The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Pt I (***)

Hollywood continues to puzzle me. I know the reasoning a studio would want to split one story into two separate films: greater box office yield, more DVD sales and related merchandise... What hurts is realizing that these producers are willing to compromise artistic endeavor and story for a fast buck. This is not to say Mockingjay is a bad film - in fact I enjoyed it for what it was worth. My problem is that I don't even know if I'm invested enough to see the final film when it releases next year.

Mockingjay moves past the macabre futuristic children-killing genre the past two films were to become something more reminiscent of a good military story. We have the villains and heroes established, and now they are put to the test. In fact, the lack of the titular "Hunger Games" that have been the centerpiece of the first two films makes this a difficult movie to define. There is perhaps one true action scene, and a majority of the film is spent trying to understand Katniss (Jennifer Lawrence) and why she feels like crying all the time. Maybe we can settle on sci-fi for now.

After breaking the game, quite literally, in the abrupt ending to Catching Fire, here we see a new District, District 13, housing weapons and soldiers and civilians who have joined a rebellion against Panem and its leader: the Santa Clause-esque President Snow. Their main mission becomes unifying the separate districts to make such a rebellion possible. They will need all the help they can get. My God, Panem soldiers are futuristic as we would expect, with automatic weapons and full body armor. These rebels are armed with sticks and stones... It's going to be a bloody, epic finale (if my knowledge of 2-part sequels is any good).

Is there enough material in this film to justify it on its own accord? I would say no. So much of the film is shot in dark, gloomy underground settings, and we see Katniss have constant nightmares and emotional traumas... For being such a best-selling book, I'm wondering why readers don't feel compelled to find something with a little more joy. The film is essentially a buildup to a climax that never happens (in fact, I think that will be the final film). The question then becomes, what's the point of the first half at all?

(Awards potential: Best Costume Design)

Wild (***)

Living in a busy city, it becomes easy to forget about the appeal and beauty you find in nature. The smell of a burning fire, the sound of crickets in the night. There's almost something therapeutic about it. In a way, that becomes the hypothesis of Jean-Marc Vallee's latest film, as a woman hikes up the Pacific coast (nearly 1,000 miles) in order to find some sort of self-redemption.

As the director of last year's Oscar-winning Dallas Buyers Club, it's easy to see the touch of Vallee's direction. In many ways these two are stories on opposite sides of the same coin. After a tragic death in her family and a nasty divorce from her husband of 7 years, Cheryl Strayed (stray like a dog) decides to cleanse her body and mind of toxins and restraint. She packs a large pack filled with water, food, and a tent, and decides to make a 3-month trek north to Oregon, where she plans to spend the rest of her life.

The movie, like Buyers Club, functions with subtitles illustrating the amount of time spent on her journey, and a minimal soundtrack as Cheryl spends some time soul searching and cooking up some hot mush on the campfire. We are thrust dead into the middle of her story, and learn through flashbacks and narration the means by which her life has led to this point.

As far as acting goes, Reese Witherspoon does a grounded job of holding the film together - as it is essentially a one-woman show. Unlike the "good girl" we have come to know her for in films like Walk the Line and Legally Blonde, here she gets down and dirty. Laura Dern as her mother also has a very simplistic truth to her. In the face of abuse and hardships, here is a woman who just keeps smiling, if only for the sake of her children.

The assembly feels like a student film, and we are barraged endlessly with voice overs and brief flashbacks as if to explain every single thought Cheryl has running through her head. My God, when the tent is dark and she repeatedly turns on the flashlight, we don't need to hear her say "I'm scared of the dark." You can understand the director's idea, but in the execution it becomes a muddled assembly of cuts and almost pretentious narration where simple emotion was intended.

Like Into the Wild, this is a film based on a personal memoir. Here, Cheryl comes out with a happy ending, for Christopher McCandless, the ending was much more absolute. There's something about being one with nature that has clearly fascinated people over the years, and the written word is a beautiful way to communicate ideas and thoughts. For a film to work in this regard, though, a bit more caution is required. Nothing ever needs to be spelled out in full.

(Awards potential: Best Actress (Witherspoon), Best Supporting Actress (Dern))

Ida (*****)

Ida is a movie of immense beauty and startling discovery. Unlike most movies we see today, Ida is near-glacial. At times, individual shots seem like they are still photographs, and only as one character moves from one corner to the other do we realize that we are watching something unlike anything else this year. To say it is a miraculous movie is perhaps a bit reaching - but this is without a doubt a story that is absolutely compelling and important.

We meet Anna, a teenage girl living in a convent in Poland. It is sometime in the 1960's. There are dirt roads, few cars, a few birds chirping. The silence becomes a character to itself. Before taking her vows to become a Catholic nun, her Mother Superior advises she meet her Aunt Wanda - long estranged and nearly forgotten about. She obliges.

Her aunt is unlike anything we can expect. She drinks, she is rude and empowered, and she has a secret. Anna was raised as a Jewish girl named Ida, her family long-since deceased. What Anna perhaps envisioned as a simple family meeting becomes a story of discovery as the two women journey to discover what happened. A road movie of sorts, although it it more a journey of inner discovery, both for Anna and Wanda.

The intrigue of this movie comes from a multitude of things, and there is so much to ponder over as the minutes tick by. First of all, we have the unique dynamic between niece and aunt - polar opposites and yet the same in many ways. Both women find ways to deal with their solitude, and yet who is the better person? Ida admits she has never fantasized about boys, she is quiet, she speaks little. To an outsider she would appear a little weird, with her pale skin and dark sunken eyes. Wanda, on the other hand, is a judge of the Communist Party. She loses herself even at work, drifting in and out of reality. She drinks, acts reckless, and at first cares little for her family.

This movie falls into many categories and yet it doesn't fall into any. In a way this is a more modern Holocaust movie in terms of its repercussions on future generations. We have the mystery of Wanda's obsessions with finding the man who sheltered their family during the war. It's coming-of-age as Ida meets a jazz musician with an allure she can't quite put her finger on. Is she wrong for beginning to doubt her devotion to God, or is this a healthy part of becoming a woman?

In stark black and white, the film is a beautiful demonstration of purposeful cinematography. Characters are framed so low in the shot that oftentimes we barely even see their mouths moving as they speak. The camera allows them space within each frame, perhaps emphasizing the loneliness these people feel or maybe just to remind these characters that God is always present...

At no more than 82 minutes, Ida still works very slowly, and the film is so calculated and precise that I don't think any moment is uncalled for or unnecessary. Ida will not be a film for everyone, but it succeeds on so many levels that it's no wonder it is on the shortlist for the Academy Award for Foreign Film.

(Awards potential: Best Cinematography, Best Foreign Film)

The Imitation Game (****1/2)

THE IMITATION GAME is a marvelous film, one that grips you from beginning to end. Tightly-wound and nearly impossible to sit through in boredom, here is a movie that understands how to tell a story accurately, astutely, and beautifully.

The man is Alan Turing (played by one of our finest actors - Benedict Cumberbatch). Perhaps you haven't heard of him. It's okay, most people are likely to draw a blank. According to Winston Churchill, Turing "made the single biggest contribution to Allied victory in the war against Nazi Germany." With a small team and little else, Turing was able to crack a Nazi cipher known as "Enigma," a machine the Germans used to conduct military strategy via radio.

The film sets up our story perfectly. We are introduced to the team, to Turing's isolation and awkwardness around social settings. We also learn that Germans alternate Enigma's settings every night at midnight. Everyday spent trying to solve the puzzle is a countdown of increasing difficulty. Alan has the theory to fight machines with machines, and devises a computer named "Christopher" to attempt to solve the German's code. Of course, being 1940's England, not much hope is placed in electronics.

The movie comes across as a fiction-pulled thriller, and by that means the film is wildly entertaining. Cumberbatch works slowly at building up Turing's loneliness, both in flashbacks and voice over, and as the final credits began to role, it was amazing to think back at all that we learned about a man that time will not soon forget. It is a masterful acting job. The same goes for Kiera Knightly, who's performance is about as honest and memorable as anything I have seen this year. Through slight mannerisms and habits, Knightly hits it out of the park as a woman who views saving the world as just another Sunday crossword puzzle.

The film also delves into Turing's later years, when he was charged with the crime of indecency as punishment for homosexuality. For the film to use it as such a main drive of the plot, his personal relationships are surprisingly lacking from the story, and only a small subplot revolving an elementary school friend even attempts to work out his emotional traumas. All the power for trying, but in many ways it felt as though this was one aspect that was toned down in order to appeal to a greater audience.

Without doubt, the world has Alan Turing to thank (a realization that comes in the film's final scene, a beautiful dialogue between Cumberbatch and Knightly). This was a movie that was quite literally being developed since the 1950's. Thank God they got it right.

(Awards potential: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Cumberbatch), Best Supporting Actress (Knightly), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Art Direction, Best Costume Design, Best Editing, Best Original Score)

The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies (**)

Peter Jackson ought to be ashamed of himself. Years in the making and many more years of waiting, at last the cinematic adaptation of this teensy 300 page book is complete. Too bad there's not much to show for it. While The Hobbit-and-whatever-the-rest-of-the-title-is doesn't settle into "bad movie" territory, what it represents is far more upsetting: the George Lucasification of Peter Jackson's career.

I will admit right away that I have not been a fan of this trilogy (save for the cleverly-written and oftentimes beautiful "Desolation of Smaug"). What could have made a very fine epic fantasy film was sliced and diced until it was unrecognizable as anything but a fast cash grab by greedy producers, studios that now feel encouraged to split adaptations into more than one film in order to maximize profits and box office revenue (Twilight, Harry Potter, Divergent, and The Hunger Games to name a few). As Bilbo would say, these movies are "like butter scraped over too much bread." It's all fluff.

Picking up from the cliff-hanger of an ending, the film stumbles along and tidily wraps up Smaug's story and then hurries to this grand battle. The battle of 5 armies, no less. Let's see, there are Men, Dwarves, Elves, Orcs.... And then Eagles? Or worms? Or was the fifth army more Orcs? Or maybe those bats we saw... I will not lie that I have little recollection of the book (having read it no more recently than grade school) but the movie hurries forward assuming all filmgoers are well-versed on the lengthy Appendices of The Lord of the Rings novels.

The original trilogy of Middle Earth was grand for so many reasons, least of all it told a beautifully-human story amidst all the magic and goblins and what. The films were such successes because they bridged the gap between book and screen, tweaking here and there to become something fans and non-fans would enjoy. 17 or so Oscars later, it's hard to argue with...

The Hobbit, then, is everything wrong with Peter Jackson today. These films are nothing but effects-laden action flicks that care little for cohesiveness, instead choosing to focus on obscurities to stretch out the runtime to the allotted window. Five Armies, in particular, seems to rehash specific moments from "Return of the King" purely out of laziness, from the villain attacking with a ball and chain, to the very iconic line of "the Eagles are coming." It's a wonder Gandalf wasn't stumbling around Minas Tirith years later going "you guys this is serious deja vu..."

In the end, what could have been? Jackson has dwindled from his roots and lost track of the art behind these movies. Like George Lucas, he oversaturated these movies with an obscene amount of visual effects and flat dialogue. It's quantity over quality. Yes, he helped create this world years ago for Lord of the Rings, but was he the best director for the job with this series? Perhaps Gulliermo Del Toro would have made a better adaptation. Perhaps not... Perhaps what's done is done and Middle Earth can go back to remaining a pleasant memory in our minds for years to come.

(Awards potential: Best Costume Design, Best Makeup, Best Visual Effects, Best Sound Mixing)

Snowpiercer (*****)

Snowpiercer is without a doubt one of the more stunning films of the year. I found myself drawn to its story and compelled in a way I rarely experience while watching a film. With a small release earlier in 2014 and a quiet jump to Netflix this past month, this little-seen action flick is something that will reinvigorate your sense of "movie magic."

The film falls into a few genres, incorporating each and becoming something a little bit more. It's the near future, and the world has been destroyed by man in attempts to solve global warming. In a truly post-apocalyptic setting, the population is whittled down to a small collection of humans riding the Snowpiercer. This train, over a mile long, journeys through the world and makes a full trip every year. The cars are divided into a caste system - wealthy in the front and going down from there.

The back sees the most horrific settings, as the poor live in tight quarters and are given black, gelatinous cubes as a source of protein. They stage a coup. Working their way from one car to the next, a small group of men and women plan to work their way to the front car and gain control of the engine. Perpetually-running and helmed by a mysterious man named Wilford (who also owned the company that first created the train), the journey through the train becomes something of a march to meet God... Or perhaps more appropriately: a futuristic Dante's Inferno that descends deeper and deeper through rings of corruption.

The rebellion is led by Curtis (Chris Evans), a stern figure who oftentimes becomes narrow-minded in his self-appointed quest. He is joined by Gilliam (John Hurt), one of the more elder passengers who has lost all but one of his limbs to injury and punishment. Edgar (Jamie Bell) is a young second-in-command who seems to have hope for the future when it's clear to us that it's all but impossible.

On the reverse side is Mason, a cantankerous creation of a Yorkshire woman played by Tilda Swinton. She speaks on behalf of Wilford to the back of the train, and through violence and a flair for the absurd, she jumps from the screen as one of the film's highlights. She leads the soldiers helmed with restoring order to the train, and yet her allegiance seems to go with the wind.

There is a lot of beauty in this film, even though it is sprinkled with some very graphic and bloody moments. The train itself is a wonder of art direction. From the back to the very front, we see civilization summed up into such a wide variety of rooms, but all contained to the standard dimensions of a train. For a story with such a claustrophobic sensibility, the visuals never lose our interest. The cinematography, too, finds a perfect balance of intimate and action. We fear for what is to be found at every door, and every sliver of light through a window or crack serves as a reality for the darkness these people find themselves in.

Sometimes movies surprise me. I begin with lower expectations and conclude feeling a rush of emotion. Like "Drive" or "2001," Snowpiercer follows in mighty company. A grand film that is a surefire classic in the waiting.

(Awards potential: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Supporting Actress (Swinton), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Costume Design, Best Art Direction, Best Makeup, Best Cinematography, Best Visual Effects, Best Sound Mixing, Best Sound Editing)

Enemy (***)

WHEN A FILM requires multiple viewings and research and discussion, is it fair to rate it upon first viewing alone? Enemy has got to be one of the most cryptic movies I've seen, filled with an atmosphere somewhere between a dream and a nightmare. This is a movie with spectacular qualities about it, and yet in the end I am left feeling puzzled and disoriented. Don't call me stupid for saying "I don't get it."

Where to start. We have Adam, a history teacher (Jake Gyllenhaal) who is neurotic and paranoid as only an actor like Gyllenhaal could portray. He stumbles upon a film at the recommendation of his coworker, and upon viewing finds a cast member who looks identical to him. In fact, their looks are so similar that Adam begins to stalk his double. He visits the talent agency that represents him, his home... He manages to get the actor on the phone and insists they meet.

Our other character, Anthony (Jake Gyllenhaal) is a troubled husband to a pregnant wife in a marriage anything but spectacular. She suspects him of cheating and it seems like there have been past incidents. He reluctantly agrees to meet, and the two men find themselves face to face in a seedy motel room an hour away from the city. They compare scars, hands... There's no denying that something is very peculiar about the whole situation.

What happens next is partially expected, partially shocking. Keeping this review spoiler free, it is clear that many ideas in this film have been explored before. The success comes from the tone. Denis Villeneuve. the director (remember Prisoners from last year) does a believable job at creating a menacing cityscape without much more than a minimalist music score and some compelling acting from his cast. From hotel to apartment and streets in between, Enemy shines with thorough attention to detail and planning.

After the film finished, I rushed to news articles and message boards as a way to better understand the movie i just watched. Rarely have I felt so lost after a film has ended. While fans have come up with pretty admirable suggestions for the meaning behind it all, what makes it a good film? The fact that a movie sparks debate and theories does not make it great. The burden of that title comes from each individual audience member. While I was at times compelled, Enemy turned out to be a somewhat disorienting movie that would probably look a lot better on paper.

(Awards potential: Best Cinematography)

The Babadook (*****)

THE BEST HORROR movies don't answer all your questions, they don't leave you fulfilled, nor do they often leave you content in your bed at night. So it goes with "The Babadook," the Australian hit that is making waves across the world, heralding in a reinvigoration of the horror genre (even though we are a few months past the Halloween season). Most 'horror movies' have the ability to scare an audience with cheap thrills and jumps that make you throw popcorn in the air and laugh about it moments later. It's rare for a movie to really unsettle you; to burrow under your skin and send chills up and down your back. Horror is hard, but the set up is even harder. This movie is a masterclass.

We have Amelia, a single mother raising her son Samuel. Her husband died in a car crash years earlier, leaving her alone with her thoughts. To her family, she says she is over it. She doesn't speak of her husband and his possessions are locked away in the basement. The only evidence she casually displays is her wedding ring.

Samuel is no older than 6. He is a typical boy: plays by himself, has a collection of toy guns, talks about monsters under the bed... To his teachers, he is seen as a disruption and is advised to be taught under supervision. After bringing a weapon to class, Amelia decides to relocate him to a different school rather than try and get to the root of the problem. At a Birthday party for his cousin, Samuel pushes her out of her tree house. There are clear issues visible to everyone but Samuel's mother.

One night, they find a bedtime story to read. "Mister Babadook." It's innocent enough... Until it's not. With nightmarish images that pop out of the pages and rhymes that are peculiarly morbid, Amelia hides the book and attempts to calm Samuel's inevitable nightmares. Where did the book come from? The movie cares and it also does not. What motivates most of the film is essential to understanding its meaning, and yet some things are left up to the imagination, which oftentimes do a better job at scares than any movie ever could.

Night after night, and in a progressively intense nature, their house seems visited by a creature whose silhouette is easily identifiable as the Babadook. Lights flicker and doors knock. It's a wonder they don't keep all the lights on in the house... As I sat watching this film, I knew what the horror conventions were and what the heroine should not do in certain situations (don't open that door!). Yet even under the safety of her blankets, there is no protection.

What elevates this movie above the traditional horror flick is the attention to detail and the incredibly rich set up the film gives us. We know so much about these characters by the time they read this book that we are truly invested in their well-being throughout the nightmare. Maybe you think you know how it will end, or that the "twist" will reveal the true monster. Not so, and surprisingly the end was just as invigorating as the beginning; offering so many more ideas and theories than I initially could have conceived.

"The Babadook" understands horror and pulls from a rich tapestry of source material. It crawls under your skin and slowly settles in. It's one of the most exciting movies I've seen all year, and bar none the best horror movie I've seen in years.

(Awards potential: Best Sound Mixing, Best Sound Editing)

Gloria (****1/2)

"Gloria" is the little film that could, and actually does quite well. A small, arthouse film from Chile, this is a fantastic portrait of a woman who doesn't allow her increasing years to put a stopper on living. Quirky, odd, and at times melodramatic, this movie focuses on a very particular story to cover a wide range of emotions.

We meet Gloria. She lives vicariously. Smokes, drinks, a woman who seems to be the life of the party. She is divorced. Throughout the film, we learn little tidbits about her: her two children, her ex-husband, her upstairs neighbors who constantly bicker, and a Sphynx cat that constantly finds its way into her apartment.

As the story goes, she meets a man, Rudolfo. He owns an amusement park of sorts, and the two strike up a passionate affair. He also is divorced, has two children, and a strong attachment to them. Part of the drama comes as the two find different ways to cope with their families. Gloria feels perhaps more entitled - in a seat of power. Since she has been single longer, perhaps she knows more about how to live as a divorcee. Rudolfo, on the other hand, supports his family financially and doesn't see their relationship as anything inappropriate. One scene shows Gloria taking Rudolfo to her son's Birthday party, where he meets Gloria's ex-husband and her children. To Gloria, this is the way to bring a significant other to a family event. To Rudolfo, it's anything but appropriate.

The main reason to talk about this film is Paulina Garcia, the wonderful actress who plays Gloria. At times happy-go-lucky and at times borderline neurotic, its a fantastic performance that should generate more praise that I feel is being delivered. In a time when major movies fail to write strong female roles for older women, this is a movie that shows exactly what Hollywood is missing.

There's not a lot to cheer about, nor is the film satisfied in leaving us with all the answers. In fact the movie bookends with nearly the same scene. Is she unaffected by her past romances as she would lead others to believe? Or perhaps she lives a lonely, little life beneath a glowing facade of exuberance and socializing. I think depending on how you interpret "Gloria," we have either the most uplifting or depressing films of the year. Who's to say for sure?

(Awards potential: Best Foreign Film, Best Actress (Garcia), Best Original Screenplay)

How To Train Your Dragon 2 (***)

The old gang is back in the less-than-imaginative sequel to one of 2010's best movies. 'How To Train Your Dragon' (still not the best title) followed a boy's journey as he convinced his village that dragons were friends, not villains, and along the way won over his father's respect. It was a surprising personal story, with very real moments and one goddamned hell of a cute dragon named Toothless.

The sequel picks up just about where we left off (although 10 or so years in the future) as Hiccup (Jay Baruchel) is now older and wiser, and dragons have essentially become the standard household pet. Gone are the wild, beautiful animals we saw in the first film - here we see some accelerated domestication happening. Charting territory (or something along those lines) with his girlfriend (or fiance, or whatever), he stumbles upon an ice cave, and inside, he finds his long-lost mother Valka (Cate Blanchett). Assumed dead, he finds that she too has learned to gain the trust of wild dragons, and together they are now pitted against a new villain, Drago (Djimon Hounsou). Drago wants to use dragons to take over the world (as all villains do), and has enlisted all of the biggest and baddest dragons in the land to help...

What made the first film so special was a rare combination of animation, music, and originality. It had many extended moments with little to no dialogue, telling story solely through music and images. With the sequel, it seems like filmmakers thought the strengths were in action and one-liners. There are some tender moments with Hiccup and his mother, and John Powell (our composer) is just about on-par with his original, Oscar-nominated score.

The movie is a marvel of animation. The first film's flying sequences are truly amazing, and here again is a film that pushes limits and is first and foremost a work of art. Even character animation is so subtle; we recognize the tiniest shift in facial expression and realize it as truth. Its detractors have carried over from the first film: dumb sidekicks, the occasional lack of creative dialogue, and a conveniently wrapped up conclusion (and do I smell another sequel?).

Nevertheless, the film has moving moments and strong sense of collaboration. There is clearly a solid base on which the next film will be mantled, and the filmmakers behind these movies should be given much credit, indeed. Not the greatest movie, but hey, not the worst.

(Awards potential: Best Animated Feature, Best Original Score)

Foxcatcher (****1/2)

It's with an icy calm that 'Foxcatcher' begins and ends. With a run time no more than 2 hours, the film carefully paces along, slow and steady. This is not the action thriller the trailer would have you believe. This is a carefully calculated game of chess, whittling its way into your mind with relentless paranoia and disbelief.

It's based on a true story, but the details seem almost Shakespearian in their unfolding. The 1984 Olympics saw Dave and Mark Schultz win Gold Medals for Wrestling. Mark now spends his time training... And little else. The film opens with him giving a depressing presentation at a grade school in front of bewildered children. He tells them of his victories, and his belief in America. His brother, Dave, trains with him, and they match each other with animalistic qualities. Outside of his small apartment, Dave's life seems washed up.

A phone call invites him to Foxcatcher Estates at the request of John E. DuPont. John E. DuPont... The name stands out, not because it is familiar, but because it comes with importance. A fade in then sees Mark helicoptering onto the front lawn. He is led into a grand library, waits in the silence, until John is finally revealed, speaking softly and surrounded by a mysterious darkness. He is someone you could trust, but at the same time his works come with a sense of unease... He wants to fund training for the World Championship and in turn see Mark win Gold at the 1988 Olympics. How could you resist?

'Foxcatcher' is really a character study of these two men. Both Channing Tatum (Mark) and Steve Carell (DuPont) bring a great deal of depth to their respective characters, and the effect each has on the other is a gradual descent into chaos. Carell in particular has a beautifully calculated performance. Hiding behind a prothetic nose and dyed hair, he is virtually invisible. It is not a showy performance by any means, nor does any one scene stand out and scream "Oscar!" What he does is much more effective. Through posture and dialect he virtually becomes a new man, one that you believe is one of the richest men in the country, one who has been spoiled, and one who desperately craves attention. Likewise, Mark's brother Dave (Mark Ruffalo) is portrayed as a believable Olympian through physical alterations and attention to detail. Ruffalo walks hunched and ape-like, with a receding hairline and quiet intensity.

There is a great deal to admire with 'Foxcatcher,' and it all begins and ends with director Bennett Miller. You know him from 'Capote,' and 'Moneyball.' While his latest film is undoubtedly his most ambitious, it's also his most challenging. There's a lot going on beneath the surface with 'Foxcatcher,' from DuPont's obsessive relationship with his aging mother, to the homoerotic nature of wrestling, itself (come on, we're all thinking it). Even at the glacial pace it takes, this is a film I anticipate a second viewing of. I don't know what the Oscars will say about this film, but it is undoubtedly a highlight of 2014.

(Awards potential: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Carell, Tatum), Best Supporting Actor (Ruffalo), Best Original Screenplay, Best Cinematography, Best Editing, Best Sound Mixing, Best Art Direction, Best Original Score)

The Theory of Everything (****)

The awards season has been somewhat lackluster thus far, and even here, "The Theory of Everything" seemed poised to be a sophisticated and elegant film bound for Oscar gold. While it is a beautifully-crafted story with all the right elements in place, the film seems to only live in the shadow of better movies, namely "A Beautiful Mind." It's nothing we haven't seen before, but that doesn't make it any less impactful.

As the film faded to black and the credits began to role, I was surprised to learn that the screenplay was an adaptation of Jane Hawking's book (his ex-wife) and their life together. Perhaps that makes sense. One of my surprises with the film was its lack of focus on Hawking's work. Even now, I'm left wondering what he ultimately believed in or what his most notable work was. Even John Nash had a pretty clear explanation of governing dynamics that was audience-friendly. Couldn't they have tried to teach audiences something?

What we are left with is an emotional plot, surprisingly intimate, following Hawking's diagnosis with ALS and their progression through the more difficult years of a marriage burdened by fame, jealousy, and isolation. Initially given 2 years to live, Hawking graduates, achieves a doctorate, gets married, has 3 children... How did he survive all these years, anyways?

We sense Jane's frustrations early on with his disease, and as an audience wonder whether or not she would break her vows with her husband. Indeed, she joins a church choir and begins to act uncomfortably close with Jonathan, her conductor. He essentially becomes Stephen's caretaker, accompanying the family on trips and assisting where possible. I wonder where this could go wrong? It's no secret (spoiler!) that Jane and Stephen were divorced, and that Jane ends up with Jonathan... Truly in the next scene after their separation, Jane and Jonathan embrace after all these years. The music swells. You begin to wonder whose love story was being made.

Eddie Redmayne and Felicity Jones are reaping critical praise, and for good reason. Even Stephen Hawking himself has praised the performances, famously shedding a tear after a screening of the film. You couldn't buy better publicity. These two seem assured for at least a nomination - but the combination of playing a real-life man with a motor-neuron disorder, perhaps we have already found this year's Best Actor winner. The same could be said for the musical score, lush and full of beauty, I can't see the Oscars ignoring such a clear winner.

While it's not a great film, it is one that is thoroughly enjoyable, and an interesting insight into the life of a person with a disability. The love behind this project is clear, and it is all the more admirable a story for that.

(Awards potential: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Redmayne), Best Actress (Jones), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Original Score)

Rosewater (***)

As rating suggests, there is nothing particularly extraordinary about 'Rosewater,' nor is there much to criticize. It exists as a film that will find a humble position in history as a marginal film, and quietly disappear into obscurity.

Directed by first-time filmmaker Jon Stewart (yes, from Comedy Central), the story revolves around a Newsweek journalist named Maziar Bahari (an Iranian journalist, curiously played by Mexico native Gael Garcia Bernal) who covered the 2009 Presidential Elections of Iran, after which he was thrown into solitary confinement after accused of being a spy.

The film trods along, over 100 days of isolation (aside from his daily meetings with two interregators, one of whom is dubbed 'Rosewater' in the credits only). He is asked absurd questions, to which they receive absurd answers. Bahari also consults with his deceased father, also held in prison in the 1950's for suspected Communist activities. This, and his realization that the world is watching to make sure he survives, gives him the strength to endure and eventually return to his wife in London.

Jon Stewart has a clear understanding of the material (his show, coincidentally, is one of the reasons Bahari was imprisoned in the first place) but the film is an amateur work. After 10 minutes of confinement, we know all there is to know, and apparitions of his father are thrown in as a means to keep the plot moving (or audiences interested). It serves only as a gimmick - scripted dialogue during a time the director was too afraid to be content with silence. There is never a real threat during his imprisonment, as the guards are portrayed as incompetent and untrained. Bahari's blindfold comes on and off so frequently, we wonder why he ever bothers to put it back on at all?

In my mind, this film would have been better served as a documentary. First-hand accounts surrounding the election would undoubtedly be more impactful, and understanding the true conditions of this Iranian prison would have been even more intriguing. The film creates an emotional narrative, and the ending is fulfilling... In the end, maybe the book would have been a better investment.

(Awards potential: Best Original Score)

Interstellar (***1/2)

'Interstellar' is a movie full of grand visions and ideas. It works its way into the mind and leaves you with just as many questions as there are compliments. It attempts no less than to recreate one of history's greatest films, '2001: A Space Odyssey' and even though it fails to hit such a spectacular mark, Christopher Nolan's latest is one that will undoubtedly have everyone talking.

There is a surprising amount of mystery surrounding the film and plot. I suppose that's been the case for a lot of Nolan's films (how can you summarize 'Inception' in as few words as possible?). It's the not-too-distant future, when the world has been ravaged and society is stripped down to the bare essentials. We have intellectuals, we have farmers; the hunters and gatherers. Dust storms are frequent, crops are dying... Cooper (played spectacularly by Matthew McConaughey) raises his two children on a farm alongside his father-in-law. Life is like a Norman Rockwell painting - minus the joy, of course. There are strange occurrences in their house, particularly in the bedroom of his daughter, Murphy. Books fall off the shelf, dust seems to accumulate in morse code... Cooper rationalizes that ghosts aren't real, and Murphy attempts to prove him otherwise. Confused? The 'ghosts' seem to lead him to coordinates just on the other side of town, and to the surprise of everyone, he stumbles upon the underground offices of NASA, prepping for a series of missions to evacuate Earth and repopulate on habitable planets in a neighboring galaxy. Oh, and will you pilot the mission, Cooper?

The film requires a suspension of disbelief in nearly every scene, and for the most part the film succeeds in peaking our interest. How lucky that NASA was buried away in Cooper's backyard, and how lucky that he arrived to pilot the mission. What would they have done otherwise? Like last year's 'Gravity,' Nolan envisions space very much rooted in science. Outside of the spaceships, we hear no sound. The crew rests in hyper sleep for 2 years while they journey to Saturn. In fact, their research tells them that certain planets lie so close to blackholes that time will become relative, meaning that for every hour they spend on the surface, 7 years pass on Earth. The mission becomes as much about saving the species as it is about Cooper reuniting with his family before they die of old age.

Do I think this is a great film? No. While there is plenty of technical achievements to marvel at, the story seems to work far too hard at becoming something more spectacular than it is. Take the final few minutes of '2001.' Mysterious, out of place, and cryptic...We break away from the storyline to see a man grow old in wisdom. There is no climax, but it's equally as jarring. With 'Interstellar,' it is clear that a lot of the same imagery is attempting to be conjured, but the effect is no where near as powerful. As Cooper floats through time and space and wisdom, the film still believes it should function as an action movie. The editing is quick, the music swells... The final 30 minutes of the film feel like the epic climax that never happens. In reality the story is much more emotional, even spiritual. Combine it with crosscutting between Earth and the mission, and it becomes quite an emotional chore to keep track of all the separate stories.

The film is perhaps overly-long, and is is clear where edits could have been made. Cooper's son (what's his name again?) grows up to raise a family, and we have a few seconds worth of story in regards to a lung disease that is slowly killing them. But enough about that. On the spaceship, Brand (Anne Hathaway) discusses the ideas that love could be another dimension, just like time or space. For a character as level-headed as her, the scene feels out of character, and just as quickly as it comes, it disappears. An argument could be made that these moments are part of something deeper - a theme or metaphor.... Or it could just be filler.

Regardless, the film is technically marvelous. The effects are oftentimes dazzling, and the score by Hans Zimmer is ethereal in a way I wasn't expecting. While the film failed to live up to certain expectations, you can't blame Christopher Nolan for trying. In the end, though, his films are becoming more and more cryptic and less exciting. Compared to, say, 'The Dark Knight' or 'Inception,' 'Interstellar' is a visual achievement that lacks the usual entertainment value we have come to expect.

(Awards potential: Best Actor (McConaughey), Best Art Direction, Best Cinematography, Best Original Score, Best Visual Effects, Best Sound Mixing, Best Sound Editing)

Nightcrawler (**)

With sunken eyes and a hollowed face, Louis Bloom cruises the streets of Los Angeles, searching for the next breaking story. Like the seedy underbelly of the city itself, Bloom lurks with no remorse, no guilt, no regrets... He stalks police radios and waits for any sort of crime scene that will offer up gore and carnage. Upon arrival, he films the action, makes a quick getaway, and sells the footage to local news stations to make a fast buck.

And that's the premise of Jake Gyllenhaal's latest film, one that he pours his soul into and offers one of his best performances to date. Too bad he's one of the few diamonds in a very expansive rough.

Directed by first-time filmmaker Dan Gilroy, we are presented a simple thriller along the lines of Drive or Taxi Driver. Yes, there is crime involved, but the story levitates around this character, Bloom, and his drifting from job to job. At first it seems like stealing scrap metal and selling it is his only source of income, that is until he stumbles upon a group of 'nightcrawlers' at the scene of a traffic accident. They film a car crash with near reckless disregard for the human tragedy. All they seek is a good shot. The very next day, Bloom is armed with a cheap camcorder and a police interceptor.

Bloom rises quickly in the world of media, buys a new car, hires an assistant. There is a commentary made on the level of graphic content presented by today's media, which is topical. There is also tinkering with society's disregard for violence, which is also topical... In the end, what is the message? Nightcrawler borders on satire nearing the level of 'Network,' another film that more accurately pinned the tail on America's fascination with the obscene.

Nightcrawler has the right idea but fails in concept. The film is weighed down by some directorial errs and a soundtrack that is a hodgepodge of sappy and spooky (from the usually great composer James Newton Howard, no less). Not only is the film a mess tonally, we are treated to some filmmaking ABC's, including a very peculiar and unreasonably-dumb montage sequence as Bloom and his assistant journey from job to job.

Gyllenhaal is still brilliant, and I liken his performance to an Olympic swimmer forced to do laps in a mud puddle. The acting simply overpowers the film, and still his neurotics made the film a pleasure to watch, no matter how unsettling his performance was. Rene Russo is equally as good as the news director who only cares that the footage stay graphic and continues to roll in. Throughout the movie, these two seem to strike up some sort of romantic relationship, though it is never explored (and is truly only mentioned in passing in one or two lines of dialogue... Odd).

The film follows standard plot points and comes to an ending you could pretty much assume 30 minutes after the movie began. For what it's worth, it's a decent movie to check out should you have time and energy to go. While I can't say it was enjoyable or gripping in a way a movie of this caliber should have been, it was nevertheless executed decently and tried its best.

(Awards potential: Best Actor (Gyllenhaal), Best Supporting Actress (Russo))

Finding Vivian Maier (****)

'Finding Vivian Maier' is an admirable documentary that seeks to be more than it really is, that is to say it attempts to flesh out material perhaps more suited for a short documentary (or coffee table book). The premise is simple and the mystery is intriguing - regardless of any issues I had with the film, it was well worth the time.

The setup: A 'Chicago historian' buys a box of film negatives at a real estate auction in attempts to recover some original, historical photos of the city. He brings the photos home, looks at them, and in his mind, they are very good. He researches the artist's name: Vivian Maier. No luck. He hunts down more of her negatives until he has a collection nearing 100,000. They are a hit online. Upon more research, he realizes that Maier has just died, alone and broke. Her photos are a revelation to the art world, and yet she shared them with no one.

What a mystery...

Our trusty historian (a measly 20-something year old named John Maloof) begins the research of finding out more about the artist, perhaps for no more reason than that it would make an intriguing feature-length documentary. He makes some phone calls, does some traveling around Chicago. What Vivian Maier was in life was no more than a nanny; watching children and serving as live-in care for families across the suburbs.

These children (now grown) and their parents provide most of the narration we see throughout the film. They recall memories of Vivian ("she always had a camera," "she was a mystery," "she was weird") and work to piece together a picture of this woman the world now admires. What I found most interesting were the stories of these people, claiming to be her friends, believing they 'knew' her. The wide range of interviews and some contradictory recollections about her photography methods imply that these are unreliable narrators, and indeed, many of these people are characters of themselves. Wide-eyed and eager to impress the camera, we get stories ranging from child abuse to trips to the meat factory. In many ways, Vivian Maier is proven to be a real Mary Poppins.

Who's to say what is real and what is fiction? With so little known about Ms. Maier aside from the testimonies of people who were 6 years old when they knew her, much of her story seems like it will remain a mystery forever. People who knew her remembered her as "that French woman," known for her faint foreign accent, but indeed a birth certificate (and linguist) prove that she was born in New York City. She was a packrat and had a taste for the macabre, remembered for being both loving and stern... Sometimes, it seems, people can't leave a mystery be.

For all it's worth and for the work put into the movie, her photos are all the more beautiful, shown throughout the film as though a slideshow or pictorial essay. What a sad, lonely life Vivian Maier led (so we assume), and yet how lucky the world is that she lived it at all.

(Awards potential: Best Documentary)

Birdman (**1/2)

I know I am the minority. I know I do not express the popular viewpoint. I know that in years to come, I may convince myself that I am wrong. Having just left the theater focusing in on my gut reaction, all I know is this: I was not a fan of 'Birdman.'

Who knows the plot yet? Michael Keaton plays Riggan, a fictionalized version of himself attempting to do two things: revitalize his failing career with a Broadway hit, and sort out all the craziness of his life. In his personal time, he hears a constant narration (his own, a deep, grunting voice that we come to realize is 'Birdman' himself). He can also move things with his mind, and is seemingly capable of flight (or perhaps that's just in his head, as well). Passersby stop him on the street to pose for a photo ("he used to be Birdman!"), and critics don't take him seriously. He drinks, his relationship with his daughter is rocky... Come to think of it, all his relationships with women are rough.

He comes to cast a new actor in his play last-minute, Mike (played by a very funny Edward Norton). He tries to make the play more edgy, more spontaneous... Riggan calmly takes it all in. Mike is a firecracker that could potentially ruin the show, yet their combines star power is enough to sell out their preview shows. There's a lot riding on opening night.

The story seems to want to be a satire on show business, on what is a celebrity, on the meaning of life... I have seen movies that have tackled just such issues with more courage and with more conviction, mainly 'Adaptation.' For a movie to analyze a down-on-his-luck actor like Michael Keaton, and to use a staging of a play as the main plot device, there needs to be either greater risk or a clearer message. For me, this was a movie riddled with cliche that didn't know how to make fun of itself.

Alejandro González Iñárritu is no fool. Quite the contrary, he is a brilliant director who has helmed great movies before. He crafts the movie as though it is a play, and through visual trickery and some beautiful choreography by the camera and cast, nearly the entire movie plays out in one continuous shot. That is not to say the story takes place over 2 hours, no. The film transitions with light and sound as though the actors are putting on a play for us. Well, a play about a play. The actors all do extraordinarily well. From Michael Keaton (like his character, a celebrity trying to prove his worth with a 'deeper meaning project') to Edward Norton, Emma Stone to Naomi Watts, this is a stellar ensemble. Likewise, the film is beautifully-shot (last year's Oscar winner for Cinematography, no less). It's visually-exciting and yet thematically-confusing... This film is like the Parthenon with no roof... All it is are a bunch of grand pillars of individual accomplishments with nothing much to hold up.

Ultimately, what is the point of it all? I see the merit in the story, and in a way this is a positive review accompanied by a negative rating. 'Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)' is a film that insists it is something more. It wants to pull the wool over my eyes. For a movie of this caliber to go over my head to this extent, perhaps I wish I could join the majority of critics and audience members who have already heaped their praises. Apparently, ignorance is bliss.

(Awards potential: Best Director, Best Actor (Keaton), Best Supporting Actress (Stone, Watts), Best Supporting Actor (Norton), Best Cinematography, Best Sound Mixing)

Whiplash (*****)

"Whiplash" is a sadistic exercise in filmmaking. Jutting out from the screen like a rusty blade, it presents itself as a beautiful piece of art; a simple facade for something all the more dangerous and compelling. The fact that a first-year student's excursion into a music conservatory makes for such a stunning film is besides the point. Here is a story overflowing with ideas and concepts and consequences, each laid out so precisely that even the slightest alteration would completely weaken the overall picture. At risk of sounding punny, there is not a flat note across the board.

The setting is an urban music conservatory, similar in esteem and exclusivity to, say, Juilliard. Unlike most colleges though, we get a sense of intimacy. The sprawling and lush green campuses of normal universities are replaced with darkened rooms and muffled musical instruments of unknown origin. We meet Andrew, a freshman drum student alone with his kit. He practices with intense focus, his shirt soaked with sweat. Studying late, it seems. From the darkness comes Fletcher, a respected conductor and professor, hellbent on finding a core team for his jazz band. Their first meeting sets the tone. Andrew had dreams of greatness, and Fletcher is the God at those pearly gates to infamy, and he is anything but polite. 

In an intermediate jazz class, Andrew plays with fellow students, the room coldly lit and equally inhabited. It is clear Andrew has not come to school to socialize. He sits on a stool behind the first drummer, anxiously waiting his turn to play. In comes Fletcher. Like a drill sergeant, the class comes to attention, and he methodically tests each student for any sign of potential and talent. Andrew plays perhaps 1 measure of drums. So does the first drummer. Who's to hear any difference? Fletcher does, and invites Andrew to join his ensemble bright and early the next morning.

Just as one would expect, his class is anything but fun. Andrew sits as backup to the drummer, a job which is essentially a page turner. Fletcher arrives in class and immediately commands his pupils' attention. With a slight flick of his wrist, the ensemble bursts into music. We see Fletcher stop the band, citing a flat musician amongst them. He instructs each instrument to play a bar separately. Narrowing it down to a single trombone player, he asks the student if his instrument is flat. The student, terrified, nods yes. Erupting in a burst of anger, Fletcher removes him from the band, and once he is gone, reveals that "he wasn't even flat. The fact that he didn't know if he was or wasn't is even worse..."

Andrew comes to claim the chair of first drummer mostly through circumstance, and he believes it is because he has earned Fletcher's respect. He works his students hard, and even at the cost of Andrew breaking up with his girlfriend, he sees this as the key to his long-awaited fame.

Or so he thinks...

What Damien Chazelle (the director, and his second film no less) realizes is that the great villains are those that we love to hate. Fletcher could easily be turned into a screaming maniac who drives his students to the edge with no consequence. Not so. There are glimpses of humanity: Fletcher's conversation with a small girl about piano lessons, news that one of his former students recently passed away that leaves him in tears, the smile as he hears his band succeed... Fletcher is surely one of the most vile characters on film this year, but it is his humanity that compels the story forward.

Midway to the end, Andrew sits with Fletcher at a bar (as circumstances have dramatically changed), and Fletcher discusses his teaching methods. Yes, he is an unlikeable man, but his drive is and always was to find the next great musician, one that is for the ages. Andrew asks whether or not his methods could have scared off the next great talent. Not the case, says Fletcher, a great musician would never be discouraged...

The two characters at the center of this story are great for their own reasons, and it is clear that J.K. Simmons will hog most of the spotlight. Deservedly so. From the laughable, lovable man he has come to represent in the movies, here he is completely unhinged and unlike anything I have seen before. Miles Teller is Andrew, the student, buttery in the face but dedicated to his craft. In the classroom, the lights are dim, and Fletcher is but a floating head that sits in the shadows at the front. Andrew at drums is exposed: prey. The two mercilessly work towards perfection, with literal blood pouring out of them in the hopes of approval. Fletcher shows no mercy, and Andrew takes none. These are career-defining performances, one from an actor in his prime, and one from a fairly new-comer. The talent displayed is beyond belief.

The film concludes with one gobsmacked hell of a finale, and even for those who are not musically-inclined, this is a climax that will leave you pulseless. Fletcher conducts a jazz ensemble in Carnegie Hall, of which he selects Andrew to be his drummer. Fletcher, having been fired from his teaching job, now realizing who is to blame, sets a plan in motion to ruin Andrew's dreams forever. Or does he? I can't reveal anything more of the plot, but the film ends with a drum solo that truly is astounding, one that is the realization of Fletcher's hopes as a teacher and Andrew's longing for eternal fame. In the very same scene, we go from an absolute hatred of Fletcher to the core, to a deep warmth when we see his smile upon realizing his work has not been in vain. Even thinking about it, my heart races and the chills race up and down my body. Not often has a film been so fully realized with an ending to match. It truly brought tears to my eyes.

"Whiplash" deserves to be at the top of any yearly movie list because, quite frankly, it earns it. Just as we see Andrew's drum set soaked red with blood, so does this film bear a mark unlike most I have seen: the absolute authenticity that comes from raw storytelling. This movie strips its audience bare and wins them over, one beat at a time...

(Awards potential: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Simmons (who is apparently campaigning in supporting because... who knows), Teller), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Original Score, Best Editing, Best Sound Mixing, Best Cinematography)

Gone Girl (*****)

Perhaps for the first time in David Fincher's career, he has made a film of and for the ages. Let me clarify first: 'The Social Network' remains one of the best films of the decade, and surely one of the finest films I have personally seen. Just as well, 'The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo' is a dark journey into sound and imagery, gorgeously-filmed and expertly paced, and 'Zodiac' is one of the finest thrillers of all time. 'Gone Girl' felt like a film that would make Hitchcock proud, and in many aspects it felt like a film that broke away from Fincher's standard of laser-precise modern storytelling and moves a little closer to classic films of the 1950's and 1960's.

We know the story, and for those who don't, it's very easy to catch up. Amy and Nick Dunne are a happily married couple who meet by chance and fall in love quickly. They share a large house. They seem perfect, that is until the marriage begins to slip. Amy begins fearing for her life. She is suspect. Nick is untrustworthy. She goes missing on the morning of their 5th wedding anniversary... All signs point to the husband.

We may or may not see what happens next. Having read the book, I was still floored by the apparent 'twist' of the film. When I read the novel last year, I found myself unimpressed by the over-the-top plot points and absurd turn of events. When I heard of Fincher's attempt to adapt the story with the original author serving as screenwriter, I was skeptical. How do you improve upon a flawed story? How can it overcome its own basic design flaws?

Flash forward to a darkened movie theater, myself seated near the front, the image fades to a silent conclusion... I was floored. If you need proof that adapting a story for a film is an art, look no further. What Gillian Flynn (the author & soon-to-be Oscar-nominated screenwriter) manages to do is so remarkable. In the year's finest screenplay to date, we see the redesign of a story and a realization of the scope of filmmaking in a way the written word cannot. It's a pure adaptation, full of wit and wonder, and surely one that elevates its source material.

As I have mentioned earlier, this is a film that recalls the thrillers of Alfred Hitchcock. Surely, with Rosamund Pike's sultry blonde looks and the chilling power she has over the film, it's not hard to blend the lines. Surely Hitchcock would be proud, and dare I suspect overcome with suspense.

To make this story work and work convincingly, the lead role of Amy Dunn was crucial. Little-known but experienced actress Rosamund Pike delivers the performance of the year. She is calculated, powerful, and crucial to the overall success and impact. In casting lesser-known actors (remember Rooney Mara's breakthrough in 'Dragon Tattoo?'), Fincher understands how to personify unique characters in ways a famous actor like Ben Affleck could never achieve (though he still achieves great work). In what is bound to be a first Oscar nomination, Pike could surely go all the way to a triumphant victory.

The supporting cast is profound, not a weak link to be found, although almost all are stellar. Take Tyler Perry (we laugh at the sight of his name in the credits). His casting as a crackpot criminal lawyer is so perfectly realized, and he has many of the best lines in the film. Kim Dickens is also amazingly effective as the lead detective who carries a sense of purity throughout the film. It's a simple but important role. Neil Patrick Harris, too, delivers chilling work.

In many ways, this is a funnier film than David Fincher has helmed before. In others, its the scariest, and I still vividly recall several scenes that left speechless from the expert craftsmanship and filmmaking on display. Even knowing how the plot would play out, the suspense was thick and the adrenaline left me nearly on the edge of my seat throughout the last third of the film. The editing is just about perfect, surgically-precise and effortlessly unsettling... It's no wonder the editing duo already have two Oscars (for both of Fincher's previous 2 films). The score explores minimalism and electronic sound to chilling effect (again, the Oscar-winning duo responsible for the 'Social Network'). One scene I'm sure many audience members will remember vividly (let's just call it 'the box-cutter scene') is all the more powerful for it's use of sound, score, and editing. It's absolutely the most horrific scene I can recall in a movie and one of Fincher's finer directorial achievements. From the build-up to the realization on film, there is not a false note to be found.

I recommend this movie wholeheartedly, and I anticipate my next viewing. The crew David Fincher has found to helm his current projects have truly outdone themselves yet again, and I am convinced that there are no greater films being made as consistently good as those by David Fincher.

(Awards potential: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actress (Pike), Best Supporting Actress (Dickens), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Editing, Best Cinematography, Best Original Score, Best Makeup, Best Sound Mixing)

The Fault In Our Stars (****)

The romantic drama has fallen into a turmoil in recent years. With Nicholas Sparks diluting the waters with saccharine story after story, it's hard to go into a movie expecting anything but heartbreak and tears. Aside from the trailers, I knew next to nothing about the story and honestly cared little for watching it. Shailene Woodley has impressed me with her acting before ('The Descendants'), so I knew she would be more than capable of carrying a film. What surprised me, then, was the intricate relationship a film like this was able to weave together.

We meet Hazel, a teenage girl who is diagnosed with depression... On top of cancer. She reads lots and does little else. Her parents convince her to join support groups. She obliges, albeit reluctantly. As though a child on her first day of school, Hazel goes inside (all the while wheeling her oxygen tank) while her mom waits patiently in the car. "Make some friends!" she enthusiastically calls out.

In one meeting in particular, she meets - no, encounters a buy named Gus. He is handsome, outspoken, passionate, and alive. She is curious about him, as he is about her. Within hours they are already on their first date. He asks her her favorite book while insisting upon her to read his favorite: a novelization of his favorite video game. Hers? A grim drama about a girl who dies and leaves many open-ended questions.

They talk, the flirt, all the time Gus choosing to look past her sickness. He himself lost a leg to cancer years ago... What more can be said? They fall in love, they travel to meet her favorite author in Amsterdam, cancer returns, and perhaps there are some tear-jerking moments in the end.

Both Woodley and Ansel Elgort (Gus) are more than capable of their respective roles, and the chemistry is obvious. What is refreshing in a film like this is that we don't always follow the traditional movie cliches. The film deals as much about their relationship as it does with Hazel's parents and their own personal struggles.

It's no wonder it was a widely-praised film with a high level of audience enthusiasm. I found it entertaining and frankly a wonderful film about growing up in ways most teenagers shouldn't have to. Definitely a film worth remembering...

(Awards potential: Best Actress (Woodley))

Boyhood (*****)

I think I know Mason. He seems familiar to me. Whether or not my childhood was filled with moments as varied as those seen in 'Boyhood,' there is still a part of this film that rings true, something that is digging a little deeper than most movies, brushing against something profound. A story 12 years in the making seems bound for endless problems and roadblocks, both technical and in regards to story, and who knows, maybe such problems were encountered by the cast and crew. Reading about the making of this film, it is clear there was a very fluid approach, with actors contributing to the script just as much as director Richard Linklater. Time has influenced these people, and I'm sure the final film is a far cry from the initial concept that was first conceived so many years ago.

Let me start my review by stating my initial reactions as I was watching the movie: I didn't like it. The plot was trodding and it seemed heavy-handed in its dealings with things like alcoholism and divorce. The acting seemed flat and almost amateur. We follow Mason with his older sister and mother as they move across Texas for a variety of reasons, and all I could think of were the technical aspects of the production. Questions floated through my mind as to "what if an actor died?," "how did they organize a shooting schedule?," and focus on the story was at time compromised. About midway through the film, however, all my concerns slowly melted away, and I found myself realizing that my criticisms and concerns were becoming more and more invalid. What I was watching was special, indeed, and by the time the last lines were spoken and the film went black to a close, it was a feeling of breathlessness.

What I realized midway through the film was that this film felt more real than most. Mason is a quiet boy, talks politely, sulks around the city, grows up and wants to be an artist. Oh, and he wants to delete his Facebook. While I perhaps didn't personally find a connection with his experiences, I nonetheless saw him as a true character, and the awkward way he spoke and delivered lines wasn't necessarily "bad acting," it was real. The way we hear these characters speak, and especially with Mason and his sister, it is accurate, and it is how kids talk. It's really something I have never seen in a movie before, and it became so challenging and rewarding. No one makes movies about a kid like Mason, and seeing a story with so little dramatic action and consequence (while at times slow), was invigorating.

The film's original title was "12 Years" (changed due to last year's Oscar-winner, of course) and in a way, I think it's the more accurate title. Yes, we follow this boy over the course of a decade, but we also follow his father, played by Ethan Hawke, and his mother (Patricia Arquette). Both have their problems, and we see over time how people adapt, how relationships change... Both his parents are divorced, and in fact they only have two scenes together: one near the beginning of the film which erupts into a huge argument, and one near the end at Mason's graduation from high school. Look at how they have changed as people, not just physically, but emotionally - the cadence of their words and how they address each other...

The film, too, could have just as easily been called "Motherhood." Patricia Arquette becomes one of the cinema's great moms. We want to love her and cherish her in our life as the film plays out. She is fragile, has poor choice in men, but her heart is always with her children, and her willingness to let them grow and mature in their own ways is one of the main aspects explored, and she is surely a driving force throughout most of the film. A scene midway through the film shows her talking to a construction worker about going to school and getting an education, and years later we see him again, having taken her advice. The film isn't littered with borderline-saccharine moments like this, but like life, they are touching and unexpected when they do happen. Ethan Hawke is also quietly effective as a father we can all come to love, a father we would all hope to have guide us through the footsteps of life.

The praise for the film obviously goes towards concept and execution. Richard Linklater is no stranger to stories like this, and his "Before Sunrise" trilogy is a masterclass in acting, story, and character development. What a glorious resume this man is building, and perhaps no one else in Hollywood understands the maturation of human beings like he. I think everyone will take away something different from this film. There are ideas and thoughts that you'll ponder long after the film is over, and even if it's not the most gripping of film dramas, it does what most of the great movies in history do: it stays with you.

(Awards potential: Best Director, Best Supporting Actress (Arquette), Best Supporting Actor (Hawke), Best Original Screenplay)

*Best Picture of the Year is a tricky category, and based on the overall accomplishments of the film, I believe this is purely a directorial achievement. I am not necessarily convinced that this movie is one that the Academy would (or could) reward with a Best Picture nomination... Prove me wrong. 

Life Itself (****1/2)

I wonder what Roger Ebert would have thought of this documentary on his life? As we see throughout filming, Ebert was clearly active in the production of this film, so it seems all the more fitting that the triumphs of storytelling are directly rooted in his personal accomplishments, mainly his will to survive. "Life Itself" is by no means a perfect documentary, but it touches on something so sincere and moving, that I defy most movie-goers to conclude this feature without at least a tear or two. Roger Ebert was the movies, and the movies were indebted to him. If nothing else, this story is a love letter to cinema.

We open on Ebert, recently admitted to the hospital yet again as a result of cancer. His jaw, now removed, reduces his communication to a laptop, his hands, a notepad... We see the documentarian filmmaker (of Hoop Dreams fame) reflected in the hospital mirror. Roger gives him directions on how to make the film. He tells jokes, the room erupts in laughter. He smiles constantly despite the obvious pain he is in. It's a charming look at the final days of one of America's greatest critics.

The film chisels away at Ebert's childhood, his college years, first news stories, etc, all the while feeling like something I may find on a public television station. The narration (oftentimes in Ebert's own voice (I later learned this was a very effective voice-over artist)) lends insight to Ebert's early years at the Chicago Sun-Times, troubles with alcoholism, favorite Chicago bars... It's a very clunky introductory, and you feel the filmmaker's want to squeeze in as much biography as he can.

What many may not realize was that Ebert fell into movies only as a technicality. When the Sun-Times senior Film Critic retired, Ebert was volunteered to step in, and thus began the career of one of America's most trusted voices for the movies. We hear glimpses of his earlier reviews coupled with clips from the actual films (Bonnie & Clyde, anyone?). How they chose the movies they did to demonstrate his writing style is beyond me. From such an eclectic and impressive body of work, why we need to hear about "The Tree of Life" is a bit puzzling to say the least.

The fascinating story here is that of Ebert and his wife, Chaz, battling cancer and personal struggles. Learning to walk again, Ebert slowly climbs a staircase in physical therapy, an image that perhaps could come to represent the overarching theme of the entire movie. With literally half of his face missing and his voice silenced, the passion of this man to make his illness known in his final years was one of the most moving things I have ever seen.

I remember his interviews and news appearances, as well as his death. Why so many people were moved by the death of Roger Ebert is truly a puzzle. Of course, America best knew him of "Siskel & Ebert" fame (Siskel, also fleshed out through proper back story, was seemingly the catalyst to propel Ebert forward in life. He was also, perhaps, the brother he never had - all the more touching and beautiful in the film when we hear a letter Ebert wrote to Siskel's wife after his death). He was a man we all knew, and for those of us who loved the movies, he was our trusted advisor: a friend we could consult with when others told us that movies don't matter.

While I may find flaws with the technical execution of this movie, there's nothing I saw in "Life Itself" that ever made me doubt the power of filmmaking, itself. That's what Roger Ebert was a champion of, and through his death, perhaps many more will come to see the strength in his writing and the beauty in his views on life (movies and otherwise). Well worth your trip to the theater.

(Awards potential: Best Documentary)

Maleficent (*1/2)

Perhaps I'm being a bit too dramatic to call something like 'Maleficent' offensive, but with the recent string of 'gritty reboot' films floating around out there, you're really going to have to wow me to gain any respect from me. The film, a 'retelling' of the classic Disney film 'Sleeping Beauty,' is told from the point of view of the villain, and perhaps one of cinema's greatest, too. Why I cringe reading that last sentence out loud will perhaps be spelled out in the following review.

Where else can we start from the beginning? If you need a little bit of spoilers, then look no further. Maleficent, a fairy-thing who lives in the land of Moore, is a happy girl-fairy-thing who falls in love with a human, Stephan, who gives her his true loves' kiss. As they grow up, the grow apart, and in order to win the throne from the dying King, Stephan lures Maleficent back and cuts off her wings... Because the King requested her head, but I guess that's good enough. Defiled and broken-hearted, Maleficent turns a crow into a man and then back into a crow, waits several years, then decides to visit Stephan when he has a child. At the christening, she curses the baby with a death-like sleep on her 16th Birthday (even though Disney went all the way with death in the original, go figure) - you know, pricking her finger on a spinning wheel. Those 3 fairies you may remember from the cartoon bring her into the woods to raise her, except Maleficent knows exactly where they live, grows to care for Aurora (the Princess, who calls her her Fairy Godmother), then tries to take back her curse... Then it doesn't work. Then, a 12 year-old Prince we just met, strolls along and tries to awaken her with 'true loves' kiss,' but drat!, it doesn't work. In the end, Maleficent gives her a kiss, wakes her up, gets her wings back, kills the king, then becomes a good person, I guess? I don't know.

Was I rambling? I'm sorry, I was just trying to imitate the pace of the film, horribly edited into small vignettes that fade in and out and never feel like part of a complete plot. There's a narrator who truly talks through the first 35 minutes of the movie (because we couldn't figure out that this little girl is Maleficent without you telling us), only to reveal herself as an older Aurora, the "Sleeping Beauty..." Wow, what a spoiler!!

Perhaps I can ask a few questions that someone could answer, questions that may explain my overall confusion with this film:
1. Why is her name Maleficent if she doesn't start out as a villain?
2. Why is she normal-sized and the other fairies are very fake-looking CGI doll-like things?
3. Why is the land called Moore? Is it just because it kind of sounds old-timey English?
4. If she curses this baby to basically die, why does she ever look out for it? Grow to love it??
5. How did her dead wings survive living in a glass box for 30 years?
6. Why was Maleficent wearing a Catwoman costume (complete with leather Spandex) under her robes this whole time, if not just because she has a major fight scene in the end?
7. Why was this movie made?

To elaborate on the last question a bit, perhaps this is the source of my frustrations. I would think most people consider Maleficent one of Disney's greatest villains. She's suave, coy, alluring, and pure 100% goddamned evil. That's it. There's nothing more to her character, and we don't need anything else. She exists in this world solely to be the antagonist, and it's literally the most bad-ass thing ever. The problem with a movie like this, then, is that it makes the false assumption that a character like this needs sympathy. She doesn't, she really doesn't. Perhaps in a few years they can make an origin story for Amon Goeth in 'Schindler's List,' so at least we can understand his actions....

The movie fails in almost every regard, and like last year's 'Oz: The Great and Powerful,' it's almost amazing how terribly a film can fail in so many aspects. From the small, cheap-looking sets, to the Maleficent costume itself (much more striking and visually amazing in the cartoon, even), everything feels like a dud.

Ultimately, what's the point? Oh, Maleficent is a good person, hurray. This world no longer has a villain, the original film is void, and Disney rakes in millions of dollars all because us innocent audience members wanted to see Angelina Jolie murder some goddamned kids. Instead, we're left with a cold, flat film with no discernible plot or character motivations, and a whole lot of wasted dollars out of my pocket.

(Awards potential: come on, now)

Godzilla (****)

In a time when Hollywood has stepped to the lowest rung of the ladder, when it seems like it could reach no lower for a petty way to make more money, another version of Godzilla making an appearance in cinemas seems like a terrible idea (but then again, I'm touching up a review for Spider-Man, a reboot of a series that only released its last movie 7 years ago...). With the 1998 version still mostly fresh in everyone's mind, it's with great joy that Godzilla stands as a smart Hollywood action flick, with the occasional moment of true movie magic.

The plot, can you believe it, begins in Japan, with the meltdown of a nuclear power plant. Joe Brody (Bryan Cranston, in an all-too short role) is the man who runs it, or seems to at least. His wife (the ever-gorgeous Juliette Binoche) dies in the accident, and their son, Ford (Aaron Taylor-Johnson as the adult) witnesses the destruction first hand. Cut to several years later, when Ford is in the Army and his father is now a nutcase hard-bent on uncovering secret government conspiracies. His claim that the nuclear meltdown was a cover for something else seems like gibberish. That, and his recent studies of echolocation.

Perhaps he's not too far off....

Unlike the most recent incarnation of Godzilla, here he is not the enemy. In fact, he's here to save the world from a couple of monsters so nasty, they're like a mix of a spider, bat, and grasshopper all in one. And they're planning on breeding.

We learn that Godzilla was the reason for most of the nuclear tests in the 1950's - covered up by impending war. His presence goes largely unnoticed, but he rises from the water every so often to "restore balance," AKA kick some monster ass at our expense.

The movie definitely waits for the big reveal of Godzilla, and it pays off. The first moment we see his towering frame on screen - silent and lit by a single red flare, it really makes you want to get up and cheer. The build-up is slow, and perhaps the movie runs a bit long, but our anxiety at seeing a 40-story lizard has never been more rewarding.

And while it's wonderful to see some serious action scenes, how curious is it that we need a 'human' plot at all, one which revolves around Ford and a team of soldiers trying to detonate a nuclear bomb to lure the creatures out of downtown San Fransisco... Is it just me, or do we not really care what happens in that regard? When you see a movie like Godzilla, you're expecting some action. More often than not, though, I found the director cutting away from action just as it was about to begin, only to cut back several minutes later to see the city in complete destruction. Where's the fun in that?

In the filmmakers' defense, there are some truly remarkable fight scenes, and I left the theater generally satisfied (even with the 3D ticket, to boot). For a summer flick, you can definitely do much worse (and with an ending like that, expect to see at least 4 more sequels in the next decade).

(Awards potential: Best Visual Effects, Best Sound Mixing, Best Sound Editing)