was the stage for the battle for Proposition 8 to restrict the definition of marriage to a union between a man and a woman and to eliminate the right of same-sex couples to marry. Sadly, the "yes" vote seems to have won by a small margin, which obviously means that, 30 years later, there's still a long ways to go as far as this issue's concerned. But we gotta have hope, right? Anyway, to get off this long tangent...

Harvey Milk (Sean Penn) has what turns out to be a brilliant idea when talking about the struggle for gay rights with his boyfriend, Scott (James Franco). All they need is "somebody to look after them", a leader. As Milk correctly states, "politics is more about theater and making a statement" than anything else. So, he decides to step up and take on that role, meeting much disapproval initially, none of which discourages him in the least bit from moving forward with his unrelenting diligence and with Scott's fervent support as the manager of his campaign, for which Milk also recruits the spunky Cleve Jones (Emile Hirsch, in a scene-stealing, energetic turn). The first half of Milk focuses on the activist's struggle to actually get elected as supervisor, which happens only after several years of tough losses. Van Sant gives us a completely accurate depiction of what political campaigns are like, highlighting the importance of establishing political alliances and obtaining crucial endorsements. The brilliance of Milk comes mainly from its ability to depict all of these political elements without making the audience members feel like they are watching a tedious History Channel special on Harvey Milk, and it is successful at that by portraying the very human side of struggling to obtain people's support, and also by showing the decay of Milk's relationship with Scott, as a result of the time-consuming campaign (certainly a problem for all politicians, of both sexual orientations). Milk never strays from its perfect balance between insightful political commentary and effective emotion-driven drama, and that is one of the reasons why this is a truly great film.

The second half covers Milk's time as an elected supervisor, working alongside his eventual assassin, Dan White (Josh Brolin), whom Milk initially dismisses as "uneducated," but he later becomes intrigued by him, even surmising that White could be a closeted gay. In order to counter Proposition 6 to prohibit gays and lesbians from teaching in California public schools, Milk and his team set up an initiative to get as many people as possible to "come out," the idea being that the more voters know at least one gay person, the more likely they would be to vote against the proposition. The most interesting aspect about this is how the effort causes strain within Milk's team, leading to a particular scene in which one of its members struggles with the decision to call his father and come out to him. Milk and White clash over their political aims, propelling a series of events that will lead White to murder both Milk and San Francisco Mayor George Moscone (Victor Garber), a staunch supporter of the gay politician. The scene that depicts Milk's assassination is incredibly intense and difficult to watch, despite the fact that we've known throughout the entire film that this would happen. Even more amazingly, Milk's death is depicted through the often-used slow-motion technique, A.K.A "it takes the person 10 million years to fall flat on the floor and die," yet this doesn't make the scene feel self-important or overblown in the least bit (as is usually the case when this technique is employed). The reason for this is that Penn never fails to give us a raw look at Milk's humanity, which means that during this scene, we can feel nothing but absolute devastation. The film's final moments are brilliantly edited, cutting from the candle-light vigil to one of the first scenes in the film (years earlier) with Milk and boyfriend Scott discussing the future, to the radio address in which we hear Milk repeatedly state those immortal words: "you've gotta give them hope." Even the "Where are they now?" captions at the very end do not feel unnecessary, but rather helpful in giving this wonderful story a sense of finality.

Penn doesn't just give a great performance... this is an absolute transformation, a total embodying of the character he is playing, a feat far superior to his work 5 years ago in both 21 Grams and Mystic River. His portrayal of Milk is beyond breath-taking. He doesn't even look all that much like the real Harvey Milk, yet while watching this film, you seriously forget you're watching Sean Penn on the screen. As for the supporting performances, the adorably handsome James Franco is very good as our main character's romantic companion, though I still insist that the best acting job he's done this year is as the unforgettably hilarious Saul in Pineapple Express (which is why, on a side note, I was thrilled by the surprise Golden Globe nomination). Josh Brolin has what is, admittedly, a very tough job playing the role of Dan White, clearly a very conflicted individual, as is subtly revealed in some early moments and then blatantly during the scene in which a drunk White shows up at Milk's birthday party. Honestly, it'd be a travesty if Brolin went unrecognized two years in a row after No Country For Old Men last year. Emile Hirsch, having already worked with Penn, who directed last year's Into the Wild, gives a delightfully energetic performance in Milk, even though in terms of awards consideration, he is being overshadowed by Brolin and Franco (just like Gary Oldman's great supporting performance in The Dark Knight is being overshadowed by that of the late Heath Ledger). There is a particularly great scene involving Hirsch and Penn's characters, in which Cleve talks to Milk about his recent trip to Spain and tells him about the persecution of gays under Francisco Franco's regime. The younger actor speaks his lines in such a forceful (yet never forced) way in this scene, and this serves as a great prelude to the energy that Cleve brings to Milk's campaign.

Not since Elephant has Gus Van Sant created such a powerfully amazing motion picture. Paranoid Park, released earlier this year, was good, but nothing nearly as groundbreaking as both Elephant and Milk are. There is a scene in Milk that is very reminiscent of Elephant in its use of an identical cinematic technique of having a camera move in a circular motion during a meeting to scan everyone's reactions while other people are speaking; in Elephant, it was used adroitly during the school club meeting that ends tragically, and in Milk, it is used just as skillfully during one of the title character's meetings with his political team. While Milk is likely to be a popular film among gay movie-goers and similarly unpopular among movie-goers who have no interest in watching a film that has homosexuality as a subject matter, I'd really like to reiterate that this is NOT AT ALL a movie about sexuality. It is a purely political work of cinema and an amazingly timely one at that, which actually means that the film should be suitable for most audiences, at least those who are politically conscious, which one would HOPE is a decent chunk of the population. I don't know whether or not Milk will turn out to be the very best film of the year (in my opinion, it currently is, but I've yet to see several of the ostensible contenders), but there is no doubt in my mind that it is among the most important movies of the year, if not the most important one. Though a tragic biopic, Van Sant's film is actually a very positive and uplifting picture, seeing as optimism is precisely what its lead character wished to impart on his people. In what has certainly been an intense political year, Milk is a magnificently opportune showcase for hope and inspiration.

Beware of the ostensibly spooky title and poster for this movie. Those who don't make it a habit of reading a movie's synopsis prior to paying their hard-earned $10 to go see it will probably be severely disappointed by Twilight, particularly if they go into it expecting a scary/suspenseful vampire story. There is absolutely nothing thrilling or frightening about this film, but I expect a lot of people will be tricked into watching it thinking that that's what they're in for. However, if you're looking for a movie in which nothing much happens other than a pair of teenagers swooning over each other with loads of mist and fog in the background, then you're in luck.

Twilight operates on a string of laughably bad dialogue that could perhaps enter "so-bad-it's-good" territory in some instances, but for the most part, it is just too inane. The scene that comes off worst is the one in the woods when the lovebirds are together, and vampire Edward (Robert Pattinson) explains everything about who he is to Bella (Kristen Stewart). One expects moments like these to be hard to believe in almost any film, but Twilight also commits the sin of making it incredibly uninteresting.

I'm not sure if it's meant to be ironic in an odd way, but I can't help pointing out the script's flawed usage of the word "vegetarian". The vampires in Twilight are identified as being vegetarian, but... well, you shouldn't take that literally... nor metaphorically, for that matter. You should just ignore the use of the word "vegetarian," as it is used in an entirely contradictory way, because the vampires here actually DO eat meat... they just eat animal meat, rather than human meat. I suppose that makes me a vegetarian, too, doesn't it? Seriously, they could've come up with a better term for it, rather than using a word that doesn't fit at all in terms of its definition.

Although it runs for over 2 hours, the "suspenseful" part (if we can call it that) of Twilight probably lasts less than half an hour, and it comes when a vampire who is, um, NOT a "vegetarian" (according to this film's definition of the term) smells Bella, and Edward needs to save her from being ravaged by him. But these scenes are incredibly limp, totally lacking in tension, and with a showdown that is entirely unimpressive, with very poor special effects and half-assed, choppy editing. In fact, there's not a single instance in this movie in which we see a vampire kill someone - I suppose there's two instances in which it sort of happens off-camera, but that's it.

Kristen Stewart deserves a lot of credit for navigating the film's bad dialogue and not coming off badly at all in terms of her performance. There were times that I forgot for a few seconds, whenever she was talking, that I was watching a campy, mediocre movie. Twilight is the first film Stewart's been in that I haven't liked, but it's also the biggest movie she's done after the many indies she's been in recently, so I guess this is her way of becoming a bigger star, and you can't blame her for that. Some will remember her as Jodie Foster's assertive, precocious and diabetic daughter in Panic Room. After the very good work she did recently in Into the Wild, Fierce People and In the Land of Women, I have no problem with her starring in a movie that will hopefully be a vehicle towards better roles in other, much better productions. Sadly, the notion of Twilight's mediocrity came right back into my head every time that the film would cut from Stewart to her lead counterpart (it should also be noted that, while Pattinson is a relatively good-looking guy, I have no clue what all the drooling and swooning is all about... teenage girls *sigh*).

You might say "Well, I guess it's impossible for a vampire/ghost story flick to be considered a cinematically good movie, so you should just try to enjoy it on a campy level," and what I would respond to that is that, just last year, we got two films that combined those two elements and did so very well. 30 Days of Night was a chilling vampire story that used its atmospheric setting way more effectively than Twilight ever does, and it's also about a thousand times more suspenseful and scary a film. The Invisible was a surprisingly good (and wildly underrated, I think) ghost story that is actually pretty similar to Twilight in that it is really more of a CW-cult type drama than a horror movie and in that it incorporates a romantic element.

Aside from Stewart's ability to hold her own despite the laughable dialogue, the other positive element that I found in Twilight is, believe it or not, that I see potential here. Considering the fact that the movie did well at the box office, I imagine that a sequel (based, of course, on the next book in the series) will be entertained and possibly green-lighted. The final scenes of Twilight take place at the prom, and they are nicely subdued, and when you couple this with the dilemma that both lead characters (mainly Bella) face as the film comes to a close, not only does it make me want to see the story continue, but it gives me the feeling that there's a lot of room for improvement here (as it has been the case with the Harry Potter films). The final line in the film ("For now") is effective in creating that hook. So, surprising as it sounds after everything I've said, I look forward to a better sequel. This seems like the type of story that can become very interesting once all the prefacing and explaining is out of the way, and it is indeed out of the way now that the first film in the series has been released. All in all, Twilight is a so-so effort with a lot of potential for betterment in future entries.

Now, this is my kind of movie. :) Alex Holdridge's In Search of a Midnight Kiss is simply a wonderful film. It's an exploration of the subject of love and relationships that avoids all sense of corniness and romcom cliches. It is an incredibly authentic film, yet its excellent mirroring of reality never renders it boring, and it never keeps the audience from being able to connect with the characters or from becoming emotionally affected by the things that befall both of them. In the non-cinematic, real world, men usually try as hard as they can to avoid crying, in order to continue ostensibly fulfilling their role as the "stronger" sex, so it's not a surprise that, in its attempt to imitate life, the film medium rarely depicts men crying, even in the case of movies that cover a similar subject matter as that of In Search of a Midnight Kiss (seriously, do we see men crying much in romantic dramas/comedies? Not at all.) Thankfully, the makers of In Search of a Midnight Kiss and actor Scoot McNairy aren't afraid to display the inevitable reality that males actually CAN break down, and this gives way for a scene towards the climax that is incredibly moving and devastating at the same time. If the film hadn't totally won me over by that point, it certainly did then.

I was wondering whether or not the use of black-and-white would be detrimental, but it isn't at all. I'm not sure why, but oddly enough, I think it's really effective here. As many have pointed out, it makes the LA locations not feel conventional or like things we've seen in dozens upon dozens of prior films, and that is very helpful in making this film feel fresh and interesting. One of the things that a lot of romantic dramas/comedies have trouble with is having the "Meet Cute" (when the two leads first see each other) unfold believably, and this film has a tough task with its "Meet Cute" because Wilson (Mcnairy) and Vivian (Sara Simmonds) talk over the phone and then meet in person, meaning it's a sort-of blind date (even though Vivian was able to see a photo of Wilson on his ad). The awkward moment in which Wilson sits for a while at a different table across from Vivian is handled very nicely and the comedic timing is perfect. When we first meet her, Vivian is wearing sunglasses and she comes across as being somewhat cold, but all of that is nothing but concealing much of what we'll find out later as she warms up to Wilson and begins to confide in him. McNairy and Simmonds give amazing lead performances, and there isn't a moment of the romance between Wilson and Vivian that lacks poignancy.

Earlier this year, many believed that Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist was a decent homage to the masterful Before Sunrise, and I couldn't disagree more with that. And while In Search of a Midnight Kiss isn't the breathtaking, perfect and unbelievably amazing work of art that Before Sunrise is, it's certainly worthy of at least being compared to it. I had high hopes for Nick & Norah, which turned out to be nothing but a mostly gross comedy that was completely lacking in edge and was saved from being totally bad only by the charm of its two leads. On the other hand, In Search of a Midnight Kiss is an often hilarious film, deeply observant of human behavior, and accurate in terms of how people actually communicate with one another and of their apprehensions towards expressing certain things. It has all of the edge that Nick & Norah lacked, and then some. The dialogue here between Wilson and Vivian isn't as insightful as that between Jessie and Celine in Before Sunrise, but that's only because the script of In Search of a Midnight Kiss isn't as interested in the philosophical questions that were discussed by the characters in the earlier film (played by Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy). This makes Holdridge's film fall short of being the masterpiece that Before Sunrise was, but it certainly doesn't keep it from being one of the best films of 2008. This is an incredibly well-crafted and deeply emotionally-satisfying motion picture.

While relatively successful in terms of its emotional impact, Changeling flounders in its attempt to come across as a realistic story, in spite of the fact that it's based on actual events. Clint Eastwood's film surveys an issue that should have definitely helped this be an extremely compelling film (as most of Eastwood's movies are), but instead, we get an overlong motion picture that is every bit as effective as if someone stood in front of you and yelled "The LAPD was corrupt in the 1920s! Seriously, don't forget it - they were corrupt!" We are manipulated in nearly every scene, with every shot of characters' reactions to situations and with many a convenient plot contrivance (in these situations, I always wonder how much of the real story has actually been brought to the screen, and how much of the real story has been, well, Hollywood-ized).

I stated that, despite not coming across as a compelling story, the film succeeds in terms of emotional impact, and that is largely due to Angelina Jolie, who is in top form, as usual, never failing to easily convey the hardships that her Christine faces. Sadly, not much room is given for the supporting members of the cast (not even John Malkovich) to turn this into a good film solely on the basis of acting, so Jolie is essentially all alone in keeping this from complete mediocrity.

Many will derive satisfaction from the film's denouement, and while an effective conclusion is crucial to a film's success, in this case, it doesn't take away from the fact that Changeling definitely takes easy shortcuts to arrive at said conclusion, and it often feels too obvious and manipulative. Aside from getting the period details right and Jolie's turn as the lead, I can't find much here that makes it worth spending one's hard-earned cash and 2 hours and 20 minutes sitting in a theater. Eastwood has done much better.

The sporadically hilarious Happy-Go-Lucky lives up to its title with a pleasant sense of fun rather than with bubbly annoyance (which may be what you'd expect from a film like this). The zestful main character, Poppy (Sally Hawkins), always comes across as an actual human being who wants to infuse happiness into other people's lives, and never comes across as a mere joy-spewing caricature. This is thanks to the very good work done here by the relatively unknown Hawkins, who makes Poppy likable without getting on the audience members' nerves.

The film is at its best and at its most uproariously funny during the scenes involving the flamenco dancing lessons and during Poppy's scenes with Scott (Eddie Marsan), her driving instructor. The scenes with Scott lead to the film's most dramatically intense moment, and despite the extremely serious nature of said scene, it doesn't take away from the movie's overall sense of joyfulness.

For all its strengths, Happy-Go-Lucky isn't a particularly cohesive movie: each scene feels like an individual piece of acting or a separate skit (perhaps because they are partly improvised), and the scenes don't work together to successfully build up to a conclusion that effectively ties up the plot threads. In addition, as I said, there IS much hilarity to be found in the scenes involving the dancing and driving lessons, but the comedy doesn't come across as well in the film's other scenes (Poppy's interaction with the homeless man feels unnecessary, and it also doesn't seem to fulfill the purpose that the filmmakers may have been going for). However, the film does have enough funny and heart-warming (and sometimes heart-breaking) moments to warrant a recommendation, especially if you're looking for something uplifting minus the corniness.