Burlesque

Burlesque - Dir. Steve Antin (2010)

When pop stars break into acting, it's usually not a pretty sight. One need not look any further than Mariah Carey in Glitter or Britney Spears in Crossroads. Christina Aguilera's big screen debut may not be very memorable, but it isn't nearly as dreadful.

The one-time Mouseketeer plays Ali, a small town girl from Iowa who hops on the bus to Los Angeles to fulfill her dreams of stardom. She pounds pavement going from one fruitless audition to another until she comes across The Burlesque Lounge on the Sunset Strip. She's immediately floored by the exquisite costumes and elaborate dance numbers. Ali is desperate for a job there, but is turned down flat by the club's owner Tess (Cher). She finds some sympathy from Tess's gay best friend, Sean (Stanley Tucci), and the handsome bartender, Jack (Cam Gigandet), who gives her a job as a waitress. She eventually impresses Tess enough to become a dancer, earning enmity from the club's previous centerpiece, the jealous and alcoholic Nikki (Kristen Bell). The girls, with the exception of Tess, are called on to merely lip synch the tunes. An act of sabotage by Nikki backfires allowing Ali to show off her "mutant lungs" for a rendition of Etta James' "Tough Lover." Just like that she becomes the new star attraction.

Meanwhile, Tess is fighting to save the club when she falls behind on mortgage payments. Her ex-husband and business partner, Vince (Peter Gallagher), is pressuring her to sell out to real estate mogul, Marcus Gerber (Eric Dane). The exceedingly rich Marcus has his eyes on not just the club, but on Ali as well. Our plucky heroine is ensnared in a love triangle between the kind-hearted Jack and the high life that only Marcus can give her.

Burlesque was directed by Steve Antin, the brother of Pussycat Dolls founder, Robin Antin. It's clear where Antin's influences lie as he apes Bob Fosse and Rob Marshall in the staging of his dance numbers. These are showy sequences reminiscent of Cabaret and Chicago. Speaking of which Alan Cumming, who played the Emcee in the 1998 Broadway production of Cabaret, essentially reprises the role here in a glorified cameo. The guys at the Lounge wear bowlers and eyeliner while looking like metrosexual versions of the Droogs from A Clockwork Orange. Though the film is called Burlesque and is set in a burlesque club, there's not a lot of actual burlesque involved aside from a toned down fan dance. Nobody gets naked and the outfits stay well within the realm of the PG-13 rating.

Antin also received sole credit for the screenplay, which was worked on at various times by Diablo Cody (Juno), Susannah Grant (Erin Brockovich), and John Patrick Shanley (Moonstruck, which earned Cher an Oscar for Best Actress). The results are a hodgepodge of clichés as we follow the journey of a young waif through the seductive world of Hollywood. It's predictable and chock full of corny lines like, "I held back your hair while you threw up everything, but your memories." There's an earnestness to each scene as everyone takes things deadly serious rather than playing up the obvious camp qualities.

Nobody goes to see a movie like Burlesque for a deeply moving script, they go for the music. Aguilera and Cher are more than capable of carrying the soundtrack with their powerful vocals, but the songs themselves don't feel worthy of their talents. None of them stick in your head or have you humming them on the drive home. The only tune that sticks out is an odd concoction that samples Marilyn Manson's "Beautiful People."

As the lead, Aguilera is never called upon to do anything demanding in terms of acting. She's there to sing, dance, and look good. Don't expect a transformation from Plain Jane, she's glamorous from the beginning and becomes even more glamorous as the film progresses. However, Burlesque utterly belongs to Cher and Stanley Tucci, who steal the movie whenever they're onscreen together.

While your intrepid film critic was unimpressed by the trite Burlesque, some of my fellow audience members were hooting and hollering at the garish spectacle. This one is strictly for fans of Xtina and Cher.

Rating: * ½ (*****)

The Kingdom

The Kingdom - Dir. Peter Berg (2007)

2007 was quite the year for politically charged movies. Hollywood dealt out their own liberal views on the war in the Middle East with films like In the Valley of Elah and Rendition. All three films received mixed reviews and raked in tepid box office revenue. The Kingdom followed suit using some of those same themes which isn´t surprising as screenwriter Matthew Carnahan also write Lions for Lambs. But, The Kingdom dials down the politics while upping the mayhem. It polishes up those hot-button topics with the glossy sheen that only a big-budget blockbuster can.

The film opens with a Cliff Notes quickie rundown history of the Saudi Arabia and its relationship with the U.S. Next, we're taken to a housing complex for oil company employees in the Saudi capital city of Riyadh. The residents are enjoying an afternoon softball game when two terrorists, wearing Saudi State Police uniforms, attack. They open fire on anyone and every house in their path drawing the real police. In the ensuing chaos, a suicide bomber, also in a stolen uniform, triggers an explosion killing himself and everyone in close proximity. However, these attacks are only the tip of the iceberg. The terrorists used these initial attacks to lure in first-responder teams and over a hundred people are killed in the following, and much larger, explosion. Among the victims was the FBI´s lead agent in Saudi Arabia, Special Agent Francis Manner (Kyle Chandler).

Special Agent Ronald Fleury (Jamie Foxx) has the unenviable task of bringing the terrorists to justice for the death of his friend and the others killed. He finds his hands tied as the Saudi royal family is reluctant to allow an FBI team into the country. They do not want to seem dependent on the Americans nor do they want more killed on their soil. The U.S. State Department is in agreement and refuses to authorize Fleury´s requests. Fleury turns to some back-room chicanery and blackmail to get the Saudis to open up the doors. He´s immediately on his way to Riyadh with an investigation team that consists of Special Agents Janet Mayes (Jennifer Garner), Adam Leavitt (Jason Bateman), and explosives expert Grant Sykes (Chris Cooper).

Once arriving in Riyadh, they find their investigation hindered by the Saudis. Fleury and company are no more than observers. They watch as the Saudi officials unknowingly contaminate the crime scene and overlook vital evidence. They are forced to live and sleep in a gym under lock and key. They are dogged at every step by Col. Faris Al-Ghazi (Ashraf Barhom), the head of security at the complex who has been relegated to babysitter for the Americans. Even the U.S. Embassy, in the form of Deputy Chief of Mission Damon Schmidt (Jeremy Piven), wants them on a plane and back home as quickly as possible. Fed up, Fleury does some more wheeling and dealing and the Saudi royals give him the green light to take over the investigation.

It´s at this point that the story finally kicks in as the film becomes "CSI: Saudi Arabia." While many reviews felt that these scenes were tedious, I disagree. I thought it was interesting seeing the FBI agents work the crime scene within the strict confines of Saudi laws and culture. In one scene, Agent Mayes upsets a pair of Saudi officers while trying to simply lift a corpse´s fingerprints. She is not allowed to touch the dead body of a Muslim. It´s disappointing that the procedural aspects give way to bullet-riddled action spectacle. The final third section of the picture features the heroes engaging in a harrowing gun battle with the perpetrators. It´s a shame that the filmmakers decided that the bad guys would be brought down at the end of a gun barrel rather than through detective work. I will say that the climactic action sequences are incredibly well-done, especially the final showdown. Director Peter Berg has proven he pull off stylish action following his work on the incredibly fun, The Rundown. Here, he brings that same flair to The Kingdom and it´s in line with the work of producer Michael Mann. Unfortunately, Berg tends to rely on shaky handheld shots, a technique which is has become a tiresome trend. What would be is to keep the camera steady and let us actually see what´s happening without getting a migraine.

The cast is strong, but their acting isn´t anything special. Foxx brings the same macho, tough-guy act he brought to Miami Vice and Garner is basically Sydney Bristow-lite. Cooper has some good scenes with a country fried good ol´ boy act that would do Tommy Lee Jones proud. Bateman tends to be a bit grating with his constant one-liners while Piven simply shows up and does his Ari Gold shtick. Really, the best performances come not from the headliners, but from two relatively unknown Palestinian actors, Barhom as Col. Al-Ghazi, and Ali Suliman as Sgt. Haytham. Filling out the supporting cast are Danny Huston (who pulls off an unconvincing Southern accent) as the attorney general, Frances Fisher as a reporter, Richard Jenkins as FBI Director Grace, along with cameos by Minka Kelly, Ashley Scott, and country singer Tim McGraw.

Many have labeled The Kingdom a jingoistic piece of cinema and it´s hard to disagree. Putting aside politics, the film is slipshod in its approach to storytelling. The first act of the film deals with political maneuvering; the middle act is a procedural investigation, while the final act takes the form of a slam-bang action movie. The film's zero-sum view on the war isn't as profound as it seems to think it is. The Kingdom does try to paint some Saudis in a positive light through a hackneyed friendship between Fleury and Al-Ghazi. At least, the filmmakers stopped short of having the two characters swap family photos. There´s nothing particularly special about The Kingdom that you should go out of your way to see it, but it´s worth a watch if you just want a flick to see while eating a tub of buttery popcorn.

Rating: ** ½ (*****)

Love and Other Drugs

Love and Other Drugs - Dir. Edward Zwick (2010)

Sometimes I just don't understand the strange decisions made by Hollywood executives. Love and Other Drugs had all the makings of an interesting film centered on a very timely concept. The film was based on the non-fiction book, Hard Sell: The Evolution of a Viagra Salesman, written by Jamie Reidy, a former pharmaceutical salesman. With health care being a hot button topic, it seems like the perfect time for an inside look at the pharmaceutical industry. Instead, the studio plays it safe and whitewashes the story into yet another banal romantic comedy.

Jake Gyllenhaal plays Jamie Randall, a med school dropout who has just been fired from his job in retail electronics after boning the boss's girlfriend in the stock room. Jamie quickly gets a job shilling medication with the corporate juggernaut known as Pfizer. In the pharmaceutical game, medical knowledge is hardly a necessity, but good looks and a winning personality are everything. A dizzying montage shows candidates memorizing sales pitches and dancing the Macarena at a garish orientation. Jamie aspires for the bigger market of Chicago, but gets the accounts in Iowa instead. There, he's to push Zoloft, an anti-depressant that is a distant second in sales to the more renowned Prozac. He shamelessly flirts with the receptionists to get his foot in the door and offers bribes to various doctors. Fortunes rise (pun slightly intended) with the creation of Viagra and Jamie leaps at the opportunity, "Who can sell a dick drug better than me?"

While pretending to be an intern, he meets Maggie Murdock (Anne Hathaway), a patient suffering from stage one Parkinson's disease. Jamie inadvertently glimpses her breast and gets pummeled in the parking lot when Maggie finds out he's a drug rep. Only in the movies does this ignite a star-crossed romance. At first, both parties are only interested in empty sex, but true feelings develop to complicate their relationship. Jamie worries about how he'll care for Maggie when her condition inevitably deteriorates while Maggie is concerned about holding Jamie's career back.

Love and Other Drugs feels like four or five different movies stitched together in a haphazard manner. The film starts off strong with an engaging first act that serves as a satire of the pharmaceutical industry. Once Maggie is introduced the story veers into the territory of a standard romantic comedy. When the Parkinson's subplot is emphasized, Other Drugs becomes a weepy melodrama similar to the all-time cheesy classic Love Story. The sentimental portion does provide one of the few genuine moments of the picture when Maggie leaves a medical convention for a support group for those afflicted with Parkinson's. Topping it all off is a heavy element of raunchiness straight out of the Apatow comedy playbook. The film's stars get naked frequently and there are the requisite boner jokes involving Viagra. They've also brought in Josh Gad, who acts like the love child of Jonah Hill and Jack Black, as Jamie's lazy brother. Every word out of his mouth is an annoying and horribly unfunny attempt at lowbrow humor. On the other hand, Gyllenhaal and his Brokeback Mountain beard Anne Hathaway are both good in the lead roles as is Gabriel Macht as a rival salesman. However, Judy Greer is underutilized as are George Segal and the late-Jill Clayburgh, who only appear in one scene as Jamie's parents.

Love and Other Drugs is a different kind of film from director Edward Zwick, who helmed Glory and The Last Samurai, but it fits right in with thirtysomething, the sappy and soapy television series he produced back in the early-90's. This is a completely disjointed affair that fails to find any semblance of balance between light comedy and heavy drama.

Rating: * ½ (*****)

Faster

Faster - Dir. George Tillman Jr. (2010)

Faster marks the welcome return of Dwayne Johnson to the action genre after a string of family friendly films like Race to Witch Mountain and Tooth Fairy. Faster is a throwback to the gritty movies of the 70's as evidenced by a taciturn protagonist painted in shades of gray and his vintage muscle car. Johnson has admitted to studying Clint Eastwood to portray the hero who lets his gun do all the talking for him.

Faster opens with Johnson being released from prison after serving ten years. Once out, he jogs to a nearby junkyard where he finds a 1970 Chevy Chevelle stashed under a tarp. A revolver is waiting for him in the glove compartment along with a list of targets. Johnson stomps into an office building and shoots a telemarketer right in the head. It is only then that Johnson is identified as simply Driver.

As it turns out the telemarketer deserved to die for something other than just being a telemarketer (Courtney Gains). Driver and his brother (Matt Gerald) were part of a bank robbing crew that was ambushed by another gang. The brother was murdered and Driver was shot in the head. Miraculously, he survived and embarks on a path of vengeance against the men who killed his beloved brother. The telemarketer was just the first on the list. As for the others, some have seemingly reformed while others are just as nasty as ever.

Faster is a simple enough premise. It's a lean, mean revenge movie with Johnson looking so jacked; you would think he was making a return to the wrestling ring. Tillman directs with a clean hand without ever drowning the action in overly stylish visuals. If only the script by Tony & Joe Gayton (who penned the underrated The Salton Sea) had followed suit. The story splits its focus from the Driver and towards a pair of antagonists that stand in the way of his mission. Billy Bob Thornton plays Cop, a burnt out detective just ten days away from retirement. He juggles his hunt for the Driver with a heroin addiction and an estranged wife (Moon Bloodgood). Cop's relationship with his insecure, overweight son recalls Thornton's darkly comic turn in Bad Santa. Cop is partnered with Det. Cicero (Carla Gugino) who is barely tolerant of his slovenly manner.

On the other side of the law is Killer (Oliver Jackson-Cohen), a hitman with a British accent and a colorful backstory. It's gleaned that Killer has shaped his mind and body to perfection. A thrillseeker and former software wunderkind who has turned his fortunes to the art of murder for hire. He lives in an ultramodern mansion with his girlfriend, Lily (Maggie Grace), who shares his love of assault weapons. Killer stalks his prey while conversing with his therapist on his Bluetooth headset. He's a wild, out-of-left-field character that feels like he's been dropped in from a completely different film. Just as you're getting into the Driver's ass-kicking quest, Faster takes you on a detour into the personal lives of Cop and Killer. This three-pronged assault doesn't allot the screen time that the lead character deserves.

Despite a lack of focus, Faster is a passable actioner, one content to play with the archetypes of the genre rather than reinvent them. It's a slower paced, less stylish affair compared to The Rundown, but it's a damn sight better than the atrocious Doom.

Rating: ** (*****)

127 Hours

127 Hours - Dir. Danny Boyle (2010)

The maximalist meets the minimalist in Danny Boyle's 127 Hours, the follow-up to 2008's Best Picture winner, Slumdog Millionaire. Boyle has the tough task of cinematically chronicling the harrowing ordeal of Aron Ralston, a hiker who was forced to amputate his own arm after being pinned down by a boulder.

127 Hours is a veritable one-man show centered on James Franco as the free-spirited Ralston whose life is about to be forever changed, building from a series of innocuous decisions. Ralson wakes early in the morning to prepare for a hiking trip through Utah's Monument Valley, the site of many classic John Ford Westerns. He can't find his trusty Swiss army knife and he neglects to answer a phone call from his mother (Kate Burton). He does manage to grab a few supplies like a microwave burrito, a bottle of water, digital camera, and a camcorder. Ralston rips through the desert on his mountain bike with a mile wide grin on his face. Nothing seems to get him down. Even when he crashes his bike, he laughs it off and snaps a picture of himself.

While walking the trail, he comes across a pair of cute girls (Amber Tamblyn & Kate Mara) who are lost. Ralson gladly acts as their guide. The trio squeezes through a narrow canyon that leads to a beautiful underground lake. After parting ways, Ralston attempts to traverse another crevice, one far less imposing, and slips on a rock. When the dust settles, Ralston finds that his right arm has been crushed in between the rock and the canyon wall. He's in the middle of nowhere and has neglected to inform anyone of his whereabouts. He tries desperately to free himself even jury rigging a pulley system with his climbing role and harness to no avail. Trapped for five days, Ralston is forced to do the unthinkable in order to survive. To Boyle's credit, he does not shy away from the incredibly graphic details in order to convey the seriousness of the man cutting off his own arm. Without his Swiss army knife, Ralston turns to a cheap and dull knock-off made in China. Though in real life, the act took Ralston approximately 45 minutes, the sequence only lasts around 3 minutes in the film. Needless to say, those of you with a weak stomach should avert their eyes. It's been reported that a few audience members at early screeners fainted at the grisly sight.

When focused solely on Ralston, Boyle's direction takes a claustrophobic direction with tight close-ups of James Franco pushed uncomfortably against the corner of the frame. The camcorder is used by Ralston as both a distraction and a confessional. Franco shines in these moments as even the direst of straits cannot extinguish his natural charm. In one of the film's best scenes, Ralston hosts a mock talk show with himself as host and guest. As the chance for survival becomes increasingly slim, Ralston can only assess his situation with a glib and succinct, "Oops." Where there are highs, there are lows and Franco is equally adept at portraying a man with a zest for life coming to grips with his mortality.

It's a difficult proposition to build a feature-length movie around a solitary character within a confined location. Films like Open Water, Frozen, and Buried have tried to similar stories with mixed results. Boyle manages to keep things fresh with his kinetic directing style. He opens 127 Hours with a split screen sequence that bluntly juxtaposes Ralston beginning his journey with throngs of people crammed together as they head off to work. Moving to Monument Valley, Boyle goes for long shots of his lead against the majestic open spaces. He allows us to revel in it before constricting the film. As Ralston grows weaker due to the elements and a lack of food and water, he escapes into a realm of flashbacks and fantasies. He imagines himself leaping to freedom as if he were Superman. There's even an amusing hallucination involving an inflatable Scooby Doo. Ralston leads us through happier moments in his life with his family (Treat Williams and Lizzy Caplan appear briefly as his father and sister) and reveals regrets with an ex-girlfriend (Cleméncé Poésy). Boyle and screenwriter Simon Beaufoy do a fine job of weaving these sequences into the narrative without feeling like superfluous padding.

However, Boyle forgets to put on the brakes from time to time. The perfect example comes when Ralston realizes he has a limited supply of water. Boyle whips the camera across the desert and back to Ralston's car where an unopened bottle of Gatorade rests. It's a clever and comical moment that Boyle overcooks by immediately going into a montage of soda commercials. The camera tricks are alternately invigorating and detracting, as if Boyle did not possess the patience needed to keep us in that tiny spot. 127 Hours is at its best when it is pure and undiluted, focusing intimately on Franco's raw performance.

Rating: *** (*****)

Eat Pray Love

Eat Pray Love - Dir. Ryan Murphy (2010)

To say Elizabeth Gilbert's globe-trotting memoir, Eat Pray Love, was a smash hit would be an understatement. It was pimped by Oprah Winfrey and translated into over thirty languages.. It also spawned a slew of merchandise like Eat Pray Love jewelry, Eat Pray Love journals, Eat Pray Love perfume, and even Eat Pray Love lip gloss. No word on Eat Pray Love: The Flamethrower. Obviously it touched a nerve with women around the world and a feature film version was inevitable.

Julia Roberts plays the on-screen version of Gilbert, a freelance journalist stuck in an unhappy marriage with her husband, Steven (Billy Crudup). After the divorce, she engages in a rebound relationship with a sensitive young actor named David (James Franco). Still not content, Gilbert wants to go on a year long quest to find herself and her sympathetic publisher (Viola Davis) provides an advance to cover expenses.

The first leg of the journey takes her to Rome where she indulges in rich Italian cuisine. She even learns Italian from a hunk with the unlikely name of Luca Spaghetti. After four months of food, wine, and friends, Gilbert heads to India where she'll meditate in an ashram for the 'Pray' section of her adventure. Here, she meets Tulsi (Rushita Singh), a young girl readying for an arranged marriage, and Richard (Richard Jenkins), a recovering alcoholic from Texas who imparts barbs of wisdom on the soul-searching protagonist. After another four months, Gilbert concludes her voyage in Bali in order to study with a ninth-generation medicine man (Hadi Subiyanto) she met on an earlier trip. It is here that Gilbert hopes to find a balance between life and spirituality when the 'Love' portion of the film kicks in. She falls for an exceedingly swarthy Javier Bardem as a Brazilian businessman and fellow divorcee.

As a 30-year old male, I am hardly the targeted audience for Eat Pray Love. I haven't read the original book either. I'm sure there are plenty of reasons why it managed to captivate its audience enough to stay on the New York Times bestseller list for 187 weeks. Whatever the reasons, it didn't come across in the big-screen adaptation. The film's failures certainly don't fall on the shoulders of the cast. Julia Roberts does a great job of being Julia Roberts. When you hire her for the lead, it's because she's the embodiment of the beautiful Hollywood starlet and she can connect with movie-goers. Billy Crudup, James Franco, and Javier Bardem are all good as the men in her life, despite being relatively thin roles. Viola Davis and Richard Jenkins bring an additional layer of gravitas whenever they are present. Davis always seems to carry things to another level no matter how small her parts are. In Jenkins' case, his speech about the reasons why he's at the ashram is engrossing and nearly hijacks the entire movie.

The problem is the film lacks the raw substance necessary to truly latch onto it. Ryan Murphy, the creator of Nip/Tuck and Glee, directed the picture and co-wrote the script with Jennifer Salt. He does a fair job technically, but is unable to imbue the story with any sort of genuine emotional resonance. When we first meet Gilbert, all we know is that she is unhappy for whatever vague reasons. Once Eat Pray Love launches into a series of exotic locations, it becomes a cross between a travelogue and a reality show on Food Network. It's hard to sympathize with a well-to-do New Yorker who's getting paid to go on vacation. Someone who's biggest problem seems to be being unable to fit into her jeans after eating too much pizza. As the film concludes in Bali, it shifts into a standard romantic comedy as Roberts and Bardem pull a meet cute after he nearly runs her over. The conclusion flies in the face of the one of the film's central themes. Gilbert had defined herself based on her relationships and learned she didn't need a man to be happy. So of course, she finds one to literally ride off into the sunset with. Finally, the film is just way too long, clocking in at 133 minutes with a 146 minute director's cut hitting DVD and Blu-Ray. There's just too much eating, praying, and loving.

Eat Pray Love is a shiny, polished production set in good-looking locations populated by good-looking people. It's a chick flick through and through, but one that is not nearly as soulless as the Sex and the City movies. I'm sure someone else will give it three or four stars, but I didn't find it nearly as appetizing.

Rating: * ½ (*****)

Life as We Know It

Life as We Know It - Dir. Greg Berlanti (2010)

Katherine Heigl doesn't seem to have a problem biting the hand that feeds her. She made digs at the writing staff of Grey's Anatomy and lambasted Knocked Up for its sexist themes, despite the fact that the film made her a movie star. Ironically, Heigl would participate in features that were far more misogynistic and insipid. She's frequently cast as the shrill and vapid control freak in a continuing stream of empty-headed romantic comedies. Life as We Know It isn't any different as Heigl once again plays an uptight professional woman who is thrust into motherhood with an emotionally immature man-child.

Heigl is Holly Berenson, the owner of a bakery and catering service, who is best friends with Alison Novak (Christina Hendricks). Josh Duhamel is the subtly named Eric Messer, a technical director for the Atlanta Hawks, who is best friends with Alison's husband, Peter (Hayes MacArthur). The Novaks figure their long-time buddies would make the perfect couple and set them up on what turns out to be a disastrous blind date. Holly wears a slinky cocktail dress. Messer is dressed in a leather jacket and tattered baseball cap. She drives a Smart Car. He rides a motorcycle. Oh, how will it ever work out? Well, it doesn't at first.

Two years later, Peter and Alison are killed in a car accident. They leave custody of their 1-year old daughter, Sophia, to the bewildered Holly and Messer. The newfound parents have a difficult time balancing their work and social lives with raising a baby. Holly and Messer may smart and successful people, but one dirty diaper later, they're suddenly bumbling idiots. One montage later though and suddenly they've turned things around and slowly realize just how much they match up as a family.

Life as We Know It is on the level of a bad sitcom. It's like a pilot for a throwback to the TGIF line-up. The film is full of stock characters that get into stock situations that are easily solved as sappy music plays in the background. Life is stepped in rom-com clichés with Holly romancing a good-looking pediatrician (Josh Lucas) who acts as the third wheel in the relationship. He's the nice, bland guy who gets dumped for the leading man. There's an extremely forced, second act complication that breaks the couple apart just so they can have another idiotic scene where one character rushes to the airport to catch the other before it's too late. The humor is equally inane with scenes of Heigl getting poop on her face and watching The Wiggles while stoned.

Life as We Know It is overly sentimental drivel, but it's harmless, sentimental drivel and that's the nicest, backhanded compliment I can pay it.

Rating: * (*****)

Green Zone

Green Zone - Dir. Paul Greengrass (2010)

Green Zone is easily the best film of the first half of 2010. It’s an exceptionally rare breed of action film. It’s an action film with a brain, something you don’t see very often.

Based on the non-fiction book, Imperial Life in the Emerald City, by Rajiv Chandrasekaran, Green Zone follows the U.S. occupation of Iraq following the invasion and toppling of Saddam Hussein’s regime. Matt Damon stars as Chief Warrant Officer Roy Miller whose squad is tasked with the search for Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction. Miller’s searches are fruitless. One location is a playground; another is an abandoned toilet factory. Miller is less than assuaged by his superiors’ assurances that the intel, provided by a source code-named Magellan (an allusion to real-life informant "Curveball"), is thoroughly vetted.

In search of the truth, Miller encounters several individuals that help or hinder him. Among them are reporter Lawrie Dayne (Amy Ryan), an analogue for real-life journalist Judith Miller, who was oft-accused of being a shill for the Bush administration. Miller is also stuck in a tug of war between Martin Brown, the bureau chief for the CIA, (Brendan Gleeson) and Pentagon official Clark Poundstone (Greg Kinnear). Brown believes in utilizing the remnants of the Iraqi army to enforce order in the country. Neo-con Poundstone believes in playing hardball, weaving half-truths, and installing a glorified puppet to head up the new government.

Of utmost importance is a one-legged Iraqi who goes by the name, Freddy (Khalid Abdalla). He provides crucial information that puts Miller on the trail of Gen. Al-Rawi (Yigal Naor), one of the military's most wanted men. The relationship between Freddy and Roy Miller acts as an obvious parallel to the plight of the Iraqi people. Freddy is a representation of the hope and fear of his nation following the fall of Saddam Hussein. For Roy's part, there's an oblivious nature to some of these emotions. During one sequence, Miller and his men tackle Freddy to the ground, accidentally yanking off his prosthetic leg, because they believed he was escaping with valuable intel. In actuality, Freddy was hauling ass out of there after witnessing a black ops team (led by an almost unrecognizable Jason Isaacs) place hoods over prisoners' heads and herd them into a chopper.

The script by Brian Helgeland is blunt and lacking in nuance. However, the events are compelling enough for you to overlook any nitpicks. The same goes for the acting and the direction. Damon carries the film as the unflappable Miller. He plays well against his former Siamese twin brother (remember Stuck On You?), Greg Kinnear who takes smarmy to new levels.

Yes, Greengrass employs his trademark shaky cam, but it's not as nauseating or disorienting as his earlier work on the Bourne pictures. Teamed with cinematographer Barry Ackroyd (The Hurt Locker), Greengrass brings an immediacy and authenticity to the film. Green Zone feels like you've been dropped into the middle of Baghdad, despite the fact that the movie was shot in Spain, Morocco, and the UK.

Green Zone doesn't purport to be an accurate portrayal of the war in Iraq. Indeed, there is a sense of revisionist history and wishful thinking when it comes to the idea of a righteous soldier exposing the lies of his government. No, the film cements the tenant that it is the soldiers who bravely fight the wars that the politicians create. Perhaps, the most infuriating moment in Green Zone comes when Miller and his men (covered in sweat, sand, and grime) arrive at Saddam's former palace to find American VIPs lounging around the pool. After risking their lives in the desert, they are surrounded by politicians, contractors, and officials drinking margaritas and eating steaks.

Rating: *** ½ (*****)

Due Date

Due Date - Dir. Todd Phillips (2010)

Due Date had all the makings of a great comedy. It paired two talented actors on hot streaks in Robert Downey Jr. and Zach Galifianakis for a variation on Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. Plus, it was directed by Todd Phillips as the follow-up to The Hangover, the highest grossing R-rated comedy in the United States. Sadly, Due Date winds up being an uneven film that labors to get a few giggles.

Peter Highman (Downey) is a tightly wound architect waiting for his wife (Michelle Monaghan) to give birth to their first child. On a business trip to Atlanta, he plans to catch the next flight to Los Angeles with time to spare. Unfortunately, Peter bumps into the eccentric Ethan Tremblay (Zach Galifianakis), a wannabe actor accompanied by his French Bulldog named Sonny. Ethan was inspired to go to Hollywood because of Two and a Half Men. Through a series of kooky circumstances, Peter and Ethan get booted off the plane and placed on the no-fly list. Having lost his wallet and ID on the airline, Peter is forced to ride with Ethan across the country to get to L.A. All sorts of shenanigans occur due to Peter's hot temper and Ethan's stupidity.

Ethan takes them on a detour to buy pot from a trashy Juliette Lewis and falls asleep at the wheel causing their car to careen off a bridge. Peter spends most of the movie alternately being befuddled and infuriated by Ethan's strange behavior.

Due Date has a rough time getting off the ground because its lead characters have been pushed too extremely in their disparate personalities. Downey is great as the straight man, but Peter is simply an unlikable guy. He's thrown off the flight partly because he's acting like a jerk. When we first meet Peter, he's yakking away on his Bluetooth earpiece, something he does constantly. I don't know about anybody else, but when I see people like that, I immediately think, "Douche." He spits on a dog, punches a kid, and suspects his wife of having an affair with little reason. Then, there's Ethan who is just too much of an idiot. At least in The Hangover, Galifianakis was sympathetic. Here, he's moronic beyond reason to the point that someone like him would have zero chance of survival in real life. Ethan is a poster boy for the Darwin Awards.

There are some funny moments to be found such as a wild highway chase after an encounter at a Mexican border crossing. Downey also gets into a brawl with a game Danny McBride as a paraplegic war vet working at a Western Union. However, Phillips loses momentum when he goes for lame, gross-out gags like a scene where Ethan and his dog masturbate in sync next to an incredulous Peter. Speaking of the dog, Phillips brings the cheap heat by cutting to reaction shots of the squishy faced dog just so the audience can go, "Aww."

The Hangover may not have been to everyone's tastes, but it went for broke in the crass, sophomoric humor department. Due Date struggles to reach that same level of manic energy and succeeds in only generating a few scattered laughs.

Rating: **

Morning Glory

Morning Glory - Dir. Roger Michell (2010)

In the vein of Broadcast News comes Morning Glory, a slick and breezy comedy from director Roger Michell (Notting Hill), producer JJ Abrams (Lost, Star Trek), and screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna, who previously turned her attention to the world of fashion with The Devil Wears Prada.

Rachel McAdams plays the plucky heroine in Becky Fuller, a news producer for the morning talk show, Good Morning, New Jersey. We're introduced to her during a dinner date in the middle of the afternoon (her work day starts at 1:30AM) and she spends most of her time trying not to answer her Blackberry. She's not the typical Type-A personality of rom-com trappings, but she's a workaholic. Despite her best efforts, Becky is laid off due to budget cuts. Her mom lectures her about finally getting a real job, despite the fact that Becky has only been unemployed for like 2 hours.

After a dizzying montage of phone calls, Becky moves to the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple when she becomes the executive producer for Daybreak, which airs on the struggling IBS Network. I'm sure somebody knew what they were doing when they matched the initials to Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Anyways, Daybreak is dead last in the ratings and it's up to the perennially perky Becky to turn things around. Her first order of business is firing the show's overly tanned co-anchor (a criminally underused Ty Burrell) due to his creepy foot fetish.

Becky finds a replacement in veteran newsman, Mike Pomeroy (Harrison Ford), who is currently content to sit at home and collect fat paychecks until his contract expires. Becky forces him onto Daybreak due to a loophole in legal mumbo jumbo. Pomeroy used to be IBS's Dan Rather, covering wars and interviewing heads of state, and he isn't about to do stories on baby chicks. He also refuses to say the word, "fluffy." Becky is run ragged as she deals with Pomeroy's uncontrollable ego, plummeting ratings, and a budding romance with another IBS producer (Patrick Wilson).

Diane Keaton co-stars as Colleen Peck (Diane Keaton), a former Miss Arizona whose own ego struggles for dominance over Pomeroy's. Morning Glory also features Jeff Goldblum as Becky's boss and cameos from 50 Cent and reporters Morley Safer and Bob Schieffer.

Much like the morning programs it pokes fun at; the movie is light with a tart, saccharine flavor. It's brightly colored and slickly shot picture that never digs deeper beyond the superficial. The romantic subplot is trite with the usual second act complication shoehorned in so the couple can split then make up during the final act.

Rachel McAdams is effervescent as Becky Fuller. She's one of the film's bright spots and is engaging enough to keep you somewhat interested in the stale narrative. Becky is a dash of Mary Tyler Moore and there are parallels to Marlo Thomas with McAdams running through New York City in slow motion as flocks of pigeons fly about her. But, McAdams is never given the material to grow beyond being a sitcom creation. It's also odd that Becky would cite Pomeroy as an inspiration, yet become so preoccupied with ratings and inconsequential puff pieces. I will give kudos to Roger Michell for throwing in a very nice butt shot of McAdams.

Harrison Ford is funny in a one-note performance as the crotchety curmudgeon, but, for a famed journalist, he barely registers above laconic when he's delivering serious news. Diane Keaton doesn't get much to do other than play Ford's foil and try to dance with 50 Cent. Ty Burrell is utterly wasted. He's only in about three scenes, but he's easily the best thing in the movie.

If you're looking for lightweight entertainment, you could do worse than Morning Glory. However, as a film set in the world of network news, it's hardly Network or even Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgandy.

Rating: **