Review: "SHERLOCK HOLMES: A GAME OF SHADOWS"

A common bit of conventional wisdom regarding action and adventure films (or any medium, for that matter) is that the villain has to be as good (in terms of impact on the viewer) as the hero, or even better. This allows for both protagonist and antagonist to both be three-dimensional, great onscreen chemistry and tension, and embeds the characters in the viewers' minds long after the movie's ended.

After all, if you say "John McClane", you gotta mention Hans Gruber in the same breath. Luke Skywalker wasn't Luke Skywalker without Darth Vader. It's even more important to be careful in adapting bitter rivalries that originally appeared in literature. These are enmities that have stood the test of time for years, and therefore needed to be treated with the utmost respect and reverence when Hollywood comes a-callin'.

When Guy Ritchie's slick, surprisingly entertaining re-imagining of Arthur Conan Doyle's eponymous detective Sherlock Holmes was released in 2009, the filmmakers strangely decided not to pit the eccentric sleuth against his famous archenemy: the sinister and brilliant Professor James Moriarty, who was widely and previously depicted in books, films, and radio serials as Holmes' intellectual equal. I personally thought it was a wise omission, allowing greater focus on reintroducing Holmes to audiences, and replaced Moriarty with an original villain who didn't threaten to steal the spotlight from the great Robert Downey Jr.

Of course, since the first film was a major success both critically and commercially, the sequel was inevitable, and it seemed like a prime opportunity to bring the Professor into the mix. But unfortunately, any focus Ritchie and his crew had the first time around gets mostly lost in translation in favor of recycled action sequences in the less-than-stellar Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows.

It's 1891, and eccentric but brilliant detective Sherlock Holmes (Robert Downey Jr.) has been on the hunt for what he believes to be the mastermind between a series of bombings between Germany and France, actions that could very well pit both nations in a full-out war. Unfortunately, Holmes has been forced to act solo, considering that his former partner, Dr. John Watson (Jude Law), is getting married to Mary Morstan (Kelly Reilly).

Despite his reservations over his friend preparing to settle down, Holmes nonetheless has a hunch that the man behind the bombings is none other than the renowned Professor James Moriarty (Jared Harris). Despite having no concrete proof, Holmes believes that Moriarty plans to financially capitalize on the potential war.

After a stag party for Watson goes awry, Holmes looks for help in the form of his well-connected brother Mycroft (Stephen Fry), as well as traveling gypsy Simza (Noomi Rapace) who Holmes saved from an attempted assassination, which Holmes believes is connected to the bombing conspiracy. Convincing Watson to join him on one last adventure, Holmes races against time to get a step ahead of the conniving Moriarty and thwart his goals of continent-wide destruction.

Part of what made the first Sherlock Holmes so engaging was the witty, intelligently-written, and almost whimsical tone and screenplay. The production design and aesthetic adopted a steampunk feel and a fast-paced style of editing that focused more on the details than merely assaulting the senses. It was a novel style of filmmaking that benefited even more from the terrific performances and camaraderie between Downey and Law.

But the second time around, it feels like nothing has really changed. Despite the initial fun one has with the "blink-and-you'll-miss-it-but-we'll-repeat-it-later-in-flashbacks-anyway" storytelling, it seems like Ritchie is complacent with stuffing the film with action sequences and other related filler, rather than really focusing on the adversarial relationship between Holmes and Moriarty like he should.

That's not to say that Jared Harris is bad in his role. Appropriately menacing and clearly able to trade intellectual barbs with Downey (once again a blast to watch) at ease, there are a few moments in the film that reveals promise of a true battle of the minds (such as a lighthouse torture sequence, and the film's climax), but they're either too short to appreciate, or violently interrupted by more special effects and action.

The cast is no small potatoes, but they can't completely salvage the proceedings. Downey and Law once again have a great "Odd Couple" chemistry together, and the legendary Stephen Fry does what he can with Holmes' bon vivant older brother. Sadly, the same can't be said for the movie's female presence: Noomi Rapace (of the original Swedish Girl With The Dragon Tattoo) has absolutely no wiggle room in her rote role as a French gypsy, and Kelly Reilly-- despite having more screentime this time around-- is wasted in her role as Watson's aggravated fiancee.

Production and costume design is once again a sight to behold, with a grubby portrait of Victorian England that pays exquisite attention to detail. Composer Hans Zimmer (who was nominated for an Oscar for his work on the first Holmes) delivers another enjoyable soundtrack replete with pub piano, banjos, and other unconventional orchestration (eagle-eared viewers will catch a sample of Ennio Morricone's score for Two Mules for Sister Sara during a funny sequence halfway through the film).

Overall, lightning didn't really strike twice for Doyle's detective, with an overemphasis on hyper-stylized action overriding much-needed character development and a more focused screenplay. But enjoyable performances from its two leads makes A Game of Shadows one worth playing, if only once.

Letter Grade: "C"

Review: "BEGINNERS"

Almost from the start, director Mike Mills' dramedy Beginners reminds one of the earlier works of the great Woody Allen: a neurotic protagonist facing his emotional and romantic issues head-on, an alluring and quirky love interest who serves as a true foil for the hero's neuroses, a non-linear method of storytelling meant to parallel events of past and present. There's even a jazz/blues fusion-style score reminiscent of Allen's warm usage of Gershwin to blend in with the introspective nature of the story and characters.

And while Beginners' main character may not be a nebbishy Jewish writer/comedian/academic-- but rather a withdrawn, pseudo-hipster graphic artist who talks to his dog-- there's still that classic sense of self-performed psychoanalysis and romantic discovery that's unmistakable, akin to the unconventional intimacy of Annie Hall and Manhattan.

Los Angeles graphic designer Oliver (Ewan McGregor) has recently inherited the house of his father Hal (Christopher Plummer), who had passed away months earlier from Stage IV lung cancer. Throughout a series a flashbacks, it's revealed that a couple years earlier, the 75-year-old Hal had come out of the closet as a gay man after the death of his wife of five decades. Feeling liberated by the ability to explore a facet of his life he was forced to hide for decades, Hal gains a circle of friends in the gay community, and starts a relationship with the younger Andy (Goran Visnijc).

However, it's discovered that Hal is also suffering from Stage IV lung cancer, and is eventually put into home hospice care after chemo treatments become moot. Though he's happy for his father, Oliver's fragmented experiences with love (including his witnessing of his parents' woefully unhappy marriage) doesn't bode well for his emotional state. After his father's death, a depressed Oliver hooks up with Anna (Mélanie Laurent), a French actress from New York living in hotel rooms while attempting auditions in Hollywood, and someone with daddy issues of her own.

Unsure of whether or not he can start fresh with romance like his father before him, Oliver reexamines his life and views on love.

Despite the time-hopping, sentimental nature of Beginners, there's nothing truly pretentious or overwrought about it. In fact, the jumbled chronology helps establish a parallel between the struggles of father and son: both men experienced a period of heartache in regards to true romance, with Hal forced to live a loveless marriage due to his true sexuality, and Oliver never being able to keep a steady relationship because of his lack of confidence.

As such, we're treated to a pair of terrific performances from Plummer and McGregor. Plummer once again proves why he's been such a consistently acclaimed thespian for the last five and a half decades, with a bright, sweet, and empowering performance of a man who embraces his true self late in life, optimistic and bold in the face of impending death.

McGregor does a superb job as the perpetually unlucky-in-love artist caring for his ailing father, bogged down by an existential crisis that derails his ability to find love in a healthy manner. It doesn't help that his parents didn't really serve as a shining example of familial stability, and flashbacks show that young Oliver is clearly aware of how unhappy and neglected his mother (a charmingly idiosyncratic Mary Page Keller) feels in her marriage.

His depression manifests itself in his work and social lives. When he's commissioned to design band portraits on the album art for an indie rock group called The Sads, he instead crafts a melancholic three-foot-long opus he calls "The History of Sadness". When he goes to a costume party with his friends, he tellingly dresses up as Sigmund Freud, and gives mock psychoanalysis to other partiers when it's clearly obvious that he's the one who needs to be laying on that couch instead.

One such partier who receives his "therapy" and his attention is Laurent (so good in Inglourious Basterds two years ago, and doing well with what she's given here) as a Parisian acting hopeful whose initial meeting with Oliver is marred by her being afflicted with laryngitis. The two communicate (at first) by him talking and her writing on a notepad. The two are instantly smitten with each other, but also wary of each other. Both are afraid of the other flaking out on their fledgling romance, and as Oliver eventually recounts the pain of his loving but unstable relationship with his late father, it hits too close to home for Anna.

But Beginners is not all gloom. Mills sprinkles in an ample amount of cheer and clever humor, whether it's when Oliver "chats" with his Jack Russell terrier (who seemingly "talks back" via subtitles that only the audience and, apparently, Oliver can understand), or when Oliver engages in postmodernist graffiti vandalism with his coworkers.

But more than anything else, Beginners is primarily a story about hope. Mills based the story on his own father coming out of the closet in his seventies, and a good chunk of the film's optimism and authenticity comes from that first-hand source of emotion and experience. A life-affirming story of self-discovery whose large thematic scope belies its outward appearance of a "small movie" feel, Beginners is a celebration of life, death, and the sweet beauty found in between.

Letter Grade: "A-"

Review: "RISE OF THE PLANET OF THE APES"

It's pretty safe to say that every person fears change of one sort or another. Whether it's a shift in national sociopolitical mores, having to move with one's family to another state as a child, or even just switching to a different brand of peanut butter (it'll be a cold day in hell before I sacrifice my JIF in favor of that cheaper Peter Pan crap), we all reach a moment in one's life where we naturally resist against the traditional routine we're so used to and appreciative of.

The same can be said for technology, perhaps the largest arbiter of change today. After all, how many of us have yearned for the "good ol' days" of rotary phones, VHS, Super Nintendo, and that one version of Facebook two months ago before we got that stalkerish "ticker" dealie? And yet, a couple of years (or even months) down the road, we'll just get a new version of the toys and social media that we JUST warmed up to.

And then there's movies. It's amazing how much progress motion pictures have made in a good 120 years, from the dawn of the full-length feature, the emergence of a soundtrack, Technicolor, visual compositing, all the way to the computer-generated imagery we see in bulk today. And even that subset of movie magic has made serious leaps and bounds, from the wireframe visuals of Tron and frightening predators of Jurassic Park to the motion-capture performance wizardry of Lord of the Rings and Avatar.

And while some film purists may fear that said mo-cap technology will eventually make flesh-and-blood actors obsolete, some believe it's merely a high-tech incarnation of make-up and costuming, seeing as how, in the end, it's the kinetic and vocal performances that matter most. One such innovator of this form of performance is actor Andy Serkis, best known for his powerhouse roles as Gollum from the Rings trilogy, and as the title character in 2005's King Kong reboot. Gaining rave reviews for his ability (with help from the amazing digital artists creating his digital physical appearance) to give his characters a humanity and believability previously unseen in CGI characters before his, now he hits another home run in Rise of the Planet of the Apes, a surprisingly well-done reboot of the venerable sci-fi franchise that very well could make you embrace this type of change.

At the pharmaceutical company Gen-Sys, geneticist Will Rodman (James Franco) has been attempting to develop a cure for Alzheimer's Disease in hopes of curing his ailing father Charles (John Lithgow). As such, the company tests his experimental serum on apes, including a female chimpanzee known as "Bright Eyes". One day, Bright Eyes inexplicably goes on a rampage, and is shot dead. Believing Will's serum to be the cause, Gen-Sys head honcho Steven Jacobs (David Oyelowo) orders all the test chimps to be euthanized.

But Will discovers that Bright Eyes was actually trying to protect her unseen and recently born baby. Unwilling to put him down, Will secretly takes the baby chimp home and raises him in Will and Charles' home. The baby, named Caesar (performed by Andy Serkis), grows up to become exceptionally intelligent, which Will believes was inherited from Caesar's mother. As a few years pass, Caesar's intellect grows exponentially, and Will uses a revised serum to seemingly cure Charles of his disease. But the chimp must contend with not only Will starting a relationship with veterinarian Caroline Aranha (Freida Pinto), but also his growing resentment that he's seemingly regarded as nothing more than a pet.

Matters get worse when Caesar defends Charles from an aggressive neighbor, and a court order places Caesar in an ape sanctuary run by John Landon (Brian Cox), and maintained by his cruel and abusive son Dodge (Tom Felton). Growing more intelligent and more resentful of his human counterparts, Caesar begins to not only expose his fellow primate inmates to the same intellect-increasing formula, but stage a revolt and break out of their prison.

Seeing as how it's becoming commonplace to "reboot" film franchises with a fresh new cast and crew-- some that work (Batman Begins, Star Trek), some that don't (A Nightmare on Elm Street)-- it was pretty much inevitable that someone (in this case, director Rupert Wyatt) would decide to resurrect the long-dead franchise that originated with the 1968 Charlton Heston sci-fi camp classic Planet of the Apes, which was followed by four sequels, and then a terrible Tim Burton remake in 2001 that amounted to cinematic necrophilia.

This time, the world is still run by humans, but it turns out that the reason all those damn, dirty apes became so darned clever was due to an experimental serum concocted by the slightly miscast James Franco, who decides to play daddy to a baby chimp that is proof of the serum's success. The first half of Rise is essentially a timeline of Franco bringing up Caesar from an infant to a full-grown adult, and the tone doesn't exactly suggest an action-packed thriller, but rather one-half family drama (represented by Franco and a good John Lithgow) and one-half spontaneous romance (with Freida Pinto in a wasted and pointless role that almost amounts to an extended cameo).

But when Caesar is thrown into a hostile animal sanctuary, things start picking up, when we get a prison break movie of Great Escape proportions, with Caesar slowly building up influence amongst his furry compatriots, until they finally break free of their confines and wreak havoc in San Francisco. The latter is a terrific smorgasbord of CGI action and thrills, with fully armed cops and soldiers facing off against an army of angry and really, really smart primates in a series of terrifically-executed setpieces.

Speaking of which, the visual effects are a marvel to behold. Even though every single ape in the film was digitally constructed by effects house WETA (the geniuses behind Lord of the Rings), the critters are incredibly detailed and realistic, especially in regards to Caesar, who's the real star of the show. The motion capture technology beautifully adapts Serkis' mesmerizing performance onto a fully developed and physically believable character, giving Caesar a startling sense of pathos and even humanity. Though it's a good possibility that WETA will be honored for their work come awards season, it's high time the Academy broke their taboo against nominating performance-capture work and give Serkis the recognition he's deserved ever since he played the cringing, "precious"-obsessed villain from those Middle-Earth films all those years ago.

After all, if a man wearing a motion capture suit and being dressed up as an ape can deliver a far more breathtaking performance than those of acclaimed actors like Franco, Lithgow, and Cox, then I'd say it's time for the Oscars to accept that change I mentioned earlier. Though the script is a little bumpy at times, and despite the flesh-and-blood cast not delivering the goods as well as they could, the mindblowing special effects and the astonishing turn by Serkis is more than enough to make Rise of the Planet of the Apes a positive sign of filmmaking's continuing evolution.

Letter Grade: "B"

Review: "DRIVE"

When it comes to movies, you cannot say no to a good old-fashioned car chase. Regardless of whether or not the overall film is good or bad, there's just something about a fast-paced, tension-fraught automobile chase that automatically sets the viewer's adrenaline levels into overdrive, their fingernails digging deeper into their seats with every swerve and killer 360 degree spin into a crowded highway. From Bullitt and The French Connection to Death Proof and The Fast and the Furious, car chases have proven to be an integral element of not only action films, but cinema in general (hell, even The Blues Brothers ranks among the best of the lot).

One such person synonymous with the car chase was the late, great actor Steve McQueen. Best known for his tough guy roles in high-octane action films like Bullitt, The Getaway, and The Great Escape, McQueen cultivated a reputation for embodying the stoic, post-Vietnam era anti-hero common in the cinema of the late '60s and early-to-mid '70s. No longer were heroes black-and-white boy scouts, but rather gritty, morally gray tortured souls with skeleton or two in their closets.

Today, such an archetype has been done to death in countless movies and television shows, never really gaining traction with audiences because the movies they inhabit lacked the cohesion and thematic complexity necessary to make the character memorable. While Dirty Harry was more about a man and his fierce, almost fascistic hatred of criminals, The Transporter was just a collection of cool car chases strung together.

Luckily, the audiences of today are now being treated to a veritable blast of action movies' past with director Nicolas Winding Refn's sleek, artistic, and terrifically-executed crime noir Drive, a picture worthy of the same acclaim afforded to the greats of the McQueen/Eastwood era.

The Driver (Ryan Gosling) is a man with a mysterious past and a less-than-conventional life. When he's not working for his boss and mentor Shannon (Bryan Cranston) at a Los Angeles auto shop or performing stunt work for Hollywood pictures, by night he's a getaway driver. Boasting an impressive reputation for his skills behind the wheel, the Driver is hired by crime boss Bernie Rose (Albert Brooks) to drive a race car that Bernie's invested in, at Shannon's insistence.

At the same time, the Driver's found himself smitten with his apartment neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan). Irene's been raising her son Benicio (Kaden Leos) while her husband Standard Gabriel (Oscar Isaac) has been serving time for robbery. Things get complicated when Standard returns from prison, especially after Standard is beaten and has his family threatened by gangster Cook (James Biberi) unless Standard pays him protection money.

Cook tells Standard that if Irene and Benicio are to be unharmed, Standard must rob a pawn shop and pay Cook the resultant money. The Driver reluctantly agrees to help Standard and accomplice Blanche (Christina Hendricks) with the job. However, when tragedy strikes, the Driver must not only watch his own back from the wrath of the mob, but also protect Irene and her son from repercussions, as well as keeping his eye on the likes of Rose and his temperamental partner Nino (Ron Perlman), who's none too pleased with the Driver's involvement with Rose.

Let's mention right off the bat that what makes Drive work is its style. Usually, I don't ascribe to the style-over-substance motif that most (if not all) action flicks utilize nowadays. I like my movies (though not exclusively) to have characters with three-dimensional personalities, and a multifaceted story that is written and executed competently. But it's different here. Mixing together a recipe chock full of '50s noir, '70s chase films, '80s crime drama, and '90s Tarantino-esque postmodernism, Drive is a serious exercise in trimming off the fat and presenting a lean, concise, and raw steak of an arthouse film.

It's definitely possible that many folks will walk into this film and expect a mindless two hours of car chases and brutal violence. And while the two are indeed present, it's nowhere near as much as they'll expect. For a film named Drive, the experience is surprisingly calm, minimalistic, and even introspective. It's more about observing the unflappable, soft-spoken Driver (a fabulous Ryan Gosling) and his day-to-day life as a modern day Man With No Name who struggles to do the right thing despite being deeply entrenched in the seedy hell of the Los Angeles underworld.

But such serenity helps make the sudden intrusion of brutal, shocking violence that much more effective and jarring. Gosling's Driver is almost a portrayal of two different characters: there's the tender, protective man who's attracted to the innocent woman next door (an underused Mulligan), and then there's the fierce, almost machine-like warrior who, when pushed, strikes with the intensity of a scorpion. A brief yet incredibly intense, emotional, and graphic fight scene in an elevator recalls an equally disturbing scene from Gaspar Noe's Irreversible, and it sticks with you for a long time after you leave the theater.

Aside from Gosling, the rest of the cast ranges from good to fantastic. Albert Brooks is terrific as the surprisingly cold and brutal mobster backed into a corner by the actions of his hotheaded partner in crime, portrayed by the great, great, great Ron Perlman (who once again proves that any role he touches turns into acting gold). Bryan Cranston (of the superlative TV series "Breaking Bad") does what he can with his small supporting role as the Driver's boss, as does Oscar Isaac as the recently released criminal forced into recidivism. Christina Hendricks (the famously bosomy star of TV's "Mad Men") has even less to do than her co-stars, and is easily forgotten by film's end.

It's also commendable how Danish director Refn easily managed to craft such a taut, tense, and stylish film for his American debut. Melding American action with European-style arthouse panache, Refn has created a dark, unfriendly portrait of Americana not unlike de Palma's Scarface, and evokes the same 1980s sensibilities, atmosphere and ambiance that was so prevalent in that classic Pacino crime flick.

Speaking of which, the film's score and soundtrack are pure 80's gold. Cliff Martinez' synth-electronic score is purely evocative of those classic drugs-and-bullets pictures reminiscent of "Miami Vice" and Scarface, and the results are absolutely electric. It makes one pine for more retro-style compositions in future film releases, and this offering could make such a desire come true.

I honestly didn't know what to expect from Drive. To be honest, I didn't think Hollywood was still capable of producing action-oriented films that could present a fresh new take on the genre and, while possessing the requisite chases and violence, could still give us complex, motivated characters and focus on what was important rather than tack on an unnecessary amount of flash and bloat. An encouraging hint that Hollywood is diminishing its resistance to the unconventional, Drive is a welcome melting pot of cinematic brilliance that pays great respect to the movies of yesteryear while still carving out its own niche for today.

Letter Grade: "A-"

Review: "ATTACK THE BLOCK"

Though I've always been a fan of alien invasion/visitation movies, I've usually had a soft spot for those with children as the protagonists rather than adults. While older characters would respond to extraterrestrial visitors (peaceful or otherwise) with hostility or outright violence, kids would usually approach the aliens with a sense of wonder, inquisitiveness, and even joy.

After all, the gentle friendship between boy and alien was one of the many elements that made E.T. such a timeless classic. Likewise, almost thirty years later, J.J. Abrams' Super 8 came out, and though it was nowhere near as sublimely beautiful as Spielberg's masterpiece, it was still a terrific story free of cynicism and a great example of how young characters can remind us of the importance of empathy and friendship.

But of course, not all youngsters are as squeaky-clean as we'd like to think. Some of them either try to grow up too fast, or become emotionally hardened by unfortunate circumstances such as a dysfunctional family life, poverty, or just plain poor decision-making. And then there are those kids who join street gangs, trying to prove their worth by stealing and being "hard" (is that what kids these days still say? Not entirely sure).

So if some critter from outer space came a-knockin', would a gangbanger try to make friends with it, or go to war with the varmint encroaching on their turf? This is the scenario that drives Joe Cornish's directorial debut Attack the Block, a fabulous sci-fi independent film that defies a tiny budget and delivers the goods in regards to terrific acting, solid action, and good old-fashioned tension.

One night in the Kennington district of London, nurse Sam (Jodie Whittaker) is accosted and mugged by a young group of thugs-- leader Moses (John Boyega), Pest (Alex Esmail), Jerome (Leeon Jones), Dennis (Franz Drameh), and Biggz (Simon Howard)-- but she manages to escape when a small object plummets from the sky and crashes into a nearby car. It turns out that the object is actually a small alien creature. When the alien suddenly attacks, the gang manages to kill it. Hoping to gain fame with the creature's body, the boys bring the corpse to the flat of pot dealer Ron (Nick Frost).

Ron goes to his dealer boss Hi-Hatz (Jumayn Hunter) to ask to store the alien in Hi-Hatz's vault-like "weed room". Amused but not believing it's an alien, Hi-Hatz allows it, but forcing Moses to continue selling his weed on the streets. Soon, more objects come crashing from the sky. Believing that an alien invasion is occurring, Moses' crew excitedly decides trek out to kill the creatures themselves, armed with only katanas, fireworks, and clubs.

But they soon realize they're way in over their heads when they discover that these new creatures are bigger, stronger, and much more dangerous. It seems as though the aliens are after Moses and his crew, and as such begin to besiege the crew's apartment complex (known as the "Block"). Forced to enlist the reluctant aid of both Ron's pot customer Brewis (Luke Treadaway) and the gang's female friend Tia (Danielle Vitalis), Moses and his crew must not only figure out a way to both survive and deter the nightstalkers on their tails, but also the wrath of Hi-Hatz and his lackies.

One of the more fascinating aspects of directorial debuts like Attack the Block is the fact that the filmmaker has only a tiny budget to work with, forcing him or her to use more creativity and imagination than one with a $200 million budget would have to. After all, Sam Raimi compensated for his $400,000 budget on the first Evil Dead by utilizing creative camera shots and practical special effects. Quentin Tarantino made up for Reservoir Dogs' $2 million funds by making dialogue the star of the show. And British director Edgar Wright's comedy/horror classic Shaun of the Dead relied on a combination of the previous two, despite only having $5 million to his name.

And it's that type of "backed-into-a-financial-corner" ingenuity that's adopted by Wright's buddy Joe Cornish. A comedian and writer from London, Cornish was best known for directing behind-the-scenes documentaries for both the BBC and Wright's Shaun and Hot Fuzz, before finally getting to helm this "E.T. meets The Outsiders"-style invasion picture, and it's a debut that works beautifully despite the £9,000,000 budget (or $13 million in American dollars). And while the snappy dialogue and visual aesthetic may lead one to initially believe that Block may be a Shaun of the Dead-style laughfest, it's actually quite the opposite.

While not a deeply depressing portrait of street life, this is no comedy, at least in the traditional sense. Much of the humor derives from the camaraderie of the wannabe street kings in Moses' gang, with their deadpan delivery giving the film an extra boost of energy. It helps that the cast is almost entirely made up of no-name actors (the most familiar being Nick Frost, of the aforementioned Wright comedies), making the playing field fresh and exciting, giving all of the young actors a chance to shine. The scene-stealer in this case is Boyega as the emotionally-withdrawn leader of this band of Lost Boys. Clearly frightened by the position life's put him in (thanks in part to a negligent family life), his Moses goes from thieving punk to reluctant hero in a seamless fashion.

As far as action goes, the paltry budget does indeed become obvious, but proves itself a benefit rather than a hindrance. The majority of the action is localized in the gang's apartment complex, allowing a highly claustrophobic atmosphere not unlike Ridley Scott's Alien, where the monster can strike from the shadows at any moment. Here, the scary aliens are pitch black in color (with luminescent green jaws the only visible aspect), and it's clear that the filmmakers relied more on practical effects than CGI. But in the end it works, and the creatures serve as formidable antagonists to the street thugs who take it upon themselves to fight back with their wits and less-than-conventional weaponry.

But what works the most about Attack the Block is how tightly edited and brisk the film feels. If there's any unnecessary fat on the meat of the movie, then it's almost non-existent, and the 88 minute runtime easily sustains itself with a simple premise and no unneeded subplots or extraneous sci-fi explanations (a problem that somewhat plagued Super 8's third act). What's presented is simply an exciting, well-crafted, and clever sci-fi/action yarn that defies the stupidity that bloats most of today's movies specific to such genres.

Letter Grade: "A-"

Review: "MONEYBALL"

One of the more ironic things I've experienced in life was that no matter how often I was teased by my far more athletic and popular peers for being a comic book-reading, science fiction-obsessed nerd, whenever a certain sport's season rolled around, it was always "fantasy baseball" this and "fantasy football" that.

For the uninitiated, fantasy sports consists of hardcore fans getting together during the regular season, drafting their own "fantasy team" of actual players from an American sports league, and they score points based on their players' statistics.

Think "Magic: The Gathering" for jocks.

And that irony I mentioned earlier? Just how nerdy can one get by gathering together and spending hours babbling about statistics and points? They might as well be doing this in their parents' basement while drinking Shasta and listening to Danny Elfman music (yes, us true nerds can stereotype too, what's up?!).

But there was one man in particular whose interest in statistics changed the game of baseball dramatically. His name was Billy Beane, a former baseball player turned General Manager of the Oakland Athletics whose method of drafting players based on their stats rather than their youth and asking price shook up Major League Baseball in ways that no one would have ever expected. And though a true story about numbers and statistics may seem boring on paper, director Bennett Miller and co-scribes Aaron Sorkin and Steve Zaillian likewise did the impossible with the wholly engaging baseball drama Moneyball.

Drafted right out of high school to play in the major leagues, Billy Beane (Brad Pitt) never got the lucky streak he experienced as a teenage ball player. After two decades in the game, Billy became the GM of the Oakland A's, a franchise suffering from both a low budget and an embarrassing win-loss ratio, exacerbated by a crushing loss from the Yankees in the 2001 postseason.

Despite his scouts' insistence, Billy believes that a winning team shouldn't be based on looks, youth, or star power. Determined to build up his team from scratch without the need of a Yankees-sized budget, Billy hires Peter Brand (Jonah Hill), a young Yale-educated economics major and Cleveland Indians statistician, as his new assistant GM.

Peter implements a sabermetric approach to drafting players based on their on-base average, and that means hiring players who are no longer highly desirable by the big guns, such as catcher-turned-first baseman Scott Hatteberg (Chris Pratt), pitcher Chad Bradford (Casey Bond), and longtime outfielder David Justice (Stephen Bishop). This doesn't sit well with either Billy's scouts or Athletics manager Art Howe (Philip Seymour Hoffman), who already has a beef with Billy over a contract dispute and continuously disregards Billy's instructions for the lineup.

Even though the Athletics initially perform less than admirably under Billy and Peter's new approach, soon enough the team defies the odds and begins an unexpected winning streak. Billy now does all he can to ensure his team's resurrection, all as they rocket towards the World Series.

Any average moviegoer will tell you that if you want feel-good, spirit-rising cinema, you look no farther than baseball movies. After all, classics like The Natural, Field of Dreams, Pride of the Yankees, and (oh, what the hell) The Sandlot are clear examples of good old-fashioned, uplifting yarns about America's favorite pasttime, but who thought that you could count amongst their ranks a movie focusing primarily on not the actual action itself, but the business and number-crunching of the sport?

Oscar-nominated director Miller (Capote) and Oscar-winning screenwriters Sorkin (The Social Network) and Zaillian (Schindler's List) certainly thought so. Adapting Michael Lewis' nonfiction book of the same name, Moneyball is a brilliant exercise in excellent performances, character development, and masterful dialogue (which, if you saw last year's mindblowing Social Network, is Sorkin's specialty).

And those three attributes are brought to you onscreen thanks to a one-two punch in the form of Brad Pitt and Jonah Hill, making the film their show and their show only. Pitt (who I constantly argue is a master actor unfairly labeled as a mere pretty face by some critics) is terrific as a motor-mouthed salesman of a General Manager whose unsuccessful past in the big leagues motivates him to make sure no current players make the same mistakes he did, all as he tries to balance out both reviving the Athletics and being there for his supportive daughter (played by a solid Kerris Dorsey).

The bigger delight than Pitt, however, is Hill playing Billy's soft-spoken statistics guru (a composite of a couple of Beane's real-life advisors). Only known for his roles in raunchy stoner flicks or sex comedies, Hill's first major dramatic performance is an absolute knockout, thanks especially to his fabulous camaraderie with Pitt and his understated demeanor amongst all of the craziness around him. It's an exemplary performance that's well-deserving of award season recognition (the same goes for Pitt).

Because the two leads own the show, the rest of the cast are pretty much relegated to window dressing, albeit very good window dressing. Pratt, Bishop, and Bond make the most of their roles as the new players Billy places all of his statistical faith on. Robin Wright does okay in an extended cameo as Billy's supportive ex-wife, but the most disappointing is the usually amazing Philip Seymour Hoffman (who won a Best Actor Oscar for director Miller's Capote) as the team manager with a chip on his shoulder. While he certainly isn't bad in the role, it's nothing spectacular either, lending the (well-deserved) spotlight to Pitt and Hill.

The script and the direction are marvelous, with the filmmakers handling the verbal fireworks with aplomb, and while Sorkin's dialogue doesn't possess the raw ferocity that was so prevalent in his Facebook epic, it's still incredibly effective and everything ranging from the great cinematography and the dramatic timing to Mychael Danna's wonderfully low-key musical score and the well-crafted characterizations.

While some may consider a full two hours of home runs and grand slams to be a truly exciting way to watch a damn good baseball movie, Moneyball proves that, behind the scenes, there can be as much drama or even more. That is, of course, if you have the right team assembled to knock it out of the park.

Letter Grade: "A"

Review: "HORRIBLE BOSSES"

Though I'm only in my mid-20s, I can easily lay claim to having lived through my fair share of bad jobs. I mostly worked in retail (an industry that easily resides in at least the second or third circles of employment Hell), and while a sizable chunk of my ire was targeted at the lousy pay, insulting work conditions, and peanut-brained customers, a major stress-trigger came from certain co-workers and even some bosses.

Luckily, I haven't gotten to the point where I've had job in which my manager was an insufferable prick (but give it time, I'm young), but I have had moments where I felt my superiors were acting obtuse, petty, or even downright unfair and unprofessional. I mean, who hasn't felt disenfranchised by their bosses? Okay, now who's been so angry at their bosses that they've felt that cold-blooded murder was a justifiable option?

While I'm sure most of you reading this will say "no" (and I'm sure a good chunk of you are lying through your teeth), this is the premise that drives Horrible Bosses, a passable black comedy that nonetheless decides to play it comically safe rather than push the boundaries like it should.

Nick Hendricks (Jason Bateman), Kurt Buckman (Jason Sudeikis), and Dale Arbus (Charlie Day) are three friends who are each experiencing turmoil in regards to their respective bosses. Nick is an overworked financial executive gunning for a well-deserved promotion at his firm, and is forced to jump through hoops by his megalomaniac boss Dave Harken (Kevin Spacey), only for Harken to absorb the position (and the extra pay) for himself.

Kurt works at a chemical company under his likeable boss and mentor Jack Pellitt (Donald Sutherland), but is distressed when Jack dies of a heart attack and is replaced by his egocentric, selfish, and coke-addicted son Bobby (Colin Farrell). Matters are made worse when Bobby agrees to profit on disposing his company's chemicals in a South American village, not caring that he's exposing thousands of people to dangerous toxic waste.

Newly engaged to his girlfriend Stacy (Lindsay Sloane), Dale is an assistant to dentist Julia Harris (Jennifer Aniston), an aggressive nymphomaniac who constantly subjects Dale to sexual harassment. Unable to find a better paying job because of being a registered sex offender (though he insists he was only urinating at an empty playground at night), Dale is blackmailed by Julia, where she threatens to tell Stacy that Dale had an affair unless he actually has sex with Julia.

Equally frustrated with their respective situations and inability to simply quit their jobs, the men joke about life being easier if their bosses were all dead. But soon the joke becomes a serious consideration, and the three friends soon agree to do away with their superiors. Approaching an ex-con by the name of Dean "Motherfucker" Jones (Jamie Foxx), the men ask for his services as a hitman. Jones instead suggests that to avoid suspicion from the police in regards to motive, the guys should kill each other's bosses instead. Nick, Kurt, and Dale then begin an awkward and increasingly dangerous operation to relieve themselves of their bosses.

In a year of sequels, superhero films, and reboots, I became especially excited to see Horrible Bosses for two reasons: the film is directed by Seth Gordon, the man behind the brilliant and incredibly engaging arcade-game documentary The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters, a film which easily lands in my Top 20 favorite films of all time.

The second reason is the cast, boasting a bevy of hugely talented actors including Jason Bateman (Juno, Extract, TV's "Arrested Development"), Jason Sudeikis ("Saturday Night Live"), Charlie Day (TV's "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"), and the legendary Kevin Spacey (American Beauty, The Usual Suspects). One would think an assembly of great talent like this would arguably insure a successful film, but in this case, the cast is actually one of the film's few saving graces.

While funny and entertaining for the most part, Horrible Bosses' major flaw is that despite being a black comedy, it doesn't go far enough to justify such a label. Yes, the basic premise of three working stiffs plotting to murder their bosses is dark and macabre on paper, but in execution it's a different story.

Gordon seems afraid to mine the film's dark potential by making the leads too likable, and plays it safe by infusing a Hangover-style sense of madcap anarchy rather than drawing laughs from truly uncomfortable, misanthropic, and morbid moments played ironically (like, say, Fargo or, to a lesser extent, the ultimate "hate-your-job-and-boss" cult classic Office Space). Despite proactively plotting to murder three human beings, the three leads never seem to be truly vengeful, and play the part of Clouseau-esque buffoons rather than going for the Travis Bickle/Rupert Pupkin route, and it's this issue that calls the "black comedy" labeling into question.

Another issue the film faces is the somewhat misogynistic portrayal of all the female characters, which seems to be apeing a similar issue in the films directed and/or produced by Judd Apatow (Bridesmaids notwithstanding). This is clearly a man's movie, and if you see a woman here, they're either slutty (Spacey's wife, played by Julie Bowen), a man-eater (Aniston), or completely devoid of personality or dimension (Sloane).

Despite all of this, what makes Horrible Bosses worth a watch is the terrific chemistry between the six leads. Bateman (easily one of the best comedic "straight men" in the business) is ever-reliable as the put-upon middle management schmuck whose life is made a living hell by his monster of a boss, played with masterful psychotic flair by Spacey.

Sudeikis is solid as the womanizing smart-ass of the protagonist trio, and with a hilarious combover hairdo, Farrell is hysterical as his amoral, drug addicted brat of a supervisor. Despite being having the meatiest female role and still being portrayed as a sexually-voracious pervert, Aniston still delivers with her comic timing and dares to actually break type for once. As for Foxx, he makes the most of what's essentially an extended cameo, though hopefully this and last year's Due Date won't make him complacent with making a living on mostly pointless cameo roles when he has so much more to deliver.

The standout, however, is Charlie Day as the sexually harassed dental assistant. An ingeniously funny comic actor (just watch an episode of his FX series "It's Always Sunny" and see for yourself), Day gives the film its energy and the most of its charisma. Day carries over plenty of the mentally unstable madness from his character on the aforementioned TV show, and every excited statement or outburst is comic gold.

It's because of the great chemistry between the three lead actors and their respective bosses that Horrible Bosses deserves a recommendation. Even though the potential for a truly great dark comedy was squelched and the screenplay is nothing to boast about, Bosses is nonetheless an entertaining distraction. But definitely not one worth killing over.

Letter Grade: "C"

Review: "SUPER 8"

It's so jarringly difficult to believe now, but when I was a child growing up in the '90s, I didn't rely on iPhones, the Internet, or video games to keep myself entertained (well, unless you count Super NES, because you weren't a real man unless you've mastered "Castlevania"). Instead, I stoked my rampant and ADD-fueled imagination in other ways, whether it was drawing, reading comic books, or, on some occasions, making movies.

However, I say "making movies" very loosely, as the most I did with my father's early '90s clunky-as-shit video camera was film stupid skits with friends and making stop-motion movies with my old Legos and action figures. But even so, it was an incredibly empowering feeling for a young boy, thinking that you were making film history when in reality you're producing utter crap.

But back in the 1960s and '70s, kids of that age took amateur filmmaking much more seriously, using those classic Eastman-Kodak Super 8 millimeter film cameras to execute imaginative, detailed, and even thoughtful home movie-style short films. These youngsters would go the whole mile, too: lighting, make-up, sound effects, fake blood, anything to emulate the blockbusters they watched on Saturday afternoons.

One such wunderkind was current geek god J.J. Abrams, creator of the popular television shows "Lost" and "Alias", producer of movies such as 2008's shaky-cam-palooza Cloverfield, and director of 2009's terrific Star Trek reboot. A veritable Hollywood jack-of-all-trades, Abrams has gained a well-earned reputation for churning out engaging, well-written, and visually-striking works left and right, and for his latest feature, the retro homage of all things Spielbergian titled Super 8, it's no different.

It's the summer of 1979 in small town Ohio, and tween-age Joe Lamb (Joel Courtney) is still recovering from the tragic death of his mother in a steel mill accident months earlier. It doesn't help that his sheriff's deputy father Jack (Kyle Chandler) is somewhat emotionally unavailable, so Joe takes refuge in serving as the make-up artist in his friend Charles' (Riley Griffiths) Super 8 zombie movie.

The film, titled The Case, stars gawky Martin (Gabriel Basso), supporting actor Preston (Zach Mills), and explosive-obsessed Cary (Ryan Lee) serving as cameraman and practical effects guru, but what really catches Joe's attention is the addition of girl-next-door Alice Dainard (Elle Fanning) as the wife of the main character. Even though Jack and Alice's drunkard father Louis (Ron Eldard) forbid their children from socializing with each other, they secretly do so anyway, and the motely film crew sneak out at night to film a scene from their movie.

They do so at the train depot, but in the middle of their shoot, they witness a lone truck on the tracks collide into an oncoming train, causing a massive crash. Discovering that the still-living truck driver is their biology teacher Thomas Woodward (Glynn Turman), the kids are warned to keep the incident to themselves lest they or their loved ones be killed.

While the kids try to forget what happened and carry on with their film, strange events begin to unfold in their town, from constant power outages and seeming acts of bizarre theft to dogs and even townspeople abruptly disappearing. As the U.S. Air Force-- represented by stoic Colonel Nelec (Noah Emmerich)-- descends on the town to clean up the mess, and as Jack attempts to find out what secretive game the military is playing, Joe and his friends try to discover what exactly that train was holding... and where it is now.

In this era where summers are filled to the brink with franchises and sequels, one yearns for those good ol' days when a "blockbuster" could be a standalone event brimming with heart, ingenuity, and an overall sense of innocence to contrast with the current standard of cynical, excessively violent, "ironic" timewasters that we usually forget moments after leaving the theater. Luckily, Abrams managed to hold onto those sweet memories here, and as such made Super 8 a welcome homage to the classic films of his mentor and movie legend Steven Spielberg (E.T. being the obvious first to come to mind).

Specifically, the real attraction here is the plucky group of youngsters embarking on an adventure they never expected (again, a nod to the aforementioned alien film, as well as the Spielberg-produced '80s classic The Goonies), and here Abrams proves that he's the one to call on when it comes to directing child actors. The cast of teens possess a marvelous and truly naturalistic camaraderie together, their scenes ranging from heartfelt and emotional to downright hilarious.

Elle Fanning delivers another knockout performance after last winter's Somewhere, and newcomers Joel Courtney, Riley Griffiths, and Ryan Lee steal every scene they inhabit (especially in regards to the pyromaniac latter). And what makes their performances that much more convincing is the fact that Abrams wrote their dialogue to sound like actual kids their age, rather than the precocious, excessively-wise-beyond-their-years pabulum heard in most kid-starrers (I'm looking at you, Robert Rodriguez).

In fact, you could excise most of the sci-fi trappings and still have a thouroughly engaging movie. That's not to say that the action isn't exciting. Indeed, the train scene that sets the main plot in motion is one of the most riveting and mind-bogglingly spectacular disaster scenes ever put on film. Intense, jaw-dropping, and lasting several minutes, the sequence easily clinches whatever awards the visual effects team are bound to win in the coming months.

"Intense" could probably be the best term to define most of this movie, too. Don't expect any E.T.-style gentleness from Super 8, and definitely don't expect the mysterious alien to eat Reese's Pieces or play dress-up with Drew Barrymore. This time around, the visitor from another planet is a nightstalking monster of the Jaws variety, rarely seen but hella scary when it is. Unfortunately, the alien's origins and reasons for being in the military's clutches are very by-the-numbers, and seems more like a glorified MacGuffin instead of a central character. The film also begins to lose focus by the third act, becoming dangerously close to relying on horror-movie scares and getting too preoccupied with military cloak-and-dagger hoopla.

Nonetheless, the film is easily held aloft by the fabulous performances by the cast (the kids in particular), a warm and nostalgic screenplay, fantastic action, and a Williams-esque score by Michael Giacchino. Getting nowhere close to the timeless levels of E.T. that it clearly desires, Super 8 still manages to deliver the sweet taste of Hollywood past that most flicks of today could only dream of attaining.

Letter Grade: "B+"

Review: "CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER"

It doesn't take a genius (or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, a cable news pundit) to see that the United States have seen better days. After all, we're currently facing a troubled economy, a possible debt default, two expensive and seemingly endless wars, and an increasingly hostile public divide between American citizens regarding cultural and philosophical matters.

Of course, every country has faced problems like these, and times are never exactly perfect. Though some would insist that back in the "good ol' days", American life was a lot simpler and a lot less cynical. The generation in question was of course the 1940's (best known as the "Greatest Generation"), where there was no doubt about who the good guys and bad guys were.

You could see this attitude reflected in the movies of yesteryear, especially war films, where square-jawed white guys would stampede towards those goosesteppin' Nazis, guns a-blazing while a Marlboro-smoking eagle made of apple pie would fly an American flag over the horizon.

Another vehicle used to push pro-American propaganda and support the war effort in those days were comic books. Made for cheap and read by wide-eyed youths everywhere, the tales of superheroes fighting for Truth, Justice, and the American way served as an effective form of both escapism and fantasy wish-fulfillment.

And one such superhero in particular who personified the nation's unity was none other than Captain America. Created in 1941 by Joe Simon and Jack Kirby for Marvel Comics (then known as Timely Comics), Cap served as the ultimate fantasy for young kids everywhere: a scrawny young man hoping to serve his country is transformed into a superhuman fighting machine, draped in Old Glory while punching out Nazi thugs by the dozens.

Cap ended up becoming one of the most iconic comic book heroes of all time in the intervening seven decades, and with the superhero movie craze at fever pitch, it seemed inevitable for the star-spangled super-soldier to show up on the silver screen. And under the nostalgic direction of Joe Johnston, Captain America: The First Avenger serves as a fabulously entertaining throwback to the Saturday afternoon matinees of yore.

It's 1942, and Brooklyn orphan Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) wants to serve his country in the fight against Hitler's war machine like his best friend James "Bucky" Barnes (Sebastian Shaw). The only problem is that Steve is sickly, frail, and definitely not fit for military service. Having applied for recruitment five times (and rejected every time), Steve is eventually approached by Dr. Abraham Erskine (Stanley Tucci), a German scientist working for the American government.

It turns out that Erskine has created an experimental serum that can enhance a human's physical attributes to superhuman levels, and now the military's top-secret science division overseen by Colonel Chester Phillips (Tommy Lee Jones) is looking for the best man to test it on. Sensing decency and compassion in Steve, Erskine convinces Phillips and British military liaison Peggy Carter (Hayley Atwell) to have Steve be the guinea pig.

The operation is a success, with Steve transformed into a taller, stronger, and faster individual. But the celebration is tragically cut short when a German saboteur (Richard Armitage) attacks the laboratory and ends up destroying all of the remaining serums and its research. This spy turns out to be a member of HYDRA, a Nazi offshoot organization headed by the fearsome Johann Schmidt (Hugo Weaving) and his top scientist Arnim Zola (Toby Jones). Obsessed with gaining god-like power, Schmidt has gotten his hands on an artifact of indescribable power called the Tesseract, and plans on using it to lay waste to the world.

Relegated to hawking war bonds at USO shows, Steve eventually proves his worth by saving 400 captive Allied soldiers from a HYDRA base, Steve becomes "Captain America", the States' greatest weapon in the fight against HYDRA. Outfitted with red-white-and-blue armor and an indestructible shield invented by weapons specialist Howard Stark (Dominic Cooper), Steve sets out to not only stop Schmidt's diabolical plans, but also become the hero he's always wanted to be.

It seemed long overdue for Captain America to hit the big screen (let's not count the atrocious 1990 direct-to-video adaptation starring J.D. Salinger's son), and unlike the current superhero flicks set in modern days, you'd need a director who could add the appropriate retro touch to a period film like this one. And Marvel sure as hell found one in Joe Johnston. A former visual effects artist and designer (he designed Boba Fett, yo!), Johnston has had a respectable career ranging from the gentle docudrama October Sky, children's films such as Jumanji and Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, and the passable but not mindblowing Jurassic Park III.

But a film of Johnston's that I've cherished for years was his 1991 love-letter to Saturday afternoon serials, the superhero adaptation The Rocketeer. The film was by no means an Oscar-worthy classic, but there was just something about how innocent, wholesome, and downright fun the experience was, and how it celebrated idealism and the "gee-whiz" atmosphere of cinema's past.

And here it's no different. Johnston applies to Captain America the swashbuckling, escapist flair of films like Star Wars and Raiders of the Lost Ark (which he coincidentally worked on) that was free of the cynicism and moral shades of grey that permeates today's action films, and it works like a charm. He also has fun gently spoofing the corny/campy sensibilities of not only that era, but the early "Captain America" comic books themselves (a second act USO musical sequence featuring Steve wearing a cheesy spandex outfit is an absolute delight to watch).

Of course, in order to make our flag-waving hero engaging to the audience, we'd need an actor who could give Steve Rogers not only a commanding physical presence but a heart to go along with it. And we found it in the somewhat surprising casting choice of Chris Evans. Not a stranger to comic book movies (his Human Torch was the only bright spot in the otherwise horrendous Fantastic Four pictures), Evans has usually been known for playing snarky wiseasses, so to cast him against type as a musclebound Boy Scout was a risky gamble.

But alas, Evans pleasantly surprises us by delivering an earnest, sincere, and three-dimensional performance that essentially celebrates rooting for the little guy. His Steve doesn't have the snarky wit of Tony Stark, the pompous arrogance of Thor, or the rage-fueled angst of Bruce Banner. Instead, he just possesses a sense of altruism and a simple desire to fight for the greater good, and the film's attempt to wear its idealism on its sleeve never gets bland, cheesy, or pretentious.

Supporting Evans are a scene-stealing (as always) Tommy Lee Jones as the requisite crusty commanding officer, a terrific Stanley Tucci as the kind-hearted doctor who gives Steve a chance to serve his country, and Hayley Atwell as a tough-as-nails British agent who never falls into the usual "damsel in distress" love interest trap that plagues movies like this. Her Peggy Carter is basically Marion Ravenwood to Cap's Indiana Jones, and their chemistry/sexual tension is surprisingly convincing and even heartfelt.

However, if there was one major weakness for Captain America, it lies with the big baddie of the film, the Red Skull. Hugo Weaving (a fabulous actor and the go-to guy for menacing villains) is appropriately sinister in his crimson make-up, and he gets to do some great scenery chewing, but the character ultimately isn't fleshed out enough to truly frighten us like, say, Heath Ledger did as The Joker. The filmmakers are obviously trying to parallel how Cap and the Red Skull are similar in being godlike in comparison to ordinary humans, but there was so much more potential for thematic intensity that ended up being wasted.

However, Johnston and his crew do a great job replicating 1940's-era New York, adding a shiny, glowing veneer to the imagery with a slight hint of sepia. The production design is gorgeous, as are the period costume designs (especially Atwell's va-va-voom moment in a stunning red dress). The Benjamin Button-style special effects used to transplant Evans' head onto a skinny Steve's body are seamless, and the action sequences are absolutely superb, especially during a montage of Cap's adventures dismantling HYDRA bases. Even Alan Silvestri's brass-heavy score has fun with the proceedings, as if it were tailor-made for a classic WW2 action picture.

But most of all, Captain America is just plain fun. It's a refreshing return to movies that are meant to be summer popcorn escapism, yet still having a heart and even a brain to keep us from forgetting it after leaving the theater. Of course, the film is the final piece of 2012's all-star Avengers puzzle (it's not hard to find several Marvel easter eggs planted throughout this feature), so that and further adventures of Steve Rogers will be warmly welcomed. Exciting, funny, engaging, and a blast to watch, Captain America: The First Avenger is one blockbuster worthy to salute.

Letter Grade: "A-"

Review: "13 ASSASSINS"

If there's one word being overused far too much in the movie business, it's the term "epic". Usually meant for sweeping period films, sword-and-sandal adventures, and anything bearing Peter Jackson's name on it, modern marketing for films have abused the word one too many times to describe them, especially when used for movies that clearly do not deserve them (Ben-Hur was an epic. Twilight is not).

But every now and then, the word has been used justifiably, not only for the grand visual and aesthetic panache, but the "classical" feel evoked as well, where the filmmakers not only aim to blow you away with a fantastic movie, but to keep the goosebumps firmly planted on your arms hours after leaving the theater.

Personally, a bona fide way to get "epic" to come out of my mouth is whenever you show me a good ol' fashioned Japanese samurai film. Show me any classic jidaigeki flick, and I'll eat it up. Especially if said film was made by the master of all such films, Akira Kurosawa, who helmed masterpieces ranging from Ran and Rashomon to Yojimbo and The Seven Samurai. I've always appreciated the common themes of honor, analysis of the nature of violence, and the importance of true heroism in such films, and I've hoped that most movies today could emulate or even duplicate such proficient filmmaking.

Lo and behold, my wish came true in the form of director Takashi Miike's 13 Assassins, a thunderous ass-kicker of a movie that easily earns its place as one of the best action films in recent memory.

It's mid-18th century Japan, and the changes within the feudal government have been causing the ways of the samurai to become obsolete. Even worse, Lord Naritsugu (Gorô Inagaki)-- brother to the current Shogun-- has been killing and raping at his own discretion, but his position of power keeps him free from prosecution.

Realizing that Naritsugu must be stopped, several government officials secretly hire legendary and respected samurai Shimada Shinzaemon (Kōji Yakusho) to assassinate the young tyrant. Agreeing to his task, Shinzaemon recruits eleven other samurai for the job, including lieutenant Kuranaga Saheita (Hiroki Matsukata), ronin Hirayama Kujūrō (Tsuyoshi Ihara), young rookie Ogura Shōujirō (Masataka Kubota), and Shinzaemon's own nephew Shimada Shinrokurō (Takayuki Yamada).

Joined later by sardonic bandit Kiga Koyata (Yūsuke Iseya), the assassins learn that Naritsugu and his entourage of 70 bodyguards are traveling from Edo. They plan to cut off and ambush Naritsugu by trapping him in a deserted town. But Shinzaemon will have his work cut out for him when he learns that his motley crew of thirteen won't be facing off against 70 of Naritsugu's men... they'll be facing 200 of them.

I honestly can't recall the last time I've ever walked out of a movie theater as pleasantly surprised as I was after seeing 13 Assassins. Now to be honest, I was bracing myself for the purely unconventional since I knew it was directed by controversial Japanese director Takashi Miike. His previous films Audition and especially Ichi the Killer were two of the most incredibly violent and disturbing movies I've ever seen, and therefore I was stoked to see his take on the venerable samurai genre.

And godDAMN, was it worth it. A remake of a 1963 film by Eiichi Kudo (which was reportedly based on a true story), 13 Assassins is a great example of how you can mix narrative and spectacle into one single entity of pure explosive genius: in this case, the two elements are almost completely separate.

During the first half of the picture, we're slowly but surely introduced to all the characters, developing the characters of Shinzaemon (terrifically played by Kōji Yakusho), Naritsugu, and Shimada, building up the exposition. With the exception of a few select scenes of action or bloody murder, the tone of the first hour is calm, atmospheric, and bears a subtle but obvious intensity.

But when the second half arrives and the assassins trap Naritsugu's army within an intriciate labyrinth of a town, 13 Assassins goes absolutely insane. The entire second hour is an entire, uninterrupted war scene between Shinzaemon and Naritsugu's forces, and the results are breathtaking. Flaming bison stampedes, giant blockade walls bursting out of nowhere, scores of bloodied bodies hitting the ground: the movie has it all, and it completely relentless. I was at the edge of my seat the entire time, and was praying that it wouldn't cease.

The editing, sound effects, and purposeful lack of a music score in these scenes are masterstrokes of their own right. I truly don't know why swordfighting scenes are so endlessly inventive and awesome by default, but 13 Assassins proves it right again. Essentially, this was the "few versus a million" kind of film epic that 300 failed to be.

Though it's nowhere near as fucked-up or controversial as Miike's past works, there's no doubt that 13 Assassins has earned its place as a modern classic, not only for its maturity, grace, skillful execution and nostalgic value, but also because... well... you know what, screw thoughtful analysis just this once. 13 Assassins will kick your ass. Go out and see for yourself if you wanna prove me wrong.

Letter Grade: "A"

Review: "GREEN LANTERN"

Back in the day (meaning a day in which I hadn't even been born yet), movies and the people who made them possessed a lot more ingenuity and creativity than the more cynical youngsters of today would give them credit for. Yes, filmmakers like Spielberg and Lucas couldn't rely on CGI at the time, but they and their special effects teams managed to compensate with clever camerawork, practical effects, model work, and the then-prevalent, painstaking usage of rotoscoping.

And yet (for the most part), the sci-fi and fantasy movies of years past (be they campy guilty pleasures or Oscar-worthy classics) still had a human touch that made them warm, naturalistic, and genuine. Who knew that audiences would be freaked out by what was really just a mechanical shark, or bedazzled by space aliens and dark lords that were actually men wearing rubbery suits and holding plastic guns and lightsabers?

Then came the advent of computer-generated imagery, which-- while making incredible leaps and bounds seemingly by the day-- has unfortunately been used as a crutch by studios and directors in lieu of character development and decent storytelling. Certainly, some films require special effects in certain doses when the limits of practical effects call for it, but when you overload your entire picture with shiny digital excess, accusations of laziness and favoring style over substance become more and more justified (just ask Michael Bay or Roland Emmerich).

Now in the ADHD generation of the 21st century, CGI overkill and drowning out a competent narrative (and the current fad of 3D filmmaking) has plagued movies with loads of potential, and sadly, director Martin Campbell's DC Comics adaptation Green Lantern has fallen victim as well.

For several millennia, a universe-wide organization known as the Green Lantern Corps has been protecting the cosmos from interstellar threats big and small. Headquartered on the faraway planet Oa, the Lanterns serve using power rings that can spontaneously create solid constructs limited by only the wearer's imagination. But they've apparently met their match in the form of the monstrous, fear-embracing entity known as Parallax (voice of Clancy Brown), which has been killing countless life forms and worlds and growing more powerful because of it.

Encountering and becoming gravely wounded by Parallax is the Green Lantern called Abin Sur (Temuera Morrison), who after crash-landing on Earth instructs his ring to seek out a worthy replacement. That replacement turns out to be test pilot Hal Jordan (Ryan Reynolds), a gifted but brash and irresponsible hotshot who works for Ferris Aircraft, owned by Carl Ferris (Jay O. Sanders) and managed by Carl's daughter Carol (Blake Lively), who was once an item with Hal.

Discovering the dying Abin Sur, Hal takes the ring, and is eventually whisked away to Oa, where he's introduced to the Corps and their ways by bird-beaked Tomar-Re (voiced by Geoffrey Rush), and trained by porcine Kilowog (voice of Michael Clarke Duncan) and Corps leader Thaal Sinestro (Mark Strong). Despite the doubts of both Sinestro and Hal himself, the new recruit will need all the help he can get.

It turns out that the U.S. Government has discovered Abin Sur's corpse, and agent Amanda Waller (Angela Bassett) hires meek scientist Hector Hammond (Peter Saarsgard)--the son of Senator Robert Hammond (Tim Robbins)-- to examine the body. But Hector becomes infected by a shard of Parallax that was inside the body, gaining incredible psionic powers. Consumed by power and hatred, Hector plots to exact revenge upon the world. With Hector's power growing and Parallax getting closer and closer to Earth, it'll take all that Hal can muster as the Green Lantern to save the world, and the universe.

It seemed long overdue for a big-screen adaptation of the jade-hued stalwart of the DC Comics universe, especially seeing how the only superheroes from DC making it to the silver screen were either an alien from Krypton or a billionaire playboy dressed like a flying rodent. Even though I've never read any comics featuring the Green Lantern as a child, my exposure to the character via animated television incarnations and a basic understanding of his origins made me excited nonetheless.

And upon looking at the basic ingredients, it seemed like a surefire winner. You had a respected director like Martin Campbell at the helm (The Mask of Zorro, Goldeneye, and the terrific Bond reboot Casino Royale); a talented cast featuring stud-muffin favorite Ryan Reynolds, as well as Peter Saarsgard, Tim Robbins, and Mark Strong; and all the visual effects wizardry that (reportedly) $300 million could buy.

But alas, the allure of Shiny and Loud supplanted the need for a script that makes its characters three-dimensional and its story engaging. It's actually quite remarkable how a screenplay forged by four (yes, FOUR) writers became so thin and underdeveloped, since every three minutes the audience is exposed to endless plot exposition and on-the-nose dialogue.

It also doesn't help that there's little to no joy experienced by the audience in the proceedings. All of the whiz-bang action setpieces feel very by-the-numbers. When we watched Superman take his first flight or Spider-Man go on his first web-swing, the excitement was organic and spine-tingling, but here the sense of fun is barely here, instead feeling robotic and artificial. Fueling the irony further is that despite Hal Jordan's power ring being capable of creating ANYTHING he can think of, the best that that Campbell's effects team can conjure up range from the mundane (swords and machine guns) to the downright cartoonish (fighter jets and... a giant Hot Wheels racing track?).

As the man behind the emerald mask, Ryan Reynolds does the best he can with the material given to him, which is disappointing. Charming, funny, and a naturally gifted actor, Reynolds has always been a favorite of mine, and though his cocky Van Wilder flair shines through every now and then, he becomes stonewalled by the clunky dialogue he's forced to utter.

The rest of the cast doesn't fare any better. Blake Lively (of "Gossip Girl" fame) is insufferably bland as Hal's childhood friend and former flame. The two have absolutely no chemistry together (I've probably seen better sexual tension between bales of hay). The immensely talented Peter Saarsgard becomes more and more unrecognizable under Elephant Man-style make-up, making us wonder who exactly IS this man that's being forced to play a one-dimensional, vengeful nerd with daddy issues (said daddy being Tim Robbins, who completely phones in his performance). The same can be said for Angela Bassett as a shady government spook, and as for the venerable leader of the Green Lantern Corps, there's little that can be said about the usually-imposing Mark Strong, who does little beyond uttering solemn monologues in fuschia make-up.

As for Parallax, I think it's safe to say that he's the LEAST frightening cloud-shaped supervillain I've seen in a film as of late (possibly a tie with the funnel cloud Galactus in the last Fantastic Four movie). All Parallax does is serve as a plot device to tie one disorganized fight scene into another, not mention scare the pants off of us with ominous, on-the-nose threats like "You shall die" or "The Earth will fall". I've heard better trash talk from Zen Buddhist monks.

To be fair, most first entries in superhero franchises usually don't use up all of their potential due to the unavoidable pitfalls of introducing so many key characters and backstories. But Green Lantern rushes so much to reach its conclusion that any connection to the characters is completely squandered. It may not be the worst comic book movie ever made (haven't you seen Howard the Duck yet? Get on it!), but Green Lantern's prospects certainly won't match those of its caped-crusadin' brethren.

Letter Grade: "D+"

Review: "X-MEN: FIRST CLASS"

Like many a nerd-child back in the day, I was understandably excited for the first of George Lucas' prequels to his legendary Star Wars trilogy to arrive in theaters in May of 1999. After all, the aforementioned saga was without a doubt the biggest and most successful film franchise of all time, and fans of all ages were chomping at the bit to see just exactly how young Anakin Skywalker became the fearsome Darth Vader, not to mention witness the earlier days of other beloved characters in the previous films.

But as time (and the subsequent prequels) went by, many fans' anticipation (including yours truly's) evolved into that of confusion, annoyance, and even boredom. Of course, any prequel is difficult to successfully pull off considering that we knew what was ultimately going to to happen to the characters. But any joy, warmth, and emotional authenticity that defined the original trilogy was nonexistent in the noisy, poorly acted, and poorly written CGI-obsessed mess that were the Star Wars prequels.

My faith shattered and heart broken into a million pieces (each one representing the times I've cried inside because of Lucas' fat ass swindling me of my and others' innocence), my opinion towards prequels of any kind descended into that of cynical pessimism, especially in regards to franchises whose original films I enjoyed and even cherished.

Take the X-Men series, for example. Debuting in 2000, director Bryan Singer did a splendid job adapting Stan Lee and Jack Kirby's misfit mutants from Marvel Comics to the big screen, creating a strange, visually trippy, and even endearing story about genetically advanced people striving to co-exist with humans who hated and feared them. Singer followed up three years later with an even better sequel, expanding upon the political and sociological subtexts to add an extra layer of warmth and emotional pull on top of all the whiz-bang action.

But when Singer left the series and 20th Century Fox tapped hack extraordinaire Brett Ratner to helm the hollow and forgettable threequel The Last Stand-- followed in 2009 by an atrocious Gavin Hood-helmed Wolverine prequel-- the prestige of the series faded into cinematic life-support mode.

So when I heard that there was going to be yet another "origins" tale in the works, this time about a young Professor Xavier and Magneto when they were best of pals and not archenemies, I was expecting nothing but a massive disaster. Thankfully, I got my foot planted squarely in my mouth when I watched X-Men: First Class, a fresh, intelligent, and action-packed comic book flick that breathes new superpowered life into a series that was on the brink of certain death.

It's 1962, and mutants-- evolved humans who possess amazing superhuman abilities and/or bizarre appearances-- are slowly but surely becoming prominent in a world that's threatened by possible nuclear war between the United States and Russia. One such mutant is telepath Charles Xavier (James McAvoy), a brilliant young professor of genetics born into a life of wealth and privilege. Having grown up with his foster sister Raven Darkholme (Jennifer Lawrence)-- a blue-skinned shapeshifter who constantly maintains a human disguise out of fear and shame-- Charles has been searching for others like him, hoping to not only protect his own kind, but maintain a peace between mutants and their human counterparts.

Another such mutant is Erik Lehnsherr (Michael Fassbender), a powerful manipulator of magnetism and Jewish Holocaust survivor who for years has been hunting Sebastian Shaw (Kevin Bacon), the former Nazi who killed Erik's mother and tortured the boy in Auschwitz to learn more about Erik's abilities. A mutant with the power to absorb and redirect great deals of energy, Shaw and his Hellfire Club-- seductive telepath Emma Frost (January Jones), demonic teleporter Azazel (Jason Flemyng), and wind-controller Riptide (Alex Gonzalez)-- have been secretly manipulating tensions between the U.S. and USSR, hoping to facilitate World War III and let the mutant race reign in the aftermath.

As such, the CIA and field agent Moira MacTaggart (Rose Byrne) recruit Xavier to form a secret mutant division to find and neutralize Shaw. Realizing that they have a common enemy in Shaw, Charles meets and teams up with Erik, and search for various young mutants to join their team: Dr. Hank McCoy/Beast (Nicholas Hoult), a brilliant young scientist with amazing agility and dexerity; Armando Munoz/Darwin (Edi Gathegi), a cab driver who can biologically adapt to any dangerous situation; Angel Salvadore (Zoe Kravitz), an exotic dancer with insectoid wings; Alex Summers/Havok (Lucas Till), a former convict who can expel powerful and destructive beams of energy from his body; and Sean Cassidy/Banshee (Caleb Landry Jones), who possesses the ability to scream at supersonic levels.

As a military standoff and a possible nuclear holocaust looms, Charles and Erik must not only contend with training their young charges to thwart Shaw's megalomaniacal plans, but also with their differing viewpoints on whether mutants should peacefully live alongside humans... or take their place as the next step in evolution.

As X-Men: First Class' production progressed, there were plenty of red flags raised for me: the production schedule was seriously rushed (principal photography started only nine months before the film's release), there were glaring discrepancies and contradictions in regards to the established continuity of the X-Men movie-verse, and, quite simply, there was still the bad taste of The Last Stand and Wolverine still in our mouths. However, when I heard that British director Matthew Vaughn was taking the reins, a flicker of hope sparked within.

After all, this was the same Matthew Vaughn who directed last year's spectacularly gory/hysterical/profane superhero farce Kick-Ass. Considering how much I adored that movie and everything about it, I decided to give First Class a chance. And boy, was I right to do so. Taking the raw source material from the comics, placing the proceedings in the swingin' 60's, and throwing in elements of Connery-era "James Bond" for good measure, Vaughn has reclaimed the heart and soul that Singer (who returns here as a producer) infused into the first two X-films and supercharges this prequel to with them to great effect.

There's the requisite themes of freakish mutants trying to fit into a world that fears them for their powers or appearances, proficiently personified by recent Oscar nominee Jennifer Lawrence and Nicholas Hoult as the blue-hued Mystique and Beast, respectively. There's the obvious analogy of the mutants' plight mirroring that of the Civil Rights movement, and added for good measure is the presence of Bond-style political intrigue, femme fatales, and stylish costumes and set pieces.

But the true nuclei of the film are that of James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender in two powerhouse performances. Ably taking the reins once held by British thespians Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellan, the two performers do a terrific job crafting the complex friendship-cum-rivalry between the pacifistic Xavier and vengeful/by-any-means-necessary Magneto. McAvoy puts a refreshing twist on the young Professor, making him a sly ladies' man who's in direct contrast to his future, stuffy, wheelchair-bound self.

As the Holocaust victim hellbent on revenge, Fassbender is a revelation. Having proved his worth to mass audiences with his brief yet crucial performance in 2009's Inglourious Basterds, this film will undoubtedly put Fassbender on the fast track to superstardom. Rather than try to emulate the dandyish camp that McKellan did so well in earlier installments, Fassbender makes his Erik a ruthless, emotionally-scarred antihero, and though we know what happens down the line with his relationship to Xavier, the journey of how they get there is absolutely tragic.

The rest of the cast varies in their impact. Kevin Bacon (who can now add about ten thousand new degrees of separation for himself with the film's ensemble cast) is a convincing baddie who is clearly this film's Ernst Blofeld, and has fun with his material without delving into full-on camp. The budding X-Men get time to show off their unique abilities in a fun second-act training montage, but with the exception of Lawrence and Hoult, they don't get much in the way of characterization (though Caleb Landry Jones' scenes as Banshee are a blast to watch every time he shows up). January Jones (of television's Mad Men) is stunning in her skintight 1960's ice-queen getup, but is completely bland in her personification. But there's also a very brief cameo halfway through from a familiar face that is both profane and delivers the biggest laugh in the whole picture.

Some of the editing and special effects, though impressive overall, do show signs of the rushed production schedule (for some reason, the make-up department was complacent with making Beast look like a navy blue Wolfman knock-off), and even though Vaughn manages to effectively squeeze in a lot within the 2 hour running time, the pacing sometimes screeches to a halt (mostly whenever we see the American and Russian military head honchos commiserating about Cold War hostilities in their respective war rooms).

In fact, the biggest flaw is the fact that the filmmakers could have stretched out Xavier and Magneto's story arc beyond this film and into the inevitable sequels, building up their friendship and the philosophical tension that went along with it, making their schism that much more thematically powerful. Instead, Vaughn seems like he wants to rush to bring us to the status quo presented in Singer's films.

But luckily, those flaws are overshadowed by a dual sense of intelligence and escapist fun, not to mention the fact that Vaughn intentional adds an era-appropriate layer of camp to remind us of the X-Men's colorful comic book roots. While cheesy codenames and brightly-colored costumes can be difficult to swallow in superhero flicks set in the modern day, here it works perfectly. First Class follows in 2009's superior Star Trek prequel/reboot steps by giving us an origins story that pays respect to the source material while stilling staying fresh and interesting.

Though it suffers from on-the-nose dialogue and exposition as well as an overlong and sometimes laborious sense of pacing, X-Men: First Class nonetheless shows us how you REALLY refresh a lagging franchise, and hopefully the inevitable next semester will be even more invigorating and truly X-cellent. George Lucas, you have been served.


Letter Grade: "B+"

Review: "THOR"

Growing up as an awkward and less than socially adroit child years ago, I always found comfort exercising my mind and imagination rather than muscles. Let's face it, if you saw me on the football field, you'd immediately suggest that I stuck to my doodles and silly cinematic aspirations (that's probably why I was always offensive tackle; does anyone besides me think that it's the most useless position one can play?).

Luckily, there were two other kinds of spectacle featuring giant men pounding the shit out of each other that stoked my imaginative fires: superhero comic books, and texts chronicling ancient mythology. You don't have to be a genius to draw comparisons between the two, what with the melodramatic dialogue, beings with amazing and godly gifts, and character/story archetypes that could very well be thematically interchangeable. You don't think Superman's creators used Hercules as part of their inspiration?

But one character in particular who made the two worlds converge was Thor, the Norse god of thunder. Adapted into the pencil-and-ink world of superheroes by Marvel Comics' Stan Lee, Larry Lieber, and Jack Kirby in 1962, Thor was never exactly in the top tier of recognizable caped crusaders, and one would be hard pressed into believing that the character could be feasibly adapted into any other medium, especially film. But history has shown it takes an unexpected player to make the impossible possible, and that's what director Kenneth Branagh (yes, that Kenneth Branagh) has done with the highly enjoyable god-o-rama Thor.

Unbeknownst to many a human, the Earth is but one of nine realms within the Cosmos, the most influential and revered being that of Asgard. Ruled for eons by the wise Allfather Odin (Anthony Hopkins), Asgard has been part of a shaky truce with the bleak realm of Jotunheim, a frozen world inhabited by the fearsome Frost Giants led by King Laufey (Colm Feore). But while peace has been maintained, Odin's failing health and old age has brought about the ascendance of the throne for his eldest son, the brash but fearless Thor (Chris Hemsworth).

Unfortunately, Thor's coronation is interrupted by Frost Giant intruders intent on stealing an ancient relic. Though the arrogant and headstrong Thor insists on traveling to Jotunheim to teach the Giants a lesson, Odin forbids it, wishing to keep the peace and keep the Nine Realms free from bloody war. Nonetheless, Thor decides to go anyway, and along with his younger brother Loki (Tom Hiddleston), warrior friends Hogun (Tadanobu Asano), Volstagg (Ray Stevenson), Fandral (Joshua Dallas), and Sif (Jaime Alexander), he goes to the Frost Giants' world to avenge Asgard. Outnumbered, Thor and his friends are eventually saved by Odin, but Thor's disobedience forces a betrayed Odin to strip his son of his powers and banish him to Midgard (better known as Earth) to teach him a lesson in humility.

Crashlanding in the New Mexico desert, a powerless Thor encounters a group of scientists-- Jane Foster (Natalie Portman), Erik Selvig (Stellan Skarsgard), and Darcy Lewis (Kat Dennings)-- who despite being befuddled by recent strange atmospheric phenomenon, believe this brutish stranger to be a delusional transient rather than the Norse god of ancient myth that he claims to be. Still, Jane becomes fascinated with him, and agrees (in exchange for information regarding where he came from) to help him locate something that he believes can bring him home: Mjolnir, Thor's mighty hammer, which has also landed in the desert and is now guarded by shady government agency SHIELD and spook Agent Coulson (Clark Gregg). All the while, back in Asgard, Loki's intentions and character are not all that they seem, and soon his hunger for power not only threatens that of Asgard, but all of the universe itself.

The fourth self-financed film by Marvel Studios (following both Iron Man films and The Incredible Hulk), Thor would clearly be a tricky sell, and not just ANY filmmaker could pull this potential epic off without a hitch. Thus, many were surprised when British actor/director Ken Branagh was tapped to bring the Thunder God to cinematic life. Better known for his grand Shakespearean adaptations like Henry V and Hamlet rather than big-budget summer blockbusters, Branagh clearly had his work cut out for him.

But surprisingly (and fortunately), Branagh managed to pull it off, balancing both the VFX bombast with nuanced character development. And it's not too difficult to see him trickle in that Elizabethan melodrama in: the themes of familial discord, betrayal, and revenge presented here could belong in any work by the Bard. Being an origin story, however, Thor stumbles a bit with its broad exposition and sometimes shaky screenplay, and once again follows the unfortunate superhero movie trend of stuffing way too many characters into a two-hour time frame.

But what saves Thor from delving into Fantastic Four-style mediocrity is the immensely talented cast. And the primary masterstroke is that of now-guaranteed-for-superstardom leading man Chris Hemsworth. An Aussie soap star best known to Stateside moviegoers as the doomed George Kirk in 2009's superb Star Trek reboot, Hemsworth is a revelation as the exiled god-cum-superhero. He perfectly captures the pompous, vainglorious arrogance one would imagine such a character to possess, and when the big blond buffoon lands in New Mexico, the fish-out-of-water scenario becomes a comic goldmine (whether it's waltzing into a pet store and demanding a horse, or demanding a new mug of coffee after casually smashing the first one to the floor).

Hemsworth also manages to carry the emotional heft of the character on his broad shoulders, especially when acting opposite a terrific Anthony Hopkins as the god-of-all-gods Odin, and fellow newcomer Tom Hiddleston as Thor's scheming and jealous brother Loki. Any scenes involving the three are surprisingly raw and powerful for a superhero film, and the performances deny any chance for the seriousness to become cartoonishly silly.

As the scientist who becomes professionally and then personally intrigued with the Norse tourist, Natalie Portman (in her hundredth film role in the last four or five months) possesses decent chemistry with Hemsworth, but can't really do much with her thinly written role. After all, after witnessing her recent Oscar-winning role as a batshit crazy ballerina, can you really picture her as an astrophysicist? Faring better is Stellan Skarsgard as Jane's mentor and co-worker, and Kat Dennings provides plenty of snarky wit. On the celestial side of things, standouts include Ray Stevenson as Gimli-esque glutton-warrior Volstagg, and Idris Elba is all kinds of towering awesome as Heimdall, guardian of the realm-connecting Rainbow Bridge.

The technical credits are absolutely outstanding across the board. The production design by Bo Welch is opulence of the highest order, with the halls of Asgard realized as a gleaming, heavenly world of golden architecture reminiscent of the grandest of grand period films, but with a fantastical comic book twist. The same could be said for the candy-colored costume design, which in any other film would feel absolutely ridiculous, but here it's a perfect fit. The action and visual effects are also top-notch (the best being Thor's unauthorized invasion of Jotunheim), and Branagh's first foray into an SFX-heavy actioner is an overall success.

And luckily, Thor dodged the same mistakes Iron Man 2 made by not being a two-hour teaser for 2012's superhero all-star extravaganza The Avengers (of which Thor will be a part of). It manages to be a satisfactory standalone film while still peppering in enough Easter eggs to keep the fanboys and fangirls happy, be it the involvement of SHIELD (represented by Clark Gregg, reprising his secret agent role from the Iron Man films), a brief (but somewhat pointless) cameo from Jeremy Renner as future Avenger and master archer Hawkeye, and the requisite post-credits scene teasing the next film on Marvel's slate.

Even though the by-the-numbers screenplay bogs down some of the proceedings and some characterizations go out the window, Thor nevertheless succeeds as a highly entertaining popcorn film that benefits from Branagh's direction, a stellar cast headed by a star-making turn from Hemsworth, fabulous special effects and art direction, and a good ol'-fashioned sense of escapist fun. Bring on Captain America.

Letter Grade: "B"