Film

Tim Burton's Alice In Wonderland is a film so half-assed, so slap-dash, so unbearably boring that I can't even care enough to fully concentrate on writing this review. I am distracting myself with the Oscars – and finding even the interpretative dance sequence to the soundtrack of The Hurt Locker miles more entertaining than the tepid trash Burton is peddling as an adaptation of Lewis Carroll's fascinating classic.
The self-consciously wacky director takes a tale brimming with images, historical and cultural references, poems, songs and extraordinary invention, reduces it to a handful of glib catchphrases, then repeats these ad nauseam – while constantly informing us of what has happened, what will happen and what is happening in the style of one of those reality TV shows desperately low on interesting content. Think of all the bits you love from the book, or the Disney cartoon even; well you won't find them here – Burton instead sees fit to strike out the original story and replace it with a CliffsNotes sequel.

Going into Brooklyn's Finest I didn't expect something special, but I came out somewhat amazed at how bland it really was. It's a lame attempt at combining Training Day and Crash that comes off like a mediocre television crime drama.
Finest begins with an ominous black car silhouetted in front of a New York cityscape, as Vincent D'Onofrio delivers a foreboding monologue about what's “righter and wronger” in the fight between cops and lawbreakers. We lose his character quickly, but then a trio of stories begins. We get Dugan (Richard Gere), a drunken suicidal “doesn't-give-a-shit” loser cop with seven days left before retirement and Sal (Ethan Hawke), a Catholic-guilt-ridden, crooked, sociopathic narcotics cop ready to kill and swindle money for the good of his pregnant wife and growing family. Then there's Tango (Don Cheadle), a conflicted undercover cop deep into the drug scene, dealing with the dilemma of busting his long-lost pal Caz (Wesley Snipes) who once saved his life. Tango and Caz… get it? Other stereotypical characters are Will Patton as the grizzled nice guy detective and Ellen Barkin, resembling a cornered bulldog, doing her tough-mama-agent routine.

Our two film columnists, Morgan P. Salvo and Holly Grigg-Spall, spent the year liking and hating films, and thinking others were merely OK. Here's who they think should win Oscars this weekend, even when they know their pick won't necessarily take home a little golden man – because James Cameron probably already has it down his pants.
Best Picture
Holly Grigg-Spall: An Education. For this weekend it almost seems easier to say which films I absolutely don't want to win – Avatar, Up In The Air, District 9 – and it's definitely easier to say which film I think is the best of the lot: An Education.
Morgan P. Salvo: A Serious Man. No way in hell it will win but it was the best movie I had the pleasure to view all year. Hurt Locker and District 9 were my runner-ups.

The Crazies is based on the 1973 George A. Romero flick of the same name and joins the ranks of newly remade apocalyptic scenarios, though this 2010 version borrows only marginally from the original.
While Crazies '73 was set in Pennsylvania, this time the plot revolves around the inhabitants of Ogden Marsh, a small Iowa town suddenly plagued by an outbreak of insanity and death after a mysterious toxin contaminates their water supply. From the opening scene of a disheveled guy interrupting a kids' softball game carrying a shotgun, Sherriff Dutton (Timothy Olyphant) and Deputy Clank (Joe Anderson) figure something is wrong in their little community. Bouts of insanity are eventually traced to the town's water supply where a plane has mysteriously crashed. Afterward the military moves in, dispensing martial law and wiping Ogden Marsh off the map along with all its inhabitants, infected or not. Where the 1973 classic was more politically motivated, dead set on making parallels to the Vietnam War, the Kent State shootings, this Crazies is more personal, focusing on Sheriff Dutton and his wife/ town doctor (Radha Mitchell) as they battle the evil gas-mask-wearing military on one side and vein-popping wide-eyed crazies on the other.

Martin Scorsese was my favorite filmmaker for at least two decades. It was not until the Dicaprio era kicked off with Gangs of New York and the Aviator that I started to lose faith. Not to blame Leo so much (as most do), he isn't such a bad actor. But with Shutter Island comes near redemption – it's almost a good flick.
Based on Dennis Lehane's (Mystic River) novel, Shutter Island takes place in 1954 at an insane asylum/correctional compound on an island in the middle of the Boston Harbor that specializes in the containment and care of the most dangerous criminally insane. It's a fortress of abstract terror, surrounded by cliffs on all sides. U.S. Marshals Teddy Daniels (Leonardo Dicaprio) and Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo) ride a ferry out to investigate the disappearance of a patient. What begins as a simple missing person investigation slowly morphs into full-on psychological horror. As more disturbing revelations come to pass, the stress starts eating away at Daniels' nerves. It revives his alcoholic past while creating parallels with Nazi science experiments and death camps.

After attending the first weekend of the Archaeology Film Fest Series, having not considered archaeology much since metal detectors were all the rage in 1990s England, I second a statement that I found on the website of the Archaeological Legacy Institute: Archaeology is humanity's rearview mirror – enabling a much better understanding of our place and time in the world. The films chosen by the local Archaeological Society are mind-expanding and inspirational. They transport you not only to other lands but outside of yourself, providing endlessly nourishing visuals, information and insight.

The Wolfman looked like it might be OK, beginning with a lone figure prowling the moors at night, segueing into the first beastly attack. But resurrecting a horror icon should be done with some pizzazz, and the only thing this Wolfman has down is the lavish, Gothic sets.
The plot revives the classic werewolf tale. Lawrence Talbot (Benicio Del Toro) returns to his family estate to investigate his brother's death, deal with his estranged father (Anthony Hopkins) and contend with a horrifying family legacy. The full moon looms and evil transformation is imminent. But this one made me miss even the abysmal Wolf with Jack Nicholson, not to mention Lon Chaney Jr's sensitive portrayal in George Waggner's 1941 version.

Sometimes you see a movie, and two thirds of the way through you know that no matter how it ends, this is going to be one you'll be raving about for years to come. The Bad Lieutenant: Port Of Call New Orleans has Nicolas Cage playing the part of the injured, dirty, hopped-up cop Terence McDonagh like the Humphrey Bogart of In A Lonely Place and The Maltese Falcon. Inspired by Abel Ferrara's 1992 Bad Lieutenant, this film gives us a bad cop in Cage who's not half as bad as the world he works in. His every corrupt moment – from confiscating drugs from drunken couples for his own use, to threatening old ladies – is reflective of the police force, the government and the whole system.

Crazy Heart is this year's The Wrestler – a true character study built on pain, suffering, angst and real human emotion with a standout performance by the lead actor. Instead of over-the-hill wrestler Randy the Ram spilling his blood on the stage as he fades into obscurity we get the burned-out 57-year-old country star Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) on a binge of self-destruction.
Blake travels in a battered Suburban performing at bowling alleys and dive bars in a string of low-paying, low-turnout gigs with pickup bands along the way. Playing a Gretsch guitar through an old Fender Tremolux amp and sleeping in sleazy motels, Blake smokes and drinks to no end. Reminiscent of such classic down-and-out country-stars-gone-bad movies such as Payday with Rip Torn and Tender Mercies with Robert Duvall, the story follows the road trip and ensuing relationships Blake handles or mishandles along the way. He constantly argues with his agent by phone and lives under the burden that former sideman and protégé Tommy Sweet (Colin Farrell) has eclipsed his fame. Jean (Maggie Gylenhall), a New Mexico journalist, shows up to interview Bad and finds genuine interest in this mess of a human being. Bad, still able to score groupies, discovers hope in the awkward interview with Jean and the tables begin to turn.

John and Savannah are lovers kept apart by the contrivances of writer Nicholas Sparks' cruel, cruel world. Oh, they try so hard to be together, but the obstacles of logic and common sense keep getting in the way. Like a capricious God, The Notebook author doth smite them for such hubris in the face of their higher purpose – to act as ciphers for middle-aged women's need for a good cry.
In one scene Savannah cries in the arms of her beloved, “I had no choice!” she sobs, quite rightly, as Sparks sacrifices her mercilessly in the pursuit of effective tear-scrounging narrative. In Sparks' world, John must endlessly extend his U.S. army duties, and Savannah, rather than stoically wait this out, must marry the neighbor with terminal cancer and an autistic son. So unable to bear the hurt of her love's continued absence, she sees tending to a dying man preferable. That's how much Sparks wants us to know that she loves John. In fact, her self-flagellation is the only way we really know Savannah does love John, because the 10-minute montage of soft-focus mooning, tickling and kissing that details the two-week affair before their separation just doesn't sell it very well.