Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Leonardo DiCaprio in "Inception."

It’s easy to credit the American movie-going public with having the highest theatrical IQ of anyone in the world. Yet somehow whenever a Christopher Nolan movie hits theaters, that all seems to change.  And then all of a sudden, routine movie-goers magically turn into amateur movie critics, declaring films like Inception to be the cinematic equivalent to the messiah. Professional critics themselves search for reasons to boldly resurrect Christopher Nolan in all his glory as the Pied Piper of Hamelin, leading us through the dark annals of Michael Bay’s 21st Century Hollywood nightmare. “Hallelujah for Christopher Nolan! The most brilliant filmmaker in the history of worldwide cinema.”

More like the most brilliant illusionist. Chris Nolan’s movies (and this discussion can exclude Memento, which I think most can agree is a fantastic and sensible film) have a strange power of turning theater-goers’ brains into mush, convincing them that what they have just seen is better than any imaginable vision of heaven. I bet this all sounds pretentious–and to some extent I hope it does. Because taking the stance I’m taking may be the only way to get people to see the same thing that I’m seeing. Which is that post-Memento Nolan is a talentless hack who pulls the same brainwashing gimmicks from film to film.

It really is as if viewers are dreaming under a hypnotic Chris Nolan spell when they watch his movies, disabling the functionality of their brains once the credits start rolling. Equally baffled by this is David Edelstein of NY Magazine who “truly [has] no idea what so many people are raving about,” claiming that “it’s as if someone went into their heads while they were sleeping and planted the idea that Inception is a visionary masterpiece.” In fact, so many critics are in overwhelming agreement over the greatness of Inception that Roger Ebert questions whether or not anyone is allowed to disagree!

Working hard? Or hardly working?

Addressing Nolan’s struggles at making sense of his own script, Movie Line critic Stephanie Zacharek admits that “Because Nolan can’t connect his visuals, he has to use words, and lots of them, to let us know what characters are doing and why we should care.” This is why 99% of the film serves an expository purpose.  Zacharek further remarks that Nolan’s lifelong reliance on Hans Zimmer’s score as a means for anchoring our interest into what we’re seeing on-screen makes Nolan less fit for “directing” and better suited for “directing traffic.” No truer statement.

The musical cues tell us when we should feel anxious or afraid instead of allowing the visuals and emotions of the film to achieve this (which clearly they’re incapable of doing). Hans Zimmer’s score (which, eyes-closed, pleases the ears) is so heavily relied upon by the incompetent Nolan that the entire film plays a 2.5 hour+ non-stop musical track. The track even plays during exposition. It plays throughout everything. Remove this track and I promise you that each person steps out of the theater complaining how much of a bore Inception was.

Adds Zacharek, “If the career of Christopher Nolan is any indication, we’ve entered an era in which movies can no longer be great. They can only be awesome, which isn’t nearly the same thing.” From this I take the following: Special Effects and visual imagery now supersede quality stories with competent scripts and technically-sound directing. Avatar brought new meaning to this. The Coen Brothers, Martin Scorsese and PT Anderson among others are continually working against this.

Inception is a great concept for a movie. But the movie itself serves as little more than a misinformed psychoanalytical instruction manual with little to no story or characters worth investing emotions in. Sure we find it cool. Some of the visuals are candy to the eyes. But I can’t help but think about how much of a rip Inception is off The Matrix. If I had to rename Inception, it would be “The Matrix (for dummies).” Have we no sense of recent film history to pick up on this? Every little thing that happens in Inception has to be explained. Nothing is left to the imagination. The whole reality vs. the dream world concept is recycled for the worse.

One false notion is that Inception is confusing because it’s “supposed to be”–it is a mind-bender after all. No! Inception is confusing because it makes absolutely no sense! Let’s stop giving the director credit for not doing his homework instead of making excuses for him. Nolan has done a poor job of creating his story and a poorer job of defining the boundaries of the story’s world. Rex Reed of the New York Observer agrees, adding that “[nothing] adds up to one iota of cogent or convincing logic. You never know who anyone is, what their goals are, who they work for or what they’re doing.” These are things which must be addressed. Moviegoers habitually give credit to directors like Nolan for “blowing their minds” when in fact the sum never adds up to all of its parts.

Let’s talk the whole “Dream within a dream” nonsense. Dream-themed films such as The Matrix, Total Recall, Strange Days, Dreamscape and even the original A Nightmare on Elm Street define the rules of their worlds well enough without relying too much on exposition. Having dreams within dreams within dreams within dreams is not a calculated strategy of Nolan’s, but rather a cop-out. The 2010 version of A Nightmare on Elm Street uses the same strategy. It’s technically acceptable to use this strategy so long as there is an indication that one dream has ended and the next one has begun.

The story-line is laughable and seems to only serve the hollow purpose of making the $160 million + summer psych-thriller into a run-of-the-mill Bourne Identity-like actioner. In the disastrous disaster flick 2012 we had something “on-the-line” to worry about: hello? the end of the world?” With Inception the value of the story is so insignificant and the characters so flat that there’s nothing to invest in emotionally.

Casting-wise, Inception is an utter mess, reminding us that Ellen Page is still Juno and Joseph Gordon-Levitt is ultimately too boyish for the big screen to be the next leading man outside of an art film (Shia Lebouf is doing an ok job and he’s five years younger!) As much as we all embrace post-Titanic Leo DiCaprio, his typecast is becoming a nuisance at this stage of the game and he’s simply overexposed. Michael Caine’s presence in this movie is a complete joke and another reminder of Nolan’s recent Batman blunders. And listening to Ken Watanabe is like trying to guess the English translation of R2D2’s dialogue in Star Wars.

So no people. I will not see Inception an additional time to have my “mind blown” or to try and see if I actually “get it.” I get it completely and I hate it. I got The Book of Eli and I hated that as well. Films which we need to see more than once are more often than not failures from the get-go. Inception is no exception. If you care to see Memento more than once then I encourage it.  The movie makes sense and the story is told purposefully and brilliantly. But come on now. It’s about time to start lambasting Chris Nolan and seeing the rest of his movies for what they really are: garbage in disguise.

Charlie Wachtel is a Senior Writer for The Film Crusade and Founder of www.filmcrusade.com.

The Use of Reveals

Regardless of genre, a reveal is an effective story-telling technique. There are many different types of reveals and they can be subtle or a gag. A reveal allows for a quick, economical, visual exposition and can convey story points. Revealing can also allows a filmmaker let the viewer “in” on portions a piece of information that perhaps the main protagonist is not yet aware of.

The Pull-back Reveal:

Pulling back can bring a larger context into focus for the viewer and is a “tried-and-true” reveal shot. Brian De Palma uses a pull-back reveal in the opening of his film Femme Fatale – slowly bringing into focus a greater understanding of situation, which at first appears to be one thing, but is in fact entirely different. It is an elegant opening that ropes the audience in post haste.

As a bonus there is an additional reveal, through a frame-within-a-frame horizontal wipe right at as the shades are pulled back to show the red carpet at the Cannes Film Festival. Most of what I can say about this opening can read on Film Critic Jim Emmerson’s blog. He does an excellent deconstruction of the opening scene of Femme Fatale.

Dramatic/Stationary:

Reveals don’t necessarily have to pan or pull back to be effective. Some clever film-making can keep the camera stationary and still expose a revelation. If there was ever a television show that perfected the reveal as a mechanism to capture the viewer – it was The X-Files. Each episode began with a cold open – that is, no credits, straight into the action. This allowed a story to unfold immediately, drawing the viewer in, and at the right moment reveal a greater context for the story: Fade to opening credits. It was a frightfully effective way to rope in people watching The X-Files on a Friday night.

Assistant Director Skinner deletes rather ominous looking pictures. The viewer is given the impression that Skinner is in his own office. The camera follows him as he stands up to leave the office and rests at table height. What’s clever about the reveal is the use of light in the stationary shot. As the door opens off-screen, light from the hallway spills in and the viewer sees the Fox Mulder name placard. What also makes this an effective reveal is they way in which music is used. The whole scene features low-key single note cello strokes. Then, as the door opens for the reveal, a cymbal crash is punctuated with a four-key piano melody which really adds to the overall mood and effectiveness of the scene.

Intentional obfuscation:

An object or person in frame can be intentionally obfuscated, distorted or out-of-focus. The reveal can be as simple as a rack focus from the foreground to the background. For example: Two crooked cops, seemingly acting on their own, beat a suspect in the hallway of a Police Station after hours. Rack-focus to reveal the commissioner standing at end of the hallway with his arms crossed. Silently approving of the action.

Other times, reveal is set up by intentionally obscuring written type or a visual component that is in frame; Such as on a TV, computer monitor, or tombstone. In this vein, the ending to the Edgar Wright/Simon Pegg action cop opus – Hot Fuzz fits the bill nicely.

Sergeant Angel’s shoulder is placed in frame to obscure the first name on the tombstone. In the previous scene [SPOILER!] there is a large explosion and his partner Danny Butterman is presumed dead. The reveal, in this case, is designed to mislead the audience, though playful in its use. The camera pans right to show Danny Butterman is very much alive, and in fact we see the grave is that of his mother Irene Butterman.

For Comedic Effect:

There are also comedic applications where the reveal acts as a punchline, or as part of a visual gag. If done well, a reveal shot can deliver a sharp point to the punch line of a joke. Matt Groening’s shows have a propensity for such reveals and both The Simpsons and Futurama have employed the technique frequently. There are many instances in both shows, such as in the overly-quoted The Simpson’s episode “Mr. Plow” when during a snow storm Homer crashes into another car. Commenting on the damage “Welp, I got him as good he got me.” Pan to reveal his family, cut to birds-eye view of his front yard, and his damaged cars.

Here is a more recent comedic reveal from Futurama.

The space version of the Titanic is sinking into a black-hole [take that Doctor Who writers!] The camera frames tight on Professor Farnsworth’s face as he says “Thank God there are plenty of escape pods! We won’t have to dress up as woman and children.” The reveal is quick. As the camera pulls back, the viewer sees Professor Farnsworth is wearing a beanie and carrying an over sized lollipop. Laughs all around.

In Horror:

Horror is a genre that sees recurrent overuse of the reveal to the level of cliché. However, use at a pivotal moment it can add value and shock to a scene. The Twilight Zone relied on this technique for the climax of “The Masks” and many other episodes as well.

Japanese cinema does a particularly good job incorporating reveals. In comparison to the Western counterpart, Japanese horror cinema is much more cerebral and paced differently. So much of the big scares come from the build up to a reveal.

In Ringu again we see stationary framing used in a reveal. With the camera at knee height, Reiko slides the door aside – the impact is instant – the audience sees her son Yoichi viewing a video which has already killed 4 high school students.

Sound and music are an important element in this reveal, too. Japanese horror usually doesn’t have an over-produced soundtrack, indeed there are scenes where there is no incidental music at all. Much like The X-Files reveal above, the music punches in at the right time further emphasizing the impetus of fear.

See also:

The Turnaround: The sister of the reveal known as the Turnaround. Popularized by Hitchcock, we’ve seen it in everything from Doctor Who to George A. Romero films. Someone is sitting in a chair. “Jim, is that you? Jim, you aren’t responding! I’ll just turn the chair around slowly… OH MY GOD your eyes you’ve lost your eyes!”

Long Take: A long take (sometimes referred to as a “one shot”) can also be the vehicle for a good reveal shot. A lengthy single take can follow a protagonist down the road to his destination ultimately pushing over a horizon line to show a desolate wasteland, room full of monkey’s or whatever shocking revelation is to be had. Here are some examples of long shots in contemporary cinema.

Merrel Davis is a contributing writer for The Film Crusade and working screenwriter/entrepreneur who lives in Los Angeles. You can check out more about him and his work at MerrelDavis.com and ScreenwriterKaraoke.com

Aside from tween heartthrobs Shia Lebouf, Daniel Radcliffe and Taylor Lautner, studios are usually reluctant to attempt to steal the box office by employing a pre-teen no-name as their lead. Taking her first stab as a producer, Nina Jacobson intends on reversing this trend. And I gotta say, she’s off to an exceptional start.  Slipping into the #2 slot of the weekend box office is her film, Diary of a Wimpy Kid.  That’s right. Take that Bounty Hunter!

Directed by Thor Freudenthal and developed through Dreamworks’ Color Force, Wimpy Kid is about a twelve-year-old boy who tries to find his place through the social nightmare that is middle school. While admittedly this is a kids movie, it’s easy for people of all ages to relate to the main character, Greg Heffley (Zachary Gordon).

John Hughes showed us all just how hard high school can be. But middle-school is often overlooked. Half of the school has embarked on puberty while the other half has no idea why their best friends have facial hair.  Heffley seems to acknowledge this even before middle school has begun: “I’ll be famous one day, but for now I’m stuck in middle school with a bunch of morons.”

Zachary Gordon and Director Thor Freudenthal.

Throughout his middle-school journey, it’s this kind of attitude that gets him into all kinds of trouble. Heffley is bombarded with several moral dilemmas that I’m sure we’ve all experienced. But the way in which these dilemmas are often painted lead us to believe that Heffley is the  Coen Bros.’ A Serious Man of his middle-school. Shit just keeps happening to him–and he can’t quite control it. People point judgmental fingers at him and eventually he is forced to accept the reputation of being a total loser.

The writers of Wimpy Kid (Jack Filgo and Jeff Filgo) have succeeded in detailing the politics of what it takes to become popular in middle-school. The Filgo Bros.’ characters are often so self-aware of their place in the social hierarchy that they frequently pull out all stops necessary to satisfy their quest for popularity. For some characters a decision as simple as choosing whether to join the yearbook staff versus the safety patrol can translate into weeks of misery. It’s fascinating to watch.

Wimpy Kid was a lot more challenging than I expected it to be. Heffley seems to have the intelligence and foresight of an adult who has already experienced middle-school. It wouldn’t shock me if middle-schoolers today or even middle-schoolers from fifty years ago relate to Heffley. Because among boys, Heffley is some kind of everyman.

Charlie Wachtel is a Senior Writer for The Film Crusade and Founder of www.filmcrusade.com.

Michael Jai White in "Black Dynamite."

An awkward introduction by one of the theater employees set the mood as the crowd bonded over deriding the carnival barker.  He ran to the back of the theater as the lights dimmed, the crowd cheered, and we tolerated a small series of trailers. Then Black Dynamite begins like an explosion. Laughter echoed in this archaic and yet very appropriate venue. People elbowed people next to them, friends or strangers, howling at the screen like werewolf maniacs.

Michael Jai White, Scott Sander and Byron Minns scripted this blaxploitation spoof; Sanders took the helm, with White in the title role.  Black Dynamite is a kung fu fighter, a womanizing lover, a pimp, a hustler, ex-CIA and the only ‘brother’ willing to stand up The Man.  The plot is launched when BD’s brother is gunned down during an undercover operation gone bad.  His death puts BD on a killing spree as he hunts down every jive talkin’ mother-fucker that might get in his way of cleaning up the streets.  I mean, Damn! The Man is even selling drugs to the orphans.  And what kind of tampering did He do to that malt liquor!?

It was unexpected.  It was handled like that of veteran comedy filmmakers, in the spirit of Brooks or the Zuckers, but with an added dedication to an infamous genre.  This wasn’t just a spoof, it was a strong homage to filmmakers that created a genre not because they set out to do so, but because that is all their circumstances would really allow.  It felt like film-geeks making a film for film-geeks.  Sorry, sorry. It was Film Intellectuals making a film for other Film Intellectuals.

Shot on beautiful 16mm, this film held true the raw texture of the films of the 70’s, like Sweet Sweetback’s Baadassss Song, only they added a little extra spice for the modern audience by recreating the “accidents” of the past films like leaving boom-mics in the shot or having rough jump-cuts in the middle of the scene.  Aside from the obvious style of the film, the writing deserves special mention.  It might seem to a cocky young filmmaker something like this would be easy to write, nothing but cliché lines ripped from the poor dialogue of the exploitation films.  On the contrary, to effectively write a comedy with lines that don’t just produce a familiar chuckle, but the manic howl from audience, it takes monstrous talent.

90 minutes after the first cracked smile, the laughter pulsed in the air and slowly subsided to chuckles as we walked into the lobby.  Small burst erupted as we all recited our favorite lines to each other and stepped out into the cold air with a mob of new friends.  But why is it that you most likely haven’t had the chance to see this comic gem? It was purchased by a major studio over a year ago at Sundance, but still it never received the release that it deserved.

The loyalties in Hollywood are fickle, so suffice it to say that during the same “release” of Black Dynamite the studio put their God-awful remake The Stepfather on almost three times as many screens.  Is this The Man just trying to keep the Dynamite down? I can’t really say and don’t really want to feed conspiracy but yes, probably.

It’s out of the theaters now.  I’m sure the dedicated art houses will be playing this for years to come, but what if you live out among the multi-plexs that only have Cop-Out playing on five screens and some sort of Twilight movie on the other seven screens?  You are in luck. Black Dynamite is now available on DVD and Blu-Ray and I suggest you get your hands on it immediately and watch it with a group of friends.  Hell!  Even with some strangers. It’s not to say this movie won’t make you laugh all by your lonesome, but the important thing with films like this is that wonderful collective experience.

The laughter, the cheers, the overwhelming sense of joy or sorrow, it is amplified and fueled by others feeling the same thing. When there is a good movie out there don’t watch it alone.  It’s an adrenalin rush to cheer when Luke Skywalker blows up the Death Star – to cheer when Black Dynamite fights The Man in a climatic finale you won’t see coming.  The Collective Experience is reason we trek out of homes and sit in the theater. You will love this movie on DVD, but to have studio bury this movie in little art-houses robs the public of that little something extra to a film that will become iconic comedy for this generation.

Eric Patton is a contributing writer  for The Film Crusade.

It has just been announced that Peter Jackson will be granted knighthood for his “services to film.” The timing couldn’t be any better. The man who created the most commercially successful movie trilogy of all time in Lord of the Rings continues to show his presence as a major player.  Over the years, a career that began with low-budget, horror camp has richly blossomed into one with an expansive filmography both interesting and diverse. After his long-awaited return to cinema, Sir Jackson has had a terrific year.

He has recruited a virtual unknown in Neil Blomkamp (District 9) and helped make him an international filmmaking contender (perhaps he can do the same for fellow New Zealander Sean Byrne?). Sir Jackson has also made a film of his own.

Say what you want about his most recent achievement, The Lovely Bones. But it is one of the most original films of 2009.  And is worthy of some praise and attention.  In many ways, the film is a complete foil to James Cameron’s wildly popular Avatar. Like Avatar, Lovely Bones is visually stunning and CGI-dependent–but without wide commercial appeal. And with a better story.

Peter Jackson and Saoirse Ronan on the set of "The Lovely Bones."

Many of those who were disappointed with Peter Jackson expressed their dissatisfaction with either his “overdoing of the visuals” or on his approach being too melodramatic. And then of course there are those loyal to Alice Sebold’s novel who didn’t think the movie lived up to the book. As for me, I think Jackson’s movie is a success.

In Jackson’s own words, he wanted to create an “emotional thriller” that was “original, bright, and unexpected.” To this degree, he was successful. And also innovative. To me, Lovely Bones works so well because Jackson has single-handedly created a new genre. The MeloNoir. The movie is essentially a dark and disturbing melodrama. So dark and noir-like is this film that I would compare it even to Fritz Lang’s M (1931). As a noir,  Lovely Bones often rubs off death as a minor inconvenience. That is until we force ourselves to consider the grim nature of the fact that 14-year-old Susie Salmon (Saoirse Ronan) has been raped and murdered, can’t even figure out a way of getting to heaven (she’s stuck in the “in-between”), and that her killer (Stanley Tucci) may very well end up getting away with it.

The film’s melodrama at times can be a bit too much. At points it is even cringe-worthy, I’ll admit. However, that’s not to say that this kind of melodrama isn’t justified. The melodrama is not used specifically for the purpose of characters reflecting on Susie Salmon’s death. Or rather Susie Salmon losing herself in the fantasy of her first high school crush. Traditionally in film, melodrama highlights a particular character’s intense feeling of love or sadness.  In Lovely Bones, there is always an ironic undercurrent to each melodramatic depiction that reminds us that Susie was never truly able to experience love, that she was never able to fulfill her childhood dream of being a professional photographer, and that she no longer has a say in her family’s struggle to overcome her tragic death. This is heavy stuff. Even if it might be easy to dismiss melodrama nowadays considering our collective desire to label melodramatic situations as cheesy or outmoded.

Some people who were upset that the film didn’t unfold as an intelligent mystery failed to appreciate the story’s fantastic elements and themes. The film in many ways highlights the importance of “hunch,” or in having a gut feeling about something. Susie has a gut feeling that she’s in danger when Stanley Tucci’s character has lured her into an underground room. Mark Wahlberg’s character has a gut feeling about who is responsible for Susie’s death. And so do several other characters in the film. Often times our world defies logic. There are miracles, coincidences, and karma that lend themselves to be the only conceivable explanations for a lot of odd occurrences.  Lovely Bones buys into this philosophy and uses it to deliver justice.

Jackson’s interplay between real-life and “the in-between” world is riveting. Not since Ghost (1990) has a film been able to depict such well-defined spiritual and human worlds. Not often do you see a film that highlights the differences between these two worlds and creatively sets rules and boundaries for each world.

As a last note, the film would be nothing without the brilliant performances of Stanley Tucci and Saoirse Ronan.  As a calculated child predator, Tucci is easily 2009’s best movie villain. He’s almost like a menacing spider. Instead of using candy, his specialty is building dollhouses and odd underground constructions to try and lure in his preys.  Saoirse Ronan too proves that she is among the most talented actors of her generation. Credit Tucci and Ronan for expertly handling roles that are admittedly not easy to play.

Peter Jackson’s The Lovely Bones and “The Peter Jackson stamp of approval” for District 9 prove that Jackson is indeed an innovative filmmaker and a game-changer. Other than Inglourious Basterds, Lovely Bones and District 9 are two of the year’s most high-concept, original films of 2009. Slam Jackson for being too CGI-dependent. But the man knows how to tell a unique story. Proving that CGI and story can find ways to work together. And because of this, Jackson is much more of a game-changer than James Cameron’s Avatar. Because no matter how technically advanced we get, story will always be king.

Charlie Wachtel is a Senior Writer for The Film Crusade and Founder of www.filmcrusade.com.

Aside from the usual onslaught of sappy romantic drivel, the sad milkings of former SNL cast members, and the Friedberg/Seltzer travesties, the past few years really have been golden ones for smaller, underdog comedies: Juno, Be Kind Rewind, The Wackness, Adventureland, (500) Days of Summer, and The Hangover to name a few.

Youth In Revolt, a new comedy directed by Miguel Arteta, earns a well-deserved spot on that list.

Michael Cera and Portia Doubleday in "Youth in Revolt."

The film tells the story of a lonely and neglected teenage virgin named Nick Twisp (Michael Cera), who unexpectedly falls for a free-spirited trailer park girl named Sheeni Saunders (Portia Doubleday). When their summer fling ends and Nick has to move back home, he realizes that she is the one, and must keep her in his life in order to be happy. His passive, nice-guy temperament won’t suffice, however, so he creates a bad-boy alter ago – a Tyler Durden, if you will – in order to get Sheeni back. So what begins with a rather cliché set-up quickly turns into a hilarious and unpredictable series of exploits that will leave you laughing and guessing until the end.

It’s refreshing to see Michael Cera, who I’ve referred to as the Anthony Michael Hall of this generation, break out of the shy, soft-spoken mold he’s created for himself and venture into more challenging territory. This new role tests his range as an actor, and it suffices to say he passes with flying colors, even if he has to alternate screen time with his usual, soft-spoken self (in this way, the dual-performance becomes almost a self-parody). It’s easily his best-acted film yet, and may ultimately serve as a turning point in his career, opening the door to a more diverse melody of roles. Or maybe not.

Newcomer Portia Doubleday is as flawless as she is adorable playing Cera’s love interest; her future certainly looks bright. Jean Smart and the always-amazing Steve Buscemi nail their roles as his conceited parents, while the familiar faces of Zach Galifianakis, Ray Liotta, and Justin Long round out the pitch-perfect cast.

Michael Cera in "Youth in Revolt."

What gives this film its edge, ultimately, is its unconventionality. It takes place very much within its own world, and yet, at the same time, the thoughts and feelings emoted on screen are sure to strike a familiar cord with anyone whose road through adolescence had its share of potholes. The smart, snappy dialogue is reminiscent of Diablo Cody’s Juno script, sans the annoyance, and a handful of animated sequences interspersed throughout the narrative adds to its overall uniqueness. It tries hard to stand apart from other coming-of-age films, and manages to succeed without being either unoriginal or pretentious.

Best of all, it’s funny. Some comedies marketed as nonstop laugh-a-thons can turn out to be dramas in disguise, but with this gem, there is something to enjoy in every scene.

Youth In Revolt opens everywhere on January 8, and you’ll be hard-pressed to find something better to do that day.

Zach Copeland is a Senior Writer for The Film Crusade.

Rob Marshall’s Nine takes advantage of the enigmatic charm and seductive power of Rome and of film, both of which Fellini helped create.  It seems only fitting that somebody (Maury Yeston) should come along to add another element: music. Now Rob Marshall has tackled the enormous task of creating a film adaptation of a musical that was an adaptation of a cinema classic and he has succeed in many areas, while falling short in others.

Daniel Day Lewis in Rob Marshall's "Nine."

Let’s start positive: The Cast. The introduction to the women that have shaped Guido Contini (Daniel Day Lewis) was a beautiful parade of talented actresses from new cinema (Penelope Cruz and Marion Cotillard) and classic cinema (Dame Judi Dench and Sophia Loren).  It was a weak overture, but watching film legends introduce the moral conflict of our protagonist was a strong open.

Quick personal note, I was skeptical of the casting of both Kate Hudson and Fergie.  Yet both of these performances ended up being two of the film’s most memorable.  Fergie’s performance of “Be Italian” mixes the pageantry and spectacle of the modern musical with the coming of age scene lifted straight from  8 ½ (1963) but with Fergie in the role of Saraghina. There is a sense of nostalgia when I see this scene, like when watching Truffaut’s “Les Mistons.” It is young boys getting a lesson of love and sexuality from the older woman, preparing young Guido for manhood.

“Cinema Italiano” simply had a particular style that captivated me, and Kate Hudson unexpectedly pulled off the performance.  The costumes to the sets and “go-go” extras, it sums up with mythical appeal of celebrity in the sixties with flashbulbs, sequins, Italian sports cars and shoes, glitz and glamour.

It is unfair to comment on only two performances because it incidentally causes exclusion. It would be criminal to exclude Marion Cotillard from any praise.  Her performance, both musically and in those moments bridging musical numbers, is endearing and heartbreaking as the wife of the philandering Maestro.  While “Be Italian” and “Cinema Italiano” had the flash, flesh and spectacle, Cotillard’s two numbers are the heart and the emotion. Her bewitching abilities make her the best part of the film.

Now where has Nine fallen short? About midway through the film Nicole Kidman, playing Claudia the American movie star, appears and adds confusion to an already confused Guido.  This is where we need to start making a comparison to 8 ½ because where Claudia Cardinale seemed to have a wonderful chemistry with Marcello Mastroianni, there was something missing between Kidman and Day Lewis from which the film never recovers. 8 ½ gained strength in through end of the film, and Nine continued to decline.

To start an appropriate comparison, there is a 12^th century quote, “…we are like dwarfs on the shoulders of giants, so that we can see more than they, and things at a greater distance, not by virtue of any sharpness of sight on our part, or any physical distinction, but because we are carried high and raised up by their giant size.” Rob Marshall tries too valiantly to stand on Fellini’s shoulders, but ends up like more of an admirer.

Fellini’s exploration of the exhausting chaos that surrounds a director when sitting at the helm of a picture was done with masterful brush strokes. The opening dream in 8 ½ is phenomenal in its brevity, aptly summing up the emotional state of the protagonist through metaphoric visuals. In a scene where Guido walks the lobby of the hotel, Fellini essentially choreographed a dance for Guido to physically and verbally elude a slew of questions hurled at him.

These two scenes were the groundwork laid by a giant from which a dwarf should launch. The opening introduction of the women in Guido’s life could have been so much more. It could have been a dream that Contini floats through; use Fellini’s imagery of a man as a kite being pulled back to Earth. Do something that shows us you are taking advantage of the groundwork laid before you!

The dance by the producers and the other department heads hassling him about the production could have been a spectacularly choreographed dance.  He could have evaded every approaching colleague with slick, smooth movements. Sir Isaac Newton expounded on the quote above, saying “if I have seen further than others, it is only because I stood on the shoulders of giants.”

If he had seen further!  We must go further than the giants before us.  My disappointment lies with the limits it appears Marshall and Maury Yeston placed on themselves.  This is Fellini in color; Fellini as musical spectacle! He gave Marshall and Yeston everything they needed to be great; instead they chose restraint.

Perhaps Nietzsche was right; the dwarves cannot comprehend what the giants see, so the giants are just shouting what they see across the annals of time. What we get with Rob Marshall’s Nine, while a good film in its own right, is merely an echo of the radiant giant that came before him.

Eric Patton is a contributing writer for The Film Crusade.

First things first. Whenever I hear of a new film being mentioned in the same sentence as the word “oscar,” I have a tendency to watch the film with a more scrupulous eye. A lot of us do, in fact. To me, the film has to earn the title since the word “oscar” is one which we tend to associate with the best of the best. Many of you purchase a movie ticket knowing that you’re in good hands whenever you hear the critics raving about how oscar-worthy a movie is. For this film, I’ll stick to being a critic. I’ll leave the raving to someone else.

George Clooney in "Up in the Air."

This month’s smorgasbord of happy-go-lucky holiday movies is likely to cannibalize itself at the box office as most films are about the importance of family in a person’s life.  Among others, Everybody’s Fine, It’s Complicated and Up in the Air will be plucking at your heartstrings. Although likely, you won’t want to see the same movie three times.

What is it with Hollywood’s love-affair with trying to make central characters find it in their hearts to love? It may work in robot movies like Artificial Intelligence, for obvious reasons (they’re not “programmed” to love after all).  Already this year, Judd Apatow taught Adam Sandler to love and Paper Heart did the same for Charleyne Yi. Sure it’s a great engine for screenwriters. Yet how many more Jerry Maguires will it take to make the whole concept worn and tired?  When you really think about it, the entire purpose of Up in the Air is to teach George Clooney how to love.

So let me be the first to say it. Jason Reitman’s acclaimed Up in the Air is not Oscar-worthy. Not in any category. Simply put, it is a run-of-the-mill romantic comedy disguised as film which believes it has something important to say about the American economic crisis. Its biggest flaw is that it is just too dialogue-driven. At times it feels like you’re sitting through a sermon, listening to the monotonous, raspy voice of George Clooney, who sounds like the guy from the Men’s Warehouse commercials who says, “You’re gonna like the way you look. I guarantee it.”

Ever see a trailer that reveals exactly what you’re going to experience in the movie….and then regret that you’d even gone to see the movie? Up in the Air is just like that. A total flatline for the entire movie. The trailer is indeed better than the actual movie.

Writer/Director Jason Reitman has a problem. It’s not that he doesn’t have good ideas. His movies just aren’t cinematic. Nothing pops visually off the screen. Anyone interested in watching famous actors debate serious issues such as the importance of family, cigarette smoking, or the difficulty in making job cuts are better off watching Larry King Live or Dr. Phil.  At points, the style of Up in the Air reminded me of Stanley Kramer’s Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967), a film which focuses on the familial tension caused by an interracial couple, which spends the entire film showcasing its characters simply discussing the issue of race.

Up in the Air isn’t a stage-play. If Reitman wants to write for the stage he can always follow in the footsteps of Preachy McPreacherson (Tyler Perry) by taking his show on the road. Reitman even admitted that if he had to make another sequel to his father’s (Ivan Reitman) beloved Ghostbusters franchise that the film would likely be about people talking about ghosts instead of actually killing them.

Now let’s tackle Mr. Clooney. What’s his job in this movie? In the far-superior legal thriller Michael Clayton (2007) his character plays the ambiguous role of “the fixer.” In this film his position isn’t quite explained all that well. He’s not a pilot. He fires people. But why would a down-sizer need to be spending so much time on a plane?  Clooney has a habit of informing his viewers through metaphor what he really is. “I’m not a shark. I’m a wake-up call.” or “We are not swans. We are sharks.” In Michael Clayton, he claims he’s “a bagman,” “a janitor” or “Shiva the God of Death.” Hmm, all too familiar if you ask me.  And there’s a reason. Reitman wrote the role for George Clooney.

George Clooney and Vera Farmiga in "Up in the Air."

The whole film has a very cliche….no, that’s not the word…”recycled” feel to it. The talented Vera Farmiga who many may remember from The Departed (2006) as the sexy, manipulative psychologist has a similar character arc concerning…well, I shouldn’t ruin it for you. But you can see it coming a mile away.

A few redeeming qualities of this film would have to be the convincing chemistry amongst the actors and Reitman’s knack for smart dialogue. So if you’re going to see the film for its light-hearted, romantic comedy appeal then chances are you’re making the right choice. George Clooney proves after-all that he can effectively fulfill the special Hugh Grant requirement seen in most commercial rom-coms. So if you’re looking for a date-movie, this might do you well. If you’re looking for much else, look elsewhere.

Charlie Wachtel is a Senior Writer for The Film Crusade and Founder of www.filmcrusade.com.

What is most remarkable about “Precious”, based on the novel “Push” by Sapphire, is that it doesn’t suffocate under the psychic weight of its overburdened source material.   Claireece Precious Jones inhabits three distinct cinematic universes that touch but never commingle(with the exception of one scene – more on that later):  the melodramatic one, dominated by her monstrous mother (played ferociously by the comedian Mo’Nique) and featuring a domestic life so horrific that Dante’s Inferno starts to sound like a 5-star Caribbean getaway in comparison; the fantasy world, where Precious escapes to whenever her mother starts pummeling her; and the neo-realistic one, which encompasses all of Precious’ interactions within the Harlem boundaries that circumscribe her life.

The shifts between the melodramatic and the neo-realistic are astonishingly successful – in his second feature as a director, Lee Daniels (“Shadowboxer”) demonstrates an assuredness in moving Precious from a set of circumstances that just skirts the clichéd stereotypes of inner city domesticity to a light, airy outside world where hope is more than just another four letter word and not everyone hates you.    It is in this world where we discover that Precious, thanks to the efforts of her saintly teacher, Ms Rains (Paula Patton), actually has a shot at overcoming the misery of her life.   Stylistically, it is also where “Precious” succeeds most as a film, delivering an improvisational feel and an almost tactile sense of realism reminiscent of Laurent Cantet’s remarkable Palm D’Or winner  “The Class.”   The fantasy sequences are less successful – they are neither specific nor fantastic enough to communicate anything unique about Precious, and ultimately rob the audience of the possibility of a real answer to the question of how someone like Precious manages to survive.

Daniels’ greatest strength as a director clearly lies in his work with actors, and he manages to extract just enough hope, humor and transcendence from them to keep us from slitting our wrists.  Precious, as played by Gabourey Sidibe, is nearly expressionless for the majority of the film, as if to suggest that any emotional response would be inadequate to the enormity of her inner turmoil; and when just the hint of a smile does play across her face, the effect is almost vaudevillian in scope.    The performances in all of the smaller roles are similarly self-assured and unadorned, giving the impression that the performances aren’t really performances at all.   Even Mariah Carey is so grounded and plainspoken as Precious’ Social Worker that it took me a few moments to recognize her. The only actor that doesn’t seem to fit is Paula Patton, and it has nothing to do with her acting.    If Ms. Patton were only garden-variety beautiful that would be one thing, but if you’re going to cast a woman as ridiculously beautiful as Paula Patton as a school teacher – is it just me? -   it would help to have at least one character acknowledge it.

Finally, there’s Mo’Nique.  She may be a comedian in her other life but there are no laughs here – although she’s burdened with playing a true monster, she somehow manages to find just enough humanity in her character to avoid the trap of garden variety celluloid villainy.    In the climactic scene where the melodramatic and neorealistic worlds finally collide, Mo’Nique delivers tour de force that is operatic in tenor and yet so hideously believable that it leaves you wondering despite yourself whether all of the compound misery of “Precious” might be realism after all.

Jeffrey Janger is a contributing writer for The Film Crusade.

Ever since God flooded out the entire human race in the early pages of Genesis, literature has abounded with stories of the apocalypse. For generation after generation, from The Book of Revelations to The Stand, we have obsessed over the end of the world, how it will come to pass, and what, if anything, we can do to stop it. Now that humankind has reached a point where the End could conceivably happen in an afternoon, our glimpses into this theoretical future are all the more intriguing. And they’ve never been more important.

Viggo Mortensen and Kodi Smit-McPhee in "The Road."

The Road, directed by John Hillcoat (The Proposition) and based on the novel by Cormac McCarthy (No Country For Old Men), is a dark, poignant story of a father and son journeying through a post-apocalyptic wasteland, withstanding harsh weather, malnutrition, and under the constant threat of marauders, thieves and cannibals. Their goal is simple: to carry on.

Those looking to sink their teeth into mindless disaster-porn (not that there’s anything wrong with that) can get their fix elsewhere. The Road is a smaller, more penetrating film that draws strength from its intimacy and its ability to do so much with so little.

Viggo Mortensen gives an emotional tour de force as the embattled father; look for him on the red carpet come March. Watching children act is oftentimes painful for me, but I thought Kodi Smit-McPhee was impressive and genuine as the son, and takes on the task of being in literally every scene with rare fearlessness. Charlize Theron, Robert Duvall, and Guy Pearce give small but highly memorable performances, Duvall in particular, whose portrayal of a withered old man journeying all alone will haunt you.

The desolate environment in which the story takes place is itself a character, foreign yet eerily familiar, and so perfectly conceptualized that it matches – heck, surpasses the standard of realism set by films such as 28 Days Later and Children of Men. Shot throughout four states, including at the site of the Mount St. Helens eruption, Hillcoat and cinematographer Javier Aguirresarobe (The Others, The Sea Inside) paint a backdrop that is altogether beautiful and devastating.

They say that every generation since the dawn of man has feared the End, and while this may be true, not every generation has seen what our modern technology is capable of. The Road is a dark looking glass into our future, and what it is likely to become if our primal nature is left unchecked.

Early in the film, the son looks at his father and asks him, “We’re the good guys, right?” The father’s response is in the affirmative, but as their situation become increasingly desperate, that sense of morality we think to be ingrained is put to the test. Hillcoat does a masterful job of portraying human beings as what we are and always have been. He holds up a mirror to the world and hypnotizes you with it.

As far as post-apocalyptic movies go, The Road is hands-down one of the best ever made. Despite its raw, gritty facade, which will understandably be a turn-off for many theatergoers, the story underneath has a sense of serenity that everyone can relate to.

The Road opens everywhere on November 25. Need I say more?

Zach Copeland is a Senior Writer for The Film Crusade.