Reviews

It unfolds like an M. Night Shyamalan film, beginning at a moderate and intriguing pace then soon picking up speed before all the pieces come together like a puzzle. Production values are high in this extremely eye opening and at many times terrifying documentary. I went into the film with an open mind and if you really think about it, the Tagline is so right. No American truly know who Barrack Obama REALLY is...until now.

One could never imagine there being SPOILERS when it comes to something so autobiographical, but alas, there are. Many of which are worth the price of admission alone. I refuse to divulge as everyone needs to see this one themselves. Some of the reviewers on here are calling it "Propaganda" or "Conspiracy Theory", but the fact of the matter is that everything Dinesh D'Souza explores in the 90 minutes that it takes to tell this story of the rise of Barrack Obama are FACTUAL. Much of the narration actually comes from the lips of Barrack Obama himself as he reads passages from his OWN BOOK "Dream FROM my father".

I can't say that 2016: Obama's America is an uplifting film. In fact, you will experience a range of emotions throughout. Anger, frustration, disbelief and ultimately dread at its conclusion. I cannot stress enough that Republicans, Moderates, Conservatives, Democrats and Independents alike ALL need to see this film immediately before voting in November. It's not only shocking and honest, but it is also a very well made, well constructed and beautifully shot documentary.

DO NOT MISS IT!

In recent years, Disney's Pixar division, with their monopoly over animation, has churned out some of the biggest, funniest, most emotional material to hit theaters in the last ten years. By this point, the public knows their aggressive marketing campaign and knows it well. Adult humor and themes geared not only toward the kids, but the parent's as well. The mass appeal? Mom and dad can now take their eight year old to the local multiplex and fork over the steep price of admission without wasting it on a two hour long power nap. Last quarter's CGI constructed Pixar extravaganza "Up" captured audiences' hearts, imaginations and pocket books, raking in a less than modest 292 mil at the box office, making it one of the highest grossing animated films of all time. Along comes "Fantastic Mr. Fox", helmed by auteur Wes Anderson, a crack team at Twentieth-Century Fox (Yes, I said Fox) and Indian Paintbrush, one of Wes' collaborators on his predecessor "The Darjeeling Limited". If there's one thing that's detrimental to the Trump-like successes of the Disney powerhouse, it's a new found competition…let the games begin.

"Fantastic Mr. Fox" is a pure delight. A feast for the eyes. From frame one, it takes no time at all to draw you into its beautiful visuals of vast countryside's, running streams and falling foliage, all in marvelous stop motion. That's right I said it, stop motion. From the course hair on Fox's face to the cotton ball chimney smoke of Boggis, Bunce and Beans warehouse smoke stacks, everything's been designed from scratch, much of which involves simple household items. After just a few minutes in Wes Andersons world inspired by written cues from the mind of the British children's author Roald Dahl (inspired by Dahl's own hometown) you're dragged out of the theater and immersed in a faraway land for the entirety of its modest and to the point one hour and twenty minute runtime. The real treat lies in the notion of how long it actually must have taken these top notch art designers to bring everything to life. There are forces at play here that give one a clear sense of the fact that stepping away from a computer screen and getting things done the hard way pays off when witnessing the final product. Production value is staggeringly noticeable and truly memorable. I for one am still transfixed by the universe of Mr. Fox.

Among one of the droves of Wes Anderson fans, I had high expectations going into the film. Anderson is one of those rare writer/directors that manage to separate themselves from the societal norm, branch out and go their own way. With Fantastic Mr. Fox, he effortlessly supersedes his reputation as one of the most unique Directors of this century. You may be asking yourself how you direct a bunch of puppets, but Andersons 'puppets' are among some of the most realistic and complex that you're likely to meet. With human emotions, expressions and actions, it is clear that Mr. Anderson took great time and preparation during the film's production and pre-production to make sure everything came off as smoothly and impactful as possible. Look out for a particularly funny scene during one of the nightly stake outs portrayed wholly through images on security camera monitors. Very, very well thought out and clever.

Fox, for being aimed at children, is probably one of the most adult animated films I've seen to date. Think Pixar Redux. There's smoking, 'cussing' and above all some extremely heavy handed adult humor and themes. In Wes Andersons sharp, funny, unbelievably witty script, he keeps all of that classic dry comedy that's become synonymous with his trademark, the only exception being that it's coming from the mouths of the animals he's intricately created. Parts had me gasping for air; others had me rolling in the aisles. It's clear to me that by now Wes has really honed in on his craft and gets marginally better with each new picture.

Wes Anderson, with his creative brain that can only be compared to an Einstein of the medium, lays all his cards on the table and ups the ante for Pixar Studios. When asked if he wanted to continue to make animated films he commented by saying, "I would certainly love to make other animated films in the future." Could this be his new calling? Truly focusing on the niche market of animated movies tipping the scale more in favor of adult audiences? One would love to think so (of course without turning into another Robert Zemeckis and taking a permanent vacation from live action). Fantastic Mr. Fox is something to be experienced. Children will love its adorable characters while adults will marvel in its ability to connect with them. After all, each of us was a kid at one time or another and because of that there has never been a better excuse to pretend again.

Enter the word "Zombie" into the search engine of the Internet Movie Database and you're likely to yield results for everything from Night of the Living Dead to Zombie Prom. They've become more or less of a staple of the Horror genre since their subsequent invention by veteran movie director George Romero (Dawn of the Dead, Day of the Dead). For those of you who are still stuck in the Stone Age, you may be asking yourselves, "What exactly is a Zombie?" According to a loose definition from Answers.com, a "Zombie" is: A supernatural power or spell that according to voodoo belief can enter into and reanimate a corpse. Holy catfish! As you would presume, an outbreak of such an entity would be catastrophic! It would be the end of the human race as we know it! It would be…Zombieland.

Originally designed to invoke fear into audiences, more recently film executives have come to realize the potential for just how funny these damn things really are. It all began with Shaun of the Dead, a Dawn of the Dead rip off, that shed some light on the comedic value of the "living dead". Before long each and every Weinstein brother, cousin and nephew was in on the action and so rose the birth of "spin offs" (such as Fido about a young boy growing up in the fifties who has his own pet Zombie), so many in fact that audiences were beginning to experience that "Touristas" effect (you know, the one where you feel like gauging your eyes out if they decide to make one more movie about a bunch of teenagers taken captive on a deserted island). Along comes a trailer for Zombieland. Ugh. Not another one. Wait, but it stars Woody Harrelson? And that guy (Jesse Eisenberg) from The Education of Charlie Banks? And that really, really hot, no-name actress (Emma Stone) from Superbad?!?! And Abigail Breslin? This certainly can be no ordinary Zombie schlock film. That's because this IS no ordinary Zombie schlock film.

Zombieland's opening scenes draw you into a world where everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) has been transformed into flesh hungry corpses. With the speed and determination of Michael Phelps on his fourth lap, these things will stop at nothing to hunt down, corner and feed on the living. Sounds pretty gross huh? Zombieland is far from a gore free zone for the squeamish. In short, if the thought of seeing someone's intestines dug out from their stomach and eaten disgusts you, keep your ten dollars and put it toward the next Harry Potter remake. What separates Zombieland from its competitors is its excruciating originality. For all ninety minutes of the film you'll feel as if you've left reality behind. In this world you're the minority. In this world, there are rules, and you'll be taught to obey them and to utilize them if you'll have any chance of surviving through the end credit roll. With Columbus (Eisenberg) and Tallahassee (Harrelson) as your guides you'll learn quickly as you make your way through hordes of the undead in pursuit of intelligent life, as well as maybe a Twinkie or two (it'll click when you see it).

For all that Zombieland deservingly should have failed to be, this cinematic gem shines surpassingly bright. From pitch perfect acting by Woody and Jesse, to hilarious on the mark dialog from writers Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick delivered with gut busting clarity, they all serve to round out the pic to perfection. Rachel Kick's make-up artistry is a force to be reckoned with and manages to give famous horror make up Guru Tom Savini a run for his money. Rookie director Ruben Fleischer proves to have a superb handle on this material, a feat that only a true genre aficionado can dream of accomplishing, and does so with a seemingly playful hand.

I laughed. I jumped. I clapped at the conclusion. Zombieland was certainly the most fun I've had at the movies in a long, long time. Check it out, and on your drive home from the theater be sure to remember rule number 3, "Always check the backseat".

For Francis Ford Coppola, the last forty years have been an uphill battle, not only with critics but also against an adoring public who have held him to the highest of standards since such masterpieces as "The Godfather" and "The Godfather: Part 2", both having brought home Best Picture Oscars and garnering best Director nods, the latter presenting him with the win. Films like "One from the Heart" and "Peggy Sue Got Married" make even his most hardcore of fans wonder, "What the hell is going through this guys freakin' skull?" Can directors truly lose their finesse? Can these just be metaphorical ruts like we've seen from the recent string of M. Night Shyamalan disasterpieces? What's the exact percentage ratio of wine from Coppola Vineyards that he consumes to that of which he produces? I digress. Now two years after the mediocre "Youth Without Youth", Coppola churns out "Tetro", a small little self authored Indy film that may just be the one he needs to regain credibility in the eyes of his audiences. The question is…does he pull it off? Bennie (Played by fresh face Alden Ehrenreich) has traveled to Buenos Aires to re-connect with his estranged brother (Vincent Gallo, Buffalo 66') who now goes by the name of "Tetro". Upon his arrival, he is greeted by the gorgeous Miranda (Mirabel Verdu), Tetro's girlfriend, who graciously invites him to stay at their home against Tetro's own reservations. It doesn't take long before Bennie begins to realize that his long lost brother is not the person he once was, but rather an on edge, manic and short tempered poet. "When I met him," says Miranda, "he said he was a writer. He held everything he ever wrote against his chest." As the story unfolds absolutely nothing is what it appears to be and when Bennie gets his hands on one of Tetro's unfinished plays, he finds out that the true story of his family holds secrets darker than he could have ever imagined.

Simply put, "Tetro" is Francis Ford Coppola's reinvention back into "quality" cinema and a perfect example of the wonder that can be achieved when a Director is in control of practically all creative aspects of his work. Don't be mistaken, if you're looking for the Coppola from the 70's, he's long gone. This new Coppola has been reborn, emerging as someone quite different. Funded entirely through revenue from his private vineyard, he's created one of the most stylistically atmospheric black and white films that I've seen in recent memory. One can't help but feel that there are heavy influences by the great Italian filmmaker Federico Fellini throughout, especially through the incorporation of operatic high drama and scenes that feel all too autobiographic to be dismissed as pure coincidence. In addition, there is a subtle Noir accent which is credited to Mihai Malaimare's gorgeous cinematography. Coppola is now, a true Indy, non-conformist filmmaker and my gut tells me that he really doesn't care. Instead, he doesn't give it all away, but rather does an exceptional job of keeping the motives, feelings and details about his characters well hidden for the longest possible duration of time until it is inevitable for such crucial facts to be revealed solely to aid the plot.

Mainstream audiences may just come to hate Tetro. It has an overall "artsy" coat to it that many of today's average moviegoers may not be able to get past. This includes extended, sporadically placed dance sequences from Powell and Pressburger's celluloid Opera "The Tales of Hoffmann" as well as original ballet numbers which are used to convey character emotions and cleverly emphasis certain themes. That said, foreign film aficionados, especially those of such Directors as Giuseppe Tornatore or Michael Radford, will be delighted with Coppola's knowledge of the Genre and passionate homage to those who have coined it. Through the script, he is precise and very careful with what he chooses to include as well as place importance on. With many scenes purely dialogue driven, he is a master of building tension without having to rely on the support of quick cutting, action or special effects to drive home his points.

Actor Vincent Gallo, in one of his first non-self Directed/self written films, fits comfortably into the role of Tetro. His narcissism (which I believe is in fact also grounded in his real life) brings life to the part and he's believable straight up to the films shocking conclusion. There is a certain vulnerability and a hurt that Gallo also manages to convey which is really what makes Tetro such an interesting character to watch on screen. Newcomer Alden Ehrenreich has a look matched by the likes of Leonardo DeCaprio, and certainly has the acting chops to pull it off. There is a definite star appeal about him that seems to emanate naturally which will certainly cause him to gain more roles and credibility as a performer in the future. Mirabel Verdu is absolutely stunning as Miranda and gives off a "Sophia Loren" type elegance, a role that rounds out the feeling that what we're experiencing is in part truly a charming foreign film coming out of what was once a mainstream filmmakers body.

Tetro is a testament to the fact that an artist can pick himself up over the course of decades and learn from his failures as well as his successes. Francis Ford Coppola's recent work is bold, daring and symbolizes his true love for the medium. At its heart you can see that the characters, story and attention to even the most minor of details are shown so much love and care that they could only be executed by a passionate and dedicated creative mind. My only regret after seeing Tetro is that more people will turn down the opportunity to open their eyes and experience it for themselves.

Let's face it. We've all done our share of "dumping". Whether it's the, "Lets just be friends," or the all too familiar, "It's not you, it's me," tactic, as long as you're not on the receiving end it becomes a question of, "How quickly can I get this over with, so I can move on with my life?" Equally, all of us (yes even Brad Pitt) have experienced what it feels like to "be" dumped and the complex emotions that unexpectedly follow. If you're one of the fortunate souls that have managed to escape the throws of relationship hell, you'll probably fare better with renting the newest addition to the Rambo series. For the rest of you who've at one time or another gotten your hearts ripped out of your chests and stomped into a million pieces only to turn you into unshaven, alcoholic hermits on the brink of starvation…this movie is dedicated to you.

Tom (Joseph-Gordon-Levitt) is a wanna-be architect turned professional greeting card writer whose life is thrown for a loop when he suddenly falls for the "new girl" Summer (Zooey Deschanel, Almost Famous). As one who appeared most certainly unattainable at first glance, Tom manages to charm her into what she coins as a, "casual relationship." Eventually, Tom ends up questioning their status with one another, which manages to put strain on the relationship, causing her to request the dreaded "time apart." (500) Days of Summer chronicles the bitter sweet beginnings, the untimely endings and all of that confusing stuff that takes place during the in betweens of a relationship that just isn't meant to be.

(500) Days of Summer is presented in an effective non-linear style that sets it apart from its romantic comedy predecessors, rotating back and forth between dates signified by a simple title card flashing in between scenes (2), (50), (150) and so on to represent the various days in the course of Toms roller coaster of a relationship. This seesaw method of bouncing to and fro successfully manages to force the viewer in a physically engaging shared experience of Tom's feelings, which is something every director aspires to elicit from their intended audience.

The real kudos go to Scott Neustadter and Michael Weber, whose script is practically flawless. You can't help but feel that their authenticity and attention to detail while constructing each scene through appropriately sarcastic and funny dialogue exchanges among all of the main characters involved, particularly those between Deschanel and Levitt which come across as heartbreakingly real and genuine. Their creative way of crafting the simple concept of a break up through unconventional story structuring is a refreshing concept that begs to be seen more in a world where most conventional films tend to play it safe.

Leads Deschanel and Levitt manage to bring something quite special to the screen in their portrayals of Tom and Summer (both "last nameless"). Their chemistry is really what makes the film a joy to watch. Mostly thanks to Neustadter and Weber's superb dialog, both actors seem so comfortable in their roles that their interactions with one another transcend the screen and naturally unfold before our eyes as if we were voyeurs to their unraveling, wanting so much to change the fate of their outcome, but helpless to do so. Deschanel is sexy, carefree and bound to be adored by males everywhere as Summer. Levitt captures the struggle of the neurotic "boy in love" exceptionally through all of his various stages of emotional imbalance.

(500) Days of Summer is a poem to every down and out guy who thinks he's the only one whose ever been dragged through the mill by their own Summer. What undoubtedly ends up making this picture so brilliant is how relatable it is to its victims and victimizers a like. When all is said and done, there is most definitely a lesson to be learned by Tom's experiences. Everyone you meet along the way, whether just passing through or sticking around for awhile, has a purpose. In the end nothing lasts forever, relationships begin, relationships end. Try to be thankful for all the people that broke your heart, they more than likely helped you find yourself in the process …especially you, Summer…bitch.

After an extensive tour around Europe and the United Kingdom, Woody Allen's heart has returned to where his career first took flight, New York City. How can we forget Woody's last cityscape "Melinda and Melinda", shot entirely in and around Manhattan and The Hamptons? Don't worry, before doing a little sleuthing of my own, I hadn't heard of it either. Wait, you surely have to remember "Curse of the Jade Scorpion". No? How about "Anything Else"? You know, the one starring Christina Ricci and Jason Biggs (that guy from American Pie). Still nothing? OK, well maybe Allen hasn't had the greatest domestic track record, even with the home team advantage on his side, but nevertheless, he's back with "Whatever Works".

Larry David (Curb Your Enthusiasm), becomes Woody's new alter screen ego, taking the shape of Boris Yellnikoff, a tired, cynical hypochondriac whose difficult personal experiences have turned him against humanity. When he's abruptly confronted by Melodie St. Anne Celestine (Evan Rachel Wood, The Wrestler) a runaway southern Belle straight from the Bayous of Ethel, Mississippi ("Don't worry", say's Boris, "I'm sure the people that live there haven't heard of it either") he is coerced into sheltering her for the night in his neglected downtown apartment. Before long, nights bridge into months and Melodie develops a crush on Boris which soon turns into an unconventional marriage that is anything but Kosher. Tables turn when Melodie's deeply religious mother Marietta (Patricia Clarkson, The Green Mile) comes knocking at the door, determined to break up the marriage while stumbling upon her new self in the process.

Allen has always relied on sharp, witty, humorous dialogue as the cog in his cinematic wheel. "Whatever Works" plays the same cards to some extent, often times to its advantage, other times not. Many of the "one liners" cleverly placed to yield big laughs wind up feeling forced, contrived and ultimately dated. Some of this may be in part to the fact that the script was resurrected from the 1970's as a story that Woody had always wanted to put to screen, but for some reason or other, couldn't manage to. With supposedly little to no editing, you can't help but feel like some of this stuff has already been done before (Et. al. talking to the audience members in Jude Law "Alfie" fashion), and better. Nevertheless, I found myself laughing at some truly funny material that can only be achieved in Allen's uniquely refreshing blend of comedy.

Larry David is the quintessential Allen counterpart (possibly a distant brother?), and makes for the directors best form of self indulgence to date. David manages to capture the autobiographical role down to every slight gesture, mannerism and tick. Evan Rachel Wood is as charming and beautiful as ever, proving once more that her unbelievable talent can cut it in the footsteps of Scarlett Johansson (Match Point, Vicky Christina Barcelona) who Allen has taken a liking to casting in over three of his most recent films. She manages to capture the role with a subtle finesse and a certain degree of sexiness that soaks into your skin slowly and sweetly as if it were the world's smoothest moisturizer.

"Whatever Works" isn't a film that you're going to like right off the bat, but come the half way point will most likely grow on you. It has its awkwardly stale blunders, but somehow manages to engage you enough, mostly through Allen's seasoned directorial ingenuity, to leave the theater satisfied. Although my least favorite of Woody Allen films to date, its message may be one of the leanest and altogether satisfying. In a world of failed relationships, there's no "clear cut" romantic formula. As much as one prays to the relationship gods in an attempt to align the cosmos to lead you to that one ideal person for you, sometimes you just have to toss it all up to chance and go along with whatever works.

In the words of John Dillinger (Johnny Depp) spoken to his love interest Billie Frechette (Marion Cotillard, A Good Year), "I like baseball, movies, good clothes, fast cars... and you. What else do you need to know?" Like a one legged pirate, "Public Enemies", helmed by Hollywood's very own HD CAM junkie Michael Mann (Collateral, Miami Vice) limps along to the two hour and twenty minute mark and has, as Ricky Ricardo would say, "A lot of S'plainin' to do". In a world of well staged shootouts, fun and cocky dialogue and heartthrob's Johnny Depp (Sweeney Todd) and Christian Bale (American Psycho), the words "story development" may or may not really make much of a difference, but let's not kid ourselves here, they really do.

It is the 1930's and America has just declared their first war on crime, targeting some of the country's most notorious dangers to the well being of society. John Dillinger is one such criminal, claiming bragging rights to the fact that he can clear out a safe in "one minute and forty seconds…flat." With the help of Baby Face Nelson and Pretty Boy Floyd there really isn't any bank they can't knock over or any jail cell secure enough to hold them in, that is until they are matched by the likes of FBI agent Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale). Purvis pulls all the stops to remain hot on Dillingers tail in attempts to capture him "Dead or Dead". Along the way Dillinger falls for Billie, a coat check girl who you'd more than likely expect to catch wearing a three dollar dress in a room full of Mink. Their love is tested when Dillinger is pursued and eventually restrained and locked away, only to escape once more through clever tom foolery in an attempt to fall back into Billies arms once more while staying alive long enough to do it.

To its credit, "Public Enemies" lives up to its expectations as a first rate gangster flick, steadily filling the screen with a barrage of machine gun bullets, almost to the point that you can smell the gunpowder from the fifth row. There's enough blood, gore and suspense to keep any action fan at bay, and if you don't squirm in your seat during end of the second to last scene you may need to check your pulse at the door. Unless you've experienced a shootout in person, there is a particularly notable one between the FBI and Dillinger in a motel at the pictures halfway point that should leave you breathless. In fact, if I were to rate Public Enemies on a scale for action alone, id happily award it with a five star honor, but this isn't meant to be just some run of the mile Schwarzenegger popcorn flick, this is meant to be a fine slice of cinema, and cinema has certain prerequisites.

As I stared up at a crisp digital print of the film, I couldn't help but wonder why a big budget movie of this caliber was decidedly shot, in Michael Mann fashion, in HD. At times, the image looked beautifully gritty and realistic, while at others as degrading and false as home video This makes me seriously contemplate why Mann still insists on shooting on cheap digital cameras like the F-23 which he used for this particular project instead of actual film or even a Red One. My question may never be answered, but ultimately it's the film's quality that suffers, which in turn managed to remove me on more than one occasion from the fantasy world of the picture. I wish I could say this was the only aspect that distracted me from my viewing experience.

It seems as if in a stirring turn of events, which occurs somewhere between the main titles and the end credits, Michael Mann has failed to include even a stitch of character or story development. With the exception of her basic introduction at a dingy city bar, Billie has absolutely no back story what-so-ever. This never allows us the opportunity to connect with her on even the most elementary of levels neither emotionally nor physically. The same goes for agent Purvis, whose character is flatter than a dollar flapjack off the sunrise special, making this one of Bale's most forgettable performances to date. There is absolutely no chemistry between Depp and Cotillard, which is a shame when you consider how dynamic both of these top notch actors are individually. To his credit, Depp does manage to deliver another stunning, hardnosed performance as John Dillinger and proves to once again be a complete joy to marvel at on screen. If only the story had as much pizazz.

As a whole, we are presented with bits and pieces of celluloid that never quite seem to join together to make an actual movie, but rather come off as a series of disjointed, yet entertaining vignettes. You would think that by the third film in Mann's powerful resume, he would have learned by now how to pace and execute a motion picture instead disproving his validity as a serious director by making these easy to avoid errors that stand out on screen like a bad spelling mistake. When you mix everything up in an over-sized pot and stir, the ultimate result is an undercooked, emotionless and disconnected final product.

If you're expecting to walk into Public Enemies thinking it's going to be the next "Godfather" or "Scarface", you may find yourself severely disillusioned at the films conclusion. Then again, if you walk into the movie expecting to be thrilled by impeccably staged action sequences and a few downright impressive shootouts you may find yourself satisfied with your ten dollar ticket purchase. Either way, discerning audiences will demand explanation for why studio execs failed to well…explain anything. Someone tell Mr. Ricardo that it's time for his close up.

To properly (and fairly) access my experience with seeing "Drag Me To Hell" Sam Raimi's (The Gift, Spider Man) much anticipated and blogged about new opus, we must first take a little trip back in time to the year 1995. As a kid, I had always been intrigued by the horror genre, most of which likely spawned from my parent's extreme hatred towards it. While they perused the Comedy and Drama sections of our old video store (then stocked to the brim with VHS tapes, I might add) I found myself sneaking off to the far left corner among the gory, trashy, at often times downright pornographic cover art that adorned the paper sleeves for films such as "Invasion of the Blood Farmers" and "Deadtime Stories".

Like a college freshman introduced to mass quantities of alcohol for the first time with no guidance in sight, I was on overload. What were they attempting to keep me from? If I slid this threw the door of my old Sony T-120, what exactly would I be getting myself into? One would like to think I found the answer that day instead of being forced to watch "The Jerk" for the ten thousandth time, but alas, my first experience with the "terror" genre began that same year, late at night, in the comforts of my own bed, with a remote control, a freshly fluffed pillow and the Sci-Fi Channel.

The words flashed onto the screen, "The Evil Dead" in blood red, bold faced lettering. As I watch the plot unfold I found myself paralyzed by the images I was seeing. Humans being possessed by demons, dismembered by their own friends, maniacally laughing in a distorted, demented all together frightening way and above all jumping out at me when I least expected it. I was changed. My outlook on movies changed. My fear of the dark was created and that was WITH commercial breaks. Of course, I have only one man to thank for getting me hooked on the "Terror" genre and that is Sam Raimi.

After almost twenty years (since "Army of Darkness" the final installment of the Evil Dead franchise) Mr. Raimi returns to his old stomping grounds with "Drag Me to Hell", the tale of Christine (Allison Lohman, Matchstick Men) a loan officer whom forces Mrs. Ganush, a sick, decrepit gypsy woman from her home by denying her an extension on an already delinquent bank loan. As fate would have it, after work in a desolate parking garage, Christine is attacked and the curse of the Lamia is placed onto her. In the days to follow she is brutally attacked by unseen entities, experiences visions of a deformed Mrs. Ganush and attempts to reverse the curse by contacting psychic mediums. Time is of the essence, but taking the curse off proves to be much more difficult than it was to put on as we witness Christine attempt to silence it before she is dragged to hell.

Earlier on, I referred to my obsession with the "Terror" genre. Terror differs from Horror in that its goal is to completely terrify the audience as opposed to simply scaring them. "Drag Me to Hell" falls into one such category. From start to finish, you make the first plunge down the drop of a 100 minute roller coaster and in the end feel as if you've been tossed around and abused by a master manipulator, Raimi. It is evident, through the use and placement of scares, gore, mixture of comedy and horror as well as pacing of the plot that Raimi didn't have to do much dusting off to get back in the game. He clearly knows that, in this genre, simplicity is often times the best course of action. The storyline and its unraveling is basic, often times boarding on naivety, but the absolute madness that ensues within its walls is comparable to a warm piece of chocolate cake.

Allison Lohman (who replaced Ellen Page in early stages of development) does a fine job of portraying Christine and the character arc that she goes through. Page would have brought a bit more grittiness to the role, but that's beside the point. Lohman is able to bring the charm and diversity to the part. Justin Long as Clay, Christines boyfriend, delivers as always and manages to keep it real in a role that could have very easily turned corny had it not been handled correctly. Supporting cast, Mrs. Ganush (Lorna Raver) and Rham Jas (Dileep Rao) the Medium are both convincing in their extremely demanding parts.

What's so special about "Drag Me to Hell" is that it knows its roots. It takes us back to the days when it was a true "experience" to see a horror/terror movie. When you went into a movie theater and the audience jumped, yelled at the screen and quivered in shock and disgust. At the conclusion it brought them to their feet with a standing ovation and all along with the mindset of, "Okay, we're all in this together, let's make it out in one piece." "Drag Me to Hell" is what a good experience at the movies is all about. There will be those who hate it, loath it even, but for the handful of us that were transformed into obsessed fans of this niche market by a master director, it will validate our love for the genre and will forever stand as a true testament of the best it has to offer. As for myself, for a short moment in time I was a thirteen again, curled up under my covers, frozen with fear, and loving every single minute of it.

In a recent trend, the film going public has favored a cinematic experience of what I like to call "Hand it Overs". These phenomena can be as creative as the "big reveal" at the end of early M. Night Shymalan films, or as effortless in reality as passing the mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving dinner. They give the majority of today's audiences exactly what they want, instant gratification. Imagine if we never saw Malcom Crowe's real fate completely unfold in "The Sixth Sense" or Elija Prince's true self-revealed in "Unbreakable". How would this change our perception and enjoyment of them? The Merry Gentleman marks Michael Keatons Directorial debut by chance due to the sudden illness of screenwriter Ron Lazzeretti who was originally slated to Direct. Keaton also stars as Frank Logan, a depressed hit man, alongside Kate Frazier (Kelly Macdonald) a woman who has just escaped from an abusive relationship. As the plot unfolds, Frank and Kate end up mysteriously crossing paths, which spawns an unconventional, often uncomfortable and strained romance between these two mixed up individuals from different worlds.

Keaton's first shot at direction does everything but fall into a "Hand It Over". His pacing is agonizingly slow, yet unbelievably careful. Discerning and seasoned viewers will appreciate his intricate placement and organization of scenes for the greater purpose, if not during the film then certainly after the credits roll. Others will become fed up with his unconventional style a third of the way through, and if they haven't walked out of the theater before the final scene may let out a strained, "That's It?" and huff out the door unsatisfied. For me it took a good fifteen minutes after the picture ended before everything clicked and I was blindsided by the sheer brilliance of what I had seen; deep themes rich in symbolism of religion and redemption and the overall feeling that Keaton felt no responsibility as an artist to spell it out for us.

Performances all around play it safe but are always believable and gratifying to watch. As a virtual no name, Macdonald holds her own quite well, even while sporting an Irish accent that can sometimes border on a tad annoying and contrived. In front of the camera, Keaton never fails to please and continues to frustrate me when I realize that he has been almost entirely absent from view since the mid nineties. Supporting cast gets the job done and Bobby Cannavale delivers a poignant, gripping and short-lived scene stealing performance as Kate's boyfriend.

The question that will remain on many of our minds is, "what exactly is the fine line between complete obscurity and masterpiece, and did Keaton cross it?" That's for each of us to decide individually, but it is in the opinion of this reviewer that said line is imaginary. As an art form, film should have no boundaries, regardless of how many cookie cutter, "How To Lose a Guy in Ten Days" burnt offerings Hollywood Studios continuously try to force down our throats. After all is said and done, it does feel good to sink your teeth into a double quarter pounder, but on occasion, Yellow Tail Sashima can prove to be extremely rewarding. After all, grandma always said try everything once.

Whether you loved em' or hated em', espionage thrillers made up a generous portion of cinema from the 1940-50's. With fast paced, edge of your seat story lines, plot twists, political undertones and dramatic personal struggles with morality, nobody did it better than Emeric Pressburger and Michael Powell. Their attention to character detail and it's purpose in conjunction with the narrative gave heart and humanity to this new string of movies which could have fallen into similar (yet shallower) alpha male characters such as James Bond. Never the less, we cannot forget that ultimately if it weren't for their vision and invention of the genre, Hollywood may have never capitalized on the staggeringly profitable Bond franchise that's still going strong today.

In the mid 70's, due to the heat of the political environment at that time, the genre decided to go in the same direction. All The Presidents Men, brought to light the investigative strategies of Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein and tackled the Watergate scandal from the perspective of the Washington Post. As audiences, we shared in the thrill of being able to follow the case as it unfolded, interviewing witnesses and piecing together clues in order to make a 10 O'clock print deadline. We were part of the chase, the scandal and always privy to the evidence necessary to solve the mystery at hand...that is until a new piece of evidence arose and bashed in all of our original assumptions.

State of Play may be the first film to pay homage to this Pakula classic while dually creating more poignant themes for today's political atmosphere. Crowe plays a reporter for the Washington Post and McAdams, an internet blogger, serving as our Woodward and Bernstein clones on the case of a Senator, Affleck, whose mistress succumbs to a rather untimely death VIA train tracks. To add insult to injury, it turns out that our reporter and senator are practically best friends. The plot unfolds, relationships falter and the real truth, to our pleasant surprise, blindsides us like a drunk driver on a narrow road.

Director Kevin Macdonald clearly knows what he's doing here and along with a well written screenplay by Tony Gilroy, carefully crafts a neat, sharp and extremely entertaining thrill ride of a movie whose run time is 2 hours and 15 minutes, but feels like 30. State of Play never fails at keeping you guessing, does a fine job of throwing in a few curve balls, and leaves you with a clean taste in your mouth come end credits. What more do you want? Sure. It isn't the next Best Picture and Crowe won't take home an Oscar, but you'll enjoy some nail biting action scenes and there are much worse things to look at than Rachel McAdams on the big screen for a few hours.

Helen Mirren is delightful in what little screen time she is given. Affleck is "good", although decided to play it completely safe in a role that even he really can't screw up. Lets face it, he needed to gain even a small amount of points since Hollywoodland and the flops that followed in his footsteps.

Overall, you'll be as pleased and refreshed as I was to see a picture that has the finesse of an espionage thriller, the entertainment value of an All The Presidents Men political drama and the edginess that we should expect from a modern day piece of cinema that doesn't star Miley Cyrus.

Upon attending the New York Premier last evening at the Ziegfeld Theater, I found myself in awe, relieved and pleased. Amidst the flash bulbs, the press, the paparazzi and the glamor, there emerged a "Film" in every true sense of the word. As the crowd settled and the curtain lifted, I'm not sure anyone quite knew what to expect. From the quirky trailers (which have caused the film more harm than the studios may have initially thought) to the various negative pre-release responses, I held my breath.

As a screenwriter, Tony Gilroy is a force to be reckoned with. There is an eloquence and sophistication to his dialog that is rarely seen in modern day cinema. Lines that are delivered by Owen and Roberts are sharp, witty, edgy and intelligent. Naturally, when you throw these two "A List" stars into the mix, what rises on screen is pure cinematic beauty. Both Julia and Clive, seem comfortable and natural in their roles as lovers/operatives and the chemistry is at often times dazzling to watch.

As a Director, Gilroy always pays careful, particular attention to detail. A sly smile, a nod, a toss of the hair as well as a hilarious super slow motion fight scene between Paul Giamatti and Tom Wilkinson to open the picture.

Editing is tops, experimenting and breaking new ground with split screen that hasn't been utilized so well since vintage DePalma. Through precision cutting by John Gilroy (none other than Tony's brother) everything manages to be tied together in a neat little package.

Overall, Duplicity makes you think. It forces the mind to watch, listen, observe, break down and focus in order for it to be enjoyed to its fullest. As audience members of the 21st century, we are all accustomed to and subjected to more mindless entertainment at the movies than twenty minutes of prime time MTV. In this harsh reality, Duplicity is a refreshing change of pace that presents itself to us as a challenge, a test ready to be taken and more than likely aced.