Reviews

Late in the newest Pixar/Disney Studios animated feature, "Coco," there is a scene where a father recalls plaintively singing a song, "Remember Me," to his small daughter years before. It's a heart-tugging scene reminiscent of other Pixar movies, "Up" and "Inside Out," and it's a genuine lump-in-the-throat moment so prevalent in a picture that combines the widely vibrant colors and images with a thoughtful, adult story and a message of how important family is, no matter how members may fight and disagree with each other.

Written by Matthew Aldrich ("Cleaner") and neophyte Adrian Molina and lovingly directed by Molina and Lee Unkrick ("The Good Dinosaur"), "Coco," named after a senile (or so it would seem) maternal great- grandmother character, is nothing short of a love letter to Mexico, just like "Moana" was a positive epistle to the South Pacific islands and "Brave" is an affectionate note to Scotland, etc. …

It's the story of 10-year old Miguel (voice of Anthony Gonazales in his debut), a precocious child who loves music and idolizes his country's greatest singer, Ernesto de la Cruz (Benjamin Bratt, "The Infiltrator, "Law and Order" TV series), who was crushed by a falling bell in the 1940s.

However, Miguel's family, beginning with his great-great grandmother, hate music because her husband left her and her baby girl ("Coco") to pursue stardom many years ago. Trying to persuade his parents to allow him to participate in a talent show and discovering that Ernesto might just be a direct ancestor, he visits the singer's grave and steals his guitar, a magic event that sends him to the land of the dead where skeletal passed-on relatives visit their living offspring each Nov. 1 (the Day of the Dead).

It's here that the visuals almost overwhelm one's senses with the amazing multi-colored world of spirits with a dizzying array of marvelous and seamless effects. Pixar has had a very good record in this department, but there were also turkeys in the bunch (notably "Cars 2," "Brave," "Big Hero Six"), but this one brings the studio to its apex once again ...

The one thing that has made Pixar Studios so successful in making high quality CGI films is not just the brilliant animation and the love and craftsmanship that go into each effort, it's those wonderful stories. While the kiddies can wallow in the vivid visual spectrum, high energy action and such lovable and classic characters as Sully, Woody, Buzz Lightyear, Nemo, Lightning McQueen Wall-e and Bing-Bong, among others, their parents can relish the thoughtful and interesting plot lines.

Here, for a such a simple premise, the tale is extremely layered and nuanced. Miguel, like the female character in "Inside Out," is not a cliché kid, but a real human being with all the feelings, pain, angst and emotion as our real children. When he breaks into tears after his grandmother smashes his guitar, we actually FEEL his remorse.

The scenes beyond the realm of the living are vivid, amazingly artistic and wondrous, while the emotions run from frivolity to fright to sadness and back again. It is truly a roller coaster ride of emotion that leaves you tearful one moment and exultant the next. In this wacky world where the dearly-departed exist only because the quick remember them, Miguel finds himself a fugitive because he, well, he just ISN'T dead — yet. He is offered to be sent back home by his great-great grandmother (Alanna Ubach, "To the Bone," "Rango"), but she insists that he give up his affection for music — forever.

He refuses, of course, even though he may have to stay there forever, and soon goes searching for Ernesto, but finds Hector (voice of Gael Garcia Bernal, "Salt and Fire"), instead, a down and out corpse who cannot even visit earth because no one recalls him or has ever put his picture on the mantel of remembrance. The two travel together through this crazy universe — along with Miguel's pet mongrel, Dante — and discover all is not as it seems, however.

All the while, recognizable Mexican words, phrases and icons such as El Santo (the lucha wrestler), comedian Cantinflas, artist Frida Kahlo and others are among the spectors who seek to keep their memories alive — within BOTH worlds.

The resolution is as powerful and affecting as any Pixar project has been and we are left with a wet handkerchief, but a happy heart, as well. Grade: B+

While not reaching the cerebral heights (at least in THIS genre) offered by Kenneth Branagh's first installment of the Marvel Studios study of the God of Thunder, 2011's "Thor," this third version (the less written about Alan Taylor's "Dark World," the better) is certainly a wild, fun ride and a worthy edition to the sub franchise.

Directed by Taika Waititi ("Boy," "Hunt For the Winter People"), this project features the parental and sibling angst so prominently displayed in the last two films and continues as Thor (Chris Hemsworth, the horrid remakes of "Ghostbusters" and "Vacation") the natural son of Odin (Anthony Hopkins, "Transformers: The Last Knight") battles his rebellious adopted bro, Loki (Tom Hiddleston, "Kong: Skull Island"), only this time there's a twist.

It's as Darth Vader once said, "So, you have a SISTER," and the two are soon informed that upon Odin's death (the franchise's second or third, so far), the daughter, Hela (multi-Golden Globe winner Cate Blanchett, "Manifesto") — born first — is baaaaack and, by the way, just happens to be the Goddess of Death, for whatever THAT designation is worth (remember Aries in "Wonder Woman"?).

Her arrival in the mythical kingdom of Asgard ushers in the Ragnarok (Korangar spelled backwards), which we suppose means, literally hell on earth (or in Asgard, anyway), which necessitates the feuding brothers join forces to take on Hela and her minion army of long-dead soldiers (yes, yes, we know, just like the good guys in "Lord Of the Rings: Return Of the King," as well as "The Mummy 3: The Emperor's Tomb" had to deal with).

Here, though, the sons of Odin are aided in this quest by stock Marvel characters Bruce Bannon/Hulk (Mark Ruffalo, "Now You See Me 2") and Dr. Steven Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch), along with a dull and drunken Valkyrie (or Amazon) warrior, Tessa Thompson ("Creed") and a host of revolting peasants (take that anyway you want to).

Of course, we know demise and destruction will follow, but even invincible deities are vulnerable in films like this and "Thor: Ragnarok" is no exception. Also expect the fire, fights, explosions and other Marvel pyrotechnics and terrific action sequences so prominent in these efforts, as well.

What many viewers may NOT expect, however, is just how humorous and witty this vehicle happens to be. The inclusion of Jeff Goldblume ("The Grand Budapest Hotel," "Independence Day: Resurgence") as a planet's smarmy "Grandmaster," who runs that world's gladiator contest that features the duel between Thor and Hulk, along with a lot of lively word play and real comedy obviously inspired by "Deadpool" and the "Guardians Of the Galaxy" series.

There is also a hilarious send up of the series with Matt Damon (the upcoming "Downsizing"), Sam Neill ("Jurassic Park") and Luke Hemsworth ("Westworld" TV series).

Still, no Marvel film would be complete without the amazing special effects, here directed by Brian Cox ("Gold," "Silence") and fantastic art direction (Bill Booth, "Kong: Skull Island").

Chris Hemsworth was obviously born for this role, even though his acting talent often struggles to keep up with his powerful hammer (though here he acquits himself rather well), while Hiddleston is a much better thespian and a delightful (if extremely incompetent) villain, but in "Ragnarok," it's really Blanchett who steals everything complete with a slimming black leather suit and jet black hair that turns into antlers.

Now THAT'S frightening

There has been a spate of films lately that chronicle disastrous events within recent memory (i.e. post 2010). Such movies include "Patriot's Day," "Deepwater Horizon," "The 33," "13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers Of Benghazi" and "Lone Survivor," among others.

In fact, "Battle Of the Sexes," based on an exhibition tennis match between Billie Jean King and Bobby Riggs in 1973, seems almost prehistoric by comparison. And while this Joseph Kosinski (2015's "Oblivion")-directed vehicle is deliberately-paced and fairly formulaic, the script (by Ken "Black Hawk Down" Nolan and Eric Warren Singer, "American Hustle") is based on a book ("No Exit") by Sean Flynn, and is nevertheless quite affecting and the story stays true to the events which led up to the fatal fire which took the lives of many of the Granite Mountain Hotshots (no real spoiler alerts needed, just Google it) in 2013.

Of course, with all such large cast films, little character development is offered, except for the group's supervisor, Eric Marsh (Josh Brolin, "Hail, Caesar!")and outcast firefighter, Brendan McDonough (Miles Teller, "Bleed For This"), as the fledgling Hot Shots struggle to be certified and therefore become a legitimate organization. This takes nothing away from the rest of the ensemble, but there is only room for so much narrative.

A few other supporting characters appear, including the fire chief Duane Steinbrink ("Kingsman: The Golden Circle," Golden Globe winner for "Crazy Heart") and Marsh's spunky wife, Amanda (Jennifer Connelly, "American Pastoral," GG winner for "A Beautiful Mind"), but it's Brolin and — especially — Teller who steal the movie. McDonough, nicknamed "Donut" by the rest of the firefighters, is a drug addict, hustler and just plain loser who somehow impregnates a casual girlfriend, Natalie (Natalie Hall, "Shades Of Blue" TV series).

Basically, he was just another Southern California skater kid who ran with the wrong crowd, skipped school and smoked marijuana. Not allowed to see the baby, he is (finally) determined to straighten his life out. Since he has some emergency medical (EMT) experience, he applies at the Prescott Wildland Firefighters to save his soul and himself. Seeing a possible soulmate, Marsh gives him a chance when no one else would. Of course, like any fish out of the water production (or any World War II picture from "From Here To Eternity" to "Hacksaw Ridge"), Donut is hazed and harassed and almost drops out, but manages to stay the course while the gang awaits certification.

After all of that, however, Donut got straight, got fit and after a rocky start with the crew, was fully accepted as a member of the team as they traveled from Colorado to Idaho fighting fires. In the wilderness and on the job, they pulled pranks and put on skits to entertain themselves. We the audience get to see a few of these scenes, but soon its the conflagrations that take center stage.

Meanwhile, we're in Arizona where the average summer temperature seems to be in the high 100s and wildfires are breaking out all over. Here, the cinematography of Claudio Miranda ("Tomorrowland," "Life Of Pi") takes over, with wide screen shots of the blazes licking and scorching everything in sight as well as tight shots of sweat and soot- tracked faces. Not since Mikael Salomon lovingly photographed Ron Howard's "Backdraft" has there been a more respectful filming of fire throughout.

The results are both beautiful and terrifying. After a year of working to improve their hot shot status, the Granite Mountain boys are called to struggle against the wind-driven Yarnell Hill Fire on June 28. A lightning storm ignited in the high desert northwest of Phoenix. Two days later, the brush fire that covered a few hundred acres exploded across 13 square miles and chaos ensued. The fire wasn't contained, radio problems hampered crew communications and the smoke was too thick to see clearly.

The blaze the turned on the 19 men (Donut was ordered to be a lookout and barely escaped with his life) forcing them to duck and cover under supposedly safe thermo blankets, which offered no help in the end. McDonough's book, "Lost Brothers," makes no new revelations about why his friends didn't make it out alive. Without passing judgment, he says they acted on the best information they had at the time. He doesn't know why the crew took the path that led them down from safety atop a blackened ridge and into a trap they would not walk away from at the front of the wind-swept inferno.

The movie ends with a heart-tugging scene in which Donut arrives at a junior high school where families of the deceased are gathered. All they know is that one survived, but they did not know who. Donut's arrival confirmed the worst news possible. McDonough suffered a severe case of survivor's guilt, but now does what he can to honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice for their fellow man. The men who died, included Marsh, 43, Andrew Ashcraft, 29; Robert Caldwell, 23; Travis Carter, 31; Dustin Deford, 24; Christopher MacKenzie, 30; Grant McKee, 21; Sean Misner, 26; Scott Norris, 28; Wade Parker, 22; John Percin, 24; Anthony Rose, 23; Jesse Steed, 36; Joe Thurston, 32; Travis Turbyfill, 27; William Warneke, 25; Clayton Whitted, 28; Kevin Woyjeck, 21; and Garret Zuppiger, 27.

Kosinski then brings the waterworks flowing by showing pictures of the actual men who were lost in the tragedy next to the actors who played them. Those who do not feel the impact of this conclusion probably never had a soul in the first place. Bare bones direction and filmmaking, but a deeply emotional experience nonetheless.

After viewing "Mother!," the latest production by director Darren Aranofsky ("Pi," "Black Swan"), I have say, without fear of hyperbole, that it's the worst film I have ever seen.

There are bad films that you know going into them will be bad, like "Baywatch" or "Mr. Woodcock" or the remake of "Vacation," "Alice Through the Looking Glass, the "Fast and Furious" franchise or "Observe and Report" or "Mortal Bones" or "Bratz" or ANYTHING with Adam Sandler.

Then there are films where you think will be better than they actually are. Like "Pan," or "X-Men: Apocalypse" or "The Infiltrator" and "Why Him," or the leftist bag of crap, "Captain Fantastic," even "Bobby." But "Mother!," "Mother!" is in a special class unto itself. I mean, it's poorly filmed, horribly written, badly edited, terribly directed, makes no sense at all and actually made me sick …

And it had a cast of Academy Award-winning or nominated actors, like Jennifer Lawrence, Javier Bardem, Ed Harris and Michelle Pfeiffer. Of course, since that group chose "Moonlight" as Best Picture, you might as well smash the award into a million pieces ...

And what plot there is — and this was written by Aranofsky, too — is about a woman, Lawrence, married to a guy 50 years older than her — that would be Bardem — and they live in this dilapidated old house that Herman Munster would have been ashamed of. And he is supposed to be a poet, but cannot write since a big fire.

One day, he brings home a doctor, rude Ed Harris, and his whorish wife, Michelle Pfeiffer. Of course, this Bardem guy doesn't ask his wife anything about it. He NEVER asks her permission for ANYTHING the entire movie! Uh, that's about it …

Oh yeah, a few more people show up, but — amazingly — they get increasingly weirder and more disturbing. Oh, and a murder takes place, the old mansion starts to bleed and Lawrence gets pregnant and Javier can write again and becomes world famous. Then more and more and more people show up at the house and destroy everything …

At first, I thought to myself, "Oh, this is a variation of 'Rosemary's Baby,' you know, the strange new people interrupting a marriage, a bizarre pregnancy and a poor goofball who becomes famous." But it began drifting worse than the last installment of "Pirates Of the Caribbean," that had Javier Bardem, too, you know.

By the first 10 minutes, we wonder why the two leads were even in a passing relationship, never mind married to each other. Plus, the supporting cast is just so annoying, irritating and infuriating, and the leads are so stupid, you have absolutely NO empathy or sympathy for ANYONE.

The worst thing — if that's even conceivable — is that Aranofsky films the two leads as close up as possible — yeah, I always thought Jennifer Lawrence was rather attractive, that is until I had to see every mole, hair, pimple, blackhead, whitehead, dimple and birthmark she ever had. Oh, and then it was shot in "Selfie Vision, and uses the ridiculous, hand-held, jiggling, seizure-inducing camera technique.

There is nothing real about any of the reactions and Lawrence usually takes all of it with a blank facial expression with eyes half closed and mouth wide agape ... kind of like the women in "Sucker Punch." Finally, she rebels, but by then, there are literally thousands of people in the house ... THOUSANDS! People at the screening were walking out in droves ...!

**Some major spoiler action**

While a liberal fantasy about a father, Ben (Viggo Mortensen, "Far From Men," "Lord Of the Rings" trilogy), with no filter, raising his eclectic brood of six in the North woods may cause a great majority of film critics to go into hysterics, it's as a pompous and pretentious an exhibition ever put on film.

Self-styled intellectual movie reviewers (many of whom probably feel the same way about the general movie-going public as Mortensen's character feels about everyone) are falling all over themselves to honor a man whose mentally ill wife commits suicide-partially because of Ben's isolationist, environmental, elitist lifestyle.

Let's face it, Ben is an overbearing douche-bag with no redeeming qualities, whatsoever, and we the audience have to sit through and digest a film which concludes with the theft of a dead body and a terrible rendition of Guns N Roses' "Sweet Child Of Mine."

This was truly one of THE worst movies of 2016, with no exceptions. We are introduced to the family when the oldest of six bizarrely-named children, Bodevan (George MacKay, "Private Peaceful"), kills a deer with his bare hands, while Ben makes him eat the heart to become a man. The movie then proceeds to go downhill from there, if that's even anywhere conceivable.

Since he says what on his mind and seemingly does not care what comes out of his mouth (diplomacy and tact are definitely NOT in his vocabulary), we have to listen to him pontificate on how America is an evil corporate entity and hear his robotic children echo the same left-wing claptrap over and over again.

In addition, he forces them to run through the forest, climbs rock faces and glaciers, steal food, insult people, talk back to their elders, disrespect people who do not agree with their bohemian lifestyle and to just be obnoxious brats.

They then find out that their mother committed suicide after being institutionalized, but Ben is told by his angry father-in-law (the eternally angry Frank Langella (Academy Award- nominated for "Frost-Nixon") not to show up. But of course, since it's in the script and we need to see the family outside of their mountainside hermitage, the troupe makes the trek to New Mexico in a school bus stolen from the "Partridge Family" TV show.

En route, they rip off a grocery store (while dad fakes a heart attack); go into a restaurant, sit down, receive menus and the abruptly leave when they discover that food is served there; outwit a redneck policeman and show Ben stepping off the bus totally naked (although he later sports an equally offensive "Jesse Jackson 88" shirt - who helped co-write this nonsense, Al Gore?)

There is also no shame in this guy as he tells a 6-year old girl about intercourse (even giving her the book, "Joy Of Sex") and lectures his nephews on how smart his children are compared to them and their dopey parents (if I wanted to be condescended to by leftist morons, I'd simply watch CNN or MSNBC or any of the major networks' newscasts).

He also forces his offspring to celebrate the birthday of liberal socialist writer, Noam Chomsky. Few children have ANY idea WHO Chomsky is, but to prove the leftist leanings of the film's writer/director, Matt Ross ("28 Hotel Rooms"), it's a major part of the film. The kids are even given dangerous knives and other weapons to "celebrate" the occasion.

Then, when one of the children questions this stupidity, the father shames him into arguing intellectually against "Noam Chomsky Day" (hey, Matt, I could give you about 50 reasons, but no one asked my opinion).

None of these ludicrous activities evidently seem to cause ANYONE to blink an eye, but the crazed Ben finally goes overboard when he crashes the funeral, stands up and does a comedy routine (left-leaning comedians are NOT funny and neither is this blather) and tells everyone that his late wife was a Buddhist and wanted to be cremated (instead of buried).

Finally, the father-in-law (as well as all of us) has had enough and calls security. Told in no uncertain terms that he will NOT be welcome to the interment ceremony. In the meantime, Bodevan has been accepted to every Ivy League college in existence, yet cannot even make simple conversation with anyone outside of his family and Rellian (Nicholas Hamilton, "Strangerland"), who breaks his hand while rock climbing in the rain, tells his father he hates him and wants to live with his wealthy, stable grandparents (finally, one of the children sees the light).

Motivated by this, the grandfather files for custody of the children so they might have a safe, normal life. Unfortunately, one of the non-descript teenage daughters tries to "rescue" the boy, falls off the roof and sustains serious injury, but once again, there are absolutely no consequences for this addled, horrible, neglectful parent.

Worst yet, the children run away with this jerk and then they break into a cemetery, steal their mother's corpse and roasting it on a pile of logs. OK, I know I am writing WAY too much into this, but the logistics of a group of children digging up a body and removing it are staggering. Graves are dug with backhoes and most caskets are buried in concrete vaults to keep water and other material out.

It takes these morons about two minutes to complete a task which would literally take hours. Much will also be made of the fact that Mortensen earned his second Academy Award nomination (his first was for "Eastern Promises" in 2007) for playing Ben. If pure hatred of a character is motivation for such an honor, then he deserves the statuette hands down. Grade: F

Martin Scorsese, who explored religious themes and biblical situations in 1988's controversial "The Last Temptation Of Christ," visits that genre again, only with a much wider scope and with less scrutiny and condemnation; although he always does not have good things to say about Western powers trying the Christianize Japan in the mid-17th century.

Co-written by Scorsese and Jay Cocks ("Gangs Of New York"), and based upon the book by Shûsaku Endô, "Silence" shows two Portuguese Franciscan Catholic missionaries, Father Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield, "Hacksaw Ridge") and Father Garupe (Adam Driver, "Paterson," "Star Wars: The Force Awakens"), sent by their superior, Valignano (Ciaran Hinds, "Bleed For This") to find the whereabouts of a missing priest, Ferreira (Liam Neesom, "A Monster Calls"), who taught and mentored both young friars.

Rumors persist that he denied his faith, denounced the church and is currently living in Japan with a native wife and children, but Rodrigues and Garupe insist this is not true and travel to China and enlist the aid of a drunken guide, Ichizo (Yoshi Oida, "Open At Night"), an apostate himself (but with loyalties that seem to turn on a dime), to smuggle them into the Land Of the Rising Sun.

Once in Japan, where all of the Catholic priests have been tortured and murdered by local Shinto warlords led by The Grand Inquisitor Inoue (Issei Ogata, "Priceless" TV series) and his minions, the padres discover a hidden community of brutally-oppressed, but steadfast Christians waiting for these men to aid their cause. This is not an easy task, since guards are constantly searching for members of this "outlawed" religion and the two must hide in caves, remote villages and other locations just to avoid detection.

When men from another village find out priests are present, they persuade the skeptical duo to help their hamlet, as well. Here, they are told that several years back,Ichizo saw soldiers burn his family at the stake for not denying their Christian faith (by symbolically stepping on a bronze plaque of Jesus), while he conforms almost immediately. Wracked with guilt, he confesses this sin, but again, we are never sure of his true motivation.

After the two Fathers separate, Ichizo's treachery is reinforced when he betrays Rodrigues to the Inquisitor (for a symbolic payment of 300 silver coins), who knows that just killing the man of God would just make Rodrigeus a martyr and stronger and holier in the eyes of the local Christians.

Instead, he uses a form of psychological warfare, punishing the converts and placing the blame on Rodrigues' pride and stubborn convictions. Again, Ichizo confesses that he is truly remorseful for selling the priest out and vows to make amends, but by now, we are curious just how much more the Father can actually take from this character who seemingly begs forgiveness in every other scene.

Imprisoned and forced to watch Japanese Christians executed by crucifixion, drowning and decapitation, as well as the deafening silence of his supposedly unanswered prayers, Rodrigues is pushed to the breaking point only to discover an even darker secret about the man for which he and his Jesuit partner were searching and is forced to make an excruciating decision.

Cocks and Scorsese analyze deep passionate themes of piety and self- sacrifice here that attempt to balance out the matter-of-fact cruelty of feudal Japan, but does not spare the Christian religion itself from its pomposity regarding an "invasion" to convert the "infidel" island nation (cut off by chance, geography and design for thousands of years).

Rodrigues is also told that while many of its citizens are willing to accept the Word and Gospel as a part of their lives, few have any clear understanding of just what that entails from a Western and/or European perspective. They equate Jesus with the rising of the sun and base their believes on the simple facts of the natural world which is the only tangible thing they can relate to.

It's certainly a simplistic vision and, in truth, is almost as condescending coming from Inoue and other Japanese as Christian principals being taught by the missionary priests. There is no denying, however, that "Silence," while often dark, both psychologically and metaphysically, and a tad long at more than two hours 40 minutes, is nevertheless a brilliant production and showcases Scorsese's passion for this theme.

In fact, it's a dream film he has held near his heart for almost two decades and the result of this labor of love shows in the top-notch acting (Garfield, Ogata and Neeson are absolutely superb), wondrous cinematography (Rodrigo Prieto, "The Wolf Of Wall Street," "Passengers" and Scorsese's upcoming, "The Irishman") and historically accurate costume design (Jack Tung, "The Life Of Pi") make this an epic experience and highlights what clashing religions and philosophies can do to innocent people and just how difficult it can be to maintain one's beliefs and morals in an environment of pain, privation and primitivity. Grade: B

With a soundtrack composed of marvelous contemporary jazz tunes, along with traditional classics of the genre (as well as a few familiar 1980s songs, to boot), terrific acting, singing and dancing performances, "La La Land" is not only one of the best films of 2016, but is the leading contender for a sack full of Academy Awards and an experience that will no doubt leave one with a tear in their eye and a giddy, silly smile after it's all over.

Written and directed by Damien Chazelle ("10 Cloverfield Lane," "Whiplash"), the movie hearkens back to the days of the big, bold, extravagant Hollywood musicals by Busby Berkeley, Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire and others, but adds enough of a modern touch with a sweet love story and extremely attractive leads (Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone) that even jaded 21st century audiences will stand and cheer at its conclusion. No stranger to the musical format, having directed both "Whiplash" and "Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench," and a jazz percussionist himself, Chazelle captures the mood perfectly as Sebastian (Gosling, "The Big Short," "The Nice Guys") is a down-on-his-luck pianist who loves free jazz (even at the expense of a paying gig tinkling out Christmas tunes), and Mia (Stone, "Birdman," "Battle Of the Sexes"), a put-upon Starbuck's employee and aspiring actress who meet not-so-cute in stifling Los Angeles traffic.

Since they are immediately repelled and repulsed by one another, we know of course they will eventually fall in love. After going through growing pains in their relationship (she has to drop a decent, but boring beau, Finn Wittrock, "The Big Short") in the process, while his as awkward as a middle schooler on his first date.

Later, Sebastian, who dreams of owning his own nightclub, is invited to join a contemporary jazz combo, Messenger, fronted by pop musician John Legend, while Mia writes her own one-woman play based upon her childhood in Arizona (where Stone was actually born).

The stress of these divergent careers (he is always on the road, she pines for him, but has her own life to lead), however, takes its toll on the love affair and soon becomes the conflict that sets up the third act. Will Sebastian become a success and get his own establishment? Will Mia make it big as an actress?

Well, the viewer will just have to see for themselves, but for this scribbler, "La La Land" was a wonderfully exhilarating homage to the Golden Age of Hollywood, but one which does not gloss over the seedier side of the city as well a realistic look at what it takes to put everything on the line for a shot at a few minutes in the spotlight. Some of the more amazing sequences include the rousing opening number ("Another Day In the Sun"), in which dozens of singers and dancers stop LA traffic - literally; Mia puts her heart into her auditions, only to have them interrupted or cut short, losing their effectiveness; Sebastian and Mia dance through space at the Griffith Park Observatory; he plays to a sellout crowd as a member of Legend's bland, but successful band; and a beautiful concluding montage which shows how different things could have been (or does it show how things REALLY were? Hmmm ...).

Gosling, who earned an Oscar nomination for 2006's "Half-Nelson," is sweet and engaging here as the passionate pianist who is obsessed with the traditional performers, so much so that he ignored the musical genre's future potential with a whole new generation of fans. He won the Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Musical/Comedy and is a lock for a second Academy Award nomination.

Meanwhile, I dare say that Stone, whose turn as the self-destructive daughter in "Birdman" a few years ago earned her first Oscar nod, was never better and has a Golden Globe herself to prove it. With large blue eyes flashing with both inner joy and heart-aching pathos, it would be a major crime if she is also not recognized by the Academy.

Good supporting work is added by Legend, Tom Everett Scott ("That Thing You Do") and J.K. Simmons (Oscar winner for "Whiplash"), but this enterprise belongs to Gosling and Stone almost 100 percent, and their argument scene is one of the more emotional moments of any film this year.

With fun, thoughtful and clever tunes (including "City Of Stars," "Someone In the Crowd," "A Lovely Night," "Start a Fire," and "Audition (The Fools Who Dream)" among others), terrific design detail (David Wasco, a Quentin Tarantino favorite) and stunning cinematography by Linus Sandgren ("Joy," "American Hustle"), "La La Land" is a dazzling, dizzying, exhilarating experience and would seemingly be the picture to beat unless the Academy wants to send a diversity message and choose "Moonlight" or vote for the heavily dramatic "Manchester By the Sea."

If I had a ballot, though, I might just choose this film to become the first musical since "Chicago" in 2002 to claim the Best Picture statuette, but, then again, no one has yet extended that privilege to me, so I will just have to dream, won't I? Grade: A-

Originally published on Sept. 19, 2003

If one is looking for by-the-numbers textbook Hollywood horror/thriller movie-making, look no further than Touchstone's newest release, "Cold Creek Manor," directed by Mike Figgis, for the basic instincts of the craft.

First, there is the hassled city family, the Tilson's (parents Cooper, played by Dennis Quaid, and Leah, Sharon Stone, along with children Kristen Stewart and Ryan Wilson), who decide to move to a small town and purchase a dilapidated farmhouse that looks like something Herman Munster would pass by (it's even named "Cold Creek Manor" for crying out loud).

But wait, there are even more clichés - the town's residents who naturally mistrust the newcomers, the creepy house and the mysteries it holds, an enigmatic old man who is the key to hidden horrors, the home's psychotic previous owner, the reluctance of local law enforcement to believe ANYTHING the new owners try to tell them, an invasion of vicious reptiles (which would have been my first clue to something unusual), several accounts of foreshadowing (when a camera shot lingers on particular objects that will play a huge role later in the story) and the climactic struggle between good and evil.

Yep, it's all here. Unfortunately, anyone who has seen a horror film in the last, say, 20 years or so, can figure everything out about this one way ahead of time and the whole family-in-peril thing that has been done to death a million times is multiplied tenfold in "Cold Creek Manor."

Plus, will someone PLEASE tell Juliette Lewis that her drugged-up, slow- witted slut character from "Natural Born Killers" and "Cape Fear" is getting really old, really fast already? Thank you. The film is rated "R" because of violence and some situations, but it offers nothing new to the genre - and, sadly, no one of any age will be very frightened at the proceedings.

Originally published on Feb. 14, 2003

This Robert F. Maxwell-directed Civil War epic is the second of a trilogy (after 1993's "Gettysburg," while "Last Full Measure" is scheduled to conclude) chronicling this country's most devastating conflict.

And, while a bit over long (at 3 and-a-half hours) as well as a bit preachy in parts - and it could have been titled "The Stonewall Jackson Story," the picture is often engrossing and powerful. The battle scenes, which accurately depicted the insane tactic of marching directly into enemy rifle and cannon fire unblinkingly, are some of the best this scribble has witnessed.

Movie begins with the Confederates firing on the Federal Fort Sumter in 1861 and depicts U.S. Army Col. Robert E. Lee (Robert Duval, Oscar winner for "Tender Mercies") turning down command of the Northern Army of the Potomac. He later becomes the leader of the Army of Northern Virginia.

There are three main battles featured here: the first battle of Manasas (called Bull Run by Northern writers, July, 1861), Fredericksburg (December 1862) and Chancellorsville (May, 1863), all Confederate victories utilizing Lee's tactical brilliance as well as the invaluable assistance of his most trusted and able cavalry general, Jackson (played wonderfully by Stephan Lang, Gen. George Pickett in "Gettysburg," but best known as Ike Clanton in "Tombstone").

Lee realized that a long war of attrition would favor the North, which could call upon a population of approximately 20 million, as well as a huge industrial advantage. The South had just six million people, including three million slaves whom they would never arm. He also understood the art of maneuvering his troops and diving his forces to his advantage. And, much like Napoleon, scored victories while tremendously outnumbered.

Quick and decisive wins were needed to throw the industrial Union into a panic and make the citizens less hungry for war while attracting possible aid from European nations. Jackson understood these tactics, as well, and used them to brutal effectiveness. He was fearless, too, earning his nickname at Manasas, standing like a stone wall before his retreating men and rallying them to victory.

Both he and Lee attended West Point (when CSA Pres. Jefferson Dave was James Buchanan's Secretary of War) and learned strategy not only from Napoleon, but Wellington and Frederick the Great, among other brilliant military leaders. During the first two years of the war, the generalship and élan of the South scored triumph after triumph in the Eastern Campaign, while Federal leaders such as Gen. George B. McClellan and other lesser known men (such as Ambrose Burnside and George Meade, among others) just sat on their hands - much to Pres. Abraham Lincoln's ire.

Jackson, as portrayed by Lang, was a complex and nuanced man of religious piety who abhorred the institution of slavery yet fought for the cause to sustain it. His relationships with his men, his wife and the daughter of a friend, Jane Corbin (Lydia Jordan, "Third Watch" TV series) betray a sensitive individual who seems woefully out of place in this great conflagration.

His tactics, however, were second to none and who knows what his death (at the hands of his own troops shortly before Gettysburg) mortally hurt the Confederate cause.

"Jayne Mansfield's Car" is a tedious, depressing dysfunctional film about a tedious, depressing, dysfunctional pair of families, headed by patriarchs Robert Duvall and John Hurt, respectively.

It seems that 30 years before, Kingsley Bedford (Hurt) stole Jim Caldwell's (Duvall) wife, Naomi (Tippi Hedren, whose most famous role was in Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds") and took her to England. Upon her death, and after honoring her request to be buried in her native Alabama, the two groups get together and relive just about every stereotypical situation involving these divergent bodies from sitcoms to equally bad motion pictures.

It's also a movie where the title makes no sense whatsoever, except to fool this critic into actually thinking the plot was about the last few days and death of blonde bombshell Jayne Mansfield, who perished in an automobile accident in New Orleans in 1967 (her three children, including "Law & Order: SVU" actress Mariska Hargitay, survived in the back seat).

There is a very loose connection with this movie to that death car, but THAT story would have made a much better and much more interesting film than this disjointed, disheveled, direction-less and pointless misadventure which seems to be played at 33 1/3 RPM and was helmed and written by Billy Bob Thornton (who also stars and has efforts like "Sling Blade" and "All the Pretty Horses" to his credit, although one would not deduce that from this travesty).

Caldwell's clan consists of backwoods redneck rejects like Navy pilot Skip (Thornton, looking like a cross between Humphrey Bogart and Fred MacMurray with terminal cancer), the idiotic Jimbo (Robert Patrick, "Gangster Squad"), 50-year old hippie Carroll (Kevin Bacon, "X-Men: First Class," sporting either a very bad wig or an even worse haircut) and annoying used car salesmen and son-in-law, Neal Baron (Blue Collar Tour comedian Ron White), as well as a host of nondescript females and grandchildren.

On the Brit side, Bedford just brings his upper-class twit son, Phillip, (Ray Stevenson, Firefly in "G.I. Joe: Retaliation"), and slutty daughter, Camilla, (Frances O'Connor, "Little Red Wagon"), along to the Alabama sticks in an effort to reprise the old TV series "Green Acres." When combined, there's enough cracker barrel corn pone dialogue in "Jayne Mansfield's Car" to fill three seasons of "Hee Haw," and forced drama that would make the producers of "Dynasty" and "Knots Landing" cringe.

Meanwhile, the families' attempts to mix and interact socially is as awkward as Barack Obama teaching a college course on the history of Syria. And, despite the legitimate anger the Caldwell's feel for the Bedfords, Skip nevertheless comes onto Camilla in a most ridiculous and embarrassing way (making Bill Clinton's advances look like the height of courtly honor; although later she recites the "Charge of the Light Brigade" for him totally naked while he, uh, pleasures himself), Carroll hangs around the world's squarest hippy commune and ogles creepily as his twenty-something girlfriend dances nude in their shack, and Papa Caldwell get his kicks by interfering at the scene of fatal car wrecks (a ludicrous montage shows various examples of these crashes with victims hanging out of windows causing no end to the unintentional hilarity).

All the while, Jim's promiscuous daughter, Donna (Katherine LaNasa, "The Campaign"), begins flirting with the ponderous Phillip and we find out that the cold-hearted Jim was somehow a World War I veteran and the peacenik Carroll served in WW II. And, to top everything off, the picture boasts one of the single lamest musical groups ever, despite the fact it was supposed to have taken place in the 1960s.

All of these scenes, of course, are meant to show that both clans are Hollyweird types, just quirky enough to be harmless, but nowhere near as clever and intriguing Thornton and co-scribbler Tom Epperson ("Camouflage") hoped they would be.

Holding together (albeit loosely) all of these sad plot lines is the wise-beyond-her-pay-grade servant, Dorothy (Irma P. Hall, "My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done"), who fills us all in on the boring back-story. Boring because there is no sympathy, empathy or concern for any of these cretins.

Not one iota of interest is generated by these far-out characters so over-the-top and devoid of any real human qualities as to be less than one-dimensional, if that's even conceivable. Then there is a subplot of a black dude who gets drafted, again, a dilemma which causes no emotional response whatsoever, but does illicit this bland response from Carroll: "A kid like Connell has a dream and he doesn't get a chance to live it."

Hurt (whom some may remember as the guy whose stomach the monster came of in "Alien") was nominated for a Best Actor Academy Award for "The Elephant Man," Thornton was given a nod for the same prize in "Sling Blade," and Duvall actually won the Oscar for "Tender Mercies," so the acting talent and pedigree is certainly there.

Unfortunately, there is nothing any of these people can do with this tepid script, however. Hurt, though, does have the good sense to pass out at the funeral, thereby giving himself (as well as the audience) a reprieve for a while.

"Jayne Mansfield's Car," which has been left in the film can for more than a year (and certainly smells like it), is enjoying a limited release schedule, but that is only because the producers knew no one would see it with any wider distribution. One would be most prudent and wise to follow their example.

It isn't likely one will recognize any members of the cast of "Cement Suitcase," a film written and directed by J. Rick Castaneda (whose resume includes just a few short features, including "Math and Other Problems").

Yes, a person may have a fleeting bit of acknowledgement, but will most likely say, "Oh, he/she just looks like someone I've seen before." Such feelings, however, should not necessarily detract from the enjoyment of this picture, which tries hard to walk the thin line between silly comedy and heartbreaking drama. What ultimately undoes this production (besides the community college acting displayed by some of the cast) is that very indecision, though.

The plot reminds one of "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" meets "Sideways" meets "Kangaroo Jack," and features Franklin Roew (Dwayne Bartholomew, "Math and Other Problems") as one of the top wine salesmen in the Yakima Valley, Wash. Despite such success, he drives a clunker, is behind on most of his bills and is in danger of losing his late mother's home to foreclosure.

Still, he manages to attract a beautiful girlfriend, Charlene (Kristina Guerrero, "The Bookie"), which is the first in a series of how REEL Life (the movies) can trump REAL Life.

Another is that when Franklin advertises for a roommate to help with expenses, no one applies except a wacky Australian (why are all Australians wacky in the movies?), Jackford (Nathan Sapsford, "Key"), who appears one day out of the blue and on Franklin's roof, to boot, goes through his personal belongs during their first interview and later pours soda on his X-Box and Nintendo systems, something else that would never fly in REAL Life.

Meanwhile, Franklin has discovered that Charlene is cheating on him with a golf pro named Brad Golob (Shawn Parsons, an uncredited appearance in "12 Years a Slave") who just happens in the winery one day and invites Franklin to play a round of golf.

At this juncture, even I am not sure what is going on. Are Brad's intentions pure? Does he know about Franklin and Charlene? Is he just a hapless dope trying to be nice? And does "Cement Suitcase" even have a point?

While trying to piece everything together, there are some unrelated dreamlike sequences featuring Franklin standing on the rook of his car driving down the freeway, a strongman at a train station, a bunch of shopping carts piled atop one another, several unnecessary cartoon graphics scenes and Jackford teaching him how to dive into a moving vehicle and convince the driver to do what he says. All of this makes little sense.

Even more nonsensical, though, is Brad inviting Franklin to dinner with him and Charlene; a meal which ends in embarrassment for everyone all around, but then again, what did they expect would happen?

Anyway, after losing his job because of a drunken exhibition, Franklin decides to sell the house and car and then dive into a dairy truck he thinks Jackford is driving. It turns out not to be Jackford, but a jittery redneck with a shotgun (possibly the worst combination one could imagine) and the film, not really knowing what to do at that point, just ends.

I can give kudos to Castaneda for making a valiant effort in his feature debut (although he WAS responsible for some of the shortcomings in the script), as the sparse set design works with the slight story and the shots of small-town Washington State are convincing enough.

Bartholomew is also the saddest of sad sacks and even though he looks as if he has channeled the spirit of former SNL cast member Kenan Thompson, he is the most convincing actor in this production. The others are just pretty faces and, in Sapsford's case, just another eccentric Aussie character we've seen over and over again.

Since "Cement Suitcase" is not likely to appear at the nearest cinemaplex, better search for it online somewhere, although the effort taken to find it may turn out not to be nearly worth the trouble.

Kurt Russell ("Grindhouse: Deathproof") leads a cast of con men (and a woman), including Jay Baruchel ("This Is the End"), Matt Dillon ("Armored"), Chris Diamantopoulos ("The Three Stooges"), Katheryn Winnick ("Stand Up Guys") and Kenneth Welsh ("Fantastic 4: Rise of the Silver Surfer") in "The Art of the Steal," a complicated, mildly entertaining heist picture where this over-the-hill gang tries to pull off the last big score.

The trouble is, we've seen it all before from "Ocean's 11″ (both the original and remake) to "Now You See Me," among others.

Directed by Jonathan Sobol ("A Beginner's Guide to Endings"), the plot tells that after being framed by his brother, Nicky (Dillon), following a bungled job trying to sell a fake painting to a Turkish art collector in Warsaw, Crunch Calhoun (Russell) spends the next seven years in a brutal Polish prison plotting his revenge.

Upon release, he joins Francie (Baruchel) and Lola (Winnick) in a cheap thrill troupe crashing his stunt motorcycle for a living (causing a character to intone, "I saw you almost jump six trucks once").

When a roughneck breaks into Crunch's apartment, beats him up, steals his motorcycle and demands to know where Nicky and a stolen painting by Georges-Pierre Seurat (a French Post-Impressionist artist) is, Calhoun's interest is piqued. When he sees Nicky again, his anger is piqued too, but the scrawny Dillon manages (in some strange reality) to beat Crunch into a pulp.

Soon after, Paddy McCarthy (Welsh), who was part of the Warsaw scheme, comes calling with a weird tale about getting the group back together for a final heist. He tells them he knows of the whereabouts of "The Gospel According To St. James," a book supposedly written by the brother of Christ and printed by Johannes Gutenberg immediately after his famous Bible. A book worth millions.

So, this gaggle of has-beens and never-weres has just two days to dream up a way to break into a highly-guarded international border facility (where the book was discovered and confiscated) and not only steal the book, but replace it with an almost exact duplicate that could even pass carbon-dating and other tests to prove its validity.

Crunch opts for a smash-and-grab strategy where everything gets blown up, while the other members of the gang (including expert forger Guy de Cornet, Diamantopoulos) opt for a more cerebral approach. In the meantime, an idiot Interpol agent, Bick (Jason Jones, "The Switch"), is trying to sniff out the theft of the Seurat. Bick has convicted former art expert Samuel Winter (Terence Stamp, "The Adjustment Bureau") in tow, promising him an early release from prison if he helps him solve the crime.

And, as if to make "The Art of the Steal" even more clever, a seed is planted when Guy tells the group a story about the 1911 theft of the Mona Lisa from the Louvre in Paris. He said the theft was arranged by Eduardo de Valfierno, who paid a paltry sum to an Italian museum worker to swipe and then hide the work. He then had his forger make six perfect copies. The missing painting shot the value of the fakes through the roof and de Valfierno made many times more than he would of for just the original.

Similar could be done with the book, yes? This notion leads to a series of double-and triple-crosses and sleight of hand that leave the viewer in either a state of "What the heck is going on?" or "I saw that coming from a thousand miles away."

OK, more often than not the trickery is pretty obvious, but "The Art of the Steal" is still entertaining enough to watch play out its conclusion. Plus, Kurt Russell plays his angry, but impotently ineffective leader role to the hilt.

And with Dillon, as his usually sleazy self, and Baruchel adding in some timely comedy relief, the 90-minute running time steals by nearly without notice.

I was always told that if there isn't a lot to write about a subject, don't tax the reader by padding out an article. Nothing could be truer of this advice than my review of the newest release, "Machete Kills."

I suppose some folks are going to criticize this critique because I do not appreciate (at least as much as they do) the insipid silliness of the first installment, "Machete," from 2010. If that is the case, they will be equally distressed then to learn I did not care for this particular movie, either.

"Machete Kills," like its predecessor, is based on a three-minute "trailer" introduced in the 2007 homage to 1970s cinema, "Grindhouse" and by all that is logical, it should have stayed in that format.

Other fake trailers included "Don't," "Thanksgiving" and "Werewolf Women of the S.S.," and while they were all certainly better than the two main films ("Planet of Terror" and "Death Proof"), they were never meant to be actual full-length motion pictures (director Robert Rodriguez had different idea with this one, obviously).

With Danny Trejo (the bartender in "Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy") in the lead as a former Federale from Mexico who gets hired to do hatchet jobs in the U.S., this was actually originally written as a feature movie in the early 1990s before "Grindhouse" was ever made.

It's round-about journey to the big-screen was a logical conclusion, and while the first was praised as playfully ridiculous and a violent tongue-in-cheek satire on Mexploitation films, this sequel is a long, drawn-out series of mind-numbing decapitations, chopping and and gore-splattering scenes that would make a death camp survivor long for the good old days.

For whatever plot one would want to attach to this farce, Machete Cortez is trying to stop a pair of madmen (Demian Bichir and Mel Gibson, and their hundreds of hapless henchmen) with a nuclear device from taking over the world at the behest of the President of the United States (Charlie Sheen in another example of just how far his star has fallen).

Because of the limited structure and concept of this enterprise, Trejo (whose craggy face makes Charles Bronson look like Jennifer Lawrence) is not required to act, only to simply look ticked off and throw large knives at people (much like Bronson did in most of his films).

Even as parody, "Machete Kills" is sadly lacking in any comic or inventive stylings and the inside joke wears thin long before the credits roll.

Even the inclusion of recognizable faces such as Antonio Banderas ("The Skin I Live In"), Jessica Alba ("Little Fockers"), Michelle Rodriguez ("Fast & Furious 6"), Sofía Vergara ("The Three Stooges"), Amber Heard ("Paranoia"), William Sadler ("Iron Man 3"), Lady Gaga and Cuba Gooding Jr. (who should be forced to return his Academy Award for "Jerry Maguire") do not make this installment any easier to go down — or to watch for that matter.

With much more decent offerings currently out there ("Gravity," "Rush," "Captain Phillips"), why not avoid this over-the-top stupidity and get a little more bang for your hard-earned buck?

There's nothing more disappointing than a sequel that does not live up to the original film it came from, therefore, my cinematic experiences over the years dealing with such efforts have certainly been tragic.

Yes, there have been second films that have equaled or surpassed the original ("The Empire Strikes Back," "Superman 2," "The Godfather: Part 2," just to name a very few), but these are as rare as Academy Award nominations from "Weird Al" Yankovic.

So, die-hard Marvel Studios fans may want to exit this website now and forgo any bitterness they may feel when they realize this review — while not a whole dismissal of the newest superhero epic, "Thor: The Dark World" — may not exactly be what they want to read at this moment.

True to my nature as an optimist, however, I will highlight the positive points of the new production. First, Chris Hemsworth is the perfect choice to play the stoic, unemotional, dispassionate, apathetic, unmoved Nordic leading deity to a tee (actually, I'm not sure these are good points).

It does not require a whole lot of animation to jump from the sky, punch someone out or throw a hammer. Hemsworth does a very good job in his portrayal of such a character and, as long as he does not try to break the acting ceiling like he did in "Snow White and the Huntsman," I think we'll be all right.

The other good thing about this movie (and it's probably the best) is Loki (Tom Hiddleston, "Midnight in Paris"), the deeply troubled younger (and let's not forget ADOPTED) brother of the first prince of Asgard. It's his third appearance in the role and he has grown quite comfortable as the smirking, conniving schemer.

Here, he makes every scene he's in delectable. It's too bad he is not in more. Plus, the sequences where he appears with Hemsworth are not only the best in the picture, but they elevate the latter's status and acting credentials even higher than they should be.

Okay, we have discussed the positive, now let's look at the concerns. Replacing first installment director Kenneth Branagh (who was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Director — and lead actor — for 1989′s "Henry V") eliminated the whole Shakespearian angle with the fallen brother, the troubled prince and world-weary king, which punctuated the action scenes and made for much more intelligent viewing than your average superhero narrative.

Alan Taylor, while adept at television drama (several installments of "Mad Men," "Game of Thrones" and a host of others), has not helmed a feature film since "Kill the Poor" in 2003. His contribution to this feature — at least as far as the Bard connection goes — is negligible and thus much of the drama of "Thor" is replaced with the mediocre of standard fights, screaming and explosions.

Yes, "Thor: The Dark World" looks good, but there is a troubling blandness and sameness to the enterprise.

Sadly underused (or misused in some cases) are Anthony Hopkins ("Red 2") as King Odin, Natalie Portman ("Black Swan"), Stellan Skarsgård ("The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo") as Dr. Erik Selvig and Christopher Eccleston ("G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra") as the main villain — that's right, Loki isn't even to top bad guy here — Malekith.

Hopkins is given even less screen time than in the first film, while Portman bitches and moans and nags so much about Thor being away one understands his reasoning completely. She is both bland and annoying, a difficult tightrope to walk (see "Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium" for a perfect example).

Meanwhile, Skarsgård has been reduced to a comic relief buffoon and Eccleston, who began his career in 1991 in a great little British film, "Let Him Have It," is easily one of the worst Marvel villains of all-time, sort of a lightweight Bane, but without the menacing demeanor. Heavily made-up and CGIed to the point of complete obscurity, he comes back (after failing numerous time in the past) to use the all-powerful Aether to blow all of the realms to pieces, for whatever that's worth.

The best spy, war and superhero movies have one thing in common — great and terrifying bad guys (Goldfinger, Darth Vader, Lex Luthor, Loki). Malekith is certainly a name few will remember in the annals of filmdom's evil malefactors.

Few will remember the plot of "Thor: The Dark World," as well. Basically Asgard is under assault from Malekith and Thor is forced to release Loki from prison (where he has been since the end of "The Avengers") to aid in the protection of the realms. The real drama is whether the kid brother can be trusted. Seems a logical concern to me. There are trips to other planets and Earth gets a few location shots.

Monsters are destroyed, good guys are pounded and, for a while, we wonder if anyone can survive the onslaught of out-of-control special effects. One funny sequence involves Thor and Malekith bouncing around the universe while the mighty hammer of the Norse god struggles vainly just to keep up with the action.

"Thor: The Dark World" is nowhere near enough to surpass the first experience, and while not a bad movie at all, it just seems like a temporary diversion until a part three (or "The Avengers: Age of Ultron") comes out. Sadly, that's just not enough for a studio with a much better track record than this.

When we last left our intrepid tiny blue friends, they had just . . . oh, why bother explaining the plot of this film's predecessor, "The Smurfs," when it's going to be difficult enough to write about this sequel's ridiculous storyline? And, unless one is either under the age of four or in a drug-induced coma, they are not likely to care an iota about it anyway.

With Neil Patrick Harris ("A Very Harold & Kumar 3D Christmas," "How I Met Your Mother" TV series) sleepwalking through his repeat role of Patrick Winslow and Hank Azaria ("Lovelace") as the evil wizard Gargamel - playing it so far over the top he falls off the other side - adults are most likely to simply tag along with their tots only to forget this one by the time they get home.

Like most sequels, "The Smurfs 2" does not live up to the original, which in turn was never something worth living up to in the first place. It does live longer, though, dragging on for nearly 105 minutes (two minutes longer than the first go 'round and a death knell to an animated feature like this one).

Here, as directed by Raja Gosnell (who has helmed such classics as "Home Alone 3," and "Beverly Hills Chihuahua"), the Smurfs are happy and healthy back in their quaint village.

Happy, except for the group's only female, Smurfette (voice of singer Katy Perry), who's depressed because she thinks everyone forgot her birthday (get used to it, kid).

Meanwhile, Gargamel — who is now a big-time David Blaine-type illusionist in the world of humans — is hatching a plot wherein he uses his two gray Smurf-like minions, the tomboyish Vexy (voice of Christina Ricci, "Black Snake Moan") and the idiotic Hackus (voice of J.B. Smoove, "Hall Pass"), to kidnap Smurfette so he can extract her essence, or something like that.

Unfortunately, once she is missing, Papa Smurf (voice of the late Jonathan Winters, "The Smurfs," but I'd rather remember him from "It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World," among other better films) along with Grouchy (voice of George Lopez, "Rio," and the guy who played a light bulb in "Shark Boy and Lavagirl"), Clumsy (voice of Anton Yelchin, "Star Trek Into Darkness") and Vanity (voice of John Oliver, "The Love Guru"), locate Patrick and his family to help solve the mystery.

Turns out that Pat is an uptight parent entertaining equally snobbish couples at his son's excruciatingly unfunny birthday party sequence concerning - of all things hilarious - a small child with a peanut allergy.

Discovering that Gargamel has a show in Paris, the group — with nondescript tyke Blue (Jacob Tremblay) and gruff stepdad Victor (Brendan Gleeson, "The Raven") in tow — whisks off to the City of Lights with nary a jump cut. While there, Smurfette, who was evidently created by the bad wizard becomes fast friends with Vexy and even offers to share the secret formula that Papa used to turn her blue — a concoction that will allow Gargamel to somehow rule the world.

Meanwhile, the three incompetent Smurfs try to save the day, while an embarrassed Gleeson (much too good to be involved in an endeavor like this) spends most of the picture flapping around as a poorly-CGIed duck.

It's all about potions and magic and essences and fatherly love, all of which are needed to keep the average person awake during all of this nonsense. So-so effects, little or no pacing, a drag in the middle and totally unnecessary 3D technology highlight the pointlessness of it all.

Be aware that there is also a definite mean streak which runs through the movie (Gargamel is willing to let his creations die and laughingly tortures the captive Smurfs), as well as a complete lack of humor (or anything close to that emotion), despite the fact that Azaria (who voices about a dozen characters on "The Simpsons" TV show) does his best with what little he is given.

So, like "Garfield: A Tail of Two Kitties," "Marmaduke," "Alvin and the Chipmunks" and "Yogi Bear" — films which tried to incorporate CGI with live action — "The Smurfs 2" comes up woefully short, leaving "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" as the still clear-cut winner of the genre - and that particular production is more than 25 years old.

So why not just buy, rent or record that picture, save a trip to the cinema and call it a weekend. You would certainly be doing yourself - or your children - no favors by seeing "The Smurfs 2."

If ever a motion picture suffered enough schizophrenia for a roomful of Sigmund Freuds, it's "2 Guns," the newest effort from director Baltasar Kormákur ("Contraband") starring Mark Wahlberg ("Ted") and Denzel Washington (coming off of his Oscar-nominated turn in "Flight").

While the running thread of the mismatched black and white partners forced to work together has been a staple since 1958′s "The Defiant Ones," this movie cannot seem to decide if it wants to be a cleverly-bantered buddy flick in that vein, a serious crime drama, a fast-paced tale of worldwide illegal drug operations or a violent action adventure (although there is certainly enough of that latter element to go around).

In the end, it may just be enough to describe it as lightweight — albeit confusing — filmcraft which fills the week, earns a one-time top spot at the box office and is forgotten by the time "Elysium" or "Planes" rolls around. One could do worse than to pay full price to see this, but one would certainly do better to seek matinée fare.

The plot, as equally convoluted as "Contraband," has Washington as DEA agent Robert 'Bobby' Trench, who is in deep cover trying to get close to and bust drug lord Papi Greco (Edward James Olmos, "The Green Hornet").

During a complicated bank heist (that nets more than $40 million instead of the $3 million that was expected) with partner Michael 'Stig' Stigman (Wahlberg) - who turns out to be a Naval Intelligence officer, the two find themselves wrapped in a mystery and stuffed into an enigma — and on the run from every element in the movie who wants the cash for themselves.

The solution to this deadly dilemma? Combine forces and try to find out what's going on and who wants them out of the way. Of course, they both hate one another immediately (come on, we've all seen these type of films before) and they feel each other out like two boxers, substituting jabs with witty dialogue and ceaseless quips.

Soon, with a vested interest in staying alive and attempting to keep each other in that same condition, a grudging respect and mutual friendship emerges. Oh, and then it's time to blast the bad guys to Kingdom Come.

Yes, the derivative element now rears its head and this buddy picture veers off into a scene of utter death and destruction and — just as suddenly — back again. It's a pattern Kormákur uses again and again, and while it may provide him and writers Blake Masters (screenplay) and Steven Grant (based on his graphic novel series of the same name) some sense of satisfaction, the herky-jerky pacing of "2 Guns" may leave many in the audience trying to both catch their collective breath and wrap their mind around what's going on.

Still, there is more than decent support from Bill Paxton ("Haywire") and James Marsden ("Straw Dogs") as possible traitorous allies/adversaries, and the cast seems up to the task, but the underlying message that the international drug trade is so tempting EVERYONE seems to want a piece of it seems to overwhelm even the most talented on-screen performers at times. Like "The Eiger Sanction," you will not be able to trust anyone in this film.

One can trust the banter to continue, though, with "Stig" playing the patsy (he's incredibly naive, mispronounces words and makes some unbelievably stupid decisions that Washington has to somehow correct - it's difficult to believe that a Naval officer could be such a moron) while Bobby rolls his eyes heavenward and both continue to blow the villains to small (and very graphic, at times) pieces, drowning out the more cerebral parts of the movie.

With the quality of the two leads, both Academy Award nominees (with Washington a two-time winner) one would expect bigger and better things. As it is, however, "2 Guns" doesn't exactly misfire, fitting somewhere above "Fled" and significantly below "48 Hrs." in the genre pool.

Had the director just eased up a bit on the violent aspects and let the leads play off each other more (like Nick Nolte and Eddie Murphy were allowed to do), though, "2 Guns" might have been a much more effective and interesting addition to the category.

Let's face it, the sheer existence of the numeral "2″ behind any film title automatically relegates said picture to the garbage heap of cinematic experiences (see "The Hangover Part 2" and "The Smurfs 2" as recent examples).

Of course, there are rare exceptions where the sequel is better than or as good as the first, such as "The Godfather: Part 2," or "Superman II," or "Star Trek II: The Wrath Of Khan," but usually second installments are quickly made to cash in on a surprise hit and capture lightening in a bottle.

This is no exception when it comes to "Kick-Ass 2," which continues the story of a group of amateur wannabe super heroes from the graphic novel of the same name.

Three years ago, with "Kick-Ass," director Matthew Vaughn filled theater seats with young bodies eager to see peers don capes and costumes and sock it to the baddies. The biggest attraction, however, was then 12-year old Chloë Grace Moretz ("Dark Shadows"), who personified the title as "Hit Girl" and dealt serious damage to men three times her age and size.

And while I was not a fan of this endeavor, nor did I think it was funny to have the little girl have a filthy mouth to go along with her deadly martial arts talent (us fathers of preteen daughters are funny that way), I judged the movie slightly acceptable because of its original story and the exuberance of the young actors involved.

Now, however, with everyone three years older, the freshness of the script long-gone, and a new director, Jeff Wadlow ("Never Back Down"), calling the shots, Kick-Ass 2 becomes just another in a long series of stale and unnecessary sequels to movies which did not deserve sequels in the first place.

And while seeing a 12-year old girl wreak havoc may be interesting to some of us, viewing the same kid as a 15-year old doing the same thing just does not mean that much anymore.

To be fair, though, I will try to describe the plot as best I can. After bringing down the local villains in the first picture, Kick-Ass/Dave Lizewski (Aaron Taylor-Johnson, "Savages") has laid off and gotten soft, but the son of the main bad guy killed in part one, Chris D'Amico/Red Mist/The Mother F***** (Christopher Mintz-Plasse, "This Is the End") has not forgotten and puts together a group of super baddies to gain revenge and control the city again.

To counter this, Ass assembles his own group, the Justice League, uh oops, I mean the Justice Forever group with some of the lamest characters ever put together for a superhero film: "Colonel Stars & Stripes" (Jim Carrey in his 142nd consecutive terrible role), "Dr. Gravity" (Donald Faison, TV series "Scrubs"), "Night Bitch" (Lindy Booth, "Nobel Son") and the ridiculously-named "Battle Guy" (the lame Clark Duke, "Hot Tub Time Machine").

Needless to say, the violence here is way over-the-top, the acting is well below what one would expect from such a production and the direction is practically non-existent.

Ironically, the only thing worth seeing here is Moretz again, who while dishing out her own brand of ludicrous force, is still, the best actor out of everyone, including the embarrassing, cringe-inducing Carrey, who even came out before "Kick-Ass 2" debuted to blast it for its matter-of-fact depiction of gore. No doubt he accepted whatever pay he was offered for participating in such stupidity, though.

While watching "Jobs" one cannot help but think back on the 1999 TNT made-for-TV movie "Pirates Of Silicon Valley," starring Noah Wylie as Steve Jobs and Anthony Michael Hall as Bill Gates. Well, at least *I* could not help thinking about that film.

It certainly told a much crisper, tighter story of the founding of Apple Computers, an event which changed the technological world and shook it to its very foundations. In this version, as directed by Joshua Michael Stern ("Swing Vote"), however, the man is given just enough biopic treatment to make him slightly interesting, if not oftentimes just plain bland and far too safe - as if his recent death justified such reverence.

Yes, as played by Ashton Kutcher (the guy who lost an argument with an orange in "Bobby"), we see Steve Jobs get high, drop out of college, try to inspire his employees and harbor a morbid fear of and hatred for International Business Machines (IBM), but it's nothing we haven't seen or heard before.

We also get a glimpse of just what an often intolerable jerk he was and what a volatile personality he had. This, of course, is nothing new, considering most inventive people have this feature, from Ben Franklin to Thomas Edison to Henry Ford to Picasso. Jobs just happened to live in our era and we can relate better, if that means anything.

After huge early successes, Jobs becomes determined to make only the best and most cutting-edge computers, always pushing the envelope to what is possible. That creates tension between himself and the company's board who always seems to be looking for an excuse or reason to find a way to push Jobs out of the company – the company he himself created.

Kutcher, who's made his bread and butter on the small screen ("That '70s Show," and, more recently, "Two And a Half Men"), no doubt gives the best performance of his career, although that's not much of a compliment considering his body of work. I was hopeful at first, however, when he comes out to introduce the iPod, capturing Steve Jobs' walk and mannerisms, but after that it's a relatively thin, paint-by-the-numbers effort.

The real revelation here is Josh Gad ("Thanks For Sharing," a small role in "The Internship"), whose performance as friend and creative force behind Apple, Steve Wozniak, carries the picture. Kutcher and Gad have good chemistry and the best scenes in the film are with these two. Dermot Mulroney ("Stoker"), as an early investor Mike Markkula, also acquits himself well.

It's too bad the overall experience of "Jobs" is one that is too long, choppy and reveals too little about one of the more interesting man of our times.

While I am not crazy about a director including his own name in the title of a film (after all, we never saw a movie called "Orson Welles' Citizen Kane" or "David Lean's Great Expectations" or "Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver"), I can sort of forgive Lee Daniels (who directed the equally obscurely titled "Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire") for falling into the fame trap set by Tyler Perry, whose name is on everything he is involved with and whose ego is bigger than his now sizable bank account.

Daniels acquits himself fairly well here with "Lee Daniels' The Butler," though, a story about a White House butler who served eight American presidents over three decades, and who, like Forrest Gump, seemed to be in the middle of many events which shook those turbulent times.

Befuddled by the title, I assumed that the butler's name was Lee Daniels, but it is isn't. It's Cecil Gaines, and he is wonderfully played by Forest Whitaker, who won an Academy Award for "The Last King of Scotland," but has appeared in a series of unremarkable pictures since, including "Street Kings" and "Repo Men." He stoically remains a bedrock while all about him seems to be madness and while viewers wish he wasn't as immovable at times, he plays the servant with as much pride and dignity as possible.

Gaines begins work in the late 1950s, serving first Pres. Dwight D. Eisenhower (a surprise turn by Robin Williams, "Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian") and then John F. Kennedy (James Marsden, "2 Guns") while the Civil Rights struggle goes on in the background. At first, he doesn't think too much about it, safe and secure in the White House, until events force him to take a stand.

As time passes, he is embroiled in conflict with his radical son, Louis (David Oyelowo, "Red Tails," "Jack Reacher") and struggles in a tempestuous marriage with boozy wife Gloria (Oprah Winfrey, who, believe it or not was nominated for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for the role of Sophia in 1985's "The Color Purple"), who complains because her husband is never home. During this time, though, he sees first-hand the violence against Civil Rights workers in the South as well as the rise of the equally reactionary Black Panther movement.

Bear in mind, of course, the tale of Lee Daniels' The Butler is mostly fictional. Yes, it's "based on a true story," but based very loosely. The term "dramatic license" has never been more appropriate as the real subject who did serve eight Chief Executives was a quiet man with a stable marriage and a terrific relationship with his boy. Daniels opts for the soap opera embellishments and much of it runs like a version of "The Help," only without the distaff point of view.

It's an ambitious endeavor and thanks mostly to Whitaker (who is most impressive in Gaines' latter years in very realistic old-age makeup) and Winfrey, there are several genuine heart-tugging and lump-in-the-throat moments which help carry it off.

Still, we shall not always overcome Daniels' penchant for bizarre casting, and he does it again here with the presidents of these United States. Marsden is fine, but Williams as Ike, Liev Schreiber as Lyndon B. Johnson and Englishman Alan Rickman as Ronald Reagan?! Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter are so unimportant here that that are virtually ignored, but then there are avowed left-wingers John Cusack as Richard Nixon and Jane Fonda as Nancy Reagan.

None of these actors convince in their roles and seem more like in-jokes than actually serious characters, and almost become unintentionally hilarious which — sadly — diverts much of the seriousness of "Lee Daniels' The Butler" away from what it should and could have been.

When one titles a film using a human emotion or condition (i.e., "Frantic" or "Frenzy" or "Psycho" or "Vertigo"), the bar needs to be set fairly high. In the case of Paranoia, however, that bar could not possibly get any lower.

And despite starring several Academy Award-caliber performers (previous nominees Harrison Ford and Gary Oldman, as well as winner for 1977's "The Goodbye Girl," Richard Dreyfuss), this picture (directed by Robert Luketic, "Killers") wastes that talent with an undercooked script that defies the viewer to find anything near paranoid within the entire premise.

Using Liam Hemsworth (Thor's little brother) in the lead is also a mistake. While he is certainly eye candy for the ladies, he is just too much of a lightweight at this point in his career to carry such a burden of emotional fragility throughout this endeavor. He is also completely out of his league with the three previously-mentioned actors and cannot even create a convincing or compelling love connection with co-star Amber Heard ("Syrup," a film that supposedly made a little more than $600 at the box office).

Based on the Joseph Finder novel, here, Hemsworth is Adam Cassidy, a top-flight geek who toils at what passes as a modern technology firm, Wyatt Corp., creating new kinds of cellular phones with his equally nerdy co-workers, mainly Kevin (Lucas Till, "Stoker") and Allison (Angela Sarafyan, "The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn – Part 2"), all the while caring for his grumpy pappy (Richard Dreyfuss, looking more and more like Mr. Holland's Old Puss with time).

When Adam and Co. decide to pitch an idea for a phone that can display things on a television set, Nicolas Wyatt (Oldman, fresh off his Oscar nod for "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy") gets miffed and cans the lot of them. The gang then spends $16,000 from a corporate credit card at a night club (what?!), which then puts Adam in Wyatt's debt.

Threatened by a company thug, "Meechum " (Julian McMahon, "Red," think Wilford Brimley in "The Firm," only not as frightening) into compliance, he is forced to become a spy and gather information on the firm of Jock Goddard (Harrison Ford, "42," not only attempting the hairless Vin Diesel look, but trying to copy his acting style, as well).

Conveniently, Adam is hired and immediately given almost unfettered access to all of Goddard's secrets, including info on a cell phone that one can fold up like a wallet.

Even more conveniently, he beds Emma (Heard), who is also Goddard's marketing or creative bigwig, or something like that. Honestly, it all gets pretty confusing, especially since Adam also designs a phone that can plant a GPS tracking device in someone's e-mail (once again, I may be off here, considering Paranoia features flashes of technology that does not exist yet or might exist — who knows — and just expects us to go along with it without question).

Nevertheless, the tension builds at a snail's pace ("Turbo," where are you when we need you?) while Adam gets a swanky new apartment and a corner office, goes to the Hamptons, continues to make love to Emma, runs from "Meechum," is threatened by Wyatt, charmed by Goddard and sees Kevin run over by a car, among other things.

Conclusion has the group trying to nail both company sharks and set them up for FBI intervention, while all I could ask was, "Hey, what happened to 'Meechum'?"

With nothing new or original here, and plot "twists" that are telegraphed from a mile away, those who are impressed with flash and glitter and cell phones and night club scenes and slow, back-lit, obligatory love-making sequences will no doubt enjoy this movie. Anyone else, unfortunately, will have to watch one of the dozen or more better films this one rips off, including the goofy Michael J. Fox comedy, "The Secret of My Success," which contains more corporate intrigue in any given scene than in one hour and 40 minutes of Paranoia.

Lightning doesn't often strike twice in the same place, and that goes double for film sequels. Those expecting this newest DC Entertainment release, "Red 2," to capture the same feel as its 2010 predecessor, "Red," will be a bit disappointed, although it is safe to write that the sting will not be too great as this installment does have a few good things going for it.

The most important factor is the cast, Helen Mirren ("Hitchcock") as Victoria, John Malkovich ("Warm Bodies") as Marvin, and Bruce Willis ("A Good Day to Die Hard") as Frank Ross are back.

The trio plays the Retired Extremely Dangerous crew of ex-government black operatives who are being hunted by both good guys and bad often for situations they have no control over. Joining them in the action this time is Mary-Louise Parker ("R.I.P.D.") as Frank's sweetheart Sarah Ross, who seems sweet enough . . .

But this is no ordinary over-the-hill gang — this group is extremely lethal (as the piling bodies can attest) and they can most definitely fend for themselves. However, when the blow-back from a 30-plus covert operation (code named "Nightshade") hits the fan, they find things very uncomfortable even for them as they whisk from Moscow to Paris to London in search of a dirty nuclear device that can be carried — conveniently enough — in a small suitcase.

Especially hot on their tails are evil CIA agent Jack Horton (Neal McDonough, "Captain America: The First Avenger"), Russian KGB femme fatale Katja (Catherine Zeta-Jones, "Side Effects") and Korean super assassin Han Cho Bai (Byung-hun Lee, "Masquerade"), who adds some high-octane martial arts fuel to the proceedings.

The addled scientist who came up with the Nightshade concept, Dr. Bailey (Academy Award-winning Anthony Hopkins, "Thor"), also tags along for the twisting and turning ride.

During it all, look for switching loyalties and a plot like "The Eiger Sanction" where no one can seemingly be trusted and friendships turn on a dime to unfold. Director Dean Parisot ("Fun with Dick and Jane") attempts to keep the action at a maximum and the confusion at a minimum. Sometimes he succeeds, other times, well, not so much.

Despite "Red 2" being a DC production where dark and gloomy seems to be the watchword (see, for example, "The Dark Knight Rises" and the more recent "Man of Steel"), the main cast seems to have fun with the premise. Malkovich's character, kind of a dim-bulb weapons expert, gets most of the funnier lines (despite his constant mumblings about Frank and Sarah's relationship), while Mirren's suave and sexy senior gets in a few zingers herself between her many killings and dismemberments.

Willis, though, is just Willis, and he barely registers any more of an emotional up-tick than he did in his "G.I. Joe: Retaliation" extended cameo even while playing off the often zany Parker. In the first film, he was forced to include Sarah in the high-stakes secret agent hi-jinx, which solicited most of the humor. Here, however, he plays a sour one-note tune of trying to keep her away from the action, which wears thin very quickly.

Ultimately, the film tries to walk a thin line between wide farce, action adventure and real world terrorist suspense and at times has a problem overcoming the schizophrenia such an effort is required to maintain.

Still, avid fans of the first installment are likely to find themselves enjoying "Red 2" for the most part, while us casual observers will most likely just take it or leave it.

Just because there is a wealth of animated feature films out there does in no way mean all of them are worthy of our hard-earned bucks. Only a few are exceptional, a few more are decent, while most just float on the surface of pop culture for a few weeks as a true homage to mediocrity.

The newest DreamWorks Animation production, "Turbo," directed by David Soren ("Madly Madagascar"), fits neatly into this category.

A paper-thin plot, but with enough vivid visuals and over-the-top action to distract the little ones during its 96-minute running time, Turbo is decent family fare — if the adults in that family are not asking very much to challenge their intellect or arouse their interest.

I suppose I could be more positive, however, and describe this picture as the "Citizen Kane" of movies in which a cartoon garden snail dreams of racing in the Indianapolis 500, but I will skip the hyperbole and just write that this storyline, while patently ridiculous, has been done — in other forms — many times before.

Poor, poor Turbo (voiced by Ryan Reynolds, "Safe House"), a snail who hopes for much more in life and strives to be fast. But alas, like most of his species he is burdened with a lack of speed and is hampered with a big brother, Chet (voiced by Paul Giamatti, "Rock of Ages"), who just doesn't understand his wishes.

One night, however, after breaking a television set and visiting a highway overpass, Turbo is sucked into an engine and overdoses on nitrous oxide. His dream of being the swiftest snail alive has come true.

Infused with such speed, he is able to save Chet from a murder of crows, but also peaks the interest of Tito (voiced by Michael Peña, "Gangster Squad"), a truck driver and taco salesman whose hobby is snail races (yes, just repeat that line a few more times and let it sink in . . .).

As he uses his mutation to defeat others in this enterprise, including Whiplash (voiced by Samuel L. Jackson, "Django Unchained"), Angelo (voiced by Luis Guzmán, "The Last Stand") and Smoove Move (voiced by Snoop Dogg, "Old School"), Turbo somehow communicates to Tito how much he wants to enter the Indianapolis 500 (even though that is a race for automobiles and he, of course, is a well, you know, not an automobile).

In an attempt to cash in on his popularity, if not his ubiquity, Turbo also features Ken Jeong ("The Hangover Part 3," among several hundred other movies this year) as the voice of an old Korean lady friend of Tito's who puts smug human drivers in their place. How DARE they not accept a shelled terrestrial pulmonate gastropod mollusk into their midst?

How it concludes is no secret, nor is the fact that this effort does not nearly rise to the level of "Despicable Me 2," or "Monsters University." Not even a healthy dose of an extra special 3D treatment adds to the enjoyment of this production (so save your money).

There is an upside, however.

After viewing this with your children, you can always save the experience for that one day when you can say in a guilt trip situation, "Look what I've done for you kids, I took you to see Turbo and stayed with you the whole time."

While not reaching the heights of the original (or other Pixar classics such as "Finding Nemo," "The Incredibles," or "Ratatouille," among others), "Monsters University," a prequel to "Monsters, Inc.," is a more than decent entry into the lexicon and is certainly light year's ahead of the last two studio productions, "Cars 2" and "Brave."

It manages to take most of the same lovable characters (with the exception of Boo, of course) and accompanying vocal talent (Billy Crystal, John Goodman, Steve Buscemi) and then adds some new voices (Helen Mirren, Charlie Day, Julia Sweeney) to a fresh storyline replete with plenty of laughs and even a bit of a heart. And while some more well-known critics are bemoaning the need for another installment, it was nonetheless made and the results are very good indeed.

Taking place before the action of the first movie, the plot of "Monsters University" centers mostly on Mike Wazowski (the giant, green eyeball voiced by Crystal, "Parental Guidance") who, while tiny and frail, nevertheless manages to impress a Scarer (the creatures that sneaks into the bedroom of children to capture their screams at night) during a field trip to the Monsters, Inc. factory.

Seizing upon his talent, he is later accepted into Monsters University's Scare Program and is paired with the hulking James P. Sullivan (Goodman, "The Hangover Part 3") and the sneaky lizard Randall (Buscemi, "The Incredible Burt Wonderstone"). A rivalry immediately begins with the overconfident Sully and the book-smart Mike that results in both of them being expelled by Dean Hardscrabble (Mirren, "Hitchcock").

Thanks to a convenient plot device, though, both can salvage their academic frightening careers if they can recruit a team and win the annual "Scare Games." Of course, in a film relying on this setup (as in the recent picture, "The Internship"), their companions — including an over-the-hill octopus-like salesman Don (Joel Murray, "The Artist"), the spastic plush toy, Art (Day, "Horrible Bosses"), the two-headed Terry/Teri (Dave Foley, "The Kids in the Hall" TV series and Sean Hayes, "The Three Stooges") and the multi-eyed pig, Squishy (Peter Sohn, "Ratatouille") — leave a lot to be desired. And, like any number of movies which portray underdog squads, each member has their own talent and specialty that, when combined, make a formidable adversary.

This all leads to plenty of laughs that come quick and steady, making this not just one of the better animated features of the year, but one of the funniest, as well. This being a Disney/Pixar film there is also a powerful underpinning story of friends standing by one another that gives Monsters University a sweet conclusion, too.

Thanks go to director Dan Scanlon and his co-writing team of Daniel Gerson and Robert L. Baird for taking the time to truly develop the plot and characters, while the animation is clean, crisp and colorful.

Finally, without trying, this reviewer has had a good time at the cinemaplex, which is something I have not been able to write in a very long time.

I suppose I could just copy and paste my review of "Olympus Has Fallen" from two months ago and it would suffice to fill this space as well as describe the latest installment of another film about an attack upon the residence of the President of the United States. I could, but there are certainly elements of the two movies that, while quite similar, are also poles apart.

This newest version, White House Down (directed by Roland Emmerich, "Anonymous") has much more humor than the Gerard Butler vehicle. Of course, much of it is so extremely unintentional, that I would call this one of the funniest films of the year (easily beating out would be contenders like "Over 21," "Identity Thief" and "The Hangover Part 3" on the Laugh-Meter).

The problem, though, much of it is supposed to be taken deadly serious, but the situations are so patently ridiculous, the acting is so far over the top, the characters are so cliché and the denouement so violently ludicrous that one has no choice but snicker their way through this drivel — just to get through it.

Plot, oh I guess I can try to describe "White House Down" as a "Die Hard" meets "Independence Day" (a picture Emmerich produced, by the way) meets any number of movies in which a sad-sack loser ends up as the savior of the free world.

Here, Capitol Policeman John Cale has all of the Hollywood flaws that make us love him, such as a stellar war record but never can stick with a job and has no respect for authority. Played by the baby-faced Channing Tatum ("G.I. Joe: Retaliation," a cameo appearance in "This Is the End"), he happens to be at the right place at the wrong time: In the White House at a Secret Service job interview when all heck breaks loose.

It seems that liberal president Sawyer (think of a cool Barack Obama, played by Jamie Foxx, "Django Unchained"), has decided to push a radical Middle East peace plan by removing all U.S. troops from the region. This, of course, stirs up anger from the defense industry, right-wing zealots and Sawyer's conservative congressional opposition.

After a short build-up, construction workers putting in a new White House theater system show their disdain for the plan by coordinating an attack which secures the facility in just a few short minutes leaving the POTUS helpless with only one ally — John McClain, UH, I mean John CALE.

So, while the bad guys lock down every other space, including clearing all security personnel from the roof, tapping into the nuclear launch code area and capturing the ultra high secret bunker, John and Sawyer get to spend time together discussing their family situations, exchanging bon mots and blowing away various, sundry and non-descript bad guys (yep, even our pinko Chief Executive gets to figuratively exude, "I am the NRA").

A plot twist involving veteran actors James Woods (the remake of "Straw Dogs") and Richard Jenkins ("Jack Reacher"), as well as any number of shootings, killings, explosions, tank and helicopter attacks, plane crashes, beatings and the wounding of a conservative Glenn Beck-type TV host and other fun events round out this two-plus hour feast for dimwits.

And don't even get me started on the whole subplot of Cale's 11-year old perpetually sourpuss daughter (an absolutely laughable performance by 14-year old Joey King) who has her own blog and manages to film aspects of the takeover and is proclaimed a "beautiful little hero" (that's actual dialogue, friends).

Other than the decent chemistry between Tatum and Foxx, there is no enjoyment to be found anywhere in "White House Down." Bad guys are duly dispatched, the world is once again free from nuclear meltdown and a corn pone ending is wrapped around a safe PG-13 rating that makes everything all right and somehow feasible.

At least "Olympus Has Fallen" knew its limitations and tried not to exceed them. Emmerich — who out-Michael Bays Michael Bay here — seems completely unconcerned with such trivialities and thus seems quite unaware that this is no doubt one of the stupidest films in a year where the bar has already been lowered to the ground.

Wow. Who knew the End of Days would be filled with giant sinkholes, oversexed demons, the proliferation of the "F" word and a cameo appearance by the Backstreet Boys bathed in a thick haze of burnt high-grade weed?

And who knew how the final judgment would affect a group of young comic actors, including James Franco ("127 Hours"), Jonah Hill ("21 Jump Street"), Seth Rogen ("The Guilt Trip"), Jay Baruchel ("The Sorcerer's Apprentice"), Craig Robinson ("The Office" TV series) and Danny McBride ("Your Highness")? Based on a concept created by co-director Rogen (along with Evan Goldberg, both of whom also co-wrote) and Baruchel from 2010, "This Is the End" features the cast playing themselves at a housewarming party for Franco.

At it a dozen or so more recognizable celebrities also appear, such as Emma Watson (most recently, "The Perks of Being a Wallflower"), Michael Cera ("Scott Pilgrim vs. the World"), Mindy Kaling (also from "The Office" TV series), Channing Tatum ("G.I. Joe: Retaliation"), Paul Rudd ("Wanderlust"), Rihanna, Jason Segel ("The Five-Year Engagement") and Christopher Mintz-Plasse ("Movie 43"), among others.

Unfortunately, the festivities don't last very long though and most of the party-goers are dispatched quickly as earthquakes, explosions, massive sinkholes and firestorms strike the Hollywood hills wiping out most of the population not suddenly taken to Heaven in radiant blue steaks of light.

Left to their own devices, the five barricade themselves inside and try to come to grips with what's going on. Baruchel, in his infinite wisdom, comes to an early conclusion that this is the Apocalypse and if they will turn to God, they will be saved and instantly ascend into Paradise. The others don't quite agree, so there are various scenes of panic, fear, fighting, backstabbing, drug abuse and demonic possession during the bulk of this end-of-world sleepover (some situations more humorous than others).

Watson, after disappearing during the initial craziness, returns in a very funny sequence (although fans of her Hermione character might have some trouble accepting her dropping the "F" bomb several times), while Michael Cera plays a coked-up, obnoxious jerk (far removed from his real-life persona).

Also, the jokes come fast and furious, many laced with profanity (obviously), often self-depreciating and referencing and insulting the films made by the cast ("Pineapple Express," "Superbad," "Moneyball," etc.).

These illicit some genuine guffaws, but the longer "This Is the End" plays (and it plays two hours — far too long for a comedy), the more violent, weird and less humorous it becomes, until it finally concludes in a heaven-like atmosphere straight out of "Monty Python's The Meaning of Life."

Of course, when a film is dealing with the end of the world, there is not a lot of wiggle room and even in this current age of motion picture excess, the fire-scorched landscapes, smoke-filled atmosphere and 200-foot "Cloverfield" monstrosities seem way over the top. A message of biblical salvation, however, is certainly an interesting addition particularly in light of current feelings toward Christianity in Hollywood and especially in a movie like this.

Despite the ad libbing and improvisation, there is a semblance of a plot, with Baruchel and Rogen being childhood friends from Canada trying to reconnect, while Hill is attempting to just make a basic connection with the introverted Baruchel. Meanwhile, McBride arrives later to become a major thorn, eating most of their spare food and wasting much of their water.

It's not always snicker out loud (like last year's "Ted") nor is it a Billy Wilder masterpiece of wry and wit, but overall — after months of complaining about the definite dearth of comedies — this author has to admit that while "This Is the End" is not perfect, it is certainly funny, for the most part. And even though the laughs become fewer and fewer as the movie goes along, there are more than enough to give this comedy a slightly hearty recommendation.