THE ROAD

As a master of playing characters with a good and evil duality, Viggo Mortensen is the only actor in the world that could have played the father in The Road. Although the father isn’t exactly evil, he is a good man that has disposed his better virtues because he believes it is better for his son’s and his own chances for survival. On an ash incinerated earth, a little boy (Kodi Smit-McPhee) gradually exceeds the faith of his own doubting father and matures beyond his age. In a life that feels as if it is not worth living, the boy in his transcendence finds a connection between the embrace of what’s left of humankind and the dream of a better future.

The world catastrophe that has scorched the earth is undefined in both the novel by Cormac McCarthy and in the movie, but what remains is the constant panic of unavailable food and bands of cannibals and slave-herders. Something I closely observed is that two major grueling scenes in the book were left out of the movie, and if you’ve read the book you should be able to detect which are those two scenes. Such details are something I paid extra close attention to since McCarthy’s work is my favorite novel of the last ten years. It is a novel of unceasing adrenaline and immediacy, a novel of simple human poetry and complex earth-nature and destruction poetry.

What the filmmakers can’t (and no filmmaker can) is capture and translate an author’s idiosyncratic language, McCarthy’s symphony of words. Still, a movie can exist independently on its own terms and be successful. What John Hillcoat’s (“The Proposition”) movie has is some the best demolished and destroyed cities visuals you will find in an apocalyptic setting, some shots were staggeringly accurate to how I pictured them in the book. Moreover, the one weakness in McCarthy’s book was the final exchange by man and wife (as seen in flashback), but Mortensen and Charlize Theron bring amazing vitality to that scene.

Midway through the movie Robert Duvall makes a haggard, withered Old Man who is found on the road by father and son, who squabble over whether to divide their rations to feed this old man. First-timers to this story might find Duvall mesmerizing in his disintegrating but dignified appearance. Somehow though I find that Duvall is simply too intellectual and arch over the material – the same words in the dialogue are used in the book but Duvall is too in control of them, too “whole” of a man and not as withered as he appears. If you read McCarthy, it is one of the most haunting passages you will ever read in a novel.

Often the tone and manners of the movie disagrees with me. The visceral nature of the book made it feel like the most ultimate nightmare marathon of all-time, the endless ticking urgency that the characters must keep moving to stay alive. The movie has schmaltzy exchanges and show-stopping sentiment that is misused, and the music score is too pushy and tear-inducing.
Then there’s the matter of the boy (Smit-McPhee). He’s sticky sweet and unhardened. It didn’t help that he’s about 12 and the boy in the book sounds 9 (that’s my judgment call). I don’t know who I feel worst for: the actor who will be chopped down critically by viewers, or the viewers that will have to endure his performance. All I can say is that Viggo’s tremendous performance, the grinding down of his character, compensates all of the movie’s other faults.

On its own terms away from comparisons, “The Road” is watchable if you like post-apocalyptic fables. I shouldn’t guess audience reaction, and yet I offer theory that audiences will be moved by the film. I say read the book first, but ultimately, everybody should acquaint themselves with this story. There is a reason why “The Road” is published in more languages worldwide than any modern book.

As for me, I was constantly curious and intrigued every moment in the way in how it was going to be “adapted,” tickled and enticed by every choice and decision the director was making. I guess that’s what happens when it is my favorite book that I’ve read twice. I know it well enough to say that the end of the book is poetry and the end of the movie feels flat by comparison. There I go again after I had promised not to make anymore comparisons.

Go to the official site at http://www.theroad-movie.com/
GRADE: B-

NINJA ASSASSIN

Rain is a Korean pop star in a martial art flick where bodies are sliced in half by swords and throwing stars in Ninja Assassin, a movie likely to please its genre fans on the basis of its slick looks and propulsive action. As Raizo, Rain makes for a ripped, dexterous action star, one who sheds conceit in favor of being a little humble and self-effacing. Naomi Harris is a forensics expert for Europol, and while her occupation never feels pertinent to the plot you are engaged by her resilient hang-in-there presence.

But let’s stick to the fundamentals. You mostly come to this movie for the action scenes. On those terms this is an entertaining exploitation flick that gives you lots of splatter, bloody geysers, mutilations and less concern for restraint. The movie contains cool training sequences and many requisite action combat sequences (some of it filmed in too many obscured shadows), including one of those action chases through a high-rise parking garage where the hero hops from hood to hood. Further appealing are those high-flying leaps by Rain, assisted by CGI (computer generated images). Also CGI are the blood squirts spraying the camera lens as well as close-up shots of festering wounds.

The hyperactive bloodletting is not as original as some of you may think. It has existed in such ’70’s kung fu flicks like “Five Fingers of Death,” and was brought to a peak by the House of Blue Leaves sequences in “Kill Bill Vol. 1.” But “Ninja” wants to utilize CGI in order to achieve new heights in excessiveness. If you get wicked chuckles from a scene of a man being sliced in half down the middle, then you’d be giddy to the extremes by “The Machine Girl,” a Japanese import made a couple of years ago that really pushes the grindhouse limits (it is available on Netflix). For decapitations and eviscerations, it is the ultimate in exploitation schlock.

Bloodshed aside, every action movies needs leveraged with a human interest plot. “Ninja” finds two parallel sensitive stories to balance the carnage, both stories interconnecting. In the past, Raizo in his youth is forced by a secret society into a training camp which molds ninja killers. His first sweetheart is also a forced student, but killed cold-blooded within the camp in front of all the entire school for being too inconsequential. The present story, in a flash-forward in time, demands that Raizo gets revenge against Lord Ozuno (Sho Kosugi) as well as secondhand baddie Takeshi (Rick Yune). Raizo also has to evade German agents, but you feel that this is shoe-horned into the plot, just so the movie has something to take up time.

“Ninja Assassin” is an efficient example of today’s Far East whizzy action spectacles made in mind for broader American consumption. The early scenes of blooming love between young Raizo and the girl have an appeal, but besides those brief moments, the film is short on sex appeal except for a mysterious beautiful stranger at a laundermat that demands a double-take. And Harris as the forensics expert is there to play the good-looking professional. The humor is understated, even poking fun at the genre conventions: a character looks dead, oh my god, the suspense is she dead or not? Raizo takes a quick look and dryly observes, “She will be okay,” in the most hunky-dory delivery imaginable.

That said nothing here is groundbreaking, but if any of this drives your interest then you might be wowed by the climactic action sequence that takes place inside a traditional style Japanese house. Your jaw might drop a second time, not in wow but in disbelief, when you see a Special Operatives squad that machine-guns the outside of the house long after there are any targets that are worth the bother to shoot.

GRADE: B-

OLD DOGS

John Travolta and Robin Williams are middle-aged bachelors in Old Dogs, one of them comfortable with it the other one not. Both of them run a sports marketing firm, and they’re trying to close a deal with the Japanese. This is one of those movies in which the Travolta character Charlie tells a long-winded “comic” story to break the ice at a meeting, in which the Japanese heads are stolid and not amused, but then break into sudden uproarious laughter when they get the Chili Palmer-like punchline. Williams, as Dan (for one scene known as Tan Dan, whoops, I gave away a joke), is the passive straight man who prides himself in distinguished presentation. Williams, of course, can’t resist himself and has several scenes where he gets himself into a slapstick tizzy.

These two men get their lives upside-down when they are coaxed into taking care of two young 7-year old twins. The twins are a boy and girl, how about that for variety? Neither of these men are properly equipped for fatherhood which results in canned would-be hilarity, and as a sign of these two acquainting with the kids they let them watch “Friday the 13th Part III.” In public, Charlie or Dan are repeatedly viewed as either a gay couple or as two grandparents (a wearying running gag). Dan has more at stake from the start: if he succeeds as a father-type he can possibly get foxy momma Vicki (Kelly Preston) to fall in love with him after she finishes her two-week jail sentence, a sentence she picked up for harmless environmental protest. Let’s also mention that Dan fathered these children seven years ago but just learned about it.

I laughed up a storm, during one scene and one scene only, towards the end where Charlie and Dan have made a decision to venture to Japan (Seth Green was their AWOL employee, now they got to fill in). While there to do a PowerPoint or High-Def Video presentation, Dan hits the wrong button on his computer and video pops up of his two sparkling happy children and he gets teary-eyed about abandoning them. There must have been five hundred people in the theater, but I was the only one laughing at this shameless and utterly contrived tear-jerking moment.

As for the rest, manufactured comedy segments include “Prison Rules” Ultimate Frisbee, child-proofing the house, a medication pill-box switch-up, golf course hi-jinks, biting attacks by penguins and a malfunctioning jetpack. Do Travolta and Williams recognize their fallibility? That’s a question that is interpretative in a myriad number of ways. Travolta, ceaselessly jokey and jaunty as the incorrigible bachelor with a bag of anecdotes, is like a one-man glee club. Williams, while portraying uptight, is never more comfortable when he does a crazy old man dance.

These two get support by Matt Dillon, Ann-Margaret, Justin Long, Lori Loughlin, Rita Wilson and the late Bernie Mac, who all show up in small roles where they are at first cheerful, then lose their temper. Except Bernie Mac, who is groovy nearly all the way until he gets a tear in his eye (those kids do the darndest things to melt your heart). I smirked during some moments, broader audiences will eat it all up wholeheartedly.

GRADE: C-

PARANORMAL ACTIVITY

If you are an emotion junkie, like I am, you go to the movies hoping for something to trigger a body shuddering physiological response. If you enjoy being scared Paranormal Activity is an experience of such raw unbridled sensation that it nothing less than staggering. The fact however that it is labeled as a scary movie shouldn’t stop you from underestimating, and admiring, its ferocious and meticulous artistry. This testament of course comes from someone who doesn’t mind the shaky-cam as long as it is done well. If you take in consideration the techniques consisting of a time-coded clock that speeds ahead to crucial incidents, the use of the jump cut, and the modulation of sound design then you are aware that vérité shaky-cam style can be a meticulous art.

The branding of scary movie doesn’t do justice here because “Paranormal” is one of the most terrifying movies ever made. In this low-budget landmark (production cost $11,000), Micah and Katie, boyfriend and girlfriend, start filming and investigating the unknown spooks in their San Diego two-deck house. For some unknown reason I had tears in my eyes at one point that I cannot explain. I’m sure it wasn’t cries of sorrows so can it be something else?

When it comes down to it the less you know about the movie going in the better. But what can be said is that Micah is one of those annoying guys that always has to have the video camera on and thinks, to diminishing rational judgment, that he can solve on his own the problems plaguing his house. I know there will be some viewers that will not want to watch simply because Micah is annoying. Micah is grating in that particular way where his girl is yelling at him to turn off the damn camera but he insists in recording everything (the camcorder is his new toy). But isn’t it plausible to say that there are individuals on this Earth that are such overreaching know-it-alls that think their way is always the best way?

You need Micah to have his video camera on all the time, otherwise there wouldn’t be a movie (you can tell that "Paranormal" owes something to “The Blair Witch Project,” but trust me in that it surpasses that indie in every comparable way). So correctly is his character pitched that Micah feels plausibly human, the kind you believe would have the obsessive-compulsive need to not only run the camcorder at all time, but the need and know-how to dictate and control his girlfriend Katie. As a contrast, Katie is a compelling self-prescribed victim. When the two of them invite a psychic over to their house, Katie is receptive to all of his professional opinions while Micah is rude and dismissive of the suggested course of action. With little sensitivity in his character he never considers that he may possibly be antagonizing the phenomena that is invading their sanctuary space by his relentless actions.

In a way, Micah is as much an external conflict as… the rest of what is mysteriously happening in the movie. Micah keeps the camera turned on to document visual proof while also analyzing audio wave dials on playback which he reviews every morning. He reads specialist books on the paranormal. He surfs the internet and finds articles that relate to similar incidents that occurred back in the ’60’s. He verbalizes every new piece of information while Katie wants to know little, as less as possible.

Who knows who made the film officially since there are no opening or closing technical credits, only ominous title cards (you can surf the internet if you want the truth). The movie is presented as found footage that has been restructured in the form of a video diary. At its best moments, the camera is mounted on a tripod at night to film, in wide-angle shots, of the two of them sleeping. The video blog typography informs us that it is “Night #1” or “Night #3,” or “Night #17” and beyond. What occurs after dark is by turns gripping, goose-bumping, nerve-rattling, and ultimately, such a powerhouse that it made me scream louder than I have in ten years at the movies.

"Paranormal" may not be the most terrifying movie since “The Exorcist” but if it’s not than it is certainly within range of comparison. If you are one of those rare disaffected cases that doesn’t jump out of your seat for anything that isn’t Freddy Krueger, that you can at least acknowledge proof of ingenious sound design as an effective instrument to the art of filmmaking. But anything that provokes and elicits such a wide range of basic human responses – laughs, anxiousness, tears of fright, tears of nervousness, curiosity of the unknown, squeals of terror, encounters with the unknown – certainly qualifies as art. In that respect, "Paranormal" is a horror film masterpiece.

Go to the official site at http://www.paranormalactivity-movie.com/


GRADE: A+

THE INVENTION OF LYING

Somebody should do a remake of THE INVENTION OF LYING real soon. What is here is a great idea for a comedy. Yet with this end result the concept is much more brave than the screenplay execution which reaches its peak early and never ups the stakes. The movie is the invention, err creation, of Ricky Gervais who also stars. Gervais is a sweet, shy fellow as Mark Bellison who to his detriment is spineless. Jennifer Garner is the unattainable, err hard to attain, love object in his life. Character arc dictates that Bellison must become less spineless to attain the things in life he wants.

Now how about this for concept. In an alternate reality that mirrors our own only in physical urban landscape the notion of lying does not exist. Nobody has ever not told the truth or been absolutely forthright in what they are thinking. Bellison arrives for his first date with the unattainable Anna (Garner) and she tells him that he has no chance, this is probably the last date, that she is only going out with him out of politeness. When Bellison loses his job as a screenwriter of overly honest and earnest history films (his domain our stories about the 13th century), everybody at the office informs him that they are glad he’s gone.

When the insignificant and ineffectual chub is unable to pay the rent, he tells the first lie that man has ever told so he can hang on above poverty level – an exhilarating special-effects rush to the head is employed to kick-start this impulse. Then he realizes he can exploit this device to trick beautiful women to pay attention to him, trick the games tables at casinos, and trick deadbeats at the local pub that he is a pirate, a lion tamer and the inventor of the bicycle among other things.

An early storytelling mistake utilizes a montage showing Bellison fixing up local people who have been saddled with problems – this is a movie that should be exploiting verbal wit and not music montages. Back to essentials: After a slip of the tongue, Bellison must make up big, big lies. By mishap, Bellison becomes the new Moses to the people of the world and tells him he can talk to the Man in the Sky. But personal self-actualization demands that Bellison get the girl, become the most famous screenwriter, and convince the world that he is a better man than his adversary played by Rob Lowe. You know, the guy with the perfect profile.

Gervais is known as an entertainer who falls back on self-deprecating humor, but throughout this particular effort, it unremittingly feels like a self-pity act. This constant mode is either endearing or annoying depending on what kind of audience member you are. But what it comes down to is Gervais getting over his poor self-image and becoming content with himself, all at the expense of a great story idea that should have way more fun with its concept. LYING might make you wish that Gervais would sell his story ideas to someone like Mike Judge who would run with this material like a renegade.

GRADE: C

COUPLES RETREAT

Hard work must have been spent in the opening credit sequence of COUPLES RETREAT which is an archival montage of couples in love in the past century, including strung together scratchy black & white clips. An easy sap in the audience will sigh at these moments. If you’re cynical, note the rest of the movie isn’t some kind of ironic anti-love statement as you might predict, actually, it’s pro-marriage – at least in its facile intent. Four couples fly to a place called Eden, that might be recognized as Bora Bora to some luxury-endowed vacationers, to go through Couples Skill Building classes and marital therapist sessions.

The comic angle of the movie is that these couples unravel while on holiday until husband and wife start taking verbal rips at each other – and then, in theory, make-up again. The earliest scenes are the snappiest, veering briefly onto that rare commodity of what you can call fresh comedy. PowerPoint presentation that is indelicate yet tactful, a friend’s request for borrowed money to buy a cool motorcycle just to impress his new girl, a toddler mistaking the use of a furnishing store display toilet.

How about the stars showcase? Vince Vaughn (his “Wedding Crashers” character wouldn’t recognize the new Vaughn) is a conscientious father of two, with Malin Akerman (“The Heartbreak Kid”) as his pretty but overspent wife. Jon Favreau and Kristen Bell would be an attractive married couple if they weren’t always desperately searching for new partners. Faizon Love is the porky-fat black guy emotionally caught between his divorced ex-wife and his new raunchy girlfriend. They’re all corralled by Jason Batemen and Kristen Bell, the well-groomed and overly dogmatic couple, to join them on a paradise getaway with the purpose of strengthening marital bond.

Throw in some pro forma conflicts between each couple and then you have, well, conflict. The best casting decision in the supporting roles were selecting John Michael Higgins and Ken Jeong as therapists (if you’re a movie buff, you know these guys). The worst casting decision was selecting Jean Reno (“The Professional”) as the inane couples’ guru and instructor. Nothing however is more overworked than the shark attack scene or the scene with a hunky but lascivious yoga instructor who as we learn wouldn’t mind stealing a wife, or perhaps, all of them.

Considerably a reunion of sorts it certainly is for Vaughn and Favreau, who are alumni of the ’90’s Los Angeles dating scene semi-classic “Swingers,” who actually co-wrote the movie together but allowed Peter Billingsley to direct (his second feature). Who would have guessed that in this reunion that, Vaughn is the cool-headed one and Favreau is the leering eye jerk? Actually, it makes sense that these guys scripted it this way, they’re having a lark playing against type. While their chummy-hostility is occasionally worth a chortle or two, hence coughed laughter, their clashed arguments about infidelity and “happy endings” can put a ruin on the idea of romantic comedy. If you hate romantic comedy, then you’ll wish that these two will just do some beer-swilling already.

When the dialogue does work, between any of the characters, it has a borderline self-aware jest that works until it teeters too far into sitcom territory. You come to realize that this sitcom level entertainment that just so happens to have attractive background scenery. COUPLES RETREAT is occasionally watchable sitcom-y junk, that asks itself to get by with its one-liners and ribald body language, but it never comes close to a summit of respectability. And finally noted, you may not be entirely convinced – at least in one case – that one of the couples looks believably married. Can you agree on which one? Forget romantic comedy generics, let’s root for a break-up.

GRADE: C

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE

Movies about isolated, withdrawn and misunderstood kids can either affect similarly young kids in the audience that feel that way or they can affect adults that are able to look about twenty or thirty years or so and understand what it was like creating a fantasy adventure on their own in order to escape reality. WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE, based on a 1963 children’s book remembered by one or two previous generations, is a movie about a misunderstood kid in need of adventure as well about Things. The Things, as in talking feral creatures, of an island cut off from everything else.

Max (Max Records) is the 9-year old kid who puts his scribble on everything, like one of those autographing kids trying to scream out “I was here.” He likes to play in the snow, he likes to run after the dog, he likes to build his little fortresses in his room. And he wants somebody to join in on him. Catherine Keener plays the mom, and she’s one of those good moms that wants to encourage her son. But sometimes it’s like enough already, adults need to play their way too, and when mom brings home a new boyfriend (Mark Ruffalo) it drives Max to insane jealousy. He is no longer the number one attention-getter.

After biting mom – which he feels tears and regret – he runs off away from the world and onto a raft that carries him over the dark sea onto the Things island. Max has a crash meeting with these F/X creatures and then convinces them he is King. Finally Max has a clan of people who will listen to him and do what he wants. Voices are supplied by Lauren Ambrose, Chris Cooper, Paul Dano, Catherine O’Hara… but the only voice that really stands out instantly recognizable is James Gandolfini who is the grouch Thing.

Assimilating with the creatures diminishes Max’s loneliness, and without being said, there could be no other place for Max to so happily exist. He is the all-powerful King, right, and nothing can backfire? But the lesson here is that you must keep your ego in check no matter what you’re age or your class title happens to be. There really isn’t much else to the movie other than the island being a cutesy therapy healer for Max, who must learn that while a holiday soothes the spirit he nevertheless has to return to a family back home that loves him. Reminiscing, I am still endeared by a childhood favorites like “The Neverending Story” (1984) or “Labyrinth” (1986), both are similar lost in an imaginary fantasy world movies. But those were movies of unending adventure and relentless surprises.

Long stretches pass in the story where there is no external conflict, as nothing is unsettling until civil unrest amongst the Things gets out of hand. After you are impressed with the textures and designs of the creatures, there isn’t much else variety in terms of things to look at. You’re in a non-descript forest and then a desert region that all looks the same. Spike Jonze, taking a break from sophisticated head-spinners like “Being John Malkovich” and “Adaptation,” implements his usual trademark verité dazzle. The wildly untamed camera that jets and bumps around can be momentarily eye-popping.

Some movies prick you up and keep you alert. WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE is the kind of movie that makes you want to watch while spread out on the couch, lying sideways, and take it in like the little nibble comfort food it is. For that 1963 generation, nostalgia is fleeting.

GRADE: C+

A SERIOUS MAN

A SERIOUS MAN is not going to be considered a traditional entry in the Joel and Ethan Coen canon by some, and for certain there will be fans that are going to consider that a problem. Many followers dig them for their comedies that register rollicking surrealism, offbeat humor, and screwball nuttiness. If you’re one of those people that like the Coen Brothers for that, and nothing but that, you’re probably not going to like their latest work. There, it has been said so don’t say I didn’t tell you so. But if you’re one of these cinema connoisseurs always curious about the personal depths of idiosyncratic filmmakers (please read on), you might be the choice audience for this very peculiar film, which can be described as a very rare acquired taste.

The opening pre-credit prologue set a hundred years or something prior, which is disconnected from the rest of the film, is awful and nonsensical – the worst scene the Coens’ have ever directed (it's supposed to be a Yiddish folktale). Once the film finds a clean slate, the Coens’ are up to their necks in honoring, and satirizing, Jewish heritage in 1967 midwest suburbs. Adults are thriving orthodox followers or moral cowards, but the indifferent neighborhood of kids just wanna have fun. At Hebrew school, a boy’s transistor radio with Jefferson Airplane rock music is taken away from a school authority. This is the real start of the movie. It is soon followed by a student foreigner who tries to bribe his professor, only to supersede the situation with blackmail.

None of the actors are recognizable, as never has a Coen Brothers feature been so absent of stars (even their debut film “Blood Simple” had M. Emmet Walsh and Dan Hedaya). Theater actors and rarely seen character actors fill out the entire cast. Lead actor Michael Stuhlbarg, as professor Larry Gopnik, is a dull spineless mope until it dawns on you what a revelation the actor is to the part – he’s dull and spineless, but he’s a man who is desperate enough to want to ascend his failures. He is a serious, but brilliant man who wants to taste something from life that he can’t quite reach.

Throughout the movie, Larry is pitted against a litany of terrible plights and misfortunes: the agony of X-ray results, infringement of property lines, an upcoming tenure hearing that rings of looming disappointment, a car accident, an uncooperative TV antennae, and worst, news that his wife is leaving him for a neighbor Sy Ableman (Fred Melamed, a show-stopping ballsy performance). Sy is astonishingly ingratiating, barging into Larry’s home and offering his wisdom.

This is a very dry comedy, and you haven’t a clue on what dry comedy is, then you can see A SERIOUS MAN and learn as to what that’s like. Around the edges, a buzz of new problems always perpetuates, often with Larry adopting new problems against his willing. Sometimes the new problems come via external forces and sometimes it is family. Larry has a very loafish brother played by Richard Kind, likely the most recognizable face in the cast where you might think aloud “Where have I seen him?” Larry, on top of all his misery, has to cater to his unfortunate brother’s embarrassing secret that’s worthy of social ostracizing. In-between are visits to his lawyer and visits to his rabbi. It is part of the Coen deadpan humor that when he gets his rabbi counseling, it’s of a futile nature.

Even an erudite critic like me sometimes forgets about the Coens’ “The Man Who Wasn’t There,” which was their previous entry on the theme of the little man who gets stomped on. The Coens’ put you through the grinder, along with Larry, with their newest work which arrives at what initially feels like a frustrating and detached final punchline. That’s until you step back and consider that it’s Mother Nature intervening and dictating Larry’s destiny, a destiny where there is no way out but just to accept the fate that has been put in front of him. The black joke is that Larry will go down as the guy who gave way more than he ever received.

Food for thought is heavy in “A Serious Man,” and if you’re perceptive you can appreciate that it is personal for the Coens’ who have decorated their film with memories of their childhood atmosphere put right up on the screen. But I admit that I wouldn’t mind a light meal next time from the Coens’.

GRADE: B

2012

Tremendous special effects duke it out with stupid characterizations in 2012, a movie less concerned with Mayan theology than with putting on a thrill ride featuring 1,001 close calls. Massive destruction is caught with wide-angle shots and aerial shots that were made with seamless composites by a heavily geared special effects team, of course, director Roland Emmerich of “Independence Day” fame as the commandant. What Emmerich is a master of is composing fragment shots of debris and wreckage flying at the camera. Armageddon-disaster movie is his specialty, so is staging an ensemble of movie stars who narrowly dodge record-breaking earthquakes and volcanic eruptions with poise and ease.

Matters of enjoyment come down to how much you can tolerate ham-fisted dialogue and impossible contrived situations. When the end of the world is near, for instance, do you really risk your life and the lives of others to collect your poodle? Or how about planes taking off on broken asphalt runway? Emmerich, who brings tsunami disaster to India with the same large scale pluck as he does turning Los Angeles and Yellowstone Park into a ferocious volcano, is happy to go ’round the world to depict catastrophe. He also goes to China to introduce us to Buddhists and their wisdom, but there, he supplies them trite lines of pseudo-wisdom.

As the representing common man, John Cusack plays a family man fortuitous enough to break the odds, travelling from Los Angeles to China, specifically to a Far East haven, with what is either genius or luck. Only a few hundred-thousand on the entire planet have a ticket to board “the ship,” the only exodus available. The ticket-holders are the rich, the ones that could afford to live on while everyone else worth less than a billion dollars will not be spared. Danny Glover as the President of the United States chooses to accept his exit with timeliness, imparting compassion for the citizens doomed.

Big chunks of the film are preposterously entertaining, and anybody remotely impressed by special effects will not be bored. Did I mention Woody Harrelson plays a bearded nutjob deejay who isn’t so much a nutjob after his predictions come true at Yellowstone? Did I mention that Chiwetel Ejiofor as the head scientist and Thandie Newton as the first daughter of the United States are the most attractive, and brainiest two of the film? Or how about Oliver Platt as the dispassionate chief of staff who doesn’t care much if his mother perishes? The dialogue for this genre, as corny as it is, has improved since the “Airport” and “Towering Inferno” disaster movie days of the ’70’s. Staying relational and in-the-moment, it can be simplistic and broad dialogue but at least it is always conscious of its surroundings.

The film has its share of oversights and peculiarities. In the Los Angeles destruction scenes, we get loads of shots of buildings and vehicles battered to smithereens but there are never any people in the shots. When Cusack’s plane flies overhead the whole earth is collapsing but Emmerich forgot to put human bodies in there. I suppose that’s cleaner for the family audience. At 2 hours and 37 minutes, the insinuation that billions of people will be doomed but can be swallowed easier when there are less people in the frame. Cusack also drives miraculously fast through non-traffic Los Angeles, a city with a clichéd amount of palm trees. I also chuckled aloud during all the references to Wisconsin, particularly when two former out-of-shape Wisconsin people who look like they have built a steady diet on McDonald’s food could seem to afford a beachfront in pricey Manhattan Beach.

Aboard the ship in the conclusion, some of the survivors don’t look like rich people but rather an average looking cast of extras who appear like they came from the middle class, but that observation is a judgment call. Also an oversight on how there seems to be twenty men to every female – in Stanley Kubrick’s disaster black comedy “Dr. Strangelove” the president is consulted that to rebuild the human species after Armageddon there should be ten females to every male. Talk about expanded screenplay wit for a 1964 classic.

2012 is what it is. I found the disaster stuff fun for awhile until I could no longer tolerate its banality. Despite that, I was never bored (just annoyed). But if you are going to see 2012 now or later, see it now on the big screen where the big scale disaster pieces can be enjoyed to its maximum.

GRADE: C+

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

Long in existence, A CHRISTMAS CAROL has been played out in a number of varying budget film productions but thanks to Robert Zemeckis this is probably the most expensive, and thus, it is visually spectacular. Even if you are not an expert on Charles Dickens’ 1843 tale, you can clearly estimate which parts have been updated and freshened for a new generation, and for the most part, Zemeckis’ instincts are right on. Yet is it sacrilegious to say that some of the elements, old and new, are a tad repetitive? Regardless, the dazzling sights and sounds are aplenty, and the opening title sequence where the camera flies over the architecture of London, is exhilarating to the point that it gets you peppy for the holidays. Good cheer.

Of course, the fantastic whizzing camera with this much speed and dexterity is only possible because the movie is a factory blend of live action and animation. This is Zemeckis’ third attempt with this device of “performance capture” where actors’ body movements are transformed and interspersed into an animated world. A CHRISTMAS CAROL is the most successful of Zemeckis’ animated attempts, not because he has perfected his technique greater than before but because the story is much better than the ones for “The Polar Express” and “Beowulf.” Zemeckis has always been an indisputable technical genius even back when he was in “live action.” But let us not forget that while “Forrest Gump” was a technical triumph it was a much better movie than “Death Becomes Her” which ran previous to his multiple Oscar winner, which was a technical triumph as well but a bummer of a story.

Ebenezer Scrooge is the ultimate bummer of a protagonist, the kind of man who gives no hours off for his employees for good behavior nor does he spend money on his office heating system (how much could coal really cost?). The inflection and affections of Jim Carrey’s voice as Scrooge is startlingly effective, either it’s a great Carrey performance or a great sound editing job, or perhaps, a little bit of both. But how about that animation again? Those deep wrinkles in Scrooge’s face are so authentic looking in their mild crevasses. Okay, maybe it is true in Zemeckis’ latest that the human faces are more real and less rubbery this time. Yet let’s forget the technical work. The reason we care anyway is in hope that Scrooge elongates that facial tension enough to smile again, smile wide and rejoice in Christmas spirit, and drop that humbug business. It is an ideal story that begins as a bummer but reaches for rebirth for Scrooge, and audience uplift.

Supernatural forces haunt Scrooge on Christmas Eve as the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Christmas Yet to Come arrive in order to show him the meaning of Christmas, alas, the meaning of life. The Ghost of Past is the most essential of the plot stages as Scrooge gets another look at the happiness of his youth before he gave it up for sake of propriety. The rest of the movie is just as familiar if repetitive (briefly a drag), and it’s not hard to guess that Scrooge can redeem his own soul by saving another life. Life-affirming message aside, it is really about the whooshing visual dynamics that Zemeckis brings to this oft-told tale (the excess carriage crashes are a bit much), and in spite of that, the cycles of Scrooge’s journeys gets a little long.

Zemeckis has gotten lost in too much spectacle before, but this time he gets things balanced in digestible moderation. Just when you thought you have been over-wowed, i.e., overfed with enough f/x, you get Carrey putting on the grouch-charm that he’s so good at doing and you feel love for Carrey as a performer. The clever turns by Colin Firth and Gary Oldman warm the cockles of your heart (forgive holiday journalist mushiness). As implied, the special effects are occasionally too battering, Zemeckis is a wizard who never seems to believe he should put down his magic wand. But to a contrasting degree, Zemeckis channels his special effects also to an endearing effect when story permits. Too much explanation on the endearing effects would be spoiling, if not untranslatable anyway to the written word, so go see for yourself.

Would Dickens ever guessed that in future generations his work would get a rollercoaster for an adaptation? Would he have marveled at the special effects? Let’s hope so, because they are really good and you would think Dickens was a man of humor, mirth and gratitude. Would Dickens be pleased that the spirit of his work is intact? Legend has it he hastily wrote this holiday classic simply as a means to pay the bills. But yep, the ending is heart-thumping in all the right ways. Here’s another question: Will Robert Zemeckis, with his larger than life storytelling abilities, be as famous as Charles Dickens one hundred years from now? Likely he will as long as there are still Netflix users in existence.

GRADE: B+

THE BOX

THE BOX might remind you why you love suspense and hate suspense at the same time. Richard Kelly’s film keeps you in suspense until you are pleading with it to tell you more. But you may hate it because you are wondering if the damn this is ever going to pay off. After awhile you get the sense that Kelly’s film is going to be one of those ambiguous ones, and certainly ambiguity is one of those trademarks that a genuine cinephile can enjoy. But the mind-teasing conundrum of this uncommonly weird studio movie teeters dangerously to the point of not wanting it to be so damn ambiguous.

This strange disfigured man in a black coat shows up at the door. He delivers a box with a glass dome lid covering a big red button. Arthur and Norma Lewis (James Marsden and Cameron Diaz) have 24 hours to decide whether to push the button. If they do, they will inherit $1 million dollars tax free. But elsewhere in the world someone random they do not know will die as a result. The two of them never seem to ask the right questions about the box and its circumstances until after stranger Arlington Steward (Frank Langella) has left.

The Virginia couple, of this 1976 setting, complains about finances but lives in such a nice house that you have to assume that they are living wealthily just beyond their means of income. Arthur is an optics designer for NASA and Norma is a respectable teacher. But things could be better just like things could be better for any person belonging to the human race. They argue whether the box is a hoax, a prank. They also muster reasons as to why all that money will solve their problems for now as well as for the rest of their life. Which one of them will end up pushing the button?

So here’s this Richard Kelly guy, the writer-director, who previously made such idiosyncratic sci-fi as “Donnie Darko” and “Southland Tales.” He creates a number of visual motifs such as secondary characters bleeding from the nose and stone-like faces staring at the Lewis’ from afar. He is a director obsessed with portals – when a character must guess the gateway to “salvation” or to “damnation” you might be confounded by which entrance was chosen. This is a director that not only quotes Jean-Paul Sarte and Arthur C. Clarke, but constructs a homage reminiscent to the final scenes of “2001: A Space Odyssey” while he’s at it. The imagery is startling and breathtaking, and then sometimes just nonsensically weird. What’s with the warehouse with a walk line of white lights actually leading to?

Strip away the spooky, cryptic elements and you have two fairly good lead performances by Marsden and Diaz bringing the right amount of guilt and vulnerability to their performances. Langella, as the sinister puppeteer, does an exceptionally good job in delivering his dialogue with equal measures of persuasiveness and supremacy. He’s the kind of man who dodges matters and concerns of others with his ability to swing the dialogue his way. Then there is the briefcase full of money as a plot catalyst only to put the whole idea of money in the forgotten background. That’s the thing about movie characters receiving large sums of money they didn’t earn. Once they have it they don’t need it anymore. Good health is the highest basic priority, isn’t it?

THE BOX is adapted from a Richard Matheson short story “Button, Button” from long ago. The original Matheson story is simply an intriguing set up and then culminated by a wry punchline. It’s a story that can be read in about five minutes. Matheson was a great writer, but Kelly is as much a respectable talent (whether you like his work or not) and especially here where he had to do a lot of creating in order to expand and amplify Matheson’s miniaturized story to feature length. Kelly has such a gripping sense on science fiction that an example of his storytelling gift is when he concocts an indelibly imaginative subplot explanation on the reasons on how Norma’s foot was maimed during a freak occurrence in her teenage years.

Kelly’s movie however walks that tightrope between curiosity and tedium, and I was constantly hard-pressing to bridge the symbolism together. I honestly don’t know if I can say I liked the movie or not until I see it again. But the fact that I want to see it again says something, right? If you have the same kind of gravitation towards ambiguous puzzle movies then you might just want to put up a fight to see THE BOX What a weird movie. Big-budget studio movies are rarely this weird.

GRADE: B-

PIRATE RADIO

A movie called PIRATE RADIO which actually looks like it was filmed on a pirate ship, and to its detriment, goes for the handheld camera and choppy edits way too often. It’s Britain of the 1960’s, the days of The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, and so many other milestone artists. There are nearly 60 songs on the soundtrack, all played in brief interludes. But what groovy moments do these songs certainly create.

Sit back long enough and this Richard Curtis film will grow on you. It could inspire the same kind of appreciation for classic rock that “High Fidelity” and “Almost Famous” did, albeit to a lesser degree, and it features a boisterous foul-mouthed cast. Philip Seymour Hoffman, as the one American, is a DJ who in the early scenes pronounces he is going to use the F-word on the air for the very first time. He burns the tolerance of station owner and ship captain Quentin (Bill Nighy) to such a degree that Quentin ends up saying the most F-words. On the air.

These guys will broadcast anything, even a wedding that comes to board where Simon and his ugly British overbite (Chris O’Dowd) is marrying a spectacularly hot chick (January Jones) who may want him merely for convenience. Teenage Carl (Tom Sturridge) spent his earliest years in an all-boys school and is looking to lose his virginity, something that can also be broadcast in good fun except that Thick Kevin (Tom Brooke) steals away his opportunities. The very mod Gavin (Rhys Ifans) behaves the way Austin Powers would behave on the radio waves, he doesn’t need inspiration but himself and maybe a reference to his zipper.

Curtis' latest film is full of fast-paced and bouncy episodes, and it’s countered by stateside drama with Kenneth Branagh as a government minister who intends to shut the rogue station down. The extreme of how humorless his character is by turns funny, especially in contrast of the anything-goes attitude of our central cream of characters. Some may not like the fact that the film is full of musical montages, and cutaways to grooved-out radio listeners everywhere, but because it celebrates rock, I happen to like all of the musical-dramatic montages. I especially liked the way The Kinks’ “All Day and All of the Night” was used in its romantic-dramatic play-out, and one of my all-time favorite songs, “A Whiter Shade of Pale” by Procol Harum, is played loud and stirringly during a scene of ship over-flooding until the song is cut in half.

All of the playful, hip people are listening to this rogue station because the legitimate stations of that time were not allowed to play Rock. The “Pirate” gang are crusaders, they are revolutionaries, and so they are smitten with themselves. Every week a ship of girls docks with them, they are fans and they are grateful fans, the kind that arrived at a “historical” time of peace and free love. If some of the film is far-fetched, it still works because it perpetuates the outrageously upbeat myth that the 60’s was a watershed happening time.

GRADE: B

THE TWILIGHT SAGE: NEW MOON

NEW MOON is two hours plus of Bella (Kristen Stewart) resisting kissing another guy other than Edward (Robert Pattinson). The story requires her to act ashamed or withdrawn time and time again, and when she makes a “suicide attempt” you want to smack your forehead. This time Jacob (Taylor Lautner) wants to be her hunky caretaker, and if you’ve read the book, you probably know before I did that he has a secret that makes him, you know, the opposite of Edward. Why do these guys feel so protective over this very sulky girl?

For reasons explained later, Edward deserts from the town Forks to fulfill an obligation, thus, breaking Bella’s heart in what is one of the few good dialogue scenes. He reappears in a mist, an awful repetitive special effect, and Bella of course can’t figure out by the fifth time that he’s not really there – it’s only a mist! And when you talk back to the mist it appears to others that you are really talking to yourself!

At the risk of sounding presumptuous I am starting to really get tired of Kristen Stewart who seems to be twitching her eyebrows (in despair? in self-pity? in angst?) through every damn scene in the movie. Has she made a movie yet where she doesn’t bring her bag of moody facial tics to the screen? In the first movie it made sense that her character arrives to a new town, not knowing anybody, afraid that she wasn’t going to fit in, etc. But even surrounded by a crowd of friends on her birthday she does the eyebrow twitching thing, and the sulky thing with her mouth.

A year ago I actually wrote a marginal positive review for the first “Twilight” which I liked on the grounds of using the vampire context as a metaphor for the subculture of high school outsiders. Following the early scenes, Bella and everyone else stops going to school. What you get is never-ending soap opera-ish scenes of boys and girls having trouble expressing their feelings for each other. Is there anything more dull than observing the indecisiveness of a girl like Kristen Stewart, eh, Bella? Jacob is told by Bella that he is beautiful. Which leads to one close call in surrendering inhibitions: a near-kiss interrupted by a ringing telephone.

We also get a scene of Bella inviting trouble to herself by hopping on the back of a motorcycle with a local hoodlum, assuming that Edward will return to save her, but only negatively reaffirms that she is willing to put herself in a vulnerable situation where she can be attacked. Not just by one hoodlum but by a gang of them. Never mind. I’ll leave that one alone. But I will mention that yeah, Edward’s mist shows up.

Yes, I liked the original “Twilight” but a little of this goes a long way, and anymore of this stuff is vaporous. Are we really fooling ourselves by branding this is anything more than a Tween Vampire Flick? I am left thankful that, praise the Lord for some sophistication, Chan-wook Park’s “Thirst” and Tomas Alfredson’s “Let the Right One In” have delivered potent vampire thrills in recent times.

GRADE: D+

PLANET 51

Planet 51 is towards the bottom when it comes to recent animated releases. It tells the story of an astronaut crash-landing on an alien planet where the aliens are green and cute, and also reminiscent in behavior to earthlings from the 1950’s. The indicator that it’s like the 1950’s USA is that there are lots of white-picket fences, gardening tending, moms wearing aprons, and some golden oldies pop references. Except it’s not Earth, it’s an alien planet, get it?

The crasher from the sky is Captain Chuck Baker (voiced by Dwayne Johnson) who is weirded out by all those green creatures. But the green creatures are just, you know, normal. Let’s jump ahead and let it be known that the action is very generic. When Captain Baker and Lem (Justin Long) first meet, they both freak, run the opposite direction up onto a staircase that meets in the middle, and they smack into each other. When Captain Baker is surrounded by authorities at a later time, he sneaks out the back door. The zenith in creativity are the dome-bubble cars that run through town, they look like halfway the work of Andrew Stanton.

This is really Lem’s story, for he is a nerdy astronomical observer whom in his beginnings tells his planetarium audience that the universe is a “couple of hundred miles wide.” Captain Baker isn’t just his friend, he’s his new source in space information that tells him of the limitless galaxy. Let’s now make room for new introductions. There is also a cute girl (Jessica Biel) who is non-violent resistant whom Lem is trying to impress. There is a villain and he’s played by General Grawl (Gary Oldman) who is on a sweep and destroy mission for Captain Baker’s blood. Let it be known that not even Gary Oldman does a lot with his part. Stealing the scene is a “Wall-E” type of miniature robot, assisting the Captain, participates in the movie’s major sight gags.

The spaceship to return Captain Baker is heavily guarded so the two of them, and maybe a few other friends, have to figure out a way to get Baker back up into space without being chased by General Grawl’s men. The military forces are, of course, incompetent and prone to shooting themselves. Visual jokes are just as lazy as the dialogue-driven jokes.

You could pat “Planet 51” on the back for coming up with lots of references to past movies, starting with “War of the Worlds” within the first scene. Despite all efforts, Steven Spielberg and George Lucas are unlikely to have much of a hardy har-har with this one. This may perhaps be a good movie for ages 7 to 8½, but I will have to confess. I laughed zero times at this movie. And worse, I smiled zero times. Although there’s a chance I would have enjoyed it more if I had a 7-year old sitting next to me so I could explain the jokes, and the non-jokes, to someone.

GRADE: D+

BAD LIEUTENANT: PORT OF CALL NEW ORLEANS

Following the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, Nicolas Cage’s Terence McDonagh goes into a serious tailspin of drug abuse, not to mention corruption, in Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call, New Orleans. His most intimate relationship is with Eva Mendes as Frankie, a prostitute who still has her looks even though she snorts along with Terence. Somehow Terence gets his woman entangled with a murder and a drug sting, but that doesn’t stop Terence’s tumble into debasement. He harasses an old woman dependent on an oxygen tank, stacks on a gambling debt, does some salacious bargaining with a young woman caught with drugs, and raids the evidence room at headquarters. Harvey Keitel played this role seventeen years ago in a film with a slimmer and more condensed screenplay.

The new Bad Lieutenant is somehow not a remake, a sequel or an update to Abel Ferrara’s unforgettable 1992 film (rated NC-17) simply called “Bad Lieutenant.” They shouldn’t be compared, and yet somehow, you want to compare them. The first film is hypnotic, this new film gets stuck in plot-heavy sludge. Werner Herzog’s film is scattershot, a smorgasboard of superfluous storylines – many of them I didn’t care about. The last thing I wanted were a number of wispy scenes about the “big” case, a case I especially never cared about. There was also a big case in Ferrara’s film but somehow it had spiritually-challenging impact that felt integrated to what was going on in the Lieutenant’s inner life.

Understand that Herzog is one of the greatest. I still attest that “The Godfather” was not the best film of 1972, Herzog’s “Aguirre the Wrath of God” was and it remains one of the most breathtaking films ever made. Herzog has made another half dozen masterworks and an assorted amount of other good films in his career. But in this case, it is learned that Herzog should stay out of urban American movies. Herzog crafts some good scenes and mercilessly gazes at the dilapidated underbelly of a tattered city, but spliced between are a lot of forced encounters and synthetic melodrama hubbub.

The interconnecting end scenes are so bad that I was hoping it was a dream sequence. As an indicator of how unassured the project is, Herzog made an egregious error by thinking he needed to tie every thread of plot. This is the worst over-tidying Herzog has ever done. He has never not trusted his audience before, trusted that we can on our own connect the ambiguous parts together on our own.

I wanted the detective to revel in more bad behavior – the scene with Cage lambasting the pharmacist has believable stimulated aggression, and the aforementioned scenes demonstrate a powerful sordidness. But when Cage demonstrates his trademark facial vulnerability I felt like I was watching Cage channeling Jimmy Stewart on drugs. The more Cage goes over-the-top the better, and if anything, selected critic feedback has been wrong to accuse Cage of going over-the-top. I don’t think Herzog accepted the idea to let Cage go all the way to make his character unsavory.

Which goes back to Ferrara’s film. Now that we’ve seen another actor do this role it is more clear than ever that Harvey Keitel’s 1992 performance is one of the greatest we’ve had on-screen, and now that Cage has done the bad lieutenant walk, we know now how fearless Keitel really went with the part. One unsuccessful film proves the greatness of another.

GRADE: C

PRECIOUS: BASED ON THE NOVEL 'PUSH' BY SAPPHIRE

Hard to recommend a movie where the protagonist is damned in hopelessness, but there must be reason to justify Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire. Simply put, it is one of the great artistic achievements of the year. Now is where it is hard to find a way to inspire you to attend. For one, it is clear that director Lee Daniels has found ways to counter-measure its darkness by interspersing grace and acts of kindness into a bleak story.

The title character (played wrenchingly by Gabourey Sidibe) is a very obese 16-year old girl from Harlem who is told early on she can no longer attend high school after it is learned she is pregnant with her second child, both of them conceived out of consent. A school administrator expels her but makes a house visit to inform her that she can go to a private school for girls with special needs. On route she meets a social worker (Mariah Carey, de-glammed) and a teacher (Paula Patton) with infinite patience and willingness to make sure Precious gets the attention and tending that she needs. The girl can barely write or read. She barely musters the desire to speak, often living in her own silent and withdrawn world.

Her home life is a nightmare dwelling, lit in dank yellow light and enclosed by deteriorating wallpaper, and she’s hectored constantly by her mother Mary (Mo’Nique) to cook dinner for her. And re-cook another meal if the first one is wrong. The abusiveness goes beyond, including multiple scenes of Mom throwing things at Precious’ head. This is where it must be said that Mo’Nique, stretching from broad comedies like “Phat Girlz” and “Soul Plane” is a towering, monstrous presence. She is the Robert DeNiro of fat African-American actresses. Her performance is perhaps the equal of the great DeNiro performance of “This Boy’s Life” in which DeNiro also played an abusive stepfather.

One of the film’s elemental and uncompromising pledges is to make the Mom as oppressive, narcissistic and abusive as possible. By establishing this within Mo’Nique’s first scene, you root for Precious to gain the courage to transcend above her mother. She is only 16-years old but for her benefit, and ours, she must find a way to succeed which means moving out of the house and finding a life of independence. Asking that much of a 16-year old is, of course, a lot. You wonder to what lengthy degrees Mrs. Weiss and Ms. Rain, the social worker and teacher, are going to be able to help her. Mom wants her daughter strapped because her welfare checks depends on it. The film tracks Precious’ gathering awareness of where to search for autonomy.

But for every new discovery, such as the joy of being able to write a page in a journal and make it sound literate, Precious faces setbacks and hardships that faze her. Precious’ mentor and girlfriend support is there to help inspire her. She finally makes the awful, but desperate, confession of what kind of abuse she has endured at home. Her story is out, it’s off her chest, and she has friends to listen. The movie avoids in offering any easy solutions. Life is tough, life is a struggle, but a better life is now worth struggling for. Mom the tyrant is always around the corner to make attempts to weaken and suffocate her own daughter, that’s an obstacle that won’t go away too easy.

When Precious is smacked with her worst difficulties, director Daniels creates pop fantasy sequences to demonstrate how this girl wants to avoid her life, avoid facing decisions. Rarely have fantasy sequences worked so well in a movie – there’s one heartbreaking moment where Precious sees herself in the mirror as a thin Caucasian blonde. Here’s a girl that uses fantasies as a crutch, a solace retreat, the only place where she live grandiosely and without judgment. Daniels knows better than to revert to the cliché, he doesn’t evolve the fantasies into something “better” or more “practical.” There is nothing wrong with them for Precious, if that is what comforts her. But Daniels knows this is also the story of a girl who learns to live in reality, and how to survive among people. Not needing to live in withdrawal is the film’s first catharsis.

GRADE: A-