 NBC and Directv have worked out a deal to bring back Friday Night Lights for another two seasons, with 13 episodes per year.
 NBC and Directv have worked out a deal to bring back Friday Night Lights for another two seasons, with 13 episodes per year. Yes, those are tears of joy running down my face.
 DISC FEATURES
DISC FEATURES Isabel Coixet's somberly themed yet gorgeously photographed drama Elegy (***) is a thoughtful (if sometimes boring), occasionally darkly humorous May-December romance between two very different people (Ben Kingsley and Penelope Cruz) who were never likely to find happiness. Cruz, who is partially or fully naked throughout much of the film, gives her richest and best English language performance yet, and Kingsley, as always, exudes class and distinction (Dennis Hopper also turns in a juicy supporting performance). Coixet's film, working from a smooth but slightly meandering screenplay by Nicholas Meyer, goes for the tear ducts towards its conclusion, and even if I wasn't blown away by the movie, it's certainly worth renting if you're in the mood for a serious, slightly depressing, artsy-fartsy type night of entertainment.
Isabel Coixet's somberly themed yet gorgeously photographed drama Elegy (***) is a thoughtful (if sometimes boring), occasionally darkly humorous May-December romance between two very different people (Ben Kingsley and Penelope Cruz) who were never likely to find happiness. Cruz, who is partially or fully naked throughout much of the film, gives her richest and best English language performance yet, and Kingsley, as always, exudes class and distinction (Dennis Hopper also turns in a juicy supporting performance). Coixet's film, working from a smooth but slightly meandering screenplay by Nicholas Meyer, goes for the tear ducts towards its conclusion, and even if I wasn't blown away by the movie, it's certainly worth renting if you're in the mood for a serious, slightly depressing, artsy-fartsy type night of entertainment.
 Kathryn Bigelow's The Hurt Locker gets released this summer. I have read nothing but fantastic early praise for this Iraq war thriller over the last few months. And I love this Italian poster. Bigelow's Strange Days is still one of the best (and one of my personal favorite) sci-fi movies of all time, and Point Break is still giddy, action-movie idiocy (an unnecessary sequel is being shot right now without Bigelow's involvement; Jan De Bont is helming). Bigelow's last major action film, K-19: The Widowmaker, was a better movie than people gave it credit for being, and despite the fact that it went bust at the box office, it was yet another reminder of her gifts as an action director. I really can't wait to see The Hurt Locker.
 Kathryn Bigelow's The Hurt Locker gets released this summer. I have read nothing but fantastic early praise for this Iraq war thriller over the last few months. And I love this Italian poster. Bigelow's Strange Days is still one of the best (and one of my personal favorite) sci-fi movies of all time, and Point Break is still giddy, action-movie idiocy (an unnecessary sequel is being shot right now without Bigelow's involvement; Jan De Bont is helming). Bigelow's last major action film, K-19: The Widowmaker, was a better movie than people gave it credit for being, and despite the fact that it went bust at the box office, it was yet another reminder of her gifts as an action director. I really can't wait to see The Hurt Locker. A ridiculous, self-reflexive black comedy with a zesty performance (what else is new?) from Sam Rockwell, Choke isn't as polished or as assured as Fight Club, the other Chuck Palahniuk novel to be adapted for the big screen.  It's all very raunchy, very deranged, very absurd, often times very funny, but a little sloppy around the edges, probably due to the fact that first-time director Clark Gregg is a better actor than he is a helmer.  Still, fans of dysfunctional humor will enjoy this half-smart, half-insane little flick that packs in enough sexual and societal deviance for three movies of its type.
A ridiculous, self-reflexive black comedy with a zesty performance (what else is new?) from Sam Rockwell, Choke isn't as polished or as assured as Fight Club, the other Chuck Palahniuk novel to be adapted for the big screen.  It's all very raunchy, very deranged, very absurd, often times very funny, but a little sloppy around the edges, probably due to the fact that first-time director Clark Gregg is a better actor than he is a helmer.  Still, fans of dysfunctional humor will enjoy this half-smart, half-insane little flick that packs in enough sexual and societal deviance for three movies of its type.
 Matteo Garrone's Gomorra is a masterpiece.  Simply put.  As a piece of filmmaking, it's flawless.  As a piece of storytelling, it's impeccable.  Now, is it an "entertaining" mafia saga along the lines of Goodfellas or Casino or The Godfather?  Not really.  Gomorra is a punishing and unflinching look at real organized crime in Naples, Italy.  Based on a bestselling and highly controversial true-crime novel which ended up requiring the author (and members of the eventual film production) to go into witness protection, Gomorra is kind of like the Italian version of City of God, in that it takes you on a hellish journey to a very violent corner of the earth and rubs your face in viciousness and unremorseful killing.  And that, really, is the essence of Gomorra -- killing.  Death, as it is in all gangster tales, hangs over this film like the Grim Reaper himself.  There is no hope for anyone in this film.  You expect any one character to get bumped off at any moment while watching the film; the phrase "always looking over your shoulder" is a sad reality for everyone in Gomorra.  The film effortlessly weaves five separate storylines together.  Two young punks who love reciting dialogue from Brian De Palma's bloody classic Scarface are anxious to become real-time mafooches, and are blissfully unaware of the real dangers that they face.  An illegal garment maker who has learned his trade through various crime circles starts trading his knowledge to the Chinese in exchange for cash; you can imagine how pissed the Italians will be with this.  Two youngsters are drafted into a life crime after doing petty jobs for the higher-ups.  You get a look at the organization's money-man, who becomes increasingly conflicted with his job as the film progresses.  And finally, there is the toxic-waste disposal element to the narrative, which is equally as troubling as any of the other segments.  The documentary film style is reminiscent to that of The Battle of Algiers; Garrone plops you down into the scummy crime-filled environment and forces you to see everything at ground level.  There is immediacy to the violence in Gomorra, a bracing level of coldness on display from the various killers which is pretty startling.  It's all part of the business; killing just comes with the territory.  And even though almost all of the characters are unlikable people, you watch with a growing sense of dread as it becomes all but certain that everyone will end up meeting their maker before the end credits start to roll.  This isn't an easy or commercial gangster movie like the films I've referenced above.  Instead, it's a brutal look at a real-world scenario that's going on right now -- and has been going on for years -- right under our noses.  Like City of God, Gomorra takes you to hell and back.  And while not anywhere near as hyper-stylized like City of God, there is a feeling of force and visceral impact in Gomorra that forces the viewer to take notice.  This is a bold and uncompromising film, and the best one from 2009 that I've seen yet.
Matteo Garrone's Gomorra is a masterpiece.  Simply put.  As a piece of filmmaking, it's flawless.  As a piece of storytelling, it's impeccable.  Now, is it an "entertaining" mafia saga along the lines of Goodfellas or Casino or The Godfather?  Not really.  Gomorra is a punishing and unflinching look at real organized crime in Naples, Italy.  Based on a bestselling and highly controversial true-crime novel which ended up requiring the author (and members of the eventual film production) to go into witness protection, Gomorra is kind of like the Italian version of City of God, in that it takes you on a hellish journey to a very violent corner of the earth and rubs your face in viciousness and unremorseful killing.  And that, really, is the essence of Gomorra -- killing.  Death, as it is in all gangster tales, hangs over this film like the Grim Reaper himself.  There is no hope for anyone in this film.  You expect any one character to get bumped off at any moment while watching the film; the phrase "always looking over your shoulder" is a sad reality for everyone in Gomorra.  The film effortlessly weaves five separate storylines together.  Two young punks who love reciting dialogue from Brian De Palma's bloody classic Scarface are anxious to become real-time mafooches, and are blissfully unaware of the real dangers that they face.  An illegal garment maker who has learned his trade through various crime circles starts trading his knowledge to the Chinese in exchange for cash; you can imagine how pissed the Italians will be with this.  Two youngsters are drafted into a life crime after doing petty jobs for the higher-ups.  You get a look at the organization's money-man, who becomes increasingly conflicted with his job as the film progresses.  And finally, there is the toxic-waste disposal element to the narrative, which is equally as troubling as any of the other segments.  The documentary film style is reminiscent to that of The Battle of Algiers; Garrone plops you down into the scummy crime-filled environment and forces you to see everything at ground level.  There is immediacy to the violence in Gomorra, a bracing level of coldness on display from the various killers which is pretty startling.  It's all part of the business; killing just comes with the territory.  And even though almost all of the characters are unlikable people, you watch with a growing sense of dread as it becomes all but certain that everyone will end up meeting their maker before the end credits start to roll.  This isn't an easy or commercial gangster movie like the films I've referenced above.  Instead, it's a brutal look at a real-world scenario that's going on right now -- and has been going on for years -- right under our noses.  Like City of God, Gomorra takes you to hell and back.  And while not anywhere near as hyper-stylized like City of God, there is a feeling of force and visceral impact in Gomorra that forces the viewer to take notice.  This is a bold and uncompromising film, and the best one from 2009 that I've seen yet. I've Loved You So Long (****) is so interesting because of how mesmerizing it is while actually being about something so very small and subtle.  This is a phenomenal directorial debut for teacher-turned-filmmaker Philippe Claudel, reminiscent in its confidence of craft and storytelling to that of Courtney Hunt's Frozen River.  Both of these movies feature powerhouse female performances at their center, and both tell relatively small and intimate stories of emotional survival pitched against despairing odds.  Kirstin Scott Thomas and Elsa Zylberstein burn up the screen in I've Loved You So Long.  Never succumbing to histrionics or overacting, Thomas and Zylberstein create an intense on-screen connection that feels real and honest.  Thomas is Juliette, a woman who has just been released into the care of her sister, Lea (Zylberstein), after serving 15 years in prison for the murder of her six-year old son.  That's it -- that's the only plot description that I will divulge.  This film doesn't do the things you think it will.  Which is why it becomes as quietly devastating as it does.  Claudel doesn’t poke and pry and take the easy way out with the challenging story that he has created.  Instead, over the course of a tight two hours, he takes his time, allowing all of his actors to form a close knit feeling of intimacy, and then letting the emotional fireworks explode in the final few minutes.  Never maudlin and rarely overtly sentimental, this is a powerful piece of filmmaking and storytelling.  Thomas is extraordinary in an extremely introverted fashion, which calls for her to act more with her eyes and facial expressions that it does with her words.  And equally impressive is Zylberstein, who has arguably a more layered character to pull off.  Separated from her sister when she was a teenager because of the crime, she's a woman who is just learning how to involve her older sister in her life.  Years of pain and confusion come simmering to the surface, and it's because of Zylberstein's ease and poise as an actress that we're never smacked in the head with cheap emotional grandstanding.  This is an excellent film.
I've Loved You So Long (****) is so interesting because of how mesmerizing it is while actually being about something so very small and subtle.  This is a phenomenal directorial debut for teacher-turned-filmmaker Philippe Claudel, reminiscent in its confidence of craft and storytelling to that of Courtney Hunt's Frozen River.  Both of these movies feature powerhouse female performances at their center, and both tell relatively small and intimate stories of emotional survival pitched against despairing odds.  Kirstin Scott Thomas and Elsa Zylberstein burn up the screen in I've Loved You So Long.  Never succumbing to histrionics or overacting, Thomas and Zylberstein create an intense on-screen connection that feels real and honest.  Thomas is Juliette, a woman who has just been released into the care of her sister, Lea (Zylberstein), after serving 15 years in prison for the murder of her six-year old son.  That's it -- that's the only plot description that I will divulge.  This film doesn't do the things you think it will.  Which is why it becomes as quietly devastating as it does.  Claudel doesn’t poke and pry and take the easy way out with the challenging story that he has created.  Instead, over the course of a tight two hours, he takes his time, allowing all of his actors to form a close knit feeling of intimacy, and then letting the emotional fireworks explode in the final few minutes.  Never maudlin and rarely overtly sentimental, this is a powerful piece of filmmaking and storytelling.  Thomas is extraordinary in an extremely introverted fashion, which calls for her to act more with her eyes and facial expressions that it does with her words.  And equally impressive is Zylberstein, who has arguably a more layered character to pull off.  Separated from her sister when she was a teenager because of the crime, she's a woman who is just learning how to involve her older sister in her life.  Years of pain and confusion come simmering to the surface, and it's because of Zylberstein's ease and poise as an actress that we're never smacked in the head with cheap emotional grandstanding.  This is an excellent film.
 Watchmen is as bold, risk-taking, and ambitious as a major studio event movie is going to get. Or at least that I can remember. Without the runaway success that 300 became, director Zack Snyder was never going to be allowed to make a $150 million hard-R comic book movie.  Over the last 20 years, a diverse group of filmmakers including Joel Silver, Darren Aronofsky, Terry Gilliam, Paul Greengrass, and many others have all tried -- and failed -- to bring Alan Moore's wildly revered graphic novel to the big screen. Warner Brothers president Alan Horn deserves a serious shout-out -- this project could have been turned into a watered down version of its incredibly nihilistic source material and it wasn't. Having not fully read the graphic novel (I've skimmed it, thumbed through it, read the various outlines and reviews), I went into my IMAX screening, first and foremost, hoping for a powerful visual experience. And I got that. The fact that the story was so dense, layered, and intricate has caused me to fully realize that not until a second viewing will I be able to form a proper "review" or summation of my overall thoughts and feelings. My first impressions are that I was stunned by the overall sense of design and visual sophistication of the film. Snyder blew me away with 300, a film that was as visceral as it gets, and set out to do one thing: kick serious ass.  And that it did.  Big time.  Snyder seems to love the ability to literally turn a graphic novel into a living, breathing piece of moving celluloid. I am not sure if I agree with the Warners marketing team labeling him as "a visionary director" quite yet, as his resume consists of one re-make and two adaptations. And as amazingly conceived as his work has been thus far, he's yet to create something truly original.  I'm fine with filmmakers like Ridley Scott or Steven Spielberg receiving the "visionary" treatment, but I think Snyder needs a few more films under his belt to grab that status. But with Watchmen, he's taken the supposedly "unfilmable" graphic novel and has made it -- at least to my eye -- into one of the most uncompromising, demanding, and insanely brutal genre films ever made. There's so much to sift through -- the alternate political timeline, the subversion of the superhero genre, the blending of film noir with science fiction. Watchmen feels like an amalgam of 2001, A Clockwork Orange, Bladerunner, Dark City, Sin City, The Dark Knight, and the works of Raymond Chandler. It's a very heady brew, trippy and surreal at times, ironically campy in a few instances, always nasty, very kinky, and extremely interesting to watch. This is a one of a kind film, and even though it's not perfect, this is the sort of movie that people should really make an effort to experience on the big screen.
Watchmen is as bold, risk-taking, and ambitious as a major studio event movie is going to get. Or at least that I can remember. Without the runaway success that 300 became, director Zack Snyder was never going to be allowed to make a $150 million hard-R comic book movie.  Over the last 20 years, a diverse group of filmmakers including Joel Silver, Darren Aronofsky, Terry Gilliam, Paul Greengrass, and many others have all tried -- and failed -- to bring Alan Moore's wildly revered graphic novel to the big screen. Warner Brothers president Alan Horn deserves a serious shout-out -- this project could have been turned into a watered down version of its incredibly nihilistic source material and it wasn't. Having not fully read the graphic novel (I've skimmed it, thumbed through it, read the various outlines and reviews), I went into my IMAX screening, first and foremost, hoping for a powerful visual experience. And I got that. The fact that the story was so dense, layered, and intricate has caused me to fully realize that not until a second viewing will I be able to form a proper "review" or summation of my overall thoughts and feelings. My first impressions are that I was stunned by the overall sense of design and visual sophistication of the film. Snyder blew me away with 300, a film that was as visceral as it gets, and set out to do one thing: kick serious ass.  And that it did.  Big time.  Snyder seems to love the ability to literally turn a graphic novel into a living, breathing piece of moving celluloid. I am not sure if I agree with the Warners marketing team labeling him as "a visionary director" quite yet, as his resume consists of one re-make and two adaptations. And as amazingly conceived as his work has been thus far, he's yet to create something truly original.  I'm fine with filmmakers like Ridley Scott or Steven Spielberg receiving the "visionary" treatment, but I think Snyder needs a few more films under his belt to grab that status. But with Watchmen, he's taken the supposedly "unfilmable" graphic novel and has made it -- at least to my eye -- into one of the most uncompromising, demanding, and insanely brutal genre films ever made. There's so much to sift through -- the alternate political timeline, the subversion of the superhero genre, the blending of film noir with science fiction. Watchmen feels like an amalgam of 2001, A Clockwork Orange, Bladerunner, Dark City, Sin City, The Dark Knight, and the works of Raymond Chandler. It's a very heady brew, trippy and surreal at times, ironically campy in a few instances, always nasty, very kinky, and extremely interesting to watch. This is a one of a kind film, and even though it's not perfect, this is the sort of movie that people should really make an effort to experience on the big screen.
 All of the movies written and directed by James Gray look, feel, and sound alike. And while his latest film, Two Lovers (****), which happens to be his richest and best yet, doesn't revolve around the sordid world of cops, crime, Russian-NY gangsters, and bloody shoot-outs (Little Odessa, The Yards, and We Own the Night are his other efforts), it's no less of an accomplishment. Gray is a 70's filmmaker at heart. His color palette consists of burnished browns, jet blacks, and gun-metal greys. His characters are ambiguous, morally conflicted, and quiet. Themes of family, loyalty, and violence run through all of his narratives, which jump from melodrama to genuine feeling with a peculiar grace. And this is what makes Two Lovers so excellent -- it has a timeless quality, its characters seem real without ever falling into cliché, and Gray's refusal to play anything safe imbues the film with a level of unpredictability that makes for great entertainment. And while Two Lovers may finally be too dour, possibly too portentous for some, the crafty decisions made by Gray and his co-scenarist Ric Menello should not go unnoticed, though they probably will, considering the ridiculously limited theatrical release that the film has received. I ended up watching the film via HD On Demand as it wasn't released in my home state.
All of the movies written and directed by James Gray look, feel, and sound alike. And while his latest film, Two Lovers (****), which happens to be his richest and best yet, doesn't revolve around the sordid world of cops, crime, Russian-NY gangsters, and bloody shoot-outs (Little Odessa, The Yards, and We Own the Night are his other efforts), it's no less of an accomplishment. Gray is a 70's filmmaker at heart. His color palette consists of burnished browns, jet blacks, and gun-metal greys. His characters are ambiguous, morally conflicted, and quiet. Themes of family, loyalty, and violence run through all of his narratives, which jump from melodrama to genuine feeling with a peculiar grace. And this is what makes Two Lovers so excellent -- it has a timeless quality, its characters seem real without ever falling into cliché, and Gray's refusal to play anything safe imbues the film with a level of unpredictability that makes for great entertainment. And while Two Lovers may finally be too dour, possibly too portentous for some, the crafty decisions made by Gray and his co-scenarist Ric Menello should not go unnoticed, though they probably will, considering the ridiculously limited theatrical release that the film has received. I ended up watching the film via HD On Demand as it wasn't released in my home state. The film is essentially a love story, but one shot through with heartache and dysfunction. Leonard Kraditor (the phenomenal Joaquin Phoenix) is depressed, miserable, and more than likely bi-polar. Still reeling from being dumped by his fiancée, he's moved back in with his loving parents (played wonderfully by Isabella Rossellini and Moni Moshonov). They're a family of Jews from the Brighton Beach section of Brooklyn, and Gray gets all of the familial minutiae just right. Leonard's parents want nothing but the best for their boy and are deeply concerned about his well-being. Fearing that he might be regressing back to his addict-days, they arrange a date for Leonard with the charming Sandra Cohen (an extremely natural and appealing Vinessa Shaw), who happens to be the daughter of a business associate of Leonard's father. If sparks were to fly between the two of them, it might make the merging of Leonard's parent's dry-cleaning business with Sandra's parent's business run even smoother. But a monkey wrench is thrown into potential domestic bliss when Leonard meets the sexy and emotionally wounded Michelle, played with damaged-goods panache by Gwyneth Paltrow, in one of her best performances. It's the classic situation: seemingly good-hearted Jewish boy needs to pick between the sensible Jewish woman who is loved by his parents, or the blond shiksa goddess who Leonard craves in a seriously carnal way. Relationships are struck up with both of the women by Leonard, and as he twists and turns his way between the two of them, the audience twists and turns in their seat because of the realistically awkward situations that the characters find themselves in. Who will Leonard end up with? How will his parents react? And will Leonard ever be able to shake off the demons of his past?
The film is essentially a love story, but one shot through with heartache and dysfunction. Leonard Kraditor (the phenomenal Joaquin Phoenix) is depressed, miserable, and more than likely bi-polar. Still reeling from being dumped by his fiancée, he's moved back in with his loving parents (played wonderfully by Isabella Rossellini and Moni Moshonov). They're a family of Jews from the Brighton Beach section of Brooklyn, and Gray gets all of the familial minutiae just right. Leonard's parents want nothing but the best for their boy and are deeply concerned about his well-being. Fearing that he might be regressing back to his addict-days, they arrange a date for Leonard with the charming Sandra Cohen (an extremely natural and appealing Vinessa Shaw), who happens to be the daughter of a business associate of Leonard's father. If sparks were to fly between the two of them, it might make the merging of Leonard's parent's dry-cleaning business with Sandra's parent's business run even smoother. But a monkey wrench is thrown into potential domestic bliss when Leonard meets the sexy and emotionally wounded Michelle, played with damaged-goods panache by Gwyneth Paltrow, in one of her best performances. It's the classic situation: seemingly good-hearted Jewish boy needs to pick between the sensible Jewish woman who is loved by his parents, or the blond shiksa goddess who Leonard craves in a seriously carnal way. Relationships are struck up with both of the women by Leonard, and as he twists and turns his way between the two of them, the audience twists and turns in their seat because of the realistically awkward situations that the characters find themselves in. Who will Leonard end up with? How will his parents react? And will Leonard ever be able to shake off the demons of his past? Two Lovers is the sort of adult-minded movie that people complain never gets made any more. Well, movies like this do exist; the problem is that distributors don't have any faith in them. Unless a movie features talking dogs, caped crusaders, or horny high-school kids, the studios mostly seem afraid to release thought provoking dramas (unless Clint Eastwood's name is attached). The performances from Phoenix, Shaw, and Paltrow register as career highs for all of them. Leonard isn't necessarily a likable guy, and many of the decisions that he makes seem foolish or unwise, but when you look at the story from a slight remove, you realize that the decisions that he makes are probably the ones that would be made in the real world. Phoenix has a way with introverted, damaged souls, and it's clear that working with Gray for the third time has expanded their generous actor/director relationship even further. You like Leonard even though you probably shouldn’t. At least I did. Paltrow, who brought spunk and cutie-pie charm to last summer's Iron Man, shines in a way that she rarely has on the big screen in Two Lovers -- she's hot, she's trouble, and she knows it. And Shaw exudes an effortless charm and a natural quality that so few major actresses’ posses. I hope that her terrific but unshowy work in this film leads to bigger parts down the road. And as always with Gray, the film has a stylish but unfussy visual style. Long takes are employed, static cameras are set in place, and the actors are given all the room they need to carefully etch their layered characters. Films like Two Lovers are rare in that, typically, with a romantic drama, the audience has easy sentiment spoon-fed to them. Not here. Gray makes you work for a potential happy ending, and even when that ending comes, you can bet that there will be shades of uncertainty attached to it. Two Lovers may be small in scale, but it's huge in heart and feeling.
Two Lovers is the sort of adult-minded movie that people complain never gets made any more. Well, movies like this do exist; the problem is that distributors don't have any faith in them. Unless a movie features talking dogs, caped crusaders, or horny high-school kids, the studios mostly seem afraid to release thought provoking dramas (unless Clint Eastwood's name is attached). The performances from Phoenix, Shaw, and Paltrow register as career highs for all of them. Leonard isn't necessarily a likable guy, and many of the decisions that he makes seem foolish or unwise, but when you look at the story from a slight remove, you realize that the decisions that he makes are probably the ones that would be made in the real world. Phoenix has a way with introverted, damaged souls, and it's clear that working with Gray for the third time has expanded their generous actor/director relationship even further. You like Leonard even though you probably shouldn’t. At least I did. Paltrow, who brought spunk and cutie-pie charm to last summer's Iron Man, shines in a way that she rarely has on the big screen in Two Lovers -- she's hot, she's trouble, and she knows it. And Shaw exudes an effortless charm and a natural quality that so few major actresses’ posses. I hope that her terrific but unshowy work in this film leads to bigger parts down the road. And as always with Gray, the film has a stylish but unfussy visual style. Long takes are employed, static cameras are set in place, and the actors are given all the room they need to carefully etch their layered characters. Films like Two Lovers are rare in that, typically, with a romantic drama, the audience has easy sentiment spoon-fed to them. Not here. Gray makes you work for a potential happy ending, and even when that ending comes, you can bet that there will be shades of uncertainty attached to it. Two Lovers may be small in scale, but it's huge in heart and feeling. Excuse me, as I'm still trying to re-attach my face.
 Excuse me, as I'm still trying to re-attach my face. Greg Kinnear is an unsurprising stand-out in Flash of Genius (***), a well done but dry biopic about the man who invented the intermittent windshield wiper only to have his creation stolen by Ford Motors.  Kinnear always has a way of charming himself into the audience's good graces, and here, he's alternatively worried and neurotic, while affable and inspirational.  But the film is too by-the-numbers to create any vivid, lasting impression, which is possibly due to the fact that the made-for-TV-feel arrives as a result of a rookie director at the helm (Marc Abraham, the prolific producer of Children of Men, The Family Man, and Dawn of the Dead).
 Greg Kinnear is an unsurprising stand-out in Flash of Genius (***), a well done but dry biopic about the man who invented the intermittent windshield wiper only to have his creation stolen by Ford Motors.  Kinnear always has a way of charming himself into the audience's good graces, and here, he's alternatively worried and neurotic, while affable and inspirational.  But the film is too by-the-numbers to create any vivid, lasting impression, which is possibly due to the fact that the made-for-TV-feel arrives as a result of a rookie director at the helm (Marc Abraham, the prolific producer of Children of Men, The Family Man, and Dawn of the Dead). Barry Levinon's amusing but inconsequential Hollywood satire What Just Happened (***) is worth watching if you're a fan of industy in-jokes, stars playing themselves (with the above pictured Bruce Willis doing just that in a hilariously self-effacing cameo), and a group of know-it-all filmmakers poking fun at the business they all obviously love so much.  It's nowhere near as good as Levinson's other, infinitely superior black comedy Wag the Dog, which can probably be chalked up to the fact that Wag the Dog was written by David Mamet, while What Just Happened has been curiously re-shaped by original novelist Art Linson into a shambling screenplay.  Robert DeNiro is great as the stressed out producer juggling his work and his three ex-wives, and if you are counting down the days (like me) until Entourage returns, What Just Happened should satisfyingly fill that gap.
 Barry Levinon's amusing but inconsequential Hollywood satire What Just Happened (***) is worth watching if you're a fan of industy in-jokes, stars playing themselves (with the above pictured Bruce Willis doing just that in a hilariously self-effacing cameo), and a group of know-it-all filmmakers poking fun at the business they all obviously love so much.  It's nowhere near as good as Levinson's other, infinitely superior black comedy Wag the Dog, which can probably be chalked up to the fact that Wag the Dog was written by David Mamet, while What Just Happened has been curiously re-shaped by original novelist Art Linson into a shambling screenplay.  Robert DeNiro is great as the stressed out producer juggling his work and his three ex-wives, and if you are counting down the days (like me) until Entourage returns, What Just Happened should satisfyingly fill that gap.