Reviewer key (BF) = Bill Forman (GD) = Geoffrey Dunn (GG) = Gretchen Giles (JMA) = Jeffrey M. Anderson (MSG) = Michael S. Gant (RvB) = Richard von Busack (SJP) = Sarah Jane Phelan (SP) = Steve Palopoli (TI) = Todd Inoue Scary Movie 4 (PG-13; 100 min.) Like the Holy Roman Empire, kind of, in that it's neither scary, nor a movie, nor is it only the fourth time some of these jokes have been used. Once again, the scheme works thanks to Anna Faris, a blonde clown of distinction. So far she has played Drew Barrymore and Neve Campbell; here, she gets Sarah Michelle Gellar, Toni Collette and, I guess, Naomi Watts. It's no coincidence that the movie gets better with every appearance of Faris' pop-eyed and agog heroine, whose tiny head is in danger of being swallowed by the neck of her oversized turtleneck sweater. Here, her Cindy is menaced by alien "tri-iPods" and the caterwauling little ghost brat from The Grudge. Both films are mashed into Saw and The Village, with some other scraps chucked into the headcheese, such as the time Tom Cruise failed to curb his enthusiasm on Oprah. Like Cruise's fit, some of these targets are sitting ducks (such as the duck Leslie Nielsen seems to have slept with); others just demonstrate what director David Zucker has called "the flywheel effect": an audience laughing can be made to keep laughing by forward motion. Let's hear it for Craig Bierko's parody of the tedious family bonding scenes in War of the Worlds; a baboon driving a forklift; a bottle of Oblomov-brand vodka; the Elizabethan locutions in M. Night Shyamalan's village ("Jeremiah, ought not your tongue be held?") and a parody of Million Dollar Baby that would have been lethal if they'd just got the lighting right. (RvB) Show times. The Shaggy Dog (PG; 98 min.) Forget the Academy's cowardice in choosing Crash over Brokeback Mountain for Best Picture, forget the fearless gender-politics of Transamerica and Breakfast on Pluto. None of last year's so-called "controversial" films can compare to Tim Allen's thirst for daring, hot-button material. Already the impassioned debate over The Shaggy Dog is redefining the American culture wars: Is the dog in the movie actually an English sheepdog, as advertised? Or is it, in fact, a bearded collie? Experts say the incredible truth is that sheepdogs have no tails. If you were shocked by the twist in The Crying Game, wait till you see this dog openly flaunting its tail in many scenes of this film about a man (Allen) who cannot stop himself from turning into an animal. (Capsule preview by SP) Show times. 16 Blocks (PG-13; 105 min.) Director Richard Donner (Lethal Weapon, The Omen) tries to pull out of his decade-long slump with this crime thriller about a cop (Bruce Willis) who has to get a witness (Mos Def) from one place to the other without the guy being taken out. The irony of the title is supposedly that 16 blocks is not that far. But my guess is that being stuck in a car with Bruce Willis for 16 blocks would be more than enough for anyone. (Capsule preview by SP) In a young man's game, 76-year-old Richard Donner directs with as little style as the youngest and slickest of them. The midnight popularity of Donner's Goonies is a form of street cred. And this summer's remake of The Omen and the new Superman movie prove that Donner is more influential than many more famous names. Nevertheless, this particular policier is a major sedative. Bruce Willis plays a corroded drunk of an NYPD detective. Assigned to haul a witness 16 blocks to the courthouse, he finds himself at war with almost the entire police department. Whatever else this movie neglects (a female lead, for instance), it does have a villain, a slimmed-down David Morse, wearing a nasty attempted chin beard. As the criminal Eddie Bunker, Mos Def is one of the most unusual motor-mouthed urban sidekicks—a slightly soft-headed, childish man who wants to be a baker. (RvB) Show times. She's the Man (PG-13; 105 min.) A teen girl dresses up as a man to get the boy she loves in this comedy. You're thinking, "Wait, isn't that the plot to Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, if not every Shakespeare comedy ever written?" Indeed, you're correct, it is a teen-movie reworking of Shakespeare. See, you're smart and literate. Unlike me, who thought they stole the idea from the '80s movie Just One of the Guys. (Capsule preview by SP) The Amanda Bynesified version of Twelfth Night. Bynes plays Viola, a champ soccer player whose team gets cut by her school. In revenge, Viola dons sideburns and a Steve Martin accent and impersonates her brother, Sebastian (James Kirk), who attends rival Ilyria Prep. Since the school is coed, the new "boy" catches the attention of the best-looking babe in school, Olivia (Laura Ramsey), as well as the studly "Duke Orsini" (Channing Tatum, good at playing a kind musclehead). Figuring that the comic relief is in the foreground, director Andy Fickman condenses the play's clowns (there's a pet tarantula named Malvolio, for what that's worth). In the second half, the four-century-old comic machinery kicks in, carrying the movie along. The round-faced Bynes is a scruffier, lower comedienne that her rivals Mandy and Lindsay, neither of whom would put a Tampax up their nose or adjust their boobs on screen. Flickman doesn't help his star much, anymore than he does the supporting cast (Julie Hagerty and David Cross are wasted). Flickman would seem to be a montage fan, restless with ordinary scenes that carry the plot, and he's got to be deaf to scripts—an actual quote: "If you're going to reach your dreams, sometimes you've got to break the rules." (RvB) Show times. Slither (R) File this under Cult Movies Nobody Knew Were Cult Movies: When the trailer for Slither started making the rounds, a legion of previously silent fans suddenly rallied around Fred Dekker's low-budget 1986 film, Night of the Creeps. "Alien slugs turning people into zombies!" they cried. "What a ripoff!" For the record, Slither's writer-director James Gunn says that though he was inspired by many '80s horror films in making this tongue-in-cheek homage, he never saw Night of the Creeps until after the movie was made. He says David Cronenberg's Shivers was the bigger inspiration. The weird thing is that Night of the Creeps is also a tongue-in-cheek horror-comedy, and all of the characters are named after horror directors, including Cronenberg. So is it a shameless rip? I think the only solution is for Mr. Midnight Movie to give Night of the Creeps its due and let the people decide. (Capsule preview by SP) Show times. Stay Alive (PG-13; 85 min.) A bunch of teenagers playing a video game start dropping like flies inside its virtual world when they come up against the Blood Countess, who also kills them in real life. Geez, why don't they ever make a movie about the real problems faced by gamers? Like Hurty Thumbs? Or The Boy Who Stayed Up All Night Playing Tetris and Then When He Closed His Eyes He Still Saw the Shapes Coming Down in His Mind? Or even The Blood Countess Who Kills You for Real When You Die Inside the Game? Oh, I guess that's this movie. Cool! (Capsule preview by SP) Show times. Summer Storm (R; 98 min.) Director Marco Kreuzpaitner calls this sensitive sexual-awakening-at-a-summer-camp film his attempt to make a mainstream coming-of-age movie with gay themes. I'd also like to note it's the first time a summer-camp film has been used for any greater social purpose of any kind. (No, Sleepaway Camp does not count, even if it was kind of challenging gender boundaries.) (Capsule preview by SP) Show times. Take the Lead (PG-13; 108 min.) No, really, this is a good idea. In this musical drama, Antonio Banderas plays a pro ballroom dancer turned high school teacher named, wait for it, Pierre Dulaine. New to the world of teaching, the ambitious Mr. Dulaine arrives at an inner city school armed only with a jarringly un-French accent and his determination to save the school's seemingly permanent detention hall residents from gangs, teen pregnancy and all lesser forms of dance. The result is sort of like To Sir With Love meets Mad Hot Ballroom meets Zorro (just as every Antonio Banderas movie is inevitably a little Zorro). (Capsule preview by LK) Show times. Thank You for Smoking Full text review. (Silicon Valley) Full text review. (Santa Cruz) (R; 92 min.) Aaron Eckhart plays Nick, a spokesman for a pro-tobacco think tank in a comedy based on Christopher Buckley's novel. We see him in action, scheming against a senator (William H. Macy) who seeks to brand the skull and crossbones on cigarette packs. He also works to stay in the good graces of the cigarette tycoon (Robert Duvall). Nick falls from grace bu trusting a reporter, Heather (Katie Holmes). But this sequence doesn't convince. How could Nick get as far as he did and still endanger himself in an elementary honey trap? After his downfall, the film has to reboot. The three-act structure isn't shaped well, and that causes a lull toward the end of the satire. As in any top-drawer comedy about con artists, we applaud the matchstick man whose dodges we like the best. You have to admire the weasel for his stealth. (RvB) Show times. The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada Full text review. (R; 121 min.) Director Tommy Lee Jones plays Pete Perkins, who discovers the body of his dead partner Melquiades (Julio Cedillo). He kidnaps the border patrolman responsible and drags him back to Melquiades' village. As the worthless patrolman, Barry Pepper (Saving Private Ryan) isn't going to make this popular among the Minutemen. Scripted by Guillermo Arriaga (21 Grams, Amores Perros), the film gives Jones a chance to assay the squinting, flat-voiced, laconic hero whose sense of honor goes beyond any common sense. Cinematographer Chris Menges' vistas of the harsh but handsome desert are on a par with the finest Westerns. If this is a great film, it's only great in the way Cormac McCarthy is a great writer—great within the limits of a fierce morality and relentless self-mythologizing. (RvB) Show times. Transamerica (R; 103 min.) This on-again, off-again road-trip dramedy succeeds mostly because of the vigorous and funny acting by Felicity Huffman. The Desperate Housewives vet is, as the saying goes, more man than we'll ever be, and more woman then we'll ever have. She plays Bree, a male-to-female transsexual who is ordered by her psychiatrist (why?) to bond with a son from a brief heterosexual relationship. She and the delinquent son, Toby (Kevin Zegers), head across the country to Los Angeles in a car, bonding with every mile. It's a sweet movie, aiming with sentiment to defuse the potentially explosive subject matter. And that subject is more detailed than is customary; both Huffman and novice director Duncan Tucker did their homework, informing the audience of the pain and hard work needed to accommodate a female spirit in a reluctant male body. Thanks to Huffman's subtle embodying of a woman in the making, her performance is a lot more polished than the movie it adorns. Zingy, bitchy lines enliven the action now and again; of the supporting cast, Graham Greene steals the show as a courtly Native American who gives the girl-in-training a little delicate flattery. (RvB) Show times. Tristram Shandy: A Cock & Bull Story Full text review. (R; 94 min.) Steve Coogan—that acrid grad of the school of Peter Cook—stars in this film within a film about the screen adaptation of Laurence Sterne's ridiculous 18th-century epic. Playing "Steve Coogan," Coogan plays the modern movie star as poltroon—prone to sex scandals, jealousy and beefing at trifles; within the frame of the movie, he stars as both Shandys, father and son. Shooting in nine different stately homes, the filmmakers get to strut England's stuff while assaulting the traditions of Masterpiece Theatre. The director is the indefatigable Michael Winterbottom, always at his best in lighter subjects. A cameo by Stephen Fry reminds us of the civilizing power of nonsense. Though it's a nice try, it fails at reviving that British commedia dell'arte style that's been moribund since Monty Python split up. (RvB) Show times. Tsotsi Full text review. (R; 94 min.) South African director Gavin Hood's Best Foreign Film winner, based on Athol Fugard's novel about a Johannesburg thief (Presley Chweneyagae) who finds a baby in the back seat of a jacked car. Show times. V for Vendetta Full text review. (R; 132 min.) Everything from B to Z—Batman to Zorro—influenced V for Vendetta, but the sense of elegance and tragedy is graphic novelist Alan Moore's own. But you do have to shut off the more sophisticated part of your political mind when you hear lines like "With enough people, blowing up a building can change the world." That's what Timothy McVeigh thought. This is a rabble-rousing adventure about a democracy terrified into submission. Even knowing better, one cheers for the knightly V (Hugo Weaving), a scarred guerrilla hiding his features behind a strangely expressive Guy Fawkes mask. In curfew-darkened London, Evey (Natalie Portman) is rescued from the police by the masked man. During the year that follows, V inaugurates a one-man reign of terror. Unfortunately, director James McTeigue doesn't create a unique visual style for his dystopia. McTeigue, assistant director to the Wachowski brothers on the Matrix trilogy, raids 1984 tropes. (RvB) Show times. White Rainbow (94 min.) "Based on true events," yet so flagrantly melodramatic that even the well-documented conditions this film exposes seem hard to believe. Priya (Sonali Kulkarni), the well-born daughter of an Indian cabinet minister, has an abrupt change in status after she receives "The Phone Call That Every Wife Dreads"—news that she receives with a torrent of glass shattering, whiskey drinking and pill popping. Since widows are considered bad luck, Priya's in-laws pressure her to depart for the traditional refuge ashrams. There, Priya discovers institutionalized abuse, neglect and exploitation. With the help of an adoring old woman (Amardeep Jha), Priya sets up a school and a clinic for indigent widows, but this leads to pressure and violence from local goons, to add to the already heated subject material of rape, immolation and "fetus killing." Dharan Mandrayar's already minor movie is all the more diminished in comparison with the upcoming Water, which tells a similar story. The antique storytelling and the little-theater dramatics are just about redeemed by the good this film is trying to do. (RvB) Show times. Why We Fight Full text review. (PG-13; 98 min.) Eugene Jarecki's documentary explores more than 50 years of defense spending and manipulation of public opinion. Appropriating a sharp title from Frank Capra, Jarecki delivers a sheaf of opinions and reminiscences. Subjects interviewed include the Air Force Stealth bombers who launched the first salvo against Iraq, and Wilton Sekzer, a retired NYPD officer and Vietnam vet who lost his son in the World Trade Center. Jarecki works the Diane Arbus angle in showing bumpkins stuffing their faces at a country fairs or wandering dazed through a gun show. (The Americans would have been just as average at a museum.) Why We Fight is scarily informative, but its collage of facts and figures leave you a little lost: the conspiracy seems so thorough. (RvB) Show times. The World's Fastest Indian (PG-13; 127 min.) Shameless but irresistible. Anthony Hopkins plays real-life motorcycle racer Burt Munro, a past-60 codger from Invercargill, New Zealand. In the early 1960s, Munro took the voyage of a lifetime to race his home-engineered Indian motorcycle on the Bonneville Salt Flats. It's a calculatingly feel-good movie, but Hopkins sells it. For that matter, Hopkins could sell sun lamps to the Tahitians. Whenever the movie gets fulsome, that lordly actor dries it up by going Mr. Magoo on it: repeating himself, muttering or doing something to make him look sweetly vulnerable. Particularly in the early scenes, where he's puttering around in his shed, hand-casting titanium machinery, Hopkins has the gentle abstraction he sought in vain for in Hearts of Atlantis. Roger Donaldson, who planned this film for 30 years, includes a colorful cast of Yanks—a transvestite, a Chicano used-car dealer (Paul Rodriguez), a desert widow (Diane Ladd) and Peter's son, Chris Lawford, as San Jose-based motorcycle racer Jim Moffet. A fictional character? Moffet doesn't leave any footprint on Google; records of Moffet, official or otherwise, are hard to find. Munro, on the other hand, kept his hard-won title; the older you are, the more you'll love this. (RvB) Show times. [ Movies Central | Metroactive Central ]