The Truth Is Outre

I just spent the past five-and-a-half months watching the entirety of The X-Files, a pop culture curio-turned-phenomenon-turned-curio-again that I had somehow missed in its entirety when it was on the air (I was too busy watching Batman and SWAT Kats to notice, I guess; then I discovered Buffy, and that was that). Had I found the show as it aired, I'm sure it would have turned into an obsession to rival that of Fox Mulder's; with time and distance on my side now, I can look at it more objectively. What the hell was the X-Files about?

One could say it was about The Truth; after all, that's what Mulder searched for all those years. The Truth, however, is an ambiguous concept, something the writers seemed to understand. Answers are hard to come by in life. Often, they never do, and when they do, they're rarely easy. Every time Mulder thought he found what he'd been looking for-- evidence of a worldwide conspiracy, or the existence of alien life, or what happened to his sister-- the rug would pull out from under him, and he'd tumble down a different rabbit hole. The truth is out there, remember-- it's never here and now. It's weird, it's scary, and it sounds stupid when we try to explain it to other people. It's never what we really want to hear. Perhaps we're better off not knowing.

The X-Files is also about belief, or, at least, wanting to believe. Mulder's the resident "believer," but Scully's the heart of the show, and it's her beliefs that drive the storyline-- not necessarily in aliens or ghosts or fluke men, but in faith, in God, and in Fox Mulder. The entire series showcases the death and destruction Mulder leaves in his wake during his quest. Scully is the first to be caught up in this, and outlasts all others. She sacrifices everything she has for a mission that's not even hers, all because she believes in one man. That belief is the only thing either of the two leads has in the conclusion of the show, a convoluted, unsatisfying ending that leaves our heroes broken and alone. A lot of poor writing goes into those final moments, but in many ways it's the only possible ending-- two people holding onto each other, in the shadow of a nigh-incomprehensible colossus they can neither control nor escape.

The show sheds light on hidden corners of America, where monsters, myths, folklore, and legends live, where superstitions are always true and the more improbable answer always turns out to be the right one. The X-Files mythologized America, and it's in the standalone, monster-of-the-week type episodes that this comes out. The series often lost the plot, as it continually expanded the nature of its ongoing conspiracy arc, in needless and confusing ways. That aspect of the show does not conclude, but rather peters out. The standalones however, do what their name implies, standing the test of time and lending the show its real strength.

Is there a happy ending? No; the show doesn't really end at all, in fact. Mulder and Scully should ask themselves-- was it all worth it? I'm not sure what they'd answer. As a viewer, was it all worth watching? Well... 70-75%, sure. When it was good, it was damn good. Were those last couple years a slog? Yes. (Robert Patrick is the most watchable thing about them. He gives it everything he's got, but at that point, he's the only one trying.) Will the truth set you free? Perhaps not. If your belief is strong enough, however, the truth doesn't really matter.

Sorry for the poorly-written rambling above. I spent a lot of time watching this damn show, and I have to make some record of it. Coming soon: the Essential X-Files.

And for the love of all that is good and pure, Bill

Stop playing so much Minesweeper.

Things You've Really Got to Get Around to Doing, Bill

1. Exercise more at all.
2. Drink less more.
3. Write every day.
4. No, seriously, write every day.
5. Why are you typing up stupid lists when you should be writing
6. Stop dicking around on the internet so much.
7. Wear suits all the time.

Things That Are Funnier Than $#* My Dad Says

• Community, Thursdays at 8 on NBC
• Boston Legal reruns
• Raw Nerve, the show where Shatner talks to celebrities about tragedy and alcoholism;
• Aftermath, the show where Shatner talks to serial killers
  
• That Sarah McLachlan commercial with the really sad animals
• Chemotherapy
• Pregnant widows
• Quadruple amputees
• Starving children in third world countries
  
• Sudden Infant Death Syndrome
• The Holocaust
• Two and a Half Men (I know, right?)

Harry Brown

It seems as if every member of the cast and crew of this film set out to make Harry Brown as despicable an experience as possible. The characters are reprehensible, the colors and lighting are sickly, the dialogue is profane, the violence is-- technical term here-- squicky. Michael Caine goes Charles Bronson on a bunch of teenaged punks and druggies terrorizing his rundown English neighborhood. His wife and child are dead; his best friend is killed. He is a man with nothing left to lose.

The film has a lot in common with Garth Ennis' Punisher MAX comic book run, I would say; an old man accepts violence as an answer to violence, and sets about punishing the guilty. The filmmakers ensure that the audience thoroughly despises Caine's opponents, until we at home are actively supporting the elderly explosion of murder and mayhem that occurs in the back half of the movie.

Many will compare this to Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino, and while the trappings are the same, the films are tonal opposites. At its heart, Gran Torino was an anti-violence film, a cathartic purging of Eastwood's Dirty Harry mentality. Harry Brown remains dirty, advocating bloodshed in response to bloodshed, glorifying vigilante violence, and making the audience complicit therein. But hey, at least Michael Caine can walk through that underpass again.

The Woods

I gave this two stars. The first star is because Netflix won't let me give a movie anything lower than that-- and the second star is for the bit where Bruce Campbell buries an ax in an old lady.

Unless your religion compels you to see anything with Bruce Campbell in it, no matter how fleeting (he appears for five, maybe ten minutes total), avoid this movie.

Louie

Ian A.: I really like the laid-back absurdity of Louie

Bill: I still can't tell if I like that show.

Some episodes will be great, or parts of episodes will be great, and others put me off.

The tone is so befuddling.

Ian A.: it's still finding its voice and its legs, yeah, but I think it's more hit than miss

Bill: Oh, I think the tone is exactly what CK wants; it's just so outside the rhythms of every other TV show ever.

Even stuff like Buffy and MASH, which would turn from comedy to drama on a dime, felt different.

Ian A.: he is in total control of the thing, writing, directing, starring, so it probably is his pure vision on screen

Bill: Louie is stone-faced black humor, with bits of outright comedy, outright tragedy, skin-crawlingly awkward moments, etc. It's both more realistic and natural than any other sitcom, and also more absurd than any of them.

Ian A.: exactly

Bill: All at the same time, and sometimes different times, and it's just... so weird.

And the narratives, which aren't narratives at all, just bits. And sometimes the bits connect, and other times they don't.

And where Two and a Half Men or something would have a coda where they show that mother and son really do love each other, or a punchline where he gets beaten up by the bully's parents, Louie keeps going past that, not giving us what we expect...

And I didn't like those episodes, they just really made me feel uncomfortable. Which is the point.

Ian A.: it's more honest than any other comedy, in that it's not all about setting up punchlines and fabricating outlandish situations

Bill: My favorite moment is still the bit from the pilot where his skeeved-out date flees into a waiting helicopter and disappears

Ian A.: haha, yes

Bill: It helps that CK's worldview hews very close to mine.

It's, like, Vonnegut. A tragicomedian who loves humanity but despises society.

Ian A.: precisely

Coen Bros porn oeuvre

In chronological order of release:

Jizz Simple
Miller's Tossing
Barton Fuck
The Cumsucker Proxy
Fuckgo
The Big Leboinkski
O Boner, Where Art Thou?
Unswallowable Cruelty
The Ladyfillers
Two Girls, No Country for Old Men
Burn After Peeing
A Serious Wang

Some of these might actually exist, but I'm not going looking.

The Merry Gentleman

If you cut all the awkward pauses out of this movie, it would only be half an hour long. However, if you keep telling yourself Michael Keaton will interrupt each pause by saying "I'm Batman," it's the funniest comedy of all time.

Two Nightmares

I tried mucking with the fonts and styles and format of this page. Everything looks ugly, and I don't know enough HTML to make it prettier. So let's at least experiment with dropping the orange.

So I just watched A Nightmare on Elm Street and the ten-year-follow-up, New Nightmare, both by Wes Craven, for the first time. Dang, that first one's deeply ingrained in the pop-pulp consciousness, isn't it? I'd never seen it before, but somehow, nothing seemed unfamiliar-- the cut, bleeding body of teenaged Tina being drug up onto the ceiling, the faces stretching out of a wall, the Raimi-inspired geysers of blood (then again, did Raimi not use the blood geysers until Evil Dead 2, which came out after this? Craven and Raimi had such a back-and-forth during this horror era that I can't remember), etc. The imagery lingers still; we all know who Freddy Kreuger is, even if we haven't seen the films. The imagery, however, doesn't interest me as much as the ideas. The core concept-- that our dreams are when we are safe, no matter what happens in them, and what happens when that changes-- is a solid one, but there's some decent stuff in there about the human experience, as well.

It seems safe to say Joss Whedon's Buffy the Vampire Slayer was heavily inspired by Craven's first Nightmare, even if we forget about Whedon's own Nightmare-riff in the first season of the Buffy TV series. Whedon portrayed high school as hell, but Craven beat him to it by showing high school as a nightmare, and protagonist Nancy's nightmares are mostly tied to the horrors of being a teenager-- remember, Craven originally intended Freddy to be an invention of Nancy's mind, not an actual supernatural serial killer. Nancy's fears come to fruition through the loss of her friends, and her parents' unwavering disbelief in whatever she tells them, even when faced with the 'truth.' Teenagers often stuggle with their parents, and with the notion of their own mortality; I'd say the fear of death begins to emerge in the teenage years. If not a fear, then a grudging respect, an acknowledgement of its existence, even as teenagers try to act immortal. Nancy doesn't so much defeat Freddy as she accepts him, yet turns her back on him-- because she's grown and matured past the point where she needs him, where he derives his power.

Craven's creation grew without him, however, and the studio pumped out five more in rapid succession. On the series' tenth anniversary, Craven and the original Nancy, Heather Langenkamp, return, and New Nightmare focuses on distinctly adult fears. Craven throws amusing metafictional twists in-- this time, Freddy invades the "real world," tormenting the creators of his films. Rather than a silly romp where Freddy tries to kill everybody on-set, however, it shoots to be more ambitious than that. Langenkamp plays herself, and Freddy-- and Craven, whose script within the movie is also the script for the movie itself-- attacks her by playing to the fears of a wife and mother and actress: the loss of her husband, the taking of her child, a fannish stalker, and the haunting presence of her career, always drawing her back to the Nightmare series. Within the movie, Craven describes this new iteration of Freddy as a manifestation of the loss of innocence; how great is that? Such a loss occurs in the teenaged years, as showcased in the first film, but it doesn't end there, and kids don't just wake up as adults one day. The movie also likens horror film mythology to the grim and grisly fairy tales of yore, which is a neat comparison. Yes, the themes and ideas within the movie are great; the execution is less so at times, and the movie develops extremely slowly, lurching into plodding and repetitious at a few points.

The first one's wacky horror fun, a clear 80s classic; the, er, seventh one's a mediation on horror films and the adult experience. I'd say both are worth one's time.

And hey, who knew that Johnny Depp kid would make something of himself?

Sometimes I cross my 7s
and sometimes I do not
but they are all my children
and I love them.

Bill's favorite films of 2009 (the list so far)

Still many more films to see. But so far, here's what I liked the most. Alphabetical order:

(500) Days of Summer
Adventureland
Black Dynamite
Crank 2
Up
Whatever Works

My expectations! They are high!

Words I use far too often in my writing

1. However
2. This
3. Is

Example: "This is, however, the way I write."

Film flam

I only want to do stuff-- like write these capsule film review things-- when I'm supposed to be doing something else, like, you know, getting a Master's Degree. Screw that. Movies!:

88 Minutes: I get that mysteries and thrillers need some red herrings in there, but this movie is nothing but red herrings, to ridiculous, plot-devouring lengths. Other ridiculous lengths? Al Pacino's hair. Good gravy, it's a terrifying bouffant, and probably got paid 20 million for this. The hair, not Pacino.

Criminal: It's a low-key con man movie with John C. Reilly, before he did nothing but absurd comedies. It's alright. Moving on.

District 9: So this movie cost like a tenth of Avatar or something, but the effects work is phenomenal anyway, with real alien aliens and crazy violence. I wish it had stuck with the documentary style throughout, but I can see why that would have been difficult to maintain. Mostly, though, I didn't like it-- 85% of the dialogue is just the man guy screaming "Fuck!," after all, and it doesn't so much end as slap on a "To Be Continued." There's not a lot of story here, but the violence is well done, and the apartheid theme is very apparent. Give Blomkamp the Halo movie now.

Everything Is Illuminated: Slow going, mostly in Russian, but just funny and moving enough.

Frost/Nixon: Frank Langella really doesn't look or sound like Nixon, but here, he is Nixon, somehow.

Ghost Town: Ricky Gervais stars in a romantic comedy in which he can talk to ghosts, and it really goes through the regular screenplay motions, and relies too much on some of that awkward humor Gervais likes so much, but it still turned me into a blubbering wreck by the end and I don't know why. So I ended up liking it a lot. That was odd.

Good Dick: This, however, was shit. Jason Ritter plays an idiot, and Marianna Palka-- who wrote, directed, and stars-- plays some damaged porn addict he tries to woo. The characters' interaction doesn't feel real, or make much sense at all, and it's one of those films where you can't root for anybody because you want everybody to get hit by a bus at some point. Sure, in indie movies, everyone's a fuck-up-- bleh.

Human Nature: Maybe Charlie Kaufman's worst movie? I can see what he was trying to do, but the script could use another pass. Still-- Dinklage!

Let the Right One In: I'd rather this than Twilight. What appears to be sweet puppy love in this is actually deeply disturbing when you put any thought into it at all, and I like that that's the point. It's tops as far as Swedish vampire flicks go.

Man Bites Dog: Nothing is more disturbing than this, however, the blackest of black comedies, a faux documentary about a serial killer where the main actor's family, playing his family, had no idea it was a killer picture, and showcasing just how completely insane this killer guy really is, following him around on his murder sprees, watching him give friendly advice, mixing drinks called "Dead Baby Boys," raping, killing, and, as the movie progresses, dragging the film crew further and further into his dark vortex. There are a few laughs, but mostly, it's satire that stabs instead of tickles.

Terminator Salvation: Well, it was better than Terminator 3. McG was clearly trying to make this Children of Men, only with killer robots. The story feels completely empty, though, and the set pieces aren't particularly clever, so it's all just sort of there.

Up: I bawled like a baby at about three separate points in this movie. All of the elements feel completely incongruous-- floating houses, lost explorers, boy scouts, talking dogs, rare ostrich creatures-- but it all comes together in a beautiful way. Just change the name of the Best Animated Feature Oscar to the "Pixar Award," already.

Vantage Point: Listen, if you're going to base your movie around a gimmick-- like showing a crazy incident from multiple perspectives-- don't throw the gimmick away once you get to the third act. That feels pretty lazy.

Wall Street: So... greed is... bad?

Whatever Works: Maybe Woody Allen's best film in a decade or more. Sure, it's an old script, but it's because of Larry David that the whole thing comes together. He plays the "Woody Allen" role here, but where Woody's characters are usually nebbishy, passive, easily walked over, David is callous, direct, forceful, though he still ends up letting things happen, rather than express any true sense of control. He somehow falls into marriage with young runaway Evan Rachel Wood, and as her family comes to claim her, they too fall under New York's bizarre sway, and everyone is sort of transformed by the end-- finding whatever works and sticking to it. Meanwhile, it's goddamn hilarious.

World's Greatest Dad: Who knew Bobcat Goldthwait had it in him? He wrote and directed this, and did a pretty fine job. Robin Williams plays the failed writer father of a kid who dies by autoerotic asphyxiation; Williams fakes a suicide note, and accidentally creates a nationwide movement worshipping his son as anything but what he truly was. Williams goes along with it in a bid for success, but-- well, naturally it all falls apart, though said destruction appears triumphant in the end, with a fantastic usage of "Under Pressure" winkingly telegraphed.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine: Well, it was better than X-Men 3? I guess? I don't know why they keep shoehorning 50 new mutants into every movie, or why sense is the first thing thrown out the window, really... Bleh.

Six Word Reviews

Back to my old ways already.

(500) Days of Summer: Unapologetically clever, bittersweet, and heartbreakingly true.

2001: A Space Odyssey: I'm sorry, I fell asleep. Repeatedly.

Being John Malkovich: Malkovich Malkovich. Malkovich? Malkovich Malkovich Malkovich!

Bonnie and Clyde (1967): So much better than Public Enemies.

The Brothers Bloom: Life is but a long con.

Dial M for Murder: Palpable narrative tension is Hitchcock's trademark.

Dog Day Afternoon: Never knew this was a comedy.

Domino: What was the point of this?

Is Anybody There?: Let's care more about old folks.

The Maiden Heist: Walken, Freeman, Macy (nude). Lame movie.

The Mutant Chronicles: Surprisingly not a pile of shit!

My Favorite Year: Peter O'Toole yay, everything else, nayyyyy.

Network: This gets more relevant every year.

Public Enemies: Precious hours you won't get back.

Revolver: You're not that clever, Guy Ritchie.

Sherlock Holmes' Smarter Brother: More like Gene Wilder's lamer movie.

Spies Like Us: This movie is no Three Amigos.

Strange Brew: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern drank my beer.

State of Play: Almost as good as BBC's original.

Sunshine Cleaning: Needs more cleaning, less aimless angst.

Tootsie: This Hoffman guy is going places.

The TV Set: Showbiz is an ouroborous of turds.

The Zero Effect: Bill Pullman? Best sociopathic detective ever.

Duplicity; Humpday

All the commercials made Tony Gilroy's Duplicity out to be a romantic comedy about zany spies trying to backstab each other and get in each other's pants at the same time, and it's really not that. It's the closest thing we've got to a modern day Stanley Donen caper picture, however, combining corporate espionage and intrigue with some PG-13 sexy romance. Clive Owen gets to pretend to be James Bond again, Julia Roberts gets to do the same thing she always does, Paul Giamatti and Tom Wilkinson get to pick up their checks, and everybody goes home kinda satisfied but not overly so-- that waiter's not getting any extra gratuity, just the usual 15%. It sounds like I'm ragging on it here, but it's a decent movie.

Humpday, from "mumblecore" veterans Lynn Shelton (who writes, directs, and appears here) and Mark Duplass (co-director of The Puffy Chair, which I hated, and Baghead, which I loved, and star both here and on FX's the League, which is a great show), is also a decent movie, albeit the commercial opposite of Duplicity. Duplass plays Ben, a husband with a normal life (and wife), but his old buddy Andrew (Joshua Leonard, of Blair Witch and a bunch of other things), a Kerouacian free spirit, shows back up, and soon enough the duo, after much drinking, decide to enter an amateur porn festival together, in which they plan to film themselves going all slash fiction on each other. It turns into a ludicrous macho standoff, with neither one willing to back down from it, even at the cost of Ben's marriage. It is the most narratively monumental game of gay chicken ever.

In most hands, this movie would be an utter farce, a potentially Wildeian comedy of errors, but in the so-called "mumblecore" (I'm beginning to hate that word) movement, it's as grounded as possible, with the characters taking it pretty damn seriously. There's some issues with tone and storytelling here, but I don't really see how else the filmmakers could've pulled it off; they did the best job possible. Naturalism is the key with these mumblecore pictures, especially in the semi-improvised dialogue, and the acting. Leonard puts in a great performance as the wild card who isn't as wild as he tries to be, and who yearns to have the kind of life Ben does, though Ben is equally jealous of his friend. Alycia Delmore, however, as Ben's suffering wife and the only sane character in the entire film (though she has issues of her own), steals the whole thing, and should get some kind of award for this, though I sincerely doubt the Academy will be sending out screeners.

I didn't love it, but I'm glad to see these naturalistic films (way better than "mumblecore," right?) gaining more legitimacy and notoreity, and I'm interested to see what the participants do next. If they get too polished and Hollywood on us, however, they'll lose some of the magic.

The Girlfriend Experience

So I'm back (from outer space) and I'm attempting a new (to me) film/movie/talking picture (or two) a day. And the idea is to write about them.

For a semi-experimental film about an escort and starring an honest-to-todger porn star, Steven Soderbergh's The Girlfriend Experience has precious little sex or nudity of any kind. What it seems to be is a disjointed film, chronologically, narratively, and thematically. Is it about a specialized escort trying to make it to a higher class? Is it about the decline of her relationship with her boyfriend, who's okay with her sex work-- to a point? Is it about the recession and the silly expenditures the rich people indulge in despite the financial crisis? Well, obviously it's all these things, but nothing every really gels, and no plot strand seems to reach fruition, or-- tee hee-- climax.

The titular girlfriend experience is a service protagonist Chelsea (Sasha Grey, whose career is mirroring her character's a bit-- a sex worker trying to make it up a few rungs higher on the ladder of legitimacy) provides, as well as her own relationship with the boyfriend, whose plot arc never goes anywhere despite all the screentime wasted on it. So much of the film seems a bit of a waste, and whether it's because Soderbergh is more content to meander than clearly move forward, or because Grey's acting is, while not terrible, incredibly flat, I'm not sure. Should the audience project on her character like her clients do, molding her into whatever they need, particularly the ladyfriend they wish for? That would be the pretentious film student's view, but I was hoping for something a bit more concrete.

If anything, a more conventional plot or tone would've helped this, and for an independent film, that's surely crazy talk. So many directions could have been taken, but the filmmakers appear more content to just let everything sit there onscreen instead. If the film were a call girl, I'd complain that her rates are too high. She's a pretty thing, sure, but I thought she'd have more substance, and the sex should be better.

Everything I've seen in the last four months in one sentence or less

...and on ZMF's "Optional/Not Optional" scale:

9 Songs: Not a movie, more like pornography spliced with concert footage. Optional.

30 Rock season 3: Just about as good as the first two seasons. Not optional.

Adventureland: It's about a socially inept writing major and the emotionally destructive girl who makes or breaks him-- yeah, this one hit really, really close to home, but it was damn good. Not optional.

Andy Richter Controls the Universe: As funny as I remember it being-- maybe funnier. Not optional.

Barton Fink: Falls somewhere in the middle of the Great Coens Ratings List. Optional.

Black Sheep: You'd think a movie about man-eating sheep that turn people into were-sheep would be, you know, better. Optional.

Brick: A cool high school film noir with dialogue and atmosphere that takes a bit of getting used to; worth it. Not optional.

Californication season 2: The definition of guilty pleasure. Optional, for that reason, but I like it.

Celebrity: Kenneth Branagh tries his best Woody Allen impression in a Woody Allen movie, Woody Allen Woody Allen. Optional.

Cowboy Bebop: The Movie: Like a really good episode of the show, but not as great as the show itself. Optional, I guess? Make up your own damn mind.

Crank 2: High Voltage: The batshittest movie ever put to celluloid, and one of my favorite films of the year. Not optional.

Dexter season 3: Not as good as the first two, by a lot. Optional.

Drag Me to Hell: Middlin' Sam Raimi, not a patch on Evil Dead 2. Optional.

Good Night, and Good Luck: A great portrayal of the social responsibility of journalism, which is just what we need right now. Not optional.

Gran Torino: Clint Eastwood at his scowliest, in a movie that could be about my dad. Optional, though.

I Love You, Man: Way funnier than I thought it'd be, Bro Montana. Not optional if you like humorous things and/or Lou Ferrigno.

IT Crowd season 3: Very nearly a funny sitcom. Optional.

Once: The songs are great, but everything else is sort of there. Optional. Soundtrack? Not optional.

Primer: This must be how people who hate time travel stories feel all the time; this movie is smarter than me. Not optional.

The Royal Tenenbaums: Wes Anderson makes films like Kurt Vonnegut writes books (don't ask me to explain that; I can't). Not optional.

Star Trek (2009): All spectacle, no substance; too much Lucas, not enough Roddenberry. Optional.

Stupid Teenagers Must Die!: Stupid, should die. Optional.

Visioneers: Galifianakis can do better, and has; dull to the point of annoyance and forgettable. Optional.

Watchmen: Sort of like Watchmen, only with more fight scenes, violence, sex, cursing, and slow motion; read the book, for Chrissakes. Optional.

Zombieland: (That's right, I went to a theater!) It's no Shaun of the Dead, but it's better than 98% of those other tired, dead-eyed zombie pictures. Not optional if your taste is remotely similar to mine.

I've seen this happen in other people's lives, and now it's happening in mine

3:10 to Yuma: Third acts aren't usually the best part of a film, but here they are, probably because that's the original bit-- the short story and later stageplay-- that the screenwriters are writing around. This remake of a movie that adapted a play that adapted a short story or whatnot is okay, I guess, but that scene in that one room holds all the power, and all the thematic presence. Everything else is just there to fill in the run time.

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen: A fanciful look at the power of belief and imagination, dressed up as a truly bizarre Terry Gilliam adventure movie. Really quite fun, though, although I could've done without the Robin Williams shtick. Everything else is grand, however, from John Neville as the titular Baron, to a young Sarah Polley as the precocious young girl who accompanies him on his adventures, to round up his former compatriots and save the town from being sacked. Throw in a dozen other familiar faces, from fellow Python Eric Idle to a teenaged Uma Thurman. Then, go nuts. It's a cool kooky movie.

Australia: It's been too long since I saw this, and I really don't have anything specific for it. It was okay, an almost paint-by-numbers Western epic set in the Australia of some decades back, and it's okay if you like that kind of thing. I didn't run screaming, so there's that. But it's also pretty darn forgettable. Nicole Kidman's the proper English lady who meets the rough and tumble Hugh Jackman, and together they've got to save her cattle ranch or something, and a half-white, half-Aboriginie kid who becomes mixed up in these affairs. Points for Bryan Brown, though. But no Paul Hogan? For shame.

Before Sunrise/Before Sunset: I finally got to see both of these in a sort of double feature format, and I absolutely loved the experience. Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy play two characters who have a chance meeting on a train in Vienna and spend an entire night walking and talking, and falling in love-- in the sequel nine years later, they encounter one another again in Paris and do much the same as in the first one. The entire focus of both films is on two people talking-- over, over, two-shot, etc. The dialogue sounds like that kind of pseudo-intellectual bullshit you might not put up with in reality, but in the films, it endears you to the characters. The things they say are the story, shaping what plot there is, who the characters are, and what they will be. The young romantics (and apparently professional conversationalists) reunite nine years later, echoes of that one night they shared in the past, defined by their missed chances. Both films really have a marvelously naturalistic style to them, and work as fantastic companion pieces. Exceptional acting from the two leads, combined with passive direction that really puts focus on the characters and the dialogue. When I eventually run my hole-in-the-wall independent movie theater, I'll run this as a double bill sometime. I could probably go on about these for ages. I think I'm in love with these films.

Changeling: J. Michael Straczynski wrote this; he also wrote Spider-Man comics for several years, and one can see the relation between the two concepts in the notion of power and responsibility. Angelina Jolie plays a mother whose child goes missing; the police find and return a boy, a boy who isn't her son, but the cops refuse to admit a mistake and eventually send her to a mental hospital. Of course, their comeuppance eventually comes up. As this is a Clint Eastwood movie, it occurred to me to think of it as a Western; one woman versus overwhelming odds, but with the posse she manages to accrue, she gets the job done.

Enchanted: Disney never really needs to make another movie again after this one; it's the apotheosis, really, of the entire storytelling engine they've been using for decades. Animated princess (Amy Adams) finds herself banished to the real world, and learn that fairy tale love might not be as happily ever after as she originally imagined. The "real world," of course, starts falling into line with animated Disney tropes as worlds collide. But it's fun, and sweet, and aims higher than most of these cartoons, meaning parents should enjoy it along with kids. (Side note: James Marsden only ever plays the role of the boyfriend/husband who the lead female ditches for another guy, doesn't he?)

Gone Baby Gone: I suppose we'd call this neo-noir, wouldn't we? Ben Affleck puts in a surprisingly good directorial effort with the story of a young private eye dispatched to find a kidnapped girl, and all the harsh and grisly directions it takes him in-- leading to a pretty good moral dilemma, but it's about power and responsibility again-- and "our hero" follows up on his original responsibilities, and bears the consequences. Affleck succeeds with the casting-- I'm not talking about his brother Casey, Morgan Freeman, or Ed Harris, or any of that-- I'm talking about all the folks in the background, ripped from the streets of Boston, perfectly matched to their slum-ish surroundings. Weird looking folks-- regular folks from regular streets. It adds realism. Also? Amy Ryan is good at this stuff.

Sleuth: A super twisty-turny remake of the original Sleuth, also starring Michael Caine, this time as the old man, with Jude Law as the younger guy. Blatantly adapted from the stage, but captivating in the performances, though it starts to go a bit too out-of-left-field by the end. Still, keeps the audience guessing.

Taken: I've been waiting to see this one for a while, thanks to the pure elegance of the trailer. That's where the plot really should've started; the obligatory 25 minutes of set-up wasn't really needed, as everyone watching this just wants to see Liam Neeson destroy people. Should've started like Crank. But otherwise, it was a good action piece, as one expects from Luc Besson. It reminded me of, say, Garth Ennis' Punisher MAX series. You know with absolute certainty that Liam Neeson will complete his mission; it's all about how he takes the bad guys apart. Their inevitable comeuppance. I love inevitable comeuppances.

WALL-E: My word, this film was just absolutely brilliant, wasn't it? From the animation-- so intent on appearing like an actually filmed movie that they hired Roger Deakins, los bros Coen's favorite cinematographer to consult on the lighting-- to the romance-- who knew two robots with a limited vocabulary would be so captivating?-- to all the little details and laughs Pixar loves to throw in-- only they would have the balls to make a couple clips from Hello, Dolly vitally important to the emotional throughline of the story-- yeah, a great movie. The story's superb, an utterly scathing satire on how our consumer culture is destroying the planet and turning us into fat, helpless babies. One tiny robot, the Johnny-5-lookalike Wall-E, however, gets caught up in a HAL-esque robot conspiracy when he discovers one weak sapling still on the otherwise desolate Earth. From there, it's a race to save the future of humanity. My, what a charming, smart, fun, funny, exciting, and emotional bit of work, certainly Pixar's finest.

My Xbox is now pretty much just a Netflix machine

I may be busy, but since when has that stopped me from setting aside 20 hours a week to watch TV? Eh?

Charade: A delightful Cary Grant/Audrey Hepburn/other-people-you-know caper picture that twists the plot about every ten minutes to keep the audience on their toes (or the edge of their seat), like a humor-laden Hitchcock. But I expect nothing less of Stanley Donen.

Charlie Wilson's War: I had no idea who was behind this as I watched it, but it makes sense that it's a Sorkin/Nichols joint. It's just damn well written, filled with quick dialogue delivered by clever actors like Tom Hanks and Philip Seymour Hoffman, a surprise guest appearance by Ned Beatty, and good based-on-a-true-who-cares characterization of Wilson himself.

Coraline: Can I use the word "delightful" again? Henry Selick brings the goods when it comes to stop motion, and a creepily cute Neil Gaiman story is perfect material for him. A young girl finds a tunnel to another world where button-eyed doppelgangers of her parents seem to care more for her than her real parents do, but that's before all the body horror creeps in and only this lonely girl can save the day. Also: Keith David. See it.

Delicatessen: From the director of Amelie, eh? Well, it's set in a dystopia where food's hard to come by and a butcher/landlord feeds his tenants by chopping up the hired help. Gotta love the French. Wonderfully bizarre, sweet, ridiculous, and exciting, it reminds me of Dead Alive, but with cannibals instead of zombies.

Dexter seasons 1 & 2: I'd seen a few episodes of this before, but watching them all from the beginning-- well, now I'm hooked. As I'm sure you know, Michael C. Hall plays a serial killer who works for the cops and kills murderers to sate his needs, and who has trouble processing human emotion-- but then, how does that make him different from any other male? The first season, based on a novel, is mostly marvelously plotted, a tight suspense thriller; the second season initially sacrifices plot in favor of character, delving further into Dexter's underlying psychosis, before pulling the rug out from under him-- and the audience-- a few times. Do we root for him? Do we hate him? Should we? There's really some fantastic writing on this show. Also, grisly murders. Everybody wins!

The Fall: Quite possibly the most gorgeously shot movie in the last decade or so, Tarsem's The Fall was on my list just because Lee Pace, of Pushing Daisies, was the star-- but man, I'm glad I watched it. It's a period piece story of a crippled stuntman (Pace-- and they actually managed to convince the crew and the other actors that he was a paraplegic) who tells a young girl an epic adventure story in order to get her to sneak meds to him so he can commit suicide. The story within the story was filmed in about 18 different countries, according to the credits, with minimal CGI-- and these locations are utterly amazing, breathtaking in their beauty. Action, unrequited love, bandits, pirates, and Charles Darwin-- it's got everything. But the visuals! They're the best part.

Fanboys: I watched this because I was promised Kristen Bell in the slave Leia outfit. Shallow, I know, but not as shallow as this incredibly unfunny movie about a bunch of hopeless Star Wars geeks who infiltrate George Lucas' compound or whatever. But hey, a Shatner cameo! All is right with the world.

The IT Crowd season 2: I'd watched season one a little while back, and so I watched this too. Six episodes isn't so bad for a sitcom that's usually on the cusp of being clever and funny but never quite manages to reach it. But hey-- this season has two former stars of Garth Marenghi's Dark Place! Yeah! Richard Ayoade either brilliantly plays bizarre, awkward, inept characters, or he's the William Hung of acting. I'm pretty sure it's the former.

Leverage season 1: I'd watched this as it aired weekly on TNT, but I'm rewatching it again on Netflix, in lieu of purchasing the DVD set. But I have to say, this is a marvelously well-done show, and watching it in the intended order, as opposed to TNT's slapdash reordering, opens one up to the subtler character arcs and recurring gags and plot bits. It's a bad-guys-gone-good con artist heist show, very similar to the BBC's Hustle, and just as cool and tasty. Tim Hutton leads a magnificent ensemble, but it's usually Beth Riesgraf, as the slightly-crazy master thief Parker and Aldis Hodge, as uber-geek hacker Hardison, who steal the show. The writing is very strong-- hurray for John Rogers and his crew. Season 2's on now, so catch it if you can.

Party Down season 1: I didn't know what to expect from this, a comedy show about a group of failed actors and Hollywood types who work for a catering service, starring people who are sort-of vaguely familiar (plus Jane Lynch and Martin Starr, who I guess are vaguely familiar to people who aren't obsessed with pop culture), co-created by Paul Rudd and the guy who did Veronica Mars, among others. But it turns out it's quite funny, very crass, and successfully manages to make me care about the characters, not just chuckle at their antics.

The Puffy Chair: So I loved Baghead, also from the Duplass brothers, right? So naturally I'd love this, the little indie movie that put them on the map and stuff, right? Well, no; the main characters generally come off like unlikable assholes or unlikable fools, as they do exactly the opposite of what sane people would do on their long journey to deliver a chair to the protagonist's dad for his birthday or something. It's mumble-y, relationship-y, and seems to be about the pointlessness of just about everything. I really, really hated it.

Son of Rambow: This was good'un, though. From the directors of the pretty-okay Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy movie, with Jessica Hynes/Stevenson of Spaced in a dramatic role! But what it's really about is a sheltered, awkward boy and a pain in the ass troublesome boy who team up to film a sequel to First Blood. Yes! It's about weird kids becoming cool and cool kids being weird and dogs attached to kites and friendship and all that, but it's a good little movie.