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"

Review: "SOMEWHERE"

Many a year ago, I entered college with the rose-tinted dreams of becoming the next big Hollywood visionary. Full of ideas (a few of them good, most of them atrociously bad), I hammered away at a major in Filmmaking, only to gradually realize that:

A. The industry is notoriously difficult to find success in
B. I would have to move to California or New York to just get my foot in the door
C. You can call it "paying your dues" all you want, but if I have to get my feet wet by starring as an extra in a Michael Bay movie, then you can go fuck yourself.

I eventually realized that my dreams were of the pipe variety, and even though I gave up on the filmmaking odyssey that I felt I was destined to dominate, I still have some ideas floating around in my noggin, and that I could find a happy medium by making a career reviewing films and sharing my quasi-elitist views with you, the loyal readers. Oh hai!

But what REALLY turned me off about a potential life as a Hollywood player was the inherent phoniness and ultimate emptiness of such a lifestyle. Sure, millions of dollars, coke-encrusted parties and a fleet of bleach-blonde groupies at one's disposal sounds nice and all, but is that all there is to it? Eventually, wouldn't one just feel bored with their existence? Wouldn't the blunt hammer of irony strike when you realize that despite all your career accomplishments, you still amount to nothing?

That's the premise of director Sofia Coppola's heavily minimalistic and almost insufferably introspective drama Somewhere, a seemingly insider's look at the startling boredom and lack of meaning accompanying the superficial glitz and glamor we spectators adore from afar.

Rising Hollywood actor Johnny Marco (Stephen Dorff) has been recuperating from a small arm injury at the Hollywood Chateau Marmont, and if he isn't fulfilling publicity obligations for his newest film, he's either sleeping in his hotel room, hiring strippers to do private pole dances for him, having sex with random women, or hanging out with his childhood pal Sammy (Chris Pontius).

Clearly bored with his life and seemingly unable to experience pleasure, Johnny experiences a spark when visited by his 11-year-old daughter Cleo (Elle Fanning), whose custody is shared between him and his ex-wife Layla (Lala Sloatman). But when Layla calls and informs Johnny that she's going away "for a while", Cleo stays with Johnny at the Marmont. And it's this reconnection with his daughter that forces Johnny to reassess his life and what his life as a celebrity has done to him.

Now if you're thinking, "Hey! A Sofia Coppola movie about an actor facing an existential crisis? Didn't we already see that before, albeit much better and with Bill Murray?", then... yes, yes you're right. Like her superior and Oscar-winning 2003 sophomore outing Lost in Translation, Coppola's film examines the not-so-glamorous aura of celebrity and the themes of boredom, lack of happiness, and loneliness.

And, in a way, it works. Somewhere begins with a Ferrari driving in circles for what seems like eternity. But the camera is stationary, viewing the car from a distance, never switching angles. You'd think that speeding around in a Ferrari would be fucking exhilarating, but what Coppola is telling us is that only we, the outsider "non-celebrities", would think that. The entire film would seem like one big bore to most, what with many long scenes featuring mundane activity (Johnny getting movie make-up applied to his face, posing for publicity shots for his movie, the aforementioned Ferrari scene, etc.) projecting Johnny's boredom and emptiness onto the viewer.

It's all done in a very European filmmaking style, relaxed in its execution and content without throwing special effects, lens flares, and spastic editing in your face every ten milliseconds. I wouldn't be surprised if this film in particular would lull more impatient viewers to sleep, but any potential pretentiousness on the film's part is kept at bay by the fine performances.

Stephen Dorff (a terrific actor who deserves to be plucked from the straight-to-DVD hell he's been unfairly toiling in for the last decade, and hopefully this does the trick) does a superb job as the bad-boy-on-the-surface star with a sweet, understated, yet heartbreaking performance that makes Johnny's turmoil and inner conflict that much more palpable. Dorff wisely goes for the "less is more" acting route, and his body language and eyes do most of the talking for him. Even when his entire head is covered in plaster for a movie mask and he's just SITTING there for an unbearably claustrophobic five minutes, his ennui is our ennui.

Giving Johnny reason to appreciate his existence, however, is his loving and emotionally mature daughter Cleo, wonderfully portrayed by Elle Fanning. Unlike those other family dramas about daughters perpetually disappointed by their distant fathers, Fanning's Cleo seems to understand and maybe even tolerate her dad's behavior. But her warmth and dedication serves as a catalyst for Johnny's transformation, and the scenes between Fanning and Dorff are never cloying, sappy, or manipulative.

I'll have to admit that I got Coppola's point about the emptiness of celebrity life after probably twenty minutes in, and that the rest of the film was just being endlessly repetitive about said point. But as a minimalist, almost avant-garde experimental film, it's clockwork. The amount of humor sprinkled in was proportionately appropriate (especially a funny cameo by Benicio del Toro whose utter lack of "Hey! I'm a famous celebrity doing a cameo!" fanfare was the very source of that humor), and a small supporting role by uncharacteristically clothed "Jackass" star Chris Pontius adds a needed sense of energy and laidback camaraderie.

Like many independent Hollywood filmmakers, you either love Coppola's work or absolutely hate it. She's done a great job making a career distinctive and independent from her father, but if she's going to continue to make movies taking a critical/unconventional look at celebrity, she should try making said unconventionality more unique and engaging rather than resting on her apparent love for New Wave-style pretentiousness. That doesn't really take you Somewhere, but rather just brings you nowhere.

That was a really cheap pun. I'm better than that.

Letter Grade: "C"

Review: "THE ADJUSTMENT BUREAU"

I've always been a fan of speculative history: trying to imagine how history would have progressed if infamous past events had a different outcome than what really happened; such speculation then leads to those addictive, thought-provoking "What if" questions. What if the South had won the Civil War? What if JFK hadn't been assassinated? What if Surf Ninjas became the box office champion that it should have been?

But then there are those "What ifs" that affect us individually. What if I got the other job instead of the one I have now? What if I missed out on my first date with my wife? And sometimes we even go so far as questioning the mundane, such as what would I have experienced if I took the 10:30 bus instead of the 10:45?

And then we question as to whether or not these musings are moot in the first place. After all, if something happened, then it happened, right? Do we really have a choice in deciding our fate, or does fate decide for us while we're not even looking?

It's this study of predestination and free will that permeates director George Nolfi's The Adjustment Bureau, an enjoyable, intelligent sci-fi drama that overcomes its ultimate inability to go even further with its premise by delivering solid performances and terrific chemistry between its lead actors.

It's fall 2006, and hotshot Democratic congressman David Norris (Matt Damon) is having a hot streak in his bid for the New York Senate seat. Unfortunately, a tabloid's revealing photo of Norris derails his efforts, and he loses. Preparing for his concession speech in a hotel bathroom, David happens to discover a woman (Emily Blunt) hiding from security after she crashed a wedding. Smitten with her and inspired by her encouragement to be more honest, David changes his planned concession and delivers an honest speech that revives his popularity and ensures a spot in the next election.

Joining his friend and campaign manager Charlie's (Michael Kelly) venture capital firm a month later, David makes a chance encounter with the woman from the hotel, Elise, on the bus. Getting her number, David exits the bus, only to arrive at the firm and find everyone inside frozen in place, being "scanned" by mysterious men in suits and fedoras. Captured, David is introduced to Richardson (John Slattery) and Harry (Anthony Mackie), who represent "The Adjustment Bureau".

According to Richardson, the Bureau is an omnipresent organization that has been controlling mankind's destiny since the beginning of time. Every single human has a predetermined "plan" (overseen by "case workers"), and regardless of what the human wants or desires, they're never allowed to diverge from that path. All of these paths are controlled by an unseen "Chairman", and though David is let go, he's warned that not only can he never see Elise again, but his mind will be "reset" if he tells anyone about the Bureau's existence.

Three years pass, with the 2010 election looming, and although David's followed their rules, he still can't get Elise out of his mind. Defying his so-called "path", David fights to be with Elise, forcing him to constantly elude not only Richardson, but eventually "upper management" member Thompson (Terence Stamp), who pulls out all the stops to quash David's rebelliousness.

Now when I saw the commercials and trailers for The Adjustment Bureau, I was somewhat perplexed about what genre this film fell under (Sci-fi? Romance? Drama? Thriller?), not to mention the fact that the whole "men-in-suits-controlling-Matt-Damon's-destiny" angle seemed a little too high-concept and even silly to me. I was pleasantly surprised, then, to find that not only did George Nolfi's directorial debut managed to handle a multi-genre workload, but that the allegories regarding religious predetermination and free will were executed rather nicely and provided welcome thematic material not usually present in chase-heavy thrillers.

Of course, such intelligence is commonplace for a film adaptation of a work by legendary sci-fi writer Philip K. Dick, whose other short stories and novels became the inspiration for films such as Blade Runner, Total Recall, and Minority Report. Updating the original 1953 short story by changing its protagonist from a real estate salesman to a young and white-hot politician, Bureau plays with various philosophical and societal issues and how despite there seems to be a facade of free will, underneath there's some sort of pseudo-Draconian planning involved (nicely emphasized early in the film when Damon's character points out that a seemingly honest and frank politician has his speeches and even clothing chosen by someone else).

Speaking of Damon, Mr. Will Hunting himself once again proves what a versatile and talented actor he is. It's actually not hard to picture Damon playing an Obama-esque political superstar, and his chemistry with the lovely Emily Blunt is absolutely perfect (once again, a rarity for a springtime thriller). Unlike the billions of run-of-the-mill action films released every year, the affection between David and Elise feels real, and we feel their pain when that pesky thing called fate continues to tear them apart.

As the fedora-clad case-workers hell-bent on keeping David on "track", Slattery and Mackie do an okay job, though it's tough to seem intimidating when you're dressed like a character from "Guys 'n Dolls". Things get a bit more tense when General Zod himself, Terence Stamp, comes in to handle matters, and the action sequences (including many foot chases) are crafted superbly, especially the inventive way Bureau agents flit from one vicinity to another.

If I found one major flaw with the film, it was that the filmmakers didn't take enough chances with the metaphysical themes that drive the movie. Yes, we know that it's a commentary on fate vs. choice, and that the case workers and the unseen "Chairman" represent angels and God, respectively, and though the material is addressed in a thoughtful and intelligent fashion, it feels as though Nolfi wanted to keep it safe and not offend viewers who advocate either side of this religious debate. It's unfortunate, because if Nolfi had dug deeper, The Adjustment Bureau could have been a masterpiece, rather than just the highly enjoyable film that it is.

Of course, there's nothing wrong whatsoever with being highly enjoyable, and as a sci-fi thriller, The Adjustment Bureau ranks high above the lazy/brainless/forgettable drivel we're usually pummeled with at the cinema. And if that's fate, then hey, I'm okay with that.

Letter Grade: "B+"