Review: "WRECK-IT RALPH"

Starring the voices of: John C. Reilly, Sarah Silverman, Jack McBrayer, Jane Lynch, Alan Tudyk, Mindy Kaling, Ed O'Neil
Directed by: Rich Moore
Written by: Phil Johnston and Jennifer Lee (based on a story by Johnston, Rich Moore, and Jim Reardon)

Despite being unfairly lambasted as brainless or even excessively violent entertainment by some critics (COUGHrogerebertCOUGH), I've always considered video games to be an unsung hero in the world of art and pop culture. Whether it was the simple "crossing the street" of Frogger or the darkly moralistic landscape of BioShock, games from either the arcade or the home console have always had their own unique story to tell, either through its narrative or the countless bits of code strung together to form a visual tale where dialogue isn't even necessary.

After all, some of the best stories-- whether it's literary or cinematic, musical or interactive-- are simple tales of good versus evil, and if anything, video games aren't video games without these essential archetypes. What's Mario without a Bowser? What's Sonic without a Dr. Robotnik? What's Oregon Trail without a... I don't know, dysentery?

But what if those villains stuck in their big shiny boxes get tired of losing and being vilified, game after game? It must get pretty monotonous to get beaten at the final stage and let the hero get all the glory all the time. Why can't they be a hero for once? In director Rich Moore's hugely inspired and wonderfully nostalgic animated comedy Wreck-It Ralph, the final boss gets a chance to aim for the high score.

For the last 30 years, Wreck-It Ralph (voice of John C. Reilly) has served as the destructive villain in the arcade game Fix-It Felix, Jr., where the eponymous carpenter hero (voice of Jack McBrayer) saves a building from being demolished by Ralph, ultimately throwing Ralph off the building and earning the adulation of the townspeople. But once the arcade closes, the game characters have a life of their own, with all the arcade cabinets connected in their own digital universe by way of a surge protector serving as a "central station" of sorts.

But while Felix enjoys the fruits of a popular hero's life, Ralph spends his nights by himself in a junk pile, friendless and lonely. Tired of always playing the villain and wanting to prove his worth as a hero --and learning that he can earn the love of his game's townspeople if he wins a game's "hero medal"-- Ralph goes AWOL from his game and enters the world of the first-person shooter Hero's Duty, which features the no-nonsense Sgt. Calhoun (voice of Jane Lynch) leading a platoon of troops against an army of dangerous Cy-Bug monsters.

Hoping to win that game's medal, Ralph infiltrates Hero's Duty-- even though leaving his home game means that he cannot regenerate if he dies-- and does just that, but an encounter with a stray Cy-Bug sends Ralph into the candy-coated world of the racing game Sugar Rush, which is led by racing champion King Candy (voice of Alan Tudyk). There, Ralph meets the diminutive Vanellope von Schweetz (voice of Sarah Silverman), a hyperactive "glitch" in the game who uses Ralph's medal as a means to enter a big race.

As Ralph deals with trying to regain his medal by reluctantly helping Vanellope win the race, he must contend with the schemes of King Candy, not to mention a possible infestation of Sugar Rush by the Cy-Bugs, all while Felix tries to retrieve Ralph before their own game is shut down for good.

Ever since hearing of Wreck-It Ralph's development, I was extremely excited for the film's release, especially after seeing the clever trailer. I grew up with arcades (back when they were still fashionable and not overshadowed by the uber-expensive "barcades" such as Dave & Buster's) and the classic 2D home consoles such as Nintendo and Sega Genesis, so any film dealing with retro gaming (and I use "retro" in a loving, unironic sense) is an immediate point of interest for me.

Overall, movies that have used classic games or aspects of the medium as part of their plot have more or less hit the mark (whether it was the stupendous documentary The King of Kong or the comic book/video game mashup Scott Pilgrim vs. The World), so when I heard that Disney's latest animated feature would be a loving send-up of the 8-bit classics of my past, my expectations were very high.

After seeing the film, I'd just like to say that whoever gave the go-ahead for the movie is an unparalleled genius. A technical marvel and an emotionally satisfying treat for both kids and old-school gamers, Wreck-It Ralph is a brilliant homage to arcade games on a level that gives the folks at Pixar a run for their money in terms of computer animation, terrific storytelling, and a painstaking eye for detail.

I laughed out loud during the many occasions where I caught reference after reference to video games that would make a gamer junkie squeal, from the video game villain support group that Ralph attends (the pep talk he gets from the ghost from Pac-Man and Zangief from Street Fighter is priceless) to the presence of Q*Bert as a vagrant in the surge protector where all the game characters intersect (another brilliant touch in terms of Toy Story-esque anthropomorphism) are nostalgic gold. I was amazed that the Mouse House managed to get permission to have so many existing game characters show up (much like the case in Who Framed Roger Rabbit), but when you have a screenplay as clever as this, you can only imagine game companies jumping at the chance to represent here.

The cast is terrific across the board, with a winning hero in John C. Reilly's "villain", whose chemistry with Sarah Silverman's bratty racer is pitch-perfect. Jack McBrayer (Kenneth the Page from TV's "30 Rock") injects his usual folksy demeanor as the wholesome Fix-It Felix, and the great Jane Lynch is all tough-talking grit as the heroine from the Halo parody, Hero's Duty.

And as I pointed out earlier, the detail in Ralph is immaculate. There are so many big and little touches that evoke the visual elements of video games from past and present: for example, when Ralph smashes apart a cake, the dessert's splatter is depicted as being "pixelated". When a race begins in Sugar Rush, the camera swivels behind the racers the same way it did in racing games like Mario Kart. It's details like these that give the film its character, and I had a big ol' smile on my face from start to finish.

It's likely that a lot of the video game jokes and references will fly over the heads of young kids or some older adults who never got into games post-Pong, but Wreck-It Ralph still manages to entertain and engage without the need for the audience to be arcade enthusiasts. A hopeful shoo-in for awards season and a reminder that there are still plenty of great, original stories left to tell in Movieland, Wreck-It Ralph is a huge Level-Up for animated storytelling and entertainment.

Letter Grade: "A"

Review: "SKYFALL"

Starring: Daniel Craig, Javier Bardem, Judi Dench, Ralph Fiennes, Naomie Harris, Ben Whishaw, Albert Finney, Berenice Lim Marlohe, Ola Rapace
Directed by: Sam Mendes
Written by: Neal Purvis, John Logan, and Robert Wade (based on the character created by Ian Fleming)

There's that old and somewhat overused saying about being able to "teach an old dog new tricks", where you can prove that something or someone seemingly beyond their prime can adapt to the times and still show the young'uns how it's done. Of course, there's always a nagging doubt about whether or not they can really catch that second wind, and whether or not it's possible to stay relevant and popular in a constantly-changing world.

This quandary can easily be applied to the venerable and iconic "James Bond" film franchise, which released its first of twenty-three entries-- Dr. No-- fifty years ago. It's astounding to comprehend that novelist Ian Fleming's British MI6 Agent 007 is marking his Golden Jubilee, but after 23 films of varying quality and six different actors playing the now legendary role, it's almost inevitable that there's been a little bit of wear and tear in the franchise.

Granted, Eon Productions tried to shake things up in 2006 by rebooting Mr. Bond into the 21st century with a grittier, more realistic, post-9/11 portrayal with the exhilarating Casino Royale, this time with the steely-eyed Daniel Craig successfully reinvigorating the character, giving him more emotional depth and pathos than previously seen. But when the subpar sequel Quantum of Solace hit theaters two years later, many thought that Bond's critically lauded relaunch was just a fluke, and that the series' better days were behind it. But thanks to a thrilling, nostalgic, and streamlined threequel in the form of director Sam Mendes' Skyfall, it's clear that 007 has a lot more fight in him than previously thought.

British MI6 Agent James Bond-- designated 007-- is believed dead after a covert operation in Turkey has gone awry. Bond and his fellow agent Eve (Naomie Harris) have been chasing mercenary Patrice (Ola Rapace), who had stolen a hard drive containing the true identities of every undercover NATO agent and is planning to sell it to an unknown benefactor. Bond is shot during the fracas and falls into the sea, adding political pressure to his agency superior M (Judi Dench) from Intelligence Chairman Gareth Mallory (Ralph Fiennes) to retire in light of the crisis.

Making matters worse is an explosion at MI6 headquarters by a mysterious cyberterrorist, forcing the agency to relocate underground. By this time, Bond returns to London and is approached by M to help find the bomber, but Mallory and others doubt Bond's abilities due to his age and nagging injuries. Nonetheless, Bond is cleared by M to return to field duty, receiving tech and weaponry support by new MI6 quartermaster Q (Ben Whishaw) and joins Eve in tracking Patrice to Shanghai.

Bond's mission eventually leads him to encounter the mastermind behind the various attacks on British Intelligence: Raoul Silva (Javier Bardem), an unstable genius who may or may not have a personal connection to M. Bond must do whatever he can to thwart Silva's plot before his revenge-driven schemes succeed.

After the smashing success of Casino Royale, it really was a disappointment for Quantum of Solace to not replicate the qualities that made the Bond reboot such a blast to watch. Sprawling, confusing, and sometimes outright boring, Solace revived fears that 007 finally lost his luster, leaving the franchise's future in doubt, especially regarding the financial difficulties of distributor MGM. But the four-year gap gave Eon the necessary time to recover and rebuild rather than give up.

It seemed to have paid off, thanks to an inspired choice of a director in Sam Mendes (American Beauty, Road to Perdition), who gets Bond back on track with a story that acknowledges the changing times in both the real world and the film's narrative, but also acknowledges how sometimes the old ways can still work best (M's dilemma regarding the Prime Minister possibly dissolving MI6 due to supposedly being obsolete is an obvious analogy to the film series' current situation).

Mendes effortlessly manages to bring Bond back to basics, retaining the post-Royale realism while still injecting a heaping helping of nostalgia and Connery-era energy. Mendes probably also realized that when you release a Bond film on the series' 50th anniversary, you'd better pull out all of the stops to pay respect to its history and please longtime fans. There's the shaken martinis, the Aston-Martin, the thrilling action sequence cold open (this time around it's a chase on top of a speeding train, though I don't think anyone can top the crazy-as-shit footchase from Royale), and even reintroduction of classic Bond characters in the Reboot Era.

The best of the bunch is the new Q (previously played by Peter Burton, Desmond Llewelyn, and John Cleese), and here Bond's weapons and tech guru isn't some kindly old man with exploding pens and laser-armed Polaroid cameras, but a twentysomething computer nerd played with a perfect combination of wit and vigor that pokes loving fun at the cartoonish qualities of Bonds of decades' past.

Once again, Craig proves himself to be the best Bond since Connery, if not better. Taciturn, tough as nails, yet extremely vulnerable, Craig gives 007 even more depth and dimension than folks like Connery, Roger Moore, Pierce Brosnan et al. ever could. We learn more about Bond's past, his shaky relationship with M, and his struggle with middle age and whether or not he's cut out for the life of a spy when he's so irreparably broken, both physically and emotionally.

The rest of the cast ranges from good to excellent, especially Javier Bardem as yet another sociopathic villain with a peculiar hairstyle (though it fails to top his Oscar-winning turn in No Country for Old Men). Though his Silva is no Auric Goldfinger by any means, it's an interesting spin the usual Bond villain archetype thanks in part to his deeply personal link to M and Bardem's wonderfully unbalanced and flamboyant performance. Dench once again nails her role as M, and it's refreshing to see Ralph Fiennes in a non-villain role for once.

The fight sequences are fantastic, thanks in large part to Roger Deakins' jaw-dropping cinematography, such as a nighttime fight with the combatants' silhouettes placed against the neon backdrop of Shanghai. Deakins captures such varied locations as rural Scotland and metropolitan London with striking vibrance and detail, and it's a brilliant complement to the already brilliant script, direction, and cast.

But, as hinted at earlier, the best part of Skyfall is the consistent vibe of Bond nostalgia, whether it's the one-liners and character quirks or the tricked-out cars and that wonderful surf-rock theme music cue that's been planted in the cultural consciousness for the last five decades. By sticking to its newfound 21st century tone while still respecting and even giving several shoutouts to what made the franchise great in the first place, Skyfall rectifies the missteps of the last entry and assures us all that no matter what era or what actor, James Bond is always here to stay.

Letter Grade: "A"

Review: "ARGO"

Starring: Ben Affleck, Bryan Cranston, Alan Arkin, John Goodman, Victor Garber, Kyle Chandler, Rory Cochrane, Christopher Denham, Clea DuVall, Scoot McNairy, Kerry Bishe, Tate Donovan
Directed by: Ben Affleck
Written by: Chris Terrio (based on the article "The Great Escape" by Joshuah Bearman and the book "The Master of Disguise" by Antonio Mendez)

I like Ben Affleck. Despite the enormous amount of mockery and parodying the man has taken over the years (some of it lighthearted, some of it scathing), I've always found him to be an incredibly talented actor and screenwriter. Of course, when you've been the lead star for craptacular blockbusters such as Pearl Harbor and Armageddon, atrocious bombs such as Gigli and Surviving Christmas, and one half of the unfortunate media frenzy known as "Bennifer", your positive and well-received accomplishments tend to be slightly overshadowed in the process.

And it's a shame, considering the fact that the man is a Best Original Screenplay Oscar winner with his BFF Matt Damon, a skilled comedic and dramatic actor, and a generous humanitarian. Of course, everyone makes mistakes, even movie stars; in this case, it was taking on paycheck roles in horrible movies and dating J. Lo. But even when Affleck was at his lowest, he took his failures in stride and jumpstarted a career resurrection, first with a terrific supporting role as George Reeves in the murder mystery Hollywoodland, and then adding a new role to his resume: Ben Affleck, Director.

Affleck surprised everyone with his solid freshman effort Gone Baby Gone in 2007, and followed it up in 2010 with the superb heist flick The Town. Now Mr. Affleck has pulled off the hat trick in his Eastwood-esque career renaissance with Argo, a tense, terrific docudrama that chronicles a relatively unknown government operation that took place during one of the most calamitous episodes in the history of American foreign relations.

Tehran, 1979. A revolution is in full swing after the U.S.-backed leader of Iran, Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi, is deposed and exiled by anti-American militants. The American embassy in Tehran is violently seized by the militants, with most of the diplomats and workers taken hostage, except for six who sneak out under the Iranians' noses: Joe and Kathy Stafford (Scoot McNairy and Kerry Bishe), Robert Anders (Tate Donovan), Mark and Cora Lijek (Christopher Denham and Clea DuVall), and Lee Schatz (Rory Cochrane). The six Americans secretly take refuge in the home of Canadian ambassador Ken Taylor (Victor Garber), but are otherwise trapped in a country that wants them imprisoned or worse.

Despite the newly formed Islamic Republic of Iran being unaware of the six Americans' escape, the American State Department is frantically thinking of a means to extract them from the country. CIA supervisor Jack O'Donnell (Bryan Cranston) recruits specialist Tony Mendez (Ben Affleck) to devise a plot to save the embassy workers. After several ideas fizzle out, Mendez watches Battle of the Planet of the Apes on television and is inspired with an idea that's so crazy that it just might work.

Mendez proposes that he poses as a Canadian film producer scouting locations in Iran for a low-budget science fiction film, and he would provide the embassy workers with fake credentials that would give them the identities of his fellow Canadian film crew members. Despite serious skepticism from the higher-ups, Mendez gets the go-ahead. Creating a fake movie studio with legendary producer Lester Siegel (Alan Arkin) and makeup guru John Chambers (John Goodman), Mendez finds a discarded script for a sci-fi film called Argo, and sets out to Iran to save the American refugees.

As Iranian authorities become dangerously close to discovering the identities of the missing embassy workers, Mendez must race against time and ensure that his ruse succeeds in getting his fellow countrymen out of Iran alive.

Based on an actual joint operation between the American and Canadian governments that was declassified by President Clinton in 1997, Argo may seem like your everyday action caper, but is greatly enhanced by a strong script, taut direction by Affleck, and lean editing that's bolstered by a surprising level of humor that complements the dramatic tension.

It's a fascinating story-- albeit one that allegedly takes ample dramatic license with what actually happened, most notably the downplaying of the Canadian government's huge role in the operation's success-- but on its surface as a dramatic thriller, it's fabulous storytelling. Affleck gets better and better with each film he directs, with a specific focus on nailbiting tension and three-dimensional characters whose vulnerabilities balance easily with their strengths.

As Mendez, Affleck does a fine job conveying his character's disaffection with his career and the strain it's placed on his family life. Affleck takes up the bulk of the heavy acting load here, except for the wonderful Bryan Cranston (TV's "Breaking Bad") as Mendez' no-nonsense CIA superior, and the great Alan Arkin and John Goodman show up as Mendez' Hollywood contacts, serving as a welcome main source of Argo's comedy.

The film's aesthetic is late '70s cinema-grit to a "T", with dimly-lit cinematography and era-appropriate editing (and they even throw in the old-school 1970s Warner Brothers logo at the very beginning). The score by Alexandre Desplat is one of the best of the year, and the costuming and set direction are all spot-on.

The only major gripe I had with Argo was its sometimes uncomfortably one-sided depiction of the Iranian Hostage Crisis, with most if not all of the Iranian characters being portrayed as bloodthirsty and hostile. I understand the need for the film to have a "villain" present, and though it's true that a lot of Iranians were obviously a wee bit mercurial during that era, it's hard to find more than one non-Caucasian character in the film, apart from the Canadian ambassador's Iranian housekeeper, who's at least partially well-balanced in the head.

But apart from that and the previously mentioned issue regarding the overglorification of the CIA's role in the operation, Argo is an excellent example of not only a great American thriller, but also a testament to the talent of an actor-director whose comeback from the tabloid graveyard doesn't seem to be slowing down one bit.

Letter Grade: "A-"

Review: "SEVEN PSYCHOPATHS"

Starring: Colin Farrell, Sam Rockwell, Christopher Walken, Woody Harrelson, Tom Waits, Željko Ivanek, Abbie Cornish, Linda Bright Clay, Olga Kurylenko
Directed by: Martin McDonagh
Written by: Martin McDonagh

As a film buff, I'd like to think that I have a heavy appreciation for all kinds of cinema, but if you held a gun to my head and asked me what my favorite kind of genre I preferred above all others, I would probably have to go with the pitch-black dark comedies: films that possess material that would be otherwise grim, and yet are trivialized and made as a source of deadpan and even sick humor.

And while some may find such a concept to be in poor taste (although that's kinda part of the whole point), I've always enjoyed the genre because it unlocks a dark, uncomfortable area in the viewer's psyche, where such gallows humor provokes contemplation on serious issues or themes. It tests and pushes the envelope of the viewer's mind, and sees how long they can last in both hysterics and discomfort at the same time.

It's a fascinating subject that I've personally enjoyed consuming and studying for a long time. A recent example would be the terrific 2008 crime comedy In Bruges, helmed by director Martin McDonagh. Deliciously sharp-witted yet deeply vulnerable and human, the film-- in my opinion-- helped set the bar for black comedies in terms of craft and respectability (the screenplay received a Best Original Screenplay Oscar nod, a rarity for comedies). Luckily, that bar was met (and maybe surpassed) by McDonagh's latest, the brilliantly funny and gleefully unpredictable Seven Psychopaths.

Marty Faranan (Colin Farrell) is a Hollywood screenwriter currently past his deadline for his latest script. Despite having a title ("Seven Psychopaths"), Marty is suffering from a serious case of writer's block. It doesn't help that he has a strained relationship with his live-in girlfriend Kaya (Abbie Cornish), that he has quite the drinking problem, or that his best friend Billy Bickle (Sam Rockwell) puts out an unasked-for advertisement for serial killers to give Marty script advice.

Billy, meanwhile, is an unemployed actor and con artist who makes a living with his pacifist friend Hans (Christopher Walken) kidnapping dogs and then returning them for the reward money. However, Billy and Hans encounter a huge problem when they unwittingly steal the prized shih tzu of psychotic mobster Charlie Costello (Woody Harrelson). Eventually, Costello discovers who stole his precious pooch, and soon Billy and Hans are on the run, sucking Marty into the mess along the way.

As the three men-- shih tzu in tow-- evade the trigger-happy Costello and his lieutenant Paulo (Željko Ivanek), they must also deal with a notorious masked serial killer known as the Jack of Diamonds, a mysterious rabbit-fixated gentleman (Tom Waits), and revelations of certain characters' pasts.

Probably one of the best things about Seven Psychopaths is how unapologetically meta-referential it is. It is, essentially, a screenplay about screenwriting, with the ever-dashing Farrell standing in for McDonagh himself. Serving as the straight man to the extreme dark-comic foils of his co-stars, Farrell serves as the main character in his own personal life-cum-film that seems creepily similar to the very script he writes along the way. There are plenty of biting jokes at filmmaking's expense (my favorite is the comment that women are either killed or used sparingly in action flicks, and yet the animals involved always live), cliches that come to life in ridiculously funny fantasy sequences, and pretty much any kind of Adaptation-esque cinematic deconstruction that you can think of.

The cast, by and large, is absolutely marvelous. Farrell gives an exasperated performance that clashes beautifully with the devilishly sardonic and increasingly bizarre actions of the wonderful and reliably funny Rockwell. Christopher Walken? I mean, it's fucking Christopher Walken. More subdued but still his usual certifiably insane self, Walken steals the entire show. His line delivery and trademark eccentricities are the stuff of legend, and here he manages to inject a dimension into his character that straddles Zen peacefulness and severe anguish.

Harrelson is hysterical as the batshit-crazy gangster whose near-maternal devotion to his dog is the only thing remotely human about him, and there are plenty of unexpected cameos sprinkled throughout (including an extended bit with the great Tom Waits).

Although it's incredibly funny and satirical to its core (Rockwell's unraveling of a Gandhi quote being a highlight), Seven Psychopaths is also brutally violent and isn't shy about saying so, with a lot of the violence coming straight out of nowhere (and, again, adding to the sick laughs department by tying the carnage to mundane situations). The musings on the human condition and the fine line between serenity and revenge seems rather Tarantinoesque at times, especially with the pop-savvy trappings of the dialogue, but McDonagh manages to make the film his own.

Clearly, to McDonagh, everyone in this world is psychotic in their own little ways, and the blur between realities in-film serves as an effective mirror to the debate regarding art vs. reality and whether or not inspiration comes from the former, the latter, or even both at the same time.

Not as deep or emotionally devastating as In Bruges but every bit of hilarious and then some, Seven Psychopaths is a start-to-finish exercise is brilliant casting and deranged humor.

Letter Grade: "A"

Review: "THE CAMPAIGN"

Starring: Will Ferrell, Zach Galifianakis, Jason Sudeikis, Dylan McDermott, Dan Aykroyd, John Lithgow, Sarah Baker, Katherine LaNasa, Brian Cox, Karen Maruyama
Directed by: Jay Roach
Written by: Chris Henchy and Shawn Harwell (based on a story by Henchy, Harwell, and Adam McKay)

In this day and age, and especially in the United States, there might be no grander comedy than the realm of politics. What's supposed to be an institution meant to serve the people and improve the well-being of the country's socioeconomic fabric has instead morphed into a corrupt, self-parodying carnival of saber-rattling and divisive manipulation of the voting public.

That's especially true right now, seeing how we're deeply entrenched in election season and how attack ads and political mudslinging are at a fever pitch. And as the last several presidential elections have proven, the saddening conventions of American politics have served for extremely easy satirical fodder. After all, politicians have largely proven to be, at their core, well-groomed cartoon characters, so director Jay Roach has a relatively easy time translating such archetypes into his broad yet surprisingly funny comedy The Campaign.

Cam Brady (Will Ferrell) has served as the Democratic congressman in the 14th District of North Carolina for four-terms, and is having quite the easy ride heading to the impending election, as he's expected to win since he has no challenger on the ballot. However, Cam has been plagued by a series of scandals involving his affair with a supporter of his, causing quite the public relations headache for Cam and his longtime campaign manager Mitch (Jason Sudeikis).

Meanwhile, corrupt businessmen and brotherly duo Wade Motch (Dan Aykroyd) and Glen Motch (John Lithgow) take advantage of the situation by attempting to back a Republican challenger whom they would manipulate into turning the picturesque North Carolina town of Hammond into a factory town that would grant the brother huge and rather illegal profits from a deal with Chinese manufacturing companies.

They find such a patsy in the form of Marty Huggins (Zach Galifianakis), the good-natured yet somewhat dimwitted son of the Motches' rich and politically influential associate Raymond Huggins (Brian Cox). Though Marty-- a devout Christian family man and the director of tourism for Hammond-- is clearly out of his league, he's enthusiastically decides to run against the far more experienced Cam when the Motches provide a campaign manager in the form of the ruthless Tim Wattley (Dylan McDermott).

In the weeks leading up to the election, Cam ramps up the efforts to discredit the inexperienced Marty, who eventually catches up with the political process and serves as a formidable opponent to Cam as the increasingly vicious campaign barrels towards Election Day.

I was initially reluctant to see The Campaign for two reasons: the somewhat underwhelming trailer that seemed to be the ol' fashioned "cobble together all the funny parts" marketing strategy, and the fact that it was yet another broad comedy starring Will Ferrell. I've always appreciated Ferrell and his vast comedic talents, but nearly his entire filmography consisted of Ferrell acting out his now-signature hyperactive man-child persona in a movie whose plot would have worked better as a five-minute "Saturday Night Live" sketch instead of a stretched-out 90-minute misfire.

Of course, on the other hand, Ferrell is no stranger to political comedy, seeing as how he masterfully and famously spoofed former President George W. Bush during his time on "SNL". And considering that director Roach (Austin Powers, Meet the Parents) has had his own experience in covering the three-ring circus we call politics in the forms of the HBO dramas Recount and Game Change, I decided to give this offering a chance.

And surprise of all surprises, I was actually impressed with the final product. Now I wouldn't go as far as calling The Campaign a sharp political satire in the same vein as films like, say, Wag the Dog or Bulworth. The film isn't subtle by any means in its attempts at putting American politics under a humorous microscope. The gags and jabs are pretty straightforward in their execution, and the thinly veiled analogues of real-life politicians and figures are obvious from the start (Ferrell's Brady is essentially a pastiche of Sen. John Edwards and Ferrell's own Dubya impersonation, and the Motch brothers are a clear potshot at billionaire conservative business magnates, the Koch brothers).

But the film's major strength lies with the two leads. Despite playing yet another variation of his flamboyantly immature screen persona (albeit toned down at least one notch), Ferrell actually makes it work this time. In fact, it sometimes works beautifully in the context of the material, as the characters-- cartoonishly exaggerated as they may be-- are a rather accurate personification of the manipulative and manipulated men and women that we vote into office, whether it's the ridiculously volatile campaign ads or the "guilt by association" smear tactics now synonymous with election season.

And there couldn't be a better choice of opponent for Ferrell than the ingeniously funny Galifianakis, whose character's goofy and naive nature meshes beautifully with his pure-of-heart personality and integrity, giving us a great underdog to root for. The chemistry between the two men is brilliant, and their back-and-forth debates and slapstick interactions are an absolute hoot (you'd think that a baby being punched in the face wouldn't be appropriate comedic material, but they prove you wrong).

The rest of the cast is mostly servicable, including Baker as Marty's supportive wife, Sudeikis as Cam's level-headed manager and confidant, and McDermott as a hilariously aggressive and shady underling to Aykroyd and Lithgow's characters (despite the fact that the veteran actors are wasted in their excessively nefarious roles).

It's unfortunate (yet not entirely unexpected) that The Campaign does very little to shed new light on the sad state of politics, whether it's disingenuous campaign tactics, unscrupulous campaign financing by corporations, or the fact that a vast majority of politicians are merely puppets being led to pander to constituents while simultaneously betraying their own values and once well-intentioned political ambitions.

But at the same time, The Campaign can be forgiven for its faults when it's as consistently funny as it is. The sight gags and crude humor are by and large incredibly funny (I will never, ever tire of seeing a happy-go-lucky Galifianakis walking around in a giant mustache and ill-fitting turtleneck), and there's a large dimension of humanity in the lead characters, especially when the two converse about why the originally wanted to enter politics, giving Cam and Marty a surprising amount of depth and vulnerability.

Yes, it's over the top and decidedly raunchy. But in all honesty, so are politics. When you realize that outrageous moments in the film such as tweeting a picture of one's genitals, accusing opponents of Islamic extremism, or shooting somebody with a hunting rifle have actually been perpetrated by some of our own actual politicians, you can give The Campaign the benefit of the doubt.

Letter Grade: "B"

Review: "PROMETHEUS"

Starring: Noomi Rapace, Logan Marshall-Green, Michael Fassbender, Charlize Theron, Idris Elba, Sean Harris, Rafe Spall, Guy Pearce
Directed by: Ridley Scott
Written by: Jon Spaihts and Damon Lindelof

"In space, no one can hear you scream."

That was the now-immortal tagline that graced the poster of director Ridley Scott's 1979 sci-fi/horror masterpiece, Alien. And indeed, this was a concrete case of truth in advertising. A terrifying and teeth-gnashing exercise in sheer cinematic horror, Scott's film was a landmark in both genres, as well as an early example of both surrealist "body horror" and feminist heroism that left a series of pale imitators in its wake.

It was followed was a series of films that included entries helmed by future superstar directors James Cameron and David Fincher, as well as two spin-offs crossing over with the Predator franchise. But after those two AvP flicks petered out commercially and critically, it was unknown as to whether or not we would return to the universe that Scott built. And lo and behold, after a very long sabbatical, the Creator returns to explore the beginnings of his Alien universe in the incredibly ambitious but philsophically ambiguous quasi-prequel Prometheus.

It's the year 2093 A.D., and the starship Prometheus has just arrived to its destination after a long two-year journey. Coming out of cryo-stasis is its crew, headed by archaeologists Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace) and Charlie Holloway (Logan Marshall-Green). Four years earlier, the two had discovered a star map in Scotland that was linked to several different finds across the world, leading them to believe it was a sign from the actual creators, or "Engineers", of the human race.

With the funding of the wealthy and now-deceased Peter Weyland (Guy Pearce), Shaw and Holloway obtained their ship and a crew consisting of pilot Janek (Idris Elba), geologist Fifield (Sean Harris), biologist Millburn (Rafe Spall), and an android named David (Michael Fassbender), who was considered to be a son to Weyland. Accompanied and overseen by the pragmatic Meredith Vickers (Charlize Theron), the crew have landed on a distant moon, discovering a pyramid-like landmark that was obviously built by something other than nature itself.

However, Shaw and Holloway's quest to discover the true origins of mankind are hindered when they enter the labyrinth below, and the crew must contend with terrifying forces that threaten not only the mission, but also themselves and possibly the Earth itself.

Admittedly, I was very anxious to witness Scott's big comeback to his creation. Even though James Cameron's Aliens was my personal favorite in the series, I nonetheless revered the original film for its masterful use of claustrophobic suspense, idiosyncratic visual and tonal aesthetics, and a bone-chilling villain that will go down in history as one of the all-time great Hollywood monsters.

But like any long-awaited return to a revered franchise, hype and impossibly high expectations reared its ugly head (remember the Star Wars prequels?). After all, this was Scott's first foray in the science-fiction realm since his 1982 seminal classic Blade Runner, and there was some doubt as to whether or not he could equal or even exceed the brilliance of his previous Alien flick.

Also adding to the worries was whether or not this was a true prequel to the franchise. Before the film's release, Scott went on record to say that while Prometheus indeed took place in the Alien universe, the connections were minor at best, and that his new project would branch out on its own while raising new "questions".

Primarily, those questions revolved around the true origins of humanity, and whether or not those far-off "engineers" had anything to do with it. A lot of my peers who saw the film before me alternately complained about or lauded the fact that the film asked questions that never got answered, but quite frankly, I never noticed any real questions to begin with. When I was expecting a Tree of Life-style existential mindfuck, I instead got a film that tried to ask lofty questions but dropped them almost entirely by the third act. I wasn't confused at all, and it was kind of disappointing, if you ask me.

But the biggest problem for me was how surprisingly predictable the film was. I easily called out almost every single plot twist and swerve, ranging from scary jump scenes and alien kills to the character revelations and connections to the Alien films that were a lot more numerous than Scott let on-- in fact, the latter serves as fanservice filler that contradicts Scott's very specific goal of making Prometheus its own unique animal. We've seen this stuff before, and it just would have been nice for Scott to save all the homage for an inevitable sequel or threequel and leave a bit of mystery for the viewers.

But let's not take away from the fact that this is Ridley Scott we're talking about, because aside from the issues with the plot and somewhat on-the-nose script, Prometheus is a visually gorgeous and proficiently-acted picture. Like the films before it, Prometheus is loaded with killer production design and creature features, with clear Lovecraftian and Giger-esque influence fueling the various alien monsters and environments. Reportedly shot on mostly practical sets (rather than using an abundance of green screens), the film definitely has the "epic scope" pat down. Scott also hasn't lost his touch on the gross-out/claustrophobic scares, including one disturbing scene that's not only a nice homage to the classic "chestburster" scene from the 1979 original, but one that puts a horrific twist on the phrase, "the miracle of life".

The cast is mostly stellar across the board. Though she only has the Sigourney Weaver "whoop-ass heroine" thing kick in by the third act, Noomi Rapace is good as the vulnerable yet determined scientist. Marshall-Green, Spall, and Harris do what they can with their various crewmember roles, though there's plenty of charisma and humor from Elba (who's fast becoming one of my favorite "up-and-coming" actors).

Theron seems to be continuing her streak of "bitchy ice queen" roles (following last year's Young Adult and this summer's Snow White and the Huntsman), this time as the mission's steely overseer who has more than a few secrets of her own (not to mention a plethora of skintight uniforms, a development that I absolutely had NO problem with).

The best role, however, goes to the impossibly talented Michael Fassbender as the calm, collected, and slightly devious android. His David is a mix of the impeccably proper C-3PO and the chillingly logical and motivated HAL-9000, a creation who seems to be increasingly disdainful of his creators and the perception that his lack of humanity makes him subordinate to his homo sapien superiors. It's a terrific performance that Fassbender can just throw on top of the pile of his many other terrific performances.

I knew I was going to be conflicted after seeing Prometheus, but I wasn't expecting to be conflicted for reasons other than what I was predicting. The film certainly had an air of grand ambition to it, a drive to become "that movie" which would alter the artistic and psychological landscape of cinema forever. If it hadn't cannibalized the conventions of its franchise forebears and stuck to its own unique path, it could have very well happened. But this marked, quite possibly, the very first time where I entered a heady film and left the theater looking for questions instead of looking for answers. Though certainly not a bad film by any stretch, Prometheus nonetheless falls victim to its own ambition.

Letter Grade: "C+"

Review: "THE DARK KNIGHT RISES"

Starring: Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Gary Oldman, Tom Hardy, Anne Hathaway, Morgan Freeman, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Marion Cotillard, Matthew Modine
Directed by: Christopher Nolan
Written by: Christopher Nolan and Jonathan Nolan (based on a story by David S. Goyer and Christopher Nolan; based on the DC Comics character created by Bob Kane)

At the end of the first entry of Christopher Nolan's masterful reboot of the Batman film series, Batman Begins, a comment is made about the dangers of escalation, where a response to a threat is responded to with an even greater threat, until it spirals out of control. After narrowly defeating a terrorist plot hatched by his former mentor, it was all too clear to the Caped Crusader (and the audience) that it was only going to get worse.

In the sequel, the tremendously masterful The Dark Knight, escalation came in the form of a crazed psychopath in clown make-up, who was less interested in cleansing Gotham City, but more interested in destroying its soul, and exposing our hero to the possibility that even he could be corrupted. This was true escalation: it went beyond the usual good vs. evil scenario common to the superhero genre, and not only challenged the black-and-white worldview of our hero in terms of nobility and criminality, but challenged ours as well. Even if the hero won in the end, the damage was already done.

After that inexplicably terrific outing by Nolan--smashing box office records and gaining critical raves previously unheard of for a superhero picture-- how on Earth could he possibly top it? It was obvious that a third and final entry was needed to conclude the Dark Knight's epic journey, but with the bar set so ridiculously high, it seemed practically impossible for Nolan to deliver an even better film (or even one just as good). And while his concluding entry, The Dark Knight Rises, is a highly proficient way to close out the trilogy, it doesn't even come close to matching its predecessor in terms of a compelling villain, narrative cohesion, or sheer psychological complexity.

It's been eight years since the vigilante Batman-- secretly billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale)-- took the blame for the crimes of shining knight District Attorney-turned-disfigured madman Harvey Dent. In order to uphold the deceased Dent's reputation as a beacon of hope for the people of Gotham City and subsequently bring about the organized crime-busting Dent Act, Batman and Police Commissioner Jim Gordon (Gary Oldman) shoulder Dent's murders and eventual death on the Dark Knight's shoulders, forcing the fugitive superhero into hiding.

As Gotham enjoys an unprecedented era of peace, the injured Bruce now secludes himself in his mansion, despite the insistence of his lifelong butler and confidant Alfred Pennyworth (Michael Caine) to go back into the world, especially considering that Bruce's inattentiveness to Wayne Enterprises has placed the company-- chaired by weapons developer Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman)-- in fiduciary peril. Despite attempts by board member Miranda Tate (Marion Cotillard) to convince Bruce to relaunch a clean energy project, there's also the problem of rival Roland Daggett (Ben Mendelsohn) trying to take hold of the company by way of hiring the enigmatic, masked mercenary Bane (Tom Hardy) and cat burglar Selina Kyle (Anne Hathaway) to help undermine Wayne Enterprises.

However, Bane has other plans. A musclebound hulk of tremendous intelligence, Bane's escalating machinations to overrun Gotham forces Bruce to come out of retirement and face this new foe head-on. However, Bane proves to be more formidable than Batman expects, and as Bane's plot places the city in increasing danger, Batman must do all he can to save millions of lives, depending on the help of a few, including Gordon, Fox, Deputy Commissioner Foley (Matthew Modine), young and idealistic cop John Blake (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), and eventually, Kyle herself.

It was scientifically impossible, honestly, for Nolan to outdo himself after the second entry of his brilliant reimagining of the Batman mythos. While Batman Begins was an intimate and thoroughly enjoyable about-face for a superhero that had previously suffered the cinematic wounds of Bat-nipples and retractable ice skates, The Dark Knight broke all the rules. It revolutionized the superhero movie and steeped it in a dark, gritty, thematically complex environment that was in stark contrast to the colorful, flamboyant tone of the Spider-Man films or even Tim Burton's original Batman films.

It also helped that Batman himself, Christian Bale, was completely outshined by the villainous Joker, played to magnificent, frightening perfection by the late Heath Ledger, who tragically passed six months before the film's release. Ledger's Oscar-winning performance as the Joker stole the show and then some, giving the Dark Knight not only a formidable opponent, but one who dug furiously into the hero's psyche and soul, nearly destroying Gotham just to prove that Batman was just as insane as he was.

So did Nolan have his work cut out for him? Yeah, pretty much. And that's where escalation comes in: if The Dark Knight nearly brought Gotham to implode, then naturally The Dark Knight Rises causes the city to break out into all-out war. It's impossible not to draw any similarities of the "haves and have-nots" subplot of class warfare in the story to the recent Occupy Wall Street protests, not to mention the terrorism plots of Bane and his cohorts bringing immediate visualizations of 9/11 and the subsequent War on Terror. But even if Nolan didn't intend to directly reference those real-world incidents, there's still plenty of thematic heaviness to bulk the sometimes laboriously-long 165-minute runtime.

But while The Dark Knight was a slickly oiled machine that managed to get its point and agenda across with immaculate precision, The Dark Knight Rises at times feels too overcrowded, overstuffed, and over-agenda-ed. Part of the problem lies with the film's attempts to connect to plot points brought about by Batman Begins, including the mysterious League of Shadows. And while it's nice to tie up loose ends, it still feels like there's two movies trying to work simultaneously instead of one, especially in regards to the introduction of so many characters.

And despite Nolan's sterling track record of three-dimensional characterization and dialogue, some of the screenplay and character motives seem unusually forced or ambiguous. For example, while Ledger's Joker had a definite reason for his actions, what are Bane's goals? Is it citywide cleansing/destruction or turning the social caste system on its head? If it were the former, why didn't he just wipe the city out immediately upon receiving his big, bad doomsday device?

Still, this is Nolan we're talking about, so there's plenty to laud here. The visual effects, production design, Wally Pfister's beautiful cinematography, and Han Zimmer's "bwommy" score are once again top-notch, and the cast is, for the most part, terrific (and seemingly a big Inception reunion, considering that the majority of Nolan's mindbending sci-fi flick are showcased here).

Bale is once again great as the tortured superhero (who seems to have partially recovered from the apparent throat cancer he suffered in the previous movie), even though he's Bruce Wayne a hell of a lot more than he is Batman this time around (seriously, the cape and cowl probably show up for only a total fifth of the entire movie). Oldman, Caine, and Freeman are all good in their respective returning roles, though Caine is unfortunately relegated to scenes where he tearfully scolds Bruce and not much else.

Hathaway does an admirable job slipping into the familiar catsuit, less psychotic than Michelle Pfeiffer's turn as Catwoman and more snarky and morally ambiguous, easily making the character her own. As an idealistic street cop who has more in common with Bruce than one would think, Gordon-Levitt makes for a great source of altruism in a world gone cynical and berserk. As the big bad Bane, Tom Hardy (who gave Inception the bulk of its charisma) is rather interesting and admittedly fearsome, he just cannot rise to the terrifying heights that Ledger reached as the Joker. That might be an unfair judgement, but the bar was set impossibly high, no matter how impressive Hardy's performance is. As stated above, Bane's lack of a concrete agenda makes his impact less powerful and emotionally devastating as Ledger's.

The biggest problem I had with the film, however, was the ending. I'm definitely not giving away any spoilers, but if you're ending one of the most popular and critically successful film trilogies, you've gotta do it with a bang, sending away audiences with a lump in their throats. Though it was expertly executed, the climax never felt powerful enough in regards to the fates of certain characters, where they felt either too cheap or too sudden without satisfying resolution, especially a very last-minute character revelation that felt more like desperate fan-service rather than a genuine, pleasant surprise.

All in all, though, The Dark Knight Rises is a successful culmination of a largely brilliant film saga. The film is set up for the obvious continuation/revival/rebooting (though, in my opinion, it would be unwise to try and re-recreate the character so soon after Nolan revolutionized it; of course, box-office hungry studio heads will never think that way), and though it never had a chance of matching its predecessor, The Dark Knight Rises allows the Caped Crusader to take the bow he truly deserves.

Letter Grade: "B"