For the rest of us, though, this film represents everything that’s not only wrong with modern disaster films, but with American culture itself. DTESS clearly has a lofty series of goals it hopes to accomplish, yet achieves nothing more than one abject failure after another. It’s so bad that I found myself pulling my hair out, wondering why the hell I even bothered.

Surprisingly, very little of the blame can be squared against Keanu Reeves, who plays essentially the same character he’s done for the last dozen or so films. Distant and aloof? Check. Emotionless? Check. Superhero powers? Check. Acting ability? None needed. Perfect! He seems to be drawn to roles that have a not-so-subtle messianic nature to them – to the point that I’m beginning to wonder if he has a certain ego issue. Look for that oh-so-obvious walking on water. Yeah. He’s here to save the earth, but not the people on it. Hallelujah.

In this film, Klaatu (Reeves) comes to earth to warn humanity of its evil and destructive ways, and only Helen Benson (Jennifer Connelly) and her stepson (Jaden Smith) stand in the way of Klaatu and his plan to wipe out humanity. Before he can say anything, he’s shot, comes back to life, and then subjected to interrogation under the watchful and suspicious eyes of Defense Secretary Regina Jackson (Kathy Bates).

Since the comparisons to the far-superior original are all-too obvious, it’s important that we understand just how seriously this film missed a classic opportunity of speaking out against some of the greatest political evils in our day. In 1951, the original DTESS was birthed during the height of the McCarthy era, and the darkest days of the cold war. Americans were conditioned to fear anything remotely communist, and the late director Robert Wise crafted a story that spoke in volumes against not only the threat of nuclear annihilation, but against the reigning communist hysteria of the day.

Not so with the 2008 DTESS. The US is at the precipice of a potential slide toward a similar xenophobic mania (where instead of communism, we have a fear of anything that isn’t “normal:” Hispanics, Homosexuals, Muslims, Democrats, Liberals, you name it). Many of us are on edge after a series of horrifying terrorist attacks over the last few years, and are told we have to be vigilant against an enemy whose face we many never really know.

As this year’s election has shown, we are a country that is more divided than we’ve been in the last sixty years. Even with a near limitless canvas of emotional and political fodder available, none of these facts ever even come to the mind of scriptwriter David Scarpa. Instead of being our own worst enemy, we’re put at the brink of extinction because we’re slowly killing the environment.

Yeah, you read that right. This film is little more than a collective orgasmic fantasy for the entire environmentalist movement.  Here, we have an alien force that’s about to wipe out humanity – to save the earth from humanity. It’s so separated from any semblance of reality that there’s no possibility of reprieve – from the script or from the story.

It’s as if Scott Derrickson, the film’s director, saw this incredibly inept script as a great way to update the “big bad robot” from the original. There was clearly no coherent thought of whether or not there should be any MESSAGE to this film, but after all, who wants to be taught anything these days?

If there’s anything at all to praise in the film, the visuals are what we’ve come to expect in today’s blockbusters, and there’s a certain glee we all have when we see major cities leveled as only CGI can deliver. However, there’s just something about how our world comes to the brink of destruction. Possibly the only person who’s really worth watching is Jaden Smith, who clearly got his acting chops from both of his parents (Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith). Quite simply, he’s brilliant, and is a breath of fresh air in an otherwise hopeless film.

Speaking of fresh air, when the giant robot (yeah, here’s an uncharacteristic-for-me spoiler because it’s just THAT bad) turns into a series of microscopic robotic baddies, it forms a destructive cloud that wipes away everything in its path. I don’t know if this would be called “Big Bad Robot Flatulence,” but it sure seems like cinematic flatulence to me. After all, it literally begins by slowly peeling away layers of glass. It’s as if the great big film deity in the sky said to its audience, “Come here and pull my finger.” Like the bored audience we are, we pull that imaginary finger, only to be be bombarded with a film that should never have been made, let alone released.

When I say that this film completely ignores the grit of the original, and that it misses the point entirely, I can think of no finer example than that of the character of Professor Barnhardt (John Cleese). Cleese’s character is little more than a throwaway scene that only sets up another chase scene. It’s worth pointing out that his predecessor in the original film was Sam Jaffe, whose scene nearly ended up on the cutting room floor.

The cause for this potential omission? Jaffe was blacklisted, and accused of being a communist. The producers reluctantly decided to leave the scene and the actor in the film because he and his character were so essential to the story.  Because he was labeled a possible communist, Jaffe wouldn’t be in another film again until the late 1950s.

How tragically ironic that the new Barnhardt scene could have easily been discarded. Hell, the whole movie could have been discarded, and we would have been saved the temptation to pull the big bad robot’s finger. But then, there are those among us who have to pull just to see what happens. For everyone else: you have been warned.

For those who aren’t familiar with the story, Harvey Milk was elected to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1977, and led the gay rights movement in that city. He was a business owner, running a small camera store in the Castro district, which is still a major American gay mecca. He served in his post for eleven months before being gunned down by a fellow former Supervisor who had just killed San Francisco Mayor George Moscone moments earlier.

The film succeeds on many levels, most notably with Penn’s performance. He is so absorbed by the character, that it’s easy to forget that we’re watching an actor, not the real man. What’s more, the supporting actors were all at their best, each one taking on a special role in the film.

As the opening credits rolled, the audience is reminded — or introduced — to the modern history of the gay rights struggles in the 20th century. Not too long before the gay pride parades and festivals was a time when the only place gay men could gather was in bars or clubs, and were always at risk of being invaded by police. “Offenders” would be dragged off in paddy wagons en masse. Later, it would be Anita Bryant and her “Save the Children” group that would be the face of the enemy of the gay rights movement, who spread her vitriol with a smile and a song.

After this onslaught montage of the images of the tyrannical majority, we’re introduced to Milk and his new boyfriend Scott Smith (Spider-Man’s James Franco) as they make the decision to move to San Francisco. Penn clearly provides the shape and face of the film, but it’s Franco who provides the heart and soul. In the two men, you see a genuine relationship, one that’s rarely — if ever — shown on screen. They cook, they clean, and they had their struggles. Even after they parted, they remained friends. As bizarre (or disturbing) as some readers might find it, the chemistry between the two men is genuine.

Scott Smith (James Franco)j and Harvey Milk (Sean Penn) share a moment

The key points of the film, as would be expected, revolve around the many campaigns and political events in which Milk participated. His first race was in 1973, and met with a political cold shoulder, even from the gay community. It was then that Milk and Smith were both long-haired hippy types, but Milk’s leadership was becoming evident. Later, he learned to build alliances, including with the Teamsters union.

His decision to become a serious candidate in 1975 involved a number of major changes, including a haircut, suits, and a more clean-cut image overall. He quickly earned the respect and support of those around him, as well as those in organized labor. It’s during this time that the film shows his rise to leadership in the community.

Milk’s supporting cast is a diverse blend of rising stars and seasoned pros. Speed Racer’s Emile Hirsch fills the oversized glasses of Milk’s protégé and longtime gay activist Cleve Jones (Jones later conceived the AIDS Memorial Quilt), and Lucas Grabeel of High School Musical fame takes on the role of photographer Danny Nicoletta. Victor Garber (Titanic fans remember him as Thomas Andrews) portrays Milk’s greatest ally, Mayor Moscone. Finally, Josh Brolin (W.) fills the proud-yet-disturbed shoes of Dan White.

Harvey Milk after an impromptu gay rights march on June 7, 1977. Photo by J.M. Pritikin/Chicago

One key scene which showcases Milk’s leadership is an impromptu gay rights march after a critical election. The film places the march after a 1978 vote to repeal gay rights in Wichita, Kansas. The actual event, as photographed by J.M. Pritikin, actually took place earlier in June of 1977, after the election in Miami-Dade County. That vote struck down a gay rights ordinance in that city and was the result of the fever-pitch campaign by singer Anita Bryant.

While the film’s success is in its cast, script, and overall historical accuracy, the one drawback is its direction and composition. Director Gus Van Sant has put together a capable film, yet his own composition choices border on the jarringly irritating. A few scenes scenes are out of place, and some points of history, including the march after the Dade County election are casually changed for the sake of dramatic flow. This is the flaw of a great many biopics, and Milk is no exception.

Despite its flaws, Milk is clearly a film worth viewing; not only for the stellar performances of the cast, but for its bird’s-eye view of 1970’s gay rights history. It’s a pity that it was released after this year’s election, since it retells the struggle of another California voter initiative – proposition 6 – which would have called for the state to bar gays and lesbians from being teachers. Unlike this year’s proposition 8, a ban on gay marriage, that proposition failed dramatically.

Cleve Jones (Emile Hirsch) begins his long activist career

While this film is unquestionably about gay men, Van Sant wisely focused the story on the lives of the people and their work. Here, we see gay men portrayed as normal as we’ve yet to see on film. It’s a story about struggle, passion, frustration, and ultimately about tragedy. Clearly, it’s a film that reaches out to all audiences. Sadly, many in this area will pass it by, assuming it’s only for the gay community. It’s a film that tells the story of courage in the face of great opposition, something to which everyone can relate.

Just as Harvey Milk worked hard for all of the people in his city, Milk is reaching out to the rest of us. No matter what side of the closet you’re in, or even if you care about closets, it’s a story that’s worth telling. Its message of hope, genuine honesty, and integrity is what drove Harvey Milk, and is a driving force for those who still struggle for equality today.

Milk is currently playing in Nashville at the Regal Cinemas Green Hills 16 theatre.

Walt Disney’s Bolt fills the need for a fun family film over the Thanksgiving holiday perfectly, and manages to provide solid entertainment for young and old. Imagine a film that’s a mix of The Truman Show (1998), Underdog (2007), and a little bit of Cats & Dogs (2001), and you pretty much have the plot for this new pound of pixelated puppy pleasure.

Bolt, directed by the dual team of Byron Howard and Chris Williams, tells the story of the title pooch who lives in a world where he actually believes that he is a super-powered dog with a constantly endangered master named Penny (Miley Cyrus), a girl whose father is kidnapped by the deliciously evil Dr. Calico (love those evil kitty references, especially when they’re voiced by Malcolm McDowell).

In true Disney style, all of the animals can talk when they’re not around humans, so Bolt ( voiced by John Travolta) is able to share verbal jabs with his feline nemeses (who are in on the act — they love to taunt their co-star, even though it’s all a TV show).

Penny longs to share her real world with Bolt, but her agent (Diedrich Bader) won’t have any of it. He insists that Bolt lives in his imaginary world where he really has those wicked cool superpowers. No one, it seems, is willing to risk their hit show on the chance that Bolt will figure out that he is really just a regular ol’ dog.

When Penny is “kidnapped” on the show, leaving Bolt barking in frustration, the story begins a by-the-numbers, but effective journey where Bolt must discover not only the world around him, but the reality of his “powers” as well. He manages to have himself shipped to the corner of Broadway and 42nd street in New York City, which is a world as foreign as it is staggering to the naive star.

Along the way, he meets a few pigeons (a few of the brightest points of the film), who then lead him to their own nemesis, a lanky kitty terror named Mittens (Susie Essman). Bolt, convinced that she is in the evil gang run by Dr. Calico, strong-arms her into a U-Haul truck to begin the long trek across the states. Eventually, they’re joined by a big-mouthed, and even bigger-bellied hamster named Rhino (Mark Walton).

Bolt’s journey is not only to find his master, but also to find that he doesn’t really need superpowers to be a hero, culminating in a fiery climax where the danger is as real as his love for his favorite human.

While the story itself is a little simplistic and formulaic, Williams and co-writer Dan Fogelman have crafted a film that does reaches its target audience without talking down to them, and manages to keep adults entertained at the same time. Yes, it’s a good film, and even borders on “great,” just not quite.

One of the film’s strengths is that the 3D projection is stellar, and doesn’t treat the 3D as a gimmick, but allows it to enhance the storytelling. It’s one of the few times in recent years where the story does not rely on the 3D. If you have a chance to see the film in 3D, then don’t miss the opportunity.

Bolt does answer one telling question, though: What happens when Disney makes a film without Pixar? Well, here it is. Like Meet the Robinsons (2007), Bolt falls short of even Pixar’s worst films (but for the life of me, I can’t think of any of their movies that could be called average, let alone bad. It’s a little like saying that a round diamond is less glamorous than a faceted one). Suffice to say that it’s certainly no Pixar film, and lacks that magic touch that’s so often seen in films like Toy Story, Ratatouille, Wall-E and Monsters, Inc.

Suffice to say that Bolt is much better than Madagascar 2, and certainly provides a great time at the movies. Kids everywhere will enjoy it, and will rightfully find its place on DVD shelves all across the country in a few months. Until then, it’ll be a perfect excuse to make another trip to the megaplex this holiday season.

Clearly, Craig’s performance as the womanizing sexist bastard who happens to be the world’s ultimate assassin is turning heads, with some critics even daring to commit the ultimate blasphemy by suggesting that Craig’s bond even outshines Connery’s.

This is not to say that Solace is a great film. In fact, even though it’s nearly non-stop action from start to finish, there’s very little time for the audience to breathe. Solace begins mere minutes after the events of Casino Royale, so if you haven’t refreshed your memory by watching Royale lately, you’re likely to be both confused and bewildered by the opening sequence of the film, if not the film itself.

In this, Quantum of Solace’s primary glaring flaw is darn-near unforgivable: it assumes that the audience has seen its predecessor. I don’t ask a lot of good action films, but at least tell me what the hell is going on. Every good film should stand alone on its merits. The moment your audience is forced to scratch their collective heads, they’re too busy playing catch-up to truly enjoy the film.

This is a far different kind of confusion than is presented by great storytelling, by keeping the audience guessing as to what will happen next. Quite simply, this is shoddy storytelling that keeps them guessing as to what just happened! Solace has joined a myriad of other films in a fad that keeps the camera so tight into the action that much of what’s on screen is little more than a barely discernible blur, something that Transformers (2007) suffered from as well. It seems as though director Mark Forster has picked up a few of his action cues from Transformers‘ Michael Bay. Believe me, this is not a good thing.

In a nutshell, Solace begins with a rapidfire car chase in the streets of Siena, Italy, who’s busy trying to escape the very well-armed henchmen of Mr. White, who happens to be in the trunk of his Aston-Martin. Once he delivers his bounty to interrogation, Bond and M are caught in the middle of traitorous deception, which sends both Bond and the audience around the world to Bolivia, where he must infiltrate another organization with an environmentalist front, also as an assassin, all in the attempt to find out who killed his girlfriend from the first film. Along the way, he meets Camille (Olga Kurylenko), who has a grudge of her own to carry.

Together, they’re hot on the trail to shut down the seemingly ubiquitous Quantum, an organization that’s hell-bent on some kind of world domination thing (is there any other kind of evil organization in Bond films). Quantum is run by the rather unimpressive Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric), who for the moment, has his eyes on a piece of desert property in Bolivia.

Dame Judi Dench returns as M, who always manages to be a bright spot in any film she appears in; even though she spends much of Solace scowling at Bond or her other MI6 underlings.

Of course, there’s plenty of technology and gadgets to keep our favorite MI6 double-0 agent happy, and yes, he manages to find time to bed a couple of babes.

Quantum of Solace disappoints on a number of levels, most notably that it retreads on the tired old vengeance story line, which almost never makes for a good film. The last time we saw vengeance as a key plot point in a bond film was back in 1989 in the Timothy Dalton-era Licence to Kill, which was arguably a low point in the series.

Thankfully, Solace doesn’t dip to that kind of lowbrow filmmaking, but it never manages to rise above mediocrity, and is riddled with almost as many wasted opportunities as with bullet holes. Neither good nor bad, Quantum of Solace presents the best Bond actor since Connery in a story that’s nowhere near the calibre of its star. Perhaps we could have stood to wait a year or two for a better script.

Director Rob Cohen takes over the reins from Stephen Sommers, who helmed the first two films. Cohen’s style of storytelling clearly wanted to capture some of the apparent nostalgia of the first two Mummy films. Only there’s one big problem – it’s been a mere seven years since the last one, and the first two films really weren’t all that great to begin with.

I’ve long had a personal policy of spoiler-free reviews, but I’ll have to make an exception in this case because it’s just THAT bad. Try to imagine, if you can, a scene where massive, overly-animated Yeti pounce on the villains only to kick one of the poor heavies over a roof in an impromptu football field goal, with the obligatory referee’s hand sign. If you think such a scene is an exercise of brilliant humor, then there’s not really much hope for you—you’ll probably love this movie. The rest of us will roll our eyes nearly out of their sockets.

Back to the faux nostalgia: The film opens a full twelve years after the events told of in The Mummy Returns with Rick O’Connel (Fraser) and his wife Evelyn (Maria Bello) in the full lap of luxury and retirement. They’re both clearly bored with life (as is the audience of the movie at this point) as they go through the ho-hum motions of reminiscing of their earlier adventures. Evelyn’s way to deal with the boredom was to write two books which “coincidentally” have the titles of both of the earlier films. Wait, that was supposed to be funny. Their one big moment of drama was an argument over how their now-twenty-year-old son Alex (Luke Ford) had just dropped out of college.

Alex, as it turns out, was actually following in Dad’s footsteps by digging up the statues of some old dead Chinese king in a quest for his own fortune and glory. In interviews, Fraser has repeatedly said that he was a fan of the Indiana Jones series, and always wanted to be Indiana Jones. Surely there’s a better way to reach for your dreams than to appear in this travesty; but I digress.

Is that my career exploding?

The last Indiana Jones film, as mediocre as it was, actually had a genuine (yet overblown) sense of nostalgia; after all, it had nearly twenty years to reflect on. Mummy 3, tried to capture that same sense of reflection, but ended up with little more than a cracked mirror.

One major element that the story lacks is a villain with any humanity. The first Mummy film introduced the tragic story of Imhotep as a lovestruck warlock who just wanted to resurrect his beloved. It was a fresh exploration on the age-old story of the Mummy. On the flip side, the heavy in this film is Emperor Han (Jet Li) who just wants to rule the world. Just Because. Yawn.

Mummy 3 does try to have at least one love triangle in this film, where Han wanted the witch Zi Iuan (Michelle Yeoh) for himself, and killed her beloved so that he would give him the gift of immortality. The beauty of cardboard characters is that they don’t have to have any real motivation to be “good” or “bad,” so there’s no time wasted on anything really tedious (read: important) — like characterization, plot, or plausibility.

Michelle Yeoh on a quest for a decent script

Well, surprise, surprise, Zi Iuan doesn’t give him immortality at all, but rather curses Emperor Han and his entire army. Surprise, surprise, the whole army eventually gets resurrected (yeah, it’s a real spoiler, isn’t it?) and threatens the entire world. Of course, our “retired” O’Connell family has to save the day and the planet.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the lovely (and immortal) Zi used her astronomical powers to resurrect her former lover who was the lone general who dared oppose Han in ancient times. Of course, the (un)dead general is surprisingly well-preserved for being buried underneath the Great Wall of China.

The script is bereft of any competence, and does little more than pander to the lowest common denominator in our society by offering nothing more than spoon-fed dialogue served to an audience that should feel more insulted with each passing frame. It’s a clear example of just how low a film can go before it gets regurgitated into a hash of half-chewed concepts that were bad to start with. This isn’t a movie to be avoided; it’s a movie to be shunned and discarded into the nearest incinerator.

The climactic battle is an explosive mess of CGI pandemonium that involves strafing airplanes, beheading zombies, and fiery explosions as only a Mummy can bring. Every bullet is a waste of space, as there’s only so much exploding sand that an audience will take before it becomes punishment. Even that doesn’t take long.

In an earlier scene where a crash landing is imminent, the pilot announces that the wheels are stuck. O’Connell laughs nervously in response and then asks “Why am I laughing?” The audience doesn’t know either, but the question invoked another in me: “Why am I watching this?”

Believe me, you’ll be asking yourself the same question.

That was my first reaction to Mama Mia, the new pop music turned Broadway hit turned silver screen mega … something??? The OMG does not necessarily denote pleasure.

Mama Mia is a musical rooted in the Abba top-forty playlists of a few decades ago. And yes, the music was toe tapping and hummable, huge hits for the group. In Mama Mia, the music dominates the show; it’s the lynchpin upon which to hang a lightweight story that reaches for words like “rollicking” and “sentimental” and “exuberant” but never makes the real connection. Or rather, it makes it from time to time but doesn’t let you pause to enjoy it. The music goes beyond domination, rolling into subjugation, rather like a steam roller flattening everything in its path. Come on. We need breathing room to separate and tame this relentless tide of song.

Meryl Streep stars as Donna Sheridan, proprietor of Villa Donna in the Greek Islands a woman whose freewheeling lifestyle and rock and roll days resulted in three close encounters with three distinctly different men that produced one child one summer long ago. That child, Sophie [Amanda Seyfried], paternity undetermined, is about to be married, and wants a “daddy” to walk her down the aisle. Having found mom’s old diary, she now has a list of unusual suspects to invite to wedding. Thus we are given a good opening and a good opening song: I have A Dream, beautifully sung by Sophie.

Now that your credulity has been terminally stretched, enter the daddies. Pierce Brosnan as as architect Sam Carmichael, suave, widowed, father of two, perennially handsome, tries hard but can’t sing a note. He was lover #1, left our heroine and returned, only to learn she was “with someone else” and left again for a new life. Colin firth plays banker Harry bright, rugged, vibrant, concerned, doesn’t have to sing much. Thank you. Stellan Skarsgard as Swedish sailor Bill Anderson as , still another great looking guy. Meryl had good taste.

The bridesmaids arrive and rollick on the Grecian beaches with vivacious energy and the appropriate level of pre-nuptial silliness. Donna’s best buddies arrive in the form of unmarried author Rosie [Julie Walters] and thrice divorced Tanya [Christine Baranski], resurrecting more memories of their rock roll days as an all-girl band. Hordes of extras in the roles of local color (the Greeks who inhabit this Aegean island) round out the cast.

To be honest, Meryl Streep is a great actress with impressive range, a woman unafraid to try anything, including a hefty bounce off a bed while executing a mid-air split. I’d need a personal trainer, a chiropractor, acupuncture and possibly traction after that one. She acts, she does comedy, and she sings. Pretty well, in fact. Her rant [The Winner Takes It All] to Brosnan is a powerhouse number. His version of S.O.S. is not. But he is cute and he tries hard.

The high points reached the top with Streep’s show-stopping The Winner Takes It All, which has everything from vocal range to costume and set to keep it afloat. Young Sophie in love sings Honey Honey which segues into a rendition of Money Money Money by mom Sophie and her friends. Clever. We have the requisite Dancing Queen, Our Last Summer, Take A Chance On Me, and the title song, Mama Mia. Read the ABBA Greatest Hits record jacket and that covers the score fairly well.

It’s not that Mama Mia is a bad film; it has many good moments, one or two great ones. The comedy works but laughing too hard may make you miss a joke. Other moments, like watching Pierce Brosnan sing, can only be described as painful.

There’s a frenetic Pied Piper scene with Donna leading the local ladies along a scenic path, and another where young men in swim trunks and flippers dance out of sync (was this “rollicking?”) on a pier. In between the key storylines was a mismosh of under-developed or unnecessary subplots. Editing required. The absence of choreography in several numbers is duly noted, or perhaps that frenetic unsynchronized gyrating and jumping was the effect directors were looking for. It felt unfinished, unpolished. Too many subtexts were fleeting, alluded to and left to dangle, or were completely irrelevant.

Streep and Seyfried, along with the “dads” and the “old friends” are entertaining. But the film as a whole is a bit of a mess, too riotous, too fragmented, too jumbled, to really work. The audience had a good time with the music, but the pace was overwhelming. Enough already.

Most of the filming was done on location in the Greek Islands of Skopelos and Skiathos, and in the Pelion region of Greece.

ABBA fans may have a good time. I had a good time, some of the time. But it’s a guilty pleasure, rooted in the fact the bad parts are so bad you have to love them for simply trying. I would have preferred a little more time to absorb the characters and savor the story.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Hellboy and Hellboy 2 joins the long line of great films that were inspired by comic books, and is one of the few comic books that I never read during my collecting days. Perhaps this is a good thing, as the film is uncluttered by previous expectations of certain villains and characterizations that must be met. In my mind, Guillermo Del Toro, who wrote and directed this film, is free to tell whatever kind of story he can imagine.

While it’s not the masterpiece of Pan’s Labyrinth, Hellboy 2 is a deliberate fairy tale mixed in with a brilliant observation of the nature of man – as told though the eyes of monsters. No matter how strange the images on the image might be, the film is a probe of pinpoint accuracy of just what makes the hearts of men tick.

Abe Sapien (Doug Jones)

Ron Pearlman reprises the title role of this film which takes place well after the events of the first film. Aside from a simple narrative at the opening, there’s little need for background as the story is a self-contained work that masterfully fills the role of a second chapter, rather than a rehash of the first.

Gone are the shackles of the “human star” who was to provide a lens to the freaks. In Hellboy 2, it’s the freaks who tell the story. It’s their movie, their lives, and their world. Their hearts are real, as are their relationships. Here, the inebriated monsters sing “Can’t Smile Without You,” laying out just how insane love really is.

It’s the audience that reaps the benefits of Hellboy 2, one of the few truly great films of the 2008 summer season; firmly framed in a world that exists only in our dreams and fantasies.

Doug Jones’ reprisal of Abraham Sapien is part ballet, part psychic, and part fish. Jones provides the voice himself instead of being dubbed over by David Hyde-Pierce (who said he modeled his voice after that of Jones’ performance in the first film). Perhaps Jones has a taste for the bizarre, as he also hides under the latex in two other roles in the film, including one which hints at a strange destiny for Hellboy.

Princess Nuala (Anna Walton)

It’s Luke Goss and Anna Walton who together provide the threat of the film, as fraternal elf twins with an eternal link; with Nuada (Goss) hell-bent on wiping out humanity, and Nuala (Walton) must somehow stop her brother. The tool of Nuada’s plans is a mechanical army of massive golden soldiers who can only be controlled with a crown that must be assembled from three parts.

The story is simple enough, and Nuada’s motivation is solid, both of which provide a clean palette for the artistry that only Del Toro can provide. As such, Hellboy 2 is as much a literary success as it is a visual triumph. The visual effects are stunning (even if they are CGI), and the rest of the technical aspects of the film are equally superb.

If there’s really a world where trolls can fill a marketplace for fresh-chopped fish, Del Toro has clearly seen it. What’s more, he makes us want to visit; inviting us into a place as dangerous as it is whimsical, and unconventional as it is strikingly familiar.

Thanks to Hellboy 2, the summer of 2008 will serve a list of truly great films that is only getting longer. First it was Iron Man, then Wall-E, and now Hellboy 2 and The Dark Knight which is the best of all of them. After a year filled with duds (with but precious few gems), we’re fortunate to have a summer where the blockbusters are actually great.

The fitting tagline for Hellboy 2 is “Saving the world is a hell of a job.” It’s a hell of a movie, too.

Oh, it’s a comic book adaptation? How I seem to forget that simple little thing. To be honest, it’s easy to forget that this complex, juicy, layered dissertation of the human condition is based on a nearly seventy-year-old comic book character that first began in the half-toned pages of Detective Comics back in November of 1939.

The Dark Knight, unlike Superman or Spider-Man 2 (which themselves were the best of their own genre), has completely emerged from not only from its paneled source material, but has soared into skyline of cinematic brilliance.

The story picks up soon after the events chronicled in Batman Begins, itself a fine piece of work. Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) has taken up residence in a penthouse in one of his buildings since Wayne Manor was still being rebuilt. The final scene of Begins hinted at the movie to come and revealed a new criminal whose calling card was a simple playing card — the Joker.

Even then, the question was just who would play the iconic character. After Jack Nicholson’s campy cackle as the Clown Prince of Crime in Tim Burton’s Batman, was there anyone who’d be crazy enough to fill those very large purple shoes? Of course, we all know soon the answer to that question. Enter the late Heath Ledger.

Talent that will be missed - farewell, Heath.

Still somewhat fresh off his success as the conflicted, love-struck sheep herder in Brokeback Mountain, Ledger took special care to enter into the mind of a deeply disturbed, psychopathic, chilling killer who eventually strikes terror into the hearts of everyone in Gotham City. Hell, even I was afraid of this man.

To say that Ledger nailed the role is an understatement of gross proportions. His voice, mannerisms, and even his gait were honed to horrific perfection. He became the ultimate predator; the top of the criminal food chain. What’s more, he was a clear picture of the pure evil that the entire human race could reveal into one, sadistic picture. Ledger’s Joker is a mirror image; not only of the Batman, but of each and every one of us.

It’s this study of humanity that presents the exceptional nature of The Dark Knight. How bad can one man be? How sadistic? How horrible? What will it take for a man to snap — can a man who’s of the highest moral character only to be be led into the depths of depravity that would frighten even his closest friends?

Aaron Eckhart as District Attorney Harvey Dent

This answer is revealed in yet another character, that of District Attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart). Dent’s role as a white knight is one of utter depth; who delivers the single-most foreshadowing line in the film; a line in reference to the story of Julius Caesar, “You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”

Maggie Gyllenhaal ( who took over the role of Rachel Dawes from Katie Holmes) provides a bright spot in the film one which echos the thoughts of the audience, and ultimately brings the greatest point of tension. Her spark is just what the film needed to give the film its touch of humanity, and brings us face-to-face with far more than the “ex-girlfriend” from the previous film, but presents a difficult message for Alfred Pennyworth (Michael Caine).

The script, as delivered by brothers Christopher Nolan and Jonathan Nolan, is in a word, flawless. Every word, every nuance, and every scene is honed to a perfection that is as much a mirror as it is a search light into our very souls. The film presents several situations — each more terrifying than the next — of the kind of choice that would drive nearly any person to the snapping point.

It’s a study on fear, war, terror, and power. When men are driven by fear, will they survive? If we’re faced with war, what would be too high a price for peace? And if terror shakes us to the very stone core of our being, would we become the very thing we fear? Is there such a thing as too much power?

Christian Bale as Bruce Wayne/Batman

These are just a few of the myriad of questions that The Dark Knight asks not only its characters, but its audience. Batman Begins was an exploration of the masks that we all wear, but Knight is as visceral as it is a lance through the very core of everything we think we hold dear.

It’s a film that’s dark, cold, and chilling. It’s an example of just how well a story can be told, and firmly establishes the medium of film as the new literature for our time. We may never fully understand the depths to which the The Dark Knight will take us. But as Alfred opined in the film, “Some men just want to see the world burn.” Yet even in the midst of the burning core of sanity, a glimmer of hope remains in the unlikeliest of places.

Once I recovered from my stunned silence, I wondered what I had just experienced. In a very real sense, I had just seen how a single film can transcend not only the literary, graphic and cinematic world, but the very heart and soul of humanity itself.

Yeah, it’s that good.

Director Peter Berg turns in a celluloid train wreck that’s filled with the overuse of the gutter version of “anus” to such an extent that it becomes a one-joke film. Okay, we get it. John Hancock (Will Smith) is a jerk. He’s the king of potholes, dodging airplanes, and sloshing around with a big bottle of booze. He’s homeless, and hates the world around him. Now, I don’t know if he’s a jerk because of these things, or that being a jerk led him to being  homeless, but frankly, I wasn’t really compelled to care.

I don’t know what it is about today’s filmmakers that feel the necessity to drive in the obvious (that Hancock is a jerk) to the point where even a headache would be a relief. The fact that the first time we hear the word is from a small child is supposed to be funny, but again, it’s stating the obvious.

But this is the July 4th weekend, a time where Will Smith movies rule. I found myself longing for Independence Day, or any movie that made at least a modicum of sense in its plot and characters. To be sure, this is Smith’s territory, and his own charm and skill actually manages to make the film tolerable. He clearly owns the role of Hancock, and relishes being the zero who’s a hero, no matter how many people hate him.

Ray Embrey (Jason Bateman) is introduced early in the film as another failing PR guy who gets rescued from being hit by a train (never mind the train wreck that Hancock causes in the process). And yes, for those of you who have seen the trailer and TV spots, the scene when Hancock realizes that he just caused said train wreck where he says, “aaaah…” is followed by its expected expletive. But that’s funny. Really.

Much of the comedy that’s shown in the film is Hancock’s verbal trouncing of the pissed-off bystanders who say that they’ll sue him for his latest damage. Alas, much of the actual dialogue can’t be printed, even though the film is rated PG-13.

Charlize Theron is Mary, Ray’s wife, and has a big secret of her own, which brings in a dash of crazy theology into the film. Don’t ask.

The plot, while completely convoluted at some points does manage to hit a few main points: Hancock is a super guy, he’s also a super jerk. He gets a PR guy who tells him to go to jail. Hancock oblidges, and gets called out by the chief of police to save the day with some really nasty hostage situation. Hancock saves the day, becomes a hero, and then things get really stormy. There’s still nearly a half hour’s worth of film left at this point.

Okay, got it? Good. It’s entirely too short, and its pacing is awkward at best. The only character that’s developed at all is Hancock’s, and even that’s not enough to hold together the film.

The effects are stellar, and the technical aspects of the film make for what a summer action film should be, but it would have been nice to be able to see just what the hell is going on. Berg’s camera angles try to go after the “journalist” look seen in TV shows like Battlestar Galactica and other recent films (Wanted being a good example), but it really doesn’t succeed.

With Transformers, the close-up battle scenes were hard to follow, but at least we could see who was doing what. Not so with Hancock. There are some nifty super-battles, but geez… there’s only two human-sized combatants. Would it have been too much to clue the audience into exactly what’s happening and why?

By the end of the film, everything’s just hunky-dory, and apparently Hancock’s been forgiven of all the multi-bazillions of dollars worth of damage that he caused. But, I’m sorry to say, he hasn’t been forgiven my eight bucks. I want them back.

4/10

Films like Wanted appeal to just that kid-on-the-cusp-of-adulthood mentality that most adult men share, driving all of us to wonder just what we’ve done with our lives. Since most of us who shell out our eight bucks to see this kind of movie aren’t interested in anything but violence, guts, sex, and profanity, director Timur Bekmambetov (with his first American film) delivers all of these elements within the first five minutes of the narrative.

That’s not to say it’s a bad movie, really. Bekmambetov’s style is clearly an attempt to capture the equally-adult comic book in film, a task which is largely successful. Having never read the comic (I know, they’re supposed to be called “graphic novels,” but frankly, I don’t care. They’re comics.), I was able to look at the film as its own entity. Since the vast majority of the film’s audience is equally ignorant of its source material, that’s probably a good thing.

Set around a nobody-cubicle-dweller named Wesley Gibson (played with passion by James McAvoy), we realize just how much we have in common with this character. But then, we’re shown just how much of a super-loser he really is to the point that it’s ridiculous. But hey, that’s the point, isn’t it? After all, doesn’t every loser have panic attacks?

We’re then introduced to the ultimate femme fatale, Fox (a perfectly cast Angelina Jolie), who manages to pull Gibson out of the fire of a particularly nasty assassin’s attack. Not only does Gibson join the ranks of the assassins, he takes the pleasure of telling off his mundane manager and walks out the door of his cubicle world triumphantly. Thus begins a white-knuckle romp of turning a zero into a hero, who happens to be one of the world’s elite super assassins.

In fact, the movie tells us, this group of the deadly elite is called “The Fraternity.”  Obviously, this is a far pitch from the beer-guzzling frat boy antics such a name might suggest, with a mission to save the world. Their method is obviously questionable, but it’s one of which Star Trek’s eminently logical Mr. Spock would approve: Kill one to potentially save thousands.

Morgan Freeman provides the leader-with-a-nasty-secret as Sloan, and as always manages to elevate the film just with his very presence. I don’t know why Freeman has taken to playing darker characters in recent years, but it’s an interesting switch. His take on Sloan isn’t all too different from his role as the Boss in the 2006 film, Lucky Number Slevin. Personally, I liked him better as God in Evan Almighty. Even still, Freeman’s skill as an actor and his screen presence are always welcome, and Wanted is no exception.

It’s McAvoy who emerges as the film’s true star, with his piercing blue eyes and his deep intensity that’s not often seen in film these days. He first gained notice way back in a silly Sci-Fi Channel production of Children of Dune (2003), and stayed with television roles until a breakout performance as Mr. Tumnus the faun with a conflict in The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. With other stellar supporting roles in The Last King of Scotland (2006) and Atonement (2007), McAvoy has top billing in Wanted. Clearly, his star is rising high, and his performance merits all the attention he’s been getting.

Wanted could have been just another exercise in mediocrity, but stellar performances by McAvoy, Jolie, and Freeman give the film a much-needed shot in the arm to actually make it enjoyable. It’s not for the faint-of-heart, though, since there’s enough blood splattered to make a Hellraiser fan happy, and the action is as brutal as it is intense.

The climax of the film brought back memories of The Matrix, and gives a massive body count that’s actually a pretty big payoff. It’s far better than average, but not as great as it could have been. Wanted is a testosterone-filled race through curved bullet paths and head-shot assassinations that’s just what our gung-ho society really doesn’t need. But hey, it’s an action movie, not Shakespeare.

7/10

WALL-E carries on the mantle of perfection that Pixar has established with Monsters, Inc. and Ratatouille, and actually manages to take the animation to new heights. Director Andrew Stanton, who masterfully told the ultimate (fish-)Father’s Day story with Finding Nemo, has hit his stride with this simple story of a garbage robot who ultimately saves the world.

The lead character is the title robot, whose name, WALL-E, is an acronym for “Waste Allocation Load Lifter – Earth-Class.” Its — wait, his — sole purpose was to clean up garbage and pack it away in neat, little cubes. Since the human race had left the planet on a giant spaceship seven centuries before, the little robot had plenty of work cut out for him.

After so long in solitude, he developed a curiosity and a personality that allowed him to discover several marvels of humanity: an iPod, a VHS copy of Hello Dolly, a Rubik’s Cube, a light bulb, and a simple plant, among countless other treasures. His curiosity created a certain peculiar value system that led him to discard a diamond ring in favor of its felt box. Moments like this is what give WALL-E its charm and wit, allowing people of all ages to appreciate its value.

The film has very little dialogue in its first hour, something that in most cases would put children to sleep. Somehow, WALL-E keeps not only their attention, but the attention of their sometimes equally fidgety parents. The story is incredibly simple: Two robots meet, one finds the key to the survival of the human race, and they meet resistance by a powerful computer who’s bent on thwarting that salvation.

It’s here that the story takes on another role as an educator, which is probably what has elevated it to greatness a-la The Iron Giant. The film takes the time to establish that Buy ‘n Large, the ultimate big-box store, had wrecked the technological society that it helped to create. While it’s a little bit of a stretch to say that a megastore corporation would destroy the earth’s ecology, the concept works well for this story, not only as entertainment, but as education.

It’s these far-fetched ideas that make for great stories. Earth had been rendered uninhabitable, forcing the company to create a massive starship that would serve as an ark for the survivors. The ship sent out several smaller vessels to scout for signs of renewal of plant life. One of the ships lands near WALL-E’s quaint little home, with EVE, the Extraterrestrial Vegetation Evaluator.

When the robots communicate with each other, they don’t use traditional speech. Instead, the voices of Ben Burtt and Elissa Knight are contorted into twingy, twangy, digitized singsong modulations that are instantly recognizable. We’re not only drawn in to the world that Pixar created, but into the life of two very special robots.

What follows is an intriguing love story between the little robots, which then elevates to the next level. It is as sweet as it is romantic, and moves beyond the earlier montages in the film. Once EVE finds that one piece of evidence of the earth’s renewal, she signals for retrieval, and WALL-E gives chase.

Probably my only criticism is that it sometimes appears to be a little preachy about the potential downfalls of overuse of technology and convenience. However, the more I think about it, the more I am convinced that maybe it SHOULD be preachy. In a time where iPods and PSPs have taken over the lives of our younger generations, maybe we all need to consider just where a complete reliance on technology might take us. WALL-E provides one such possibility, carefully disguised as a great movie. After all, wouldn’t our lives be a little simplified if we didn’t have a gadget for every task?

In many ways, WALL-E could have turned down the pike of a sappy morality play, but has avoided these pitfalls with clear wit and deliberate storytelling. It’s intelligent, incredibly cute, romantic, and offers a lesson in waste and overuse to boot. To say that “Pixar has done it again,” would be inaccurate. This is just the latest in a string of films that are the very reason why we go to the movies. More than that, it’s why we go back to see movies again and again.

10/10

Crichton’s best novel of the same name was a taunt, tense, pre-computer age sci-fi thriller with Dustin Hoffman as scientist and protagonist Jeremy Stone, head of the Wildfire Biohazard Response team.

In this upgraded version, Director Mikael Salamon stuck to the story (Wow, what a concept!) and used 40 years of improved and expanded technology to rev up the action and adapt the film to 21st century science. It’s a place where the fiction is less improbable, the fantasy more believable, and, in the age of conspiracy theorists, corruption, terrorist threats and a new thrust toward space exploration are easily interjected into the film.

This time around, Benjamin Bratt (above) of Law & Order fame is Team Leader Jeremy Stone, with a supporting cast that includes Ricky Schroeder of NYPD Blue, Eric McCormack of Will and Grace, Daniel Day Kim of Lost, and Christa Miller of Scrubs.

In a nutshell, Project Scoop, launched to collect space debris and signs of life beyond earth, comes crashing down in a Utah town, where two teenagers find it and bring it home. Curious civil servants open what they think is a satellite and unwittingly release a highly-adaptable killer virus with a near instantaneous kill rate of 100%. Our scientists are “scooped” up and routed to assignments in a super-secret government lab five stories underground. In this medical mystery thriller, Stone’s Wildfire team (above) must establish what the virus is and how to contain the ever-morphing bug before it kills every human on earth. Should disaster strike within the Wildfire lab, the structure will self-destruct in a nuclear cataclysm.

I was fascinated by the integration of new technology in an old story; tracking the virus via 21st century technology is a logical upgrade in a film like this. Unlike many sci-fi thrillers who overdose on special effects, what we see here is comparatively believable: the retinal scanning, the thermal imaging, the military weaponry — it works because it is reality based. The world has faced biological terror and responded to the potential threat of pandemic illness. We have terrible weapons to deploy, but they may not work, and they may not be the best choices in the battle for survival.

Presented as a mini-series, The Andromeda Strain has a bit more time to develop both character and plot, and does so without dallying too long in insipid subplots. The on-screen time is devoted to moving the plot forward, keeping the tension tight, and throwing in a few twists and turns along the way.

It is a rare occasion when a film sticks to the original story; too many film adaptations of good books bear no resemblance to the original. In this case, the book, it’s first incarnation on film, and this new rendition, pass the test, and we, the viewers, reap the reward.

The unsuspecting townspeople are about to unleash Andromeda

The Wildfire Team confronts an entire community eradicated by Andromeda

Marvel Studios is clearly in the process of establishing something never before attempted in major blockbusters, the creation of a Marvel Universe similar to their comics—er—graphic novels that have been in print for generations. But enough for fanboy mindtwists for now.

Hulk 2’s opening credits present a re-telling of the origins of the big green guy, but it bears little resemblance to the last film. Indeed, it looks a lot more like the opening credits of the megahit 1970’s TV series. I suppose this is the first indication that director Louis Leterrier was actually going to tell a story that would be fun, a trait that was seriously lacking in Lee’s film.

Edward Norton replaces Eric Bana in the lead role, and reportedly assisted in the rewriting of the film as well. Norton’s Bruce Banner is just as intense, but more lighthearted, with a clear nod to Bill Bixby’s tortured hero. He’s once again the wandering loner with a deep, dark, big, nasty, green secret.

This isn’t to say that Hulk 2 isn’t without its faults. Pacing was off, and the entire film is all-too-obvious in catering to the fanboys in its presentation. Where Hulk 1 was entirely too “heady,” the new film is clearly bent for action, and weak on character development. But the comic book nerd in me (forget that graphic novel junk… they were comics when I collected them) could give a batguy’s left butt about romance. I just wanted to see how cool it’d be.

Rest easy, true believers. Hulk 2 has plenty of cool for all of us eternal boys. With plenty of cameos and special appearances by the ubiquitous Stan Lee (No, he’s not Heff again), Lou Ferrigno, a posthumous appearance by Bill Bixby, the TV Hulk theme, and a few other iron-ic surprises, the audience has plenty to gasp about.

In fact, both of the other major roles have been recast, with Liv Tyler as Betty Ross and William Hurt as General Ross. Of the new cast, the only one I didn’t like was Hurt. I liked Sam Elliott better, but that’s just me. Tim Roth bulked up a little too much for his role as Emil Blonsky, and sadly, his character was the most shallow of the bunch.

I do find myself questioning how anyone can move around undetected in today’s post-9/11 world, especially for five years as the film claims. But then, a certain suspension of disbelief is required for a Summer action film, and Hulk 2 is no exception.

The apparent pattern that Marvel Studios has established is that the hero will fight a comparable villain. Iron Man had the Iron Mongrel. The Incredible Hulk has the Abomination (along with hints of another popular Hulk villain in a sure-to-come future film — but I’m not giving that one away). Here’s hoping that this “evil-bigger-badder-twin” concept doesn’t become a true pattern, it’d give away a screaming lack of creativity on the folks at Marvel.

There’s plenty of action, a bit of romance, daughter-hates-father subplots, and big green guys to go around, making Hulk 2 a film that overshadows its predecessor while foreshadowing more big action films to come down the pike.

Even with all its flaws, the smashing emerald dude more than lives up to its paneled past, and smashes open the door that Iron Man cracked: A door to a film world that’s just as big as we comic nerds always hoped for. Sure it’ll be a big mess. But I can’t imagine a better film to make that mess for right now, at least until something better comes along.

7/10

For fans of the original Narnia film, Caspian presents complete culture shock. Gone are the vast green fields and talking beavers that told of great lions. Instead, we’re met with a group of humans that behave… well… like humans. For a brief period of time, I wondered whether or not I was in the right multiplex auditorium. This was the first of many jarring distractions in what could have been a glorious cinematic experience.

Perhaps this is a good time for a few disclosures. I’m probably one of the few English-speaking men in the western pantheon who has not read any of the Narnia books. My own history with Narnia was (until the previous film) the animated film that apparently stuck to the book almost to the letter.

This fact probably hindered my ability to enjoy this movie, and revealed one of its most glaring faults: it can’t stand on its own. Reading the book is almost as required as seeing the predecessor. Otherwise, the audience has to spend half the film catching up. One of the characteristics of a great film is that it should be written and presented without the need “study up” on its source material. Reading the book should enhance a film’s greatness, not be a prerequisite.

Another disclaimer: because I’m a bit hard of hearing, I found it difficult to understand the dialogue. BBC America has a promo that says, “even Brits have a hard time understanding Brits. Use your closed captioning.” How I wish I had closed captioning for this film! But hey, I managed to figure out what was going on—eventually.

Caspian is a story that focuses on the title character, played by newcomer Ben Barnes (last seen in Stardust), whose likeness will surely begin adorning the walls of new teenybopper fans on both sides of the pond. Young Caspian is, of course, a prince that is harshly awoken by his mentor Cornelius (Vincent Grass) with only moments to spare before his traitorous uncle’s (Sergio Castelitto) soldiers arrive to kill him

Clearly, this is not the start of a good day. The film then sends the young, dashing prince into the depths of the forest, only to be discovered by dwarves and a badger with a real attitude. Talking animals are always the delight of children, and highlight one of the great difficulties that Caspian presents: just what kind of film is this?

Is it meant to be a medieval war film? Or is it a children’s movie? Maybe it’s supposed to be fantasy. No, wait. It’s meant to be a morality play. Is it possible for all of them to be wrapped up into one? Well, it’s possible. That doesn’t always mean it works when they’re all jumbled together.

The audience for Caspian is built-in. With its Christian allegory roots by C.S. Lewis, church groups and evangelical families everywhere will flock to theatre doors to see their favorite fantasy put to the big screen. Strangely, though, director Andrew Adamson managed to weave the film into a piece of secular entertainment that barely hints of its allegorical origins.

The climactic battle scene is the moment where the film finds its groove. However, after nearly two hours that precedes it, the eyes of most of the audience would have glazed over, rudely startled back into the film’s universe by the arrival of two great forces about to do what great forces do: beat the daylights out of each other.

One doesn’t have to live by any major philosophy to know that every film has a message; and every film has a core intent and purpose. The problem that Caspian has at its core is that it’s not sure of its own purpose, much like the Pevensie children themselves.

One of the major bright points of the film is young Lucy Pevensie (Georgie Henley) and her singular, epic quest: The search for Aslan (voiced once again by Liam Neeson). No matter how frustrated the others were with her desire to see the great ruler of Narnia. Another high point is Reepicheep, a warrior mouse (voiced by Eddie Izzard) and his big attitude. The CGI is among the best seen in recent years, and only adds to the quality of the many non-human characters.

Most moviegoers will find that they liked Caspian, even though there’s something in the back of their mind that questions why. This is the second of four planned Narnia films, and it’s already surpassed the tone and overall quality of the first film. With a hint of fun, a touch of sporadic greatness, and an overall darkness that adds a sense of dread, it is one wasted opportunity after another.

To be sure, Caspian has a clear vision of greatness. It’s too bad that it never quite achieves it. It could have been the best film of the year. Instead, it will fade away into obscurity as yet another mediocre Saturday matinée that never reached its full potential.

It’s by no means a bad movie. In fact, it’s really quite good. Director Steven Spielberg, Producer George Lucas, and Harrison Ford all fit back into their old clothes quite nicely, especially the latter as he puts on the famous hat and title role once again. To put it plainly, he’s still got it. Harrison Ford is Indiana Jones. He owns the role like a seasoned Rolex, and there’s no sign that he ever let it go.

Set in 1957, nearly twenty years after the events of the Last Crusade, Crystal Skull picks up in an eerily-familiar warehouse that supposedly houses a particular artifact that Soviet KGB officials seem to require. The Soviets are led by Irina Spalko(Cate Blanchett), one of the least-developed villains in the entire series. Blanchett has done well with her Russian accent, but aside from that, there’s really not a whole lot going for her.

David Koepp, a long-time screenwriting ally of Spielberg, has delivered a capable script, presenting great dialogue between the lead characters. One of the downfalls of this sequel is the same with most sequels: an assumed knowledge of previous films. Koepp reunites Jones with Raiders flame Marion Ravenwood (Karen Allen), which could have been a great moment in the film, but turns into little more than a rehash of the last time they were together.

Allen retains much of the spark and passion that gave her character such a boost in Raiders, but her involvement seems to be more contrived than a real necessity to the film. In fact, this only illustrates one of the film’s greatest weakness: it tries too much to be another Raiders.

Shia LaBeouf appears as greaser slacker “Mutt” Williams, who enters Indy’s life just while everyone else is looking for him. Of course, this is yet another setup for an action scene for the old teacher and young man who has a knack for getting out of tight spaces.

Rounding out the cast is the quirky and entirely too underdeveloped Professor Oxley (John Hurt) who was widely rumored to be cast as Dr. Abner Ravenwood. Well, the rumor wasn’t true, but Hurt’s contribution is sadly a little too trite for my taste, and is a bit of a waste of his talents. Both Marion and Oxley could have been great characters, but they are mere shadows of what they could have been.

The film culminates in an ancient tomb and temple, and its ultimate payoff will leave many audiences satisfied with its grandeur. But then, it’s no Raiders. It’s better than Temple of Doom, and it’s still a great bit of fun. Hey, it’s Indiana Jones! It’s a story that is filled with action, sword fights (yes, sword fights), betrayal, big explosions – REALLY big explosions, and plenty of McCarthyism-era atmosphere to give chills down the spine of anyone familiar with that era in American history.

What makes these films work is that they are a kind of nostalgia in and of themselves. The first three films were a throwback to the old movie serials, and gave 1980s summer audiences a hero to root for no matter how bad things got. This new film carries on that legacy quite well, and adds 1950’s science fiction schtick into the mix. Not only that, the nostalgia for its own predecessors.

Spielberg, Lucas, Ford, and Allen appear to all be looking to relive a time when summer adventure movies were still thought of as a risk, and and everything had to be big and bold in order for it to work. LeBeouf adds a new element to the mix, and his smarmy smile is a perfect fit for a tale set in a rather dark time in America’s history.

Their latest collaboration is indeed a success, giving us another chapter in both ancient legends and modern heroes, with a glimpse of a new generation of yet another Jones to take the reins in future films. Early in the film, Indy is goaded by his Russian captors about how great communism is. His response is distinctly American: “I like Ike.”

For me, despite all of its very real flaws, “I like Indy.”