In a city as vast and populated as New York, the new film Jack Goes Boating is a small story centered around four locals. Adapted from a play of the same name, the film stars Philip Seymour Hoffman as the titular Jack, a single man who keeps to himself in the basement of his Uncle’s house.  It’s apparent that Jack struggles to connect with people (a potential social disorder of some sort?), but he maintains one close friendship with his co-worker Clyde.

Jack and Clyde are limousine drivers mired in the routine of their work for years. While Jack comforts himself with the positive vibes of reggae music, Clyde is the self-medicating type who has a wife to go home to.

The story begins with Clyde and his wife attempting to set-up their respective co-workers Jack and Connie on a blind date. Both potential date partners seem ambivalent but acquiesce just the same.  There are hints at likely trauma in both Connie and Jack’s pasts, and they carry that forth into their odd but endearing interactions with one another.  Still, their relationship is only half the story.

Clyde’s burgeoning friendship with Jack is approached with a mentor and pupil mentality of sorts with Clyde leading Jack in an adult version of the birds and bees. This is emphasized while Clyde is attempting to hold together a tenuous marriage at home.  What unfolds is an interesting story about friendship, a tender love story, betrayal, and even strength where you sometimes least expect it. This also shows the growth of a man when he is encouraged to engage.

Hate to disappoint you, but 'Jack Goes Boating' not "motor-boating."

There are several laughs throughout, but the brilliance of Hoffman’s directorial debut is that the laughs are often in the awkward pauses between the characters rather than in the bizarre things that they sometimes say or the peculiar ways they express themselves.  Sometimes you suppose that Jack and Connie simply are afraid to say what they feel, and then one (usually Connie) will say something that floors you.  Good stuff.  The only drawback here is that you can see the story unfolding with the inevitable ending developing from a mile away.

The mini-dreadlocked Jack is the lead character but really equal time is devoted to the four main actors who carry virtually every frame of film. TV veteran John Ortiz’s Clyde makes an impression as a charismatic man with issues that are hidden beneath a harder, jovial exterior. Hoffman and Ortiz are co-founders of the LAByrinth Theater in New York and their easy real-life friendship leads to an uncommon chemistry on the big screen. I anticipate Ortiz’s work will steadily increase from such valued screen time in this role.

Amy Ryan continues to show she deserves more work by tackling the challenging role of Connie and convincing us that she exists on every level.  Part paranoid and tortured, the other part gentle and loving; you waste no time believing that Connie and Jack couldn’t share a relationship despite their obvious deficiencies.

This is a mature work that is definitely not mainstream but completely worthy of an audience, particularly for fans of independent cinema or quirky relationship comedies.  While the drama of how it all turns out is rarely in doubt, its still an enjoyable journey to get there, and that is what matters most here.

I went to this film on a complete whim, knowing nothing but two things, a.) it starred Michael Caine, an actor I am neutral on at best, sometimes I like him, others not so much, and b.) I had seen one photo of him wielding a gun.  I knew nothing of the plot, so anything could have happened and I would have no preconceived notions of what to expect.  This is a fairly uncommon place to be in for me, a.) as a film writer, and b.) simply due to the volume of information on films available.  I am happy to report, I came away pleasantly surprised with the results.

Harry Brown is a drama/thriller by a relatively new director, Daniel Barber, from a screenplay penned by Gary Young.  Neither of these names are likely to mean much to audiences here in the states (up to this point).  Brown stars the aforementioned Caine as the titular Harry, a widower who lives in a slum akin to those Jay-Z often raps about.  These projects are rampant with crime and drugs, both of which come into Harry’s life in not-so-pleasant circumstances.  I.E., he’s not the one willingly doing blow, brandishing weapons and breaking into people’s homes – at least at first.  However, when a crime is committed on Harry’s best friend Lenny, Lenny attempts to strike back with vengeance on a crew of thugs who are the suspected perpetrators.  The results are less than fruitful as Lenny is murdered.

Michael Caine's Harry Brown is an O.G. that would make Ice-T proud.

Thus begins an investigation into Lenny’s mysterious death and a deeper look at the crimes that the group of hoodlums have routinely become known for.  Emily Mortimer plays Alice Frampton, a new to the precinct law woman who decides she wants to investigate the death with more aplomb than the usual detective would apply.  Normally, its take a report and let the locals sort it out, but her curiosity is piqued for reasons unexplained.  Meanwhile, driven by loneliness and revenge, Harry begins his own sort of investigation to bring his own brand of justice to the passing of his buddy. Thus begins a sort of cat and mouse game between the thugs, Harry, Frampton and even others that will be revealed with a viewing.

As Harry descends deeper into his moral self and calls upon his past as a war hero, a complicated moral quandary comes to the fore front that will be revealed in time.  An intriguing plot unravels on the screen in a rather unusual way.  Caine’s Harry takes on a form of Liam Neeson-lite from last year’s Taken.  Though maybe not highly plausible, the circumstances and actions in the film are still mired in enough realism to keep the viewer on edge.  Barber has some good locations to shoot in and Young’s script delivers a nice mix of both the dramatic and thrilling.  The climax will likely leave you talking about the film afterward.  Brown may not the most rewarding film you will see all year, but it will likely be near the top in originality.  The mix of young (the thugs, gangsterism) and old (Caine, revenge) blend nicely into a cohesive whole.  It’s a close call on the final verdict, but I give Harry Brown a fairly solid recommendation as mature adult entertainment.

Ed: Note, Cyrus was formerly titled Center of Attention.

In terms of my family life, my time on Earth has been fairly charmed. I was lucky enough to be born with parents that were together and have remained together to this point in my existence. They bred two older brothers and a younger sister for me to grow up around, so that I was never bored. I can’t say that I was never lonely, but certainly not for any reason I didn’t create myself. I have no idea what it’s like to be an only child. Nor do I have any idea what it’s like to be raised by a single parent. I have friends that fit into either category and even both. So, even though I’ve never experienced the sensation, I’ve witnessed it first hand. There’d just be no telling how I would’ve come out had things gone differently, especially if my single parent mom had ever brought home some other guy. That’s the situation that belies Cyrus in Center of Attention.

Cyrus isn’t actually the main character of the film, but it certainly revolves around him. Instead, we are first introduced to John. I’d tell you John is recently divorced, as that’s what it seems, but it’s actually been seven years since his wife, Jamie, left him. He’s lonely and depressed and really John’s only friend. She still has a key to the apartment they once shared and after not receiving a response to repeated knocks and calling out of his name, she enters his place to find pizza boxes strewn about and hot wing bones tossed around. As if she’d never left. To top if off, she finds John in a compromised position (think Costanza in the “Seinfeld” episode, “The Contest”). She makes one thing clear to him. He needs to get out.

After repeatedly denying her, John ends up at a party with Jamie and her soon-to-be-husband, doing their best to expose him to other forms of life. He’s less than reluctant, as he sits in front of the fireplace and tosses bits of the label from his beer bottle into the flame. He finally makes a pact with Jamie’s fiancée to get drunk and after a little alcohol flows down his throat, it’s officially on. Strike one comes in the form of a botched conversation butt-in that ends with a broken thermostat. Strike two comes from a hail-mary drunken profession to a girl far below even his standards that even though he’s lonely and depressed, he’s still a fun guy. John awaits strike three to come while he relieves himself into some plant life. This is where he meets Molly. He wonders why a gorgeous woman would speak to a schlub like him, especially given his current act of defiance. Nevertheless, they continue conversing into the night.

Tomei's "Molly" applies a "sleeper hold" to Hill's "Cyrus" as Reilly's "John" looks on.

Of course, conversing leads to an invite into John’s home and an invite into John’s home leads to sex. Everything seems to be going great, except when John wakes up the next morning, he’s in bed along. However, Molly leaves a note to let John know he wasn’t completely abandoned. They go through the same routine the next day, but this time when Molly attempts to sneak out in the middle of the night, John spots her. He asks if she’s married. She denies it, but assures him he needs to leave. John tails her home in an effort to discover her reasoning and falls asleep in his car. He wakes up the next morning to find a 20-something year-old young man patrolling the house. Molly’s son, Cyrus. That’s the rub. John soon finds out exactly why Molly thought it necessary to sneak out and keep him a secret from her son.

John C. Reilly has made a living of playing a likable losers. He was a down-and-out homeless man in Paul Thomas Anderson’s debut, Hard Eight (aka Sydney). He won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for being a whipping-husband to a strong-willed woman in Chicago. He was a 40-year-old child in Step Brothers. Here, he’s a similar character, but Reilly always brings a certain charm to him, which makes you actively root for him, no matter how low the circumstances he finds himself in. Here, he can’t help it. He’s captivated by a beautiful Marisa Tomei as Molly, and although she carries baggage other men might not be willing to put up with, John cares enough for her, but has a certain desperation as well. Jonah Hill seems to get more understated as he goes along and Cyrus is a difficult character to figure out. Hill imbues him with a creepiness, but has a wonderment about a world he hardly knows, as well.

Center of Attention combines a mainstream comedy plot, but told in an independent style. The plot of two men moving under the same roof and going to war with each other mainly reminded me of Step Brothers, which certainly isn’t hurt by the fact John C. Reilly stars in both. The visual style takes a hand-held approach however, giving it an indie and more enveloping feel. Mass appeal, this isn’t. As funny as I found the film and as great as the performances were, I would have wanted a slightly broader take. The war between Cyrus and John is a ferocious one as indicated by the characters traits, but isn’t stressed very much in the story. I would’ve have wanted to witness more of the one-upmanship between them.

Brothers Mark and Jay Duplass have created an intimate character study, which still manages to bring the funny. Their camerawork, as mentioned above, is deliberately shaky at times, using zooms and canted angles. Some might think the style clashes with the plot, but it truly adds another dimension to help encapsulate the audience in the environment of the picture. There’s a particular moment when John discovers something about Cyrus that makes him appear untrustworthy and the camera zooms toward his visage, leaving the identifying object out of frame. The film is infused with this little moment of discovery for the viewer, not shoving information down your throat.

Albeit not deathly funny, Center of Attention packs humor into what ultimately amounts to a character piece about three individuals who find themselves in a situation they’d rather not be in. John would rather have Molly to himself, much as Cyrus would. Molly is the one who finds herself stuck in the middle, with the only two men in her life vying for her attention and love. It’s a love triangle far less cliché than what most romantic comedies bring in droves. Center of Attention deserves yours, but choose who you see it with wisely, you wouldn’t want a war to break out between them.

Leo. Scorcese. Haunting trailers. Hype and buildup heading into a potential late season release.  Everything was looking great for this movie…last year.  With a push back/delay on it’s release date ’til early this year, this strong picture put itself in the precarious position of being released two months too late for the ‘09 Awards season (see my 2009 Film Rankings here), while at the same time being the first big event type film of the 2010 year, though it was not mentioned on this year’s Most Anticipated Films list due to the delay.  All of that mumbo-jumbo aside, Shutter Island lived up to its billing as must see entertainment for me but it will have people questioning whether they feel the same more so than many other movies released this year.

Leo's "Teddy" arrives at the gates of the prison.

Shutter Island is the name of the island US Marshals Teddy Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Chuck (Mark Ruffalo) see as the film opens to a haunting score with their ship approaching the island where the criminally insane are held in prison.  Mass murderers, rapists, criminals of the worst kind are held here for various reasons.  Once you get on the island, the only way out is by ferry.  Think San Francisco’s Alcatraz but more remote and intimidating.  And trust me, Alcatraz is intimidating, I’ve been there and don’t wish to go back.  When the Marshals dock, they give up their guns and thus begins a wicked unspooling of events where they are investigating a missing person.  This potentially dangerous escapee purportedly killed her children years ago and then as Ben Kingsley’s Dr. Cawley (the prison’s superintendent) advises, “it’s like she evaporated straight through the walls.”  Talk about mysterious, without the obvious giveaways found in the classic The Shawshank Redemption.

Throughout the film, Teddy gets deeper and deeper into his investigation and more clues are revealed which lead to more questions.  The entire prison – inmates, staff, cops, doctors – all seem to be involved in one way or another.  Teddy trusts no one, he even starts questioning his best friend Chuck, and is battling his own issues as well.  To tell too much more wouldn’t be prudent.  Various supporting turns are given by Michelle Williams as Teddy’s wife, Jackie Earle Haley (aka Freddy Krueger to be) as a crazy inmate (aren’t they all?), Patricia Clarkson (is she crazy or not?) and the eery Max von Sydow.

The film has various twists and turns but none more shocking than the ending one. This is sure to divide some audiences, but in my mind, if you like the Sixth Sense, then this will sit fine with you.  The film holds elements of David Fincher’s brilliant The Game and Scorcese’s own Cape Fear, along with the previously aforementioned ending.  It’s a cinematic entertainment that provides strong performances, good visuals, and thought provocation worthy of repeat viewings.  I’m eager to see this one again.

Just a regular inmate at "Shutter Island."

Shutter Island stayed with me for a few days after seeing it. That is not something that is easily done.  I do, however, think that the February release date change could hurt it’s awards season chances.  A few days is one thing but nearly a full calendar year is another.  Even having this release in late August would have been beneficial to this date.  But that doesn’t detract from the quality of this film.  If you like Leo, or Scorcese, or thriller films, or any combination thereof – this really is can’t miss entertainment for you.  Highly recommended.

In a year already decorated with and defined by a strong, liberating output from female directors, Lone Scherfig’s An Education is a calculated and sophisticated work about a time when women were questioning and challenging their cultural boundaries. Opposed to Kathryn Bigelow’s magnificent war-drama The Hurt Locker or Jane Campion’s lush period drama Bright Star, Scherfig’s film is the first crowning woman’s achievement of the year that’s actually about women.

Set in suburban London in 1962 and adapted from Lynn Barber’s true-life memoir by screenwriter Nick Hornby, An Education charts the coming-of-age journey of 16-year old Jenny (slam-dunk Best Actress nominee Carey Mulligan), who is courted by a rich, slick traveler and his swooning red sports car on a rainy weekday afternoon. The striking fellow is David, a middle-aged smoothie with nice suits, played by Peter Sarsgaard with astonishing intrigue and mystery. He’s so much more mature and suave than Jenny’s long, lanky and more appropriately aged admirer, Graham, that the film decides to play up this dramatic disparity with welcome comedic results.

Miss Stubbs (Olivia Williams) adamantly dissaproves of Jenny's (Carey Mulligan) decision to continue seeing her middle-aged boyfriend

As a smart, book savvy teenage girl with an almost disobedient affection for French cinema and music, the promise of a life of fortune, fashion and adventure can prove to be too much to ignore. Not only for Jenny, but for her father (played by the wonderful Alfred Molina) who is equally hypnotized and spellbound by the allures of David’s protection as he weighs the cost of Jenny’s education at Oxford.

Such is the vulnerability and inadequacy of growing up a woman in 1962. For them, and for Jenny, your choices are to either lock up with the first rich and confiding man you see or work your heart out to live a life of harmless, but stable conformity – something Jenny sees in her English teacher, Miss Stubs, (Olivia Williams). Jenny describes the blank, expressionless educator as “dead” ever since her graduation from Cambridge, implying a disgracefully apathetic life of tedium opposed to her globetrotting affairs with David.

You could say that this film represents the end of an era where women were powerless and susceptible to an easy life of non-conformity, knowing the alternative. Similar to AMC’s hit series “Mad Men,” also set in the early 60’s, the movie represents an age of impending cultural revolution where women were just beginning to question their societal limitations.

David (Peter Sarsgaard) is a natural when it comes to meeting the parents (Alfred Molina and Cara Seymour).

It’s such an honest and perfectly framed film, quaint and classy, jazzy and refined. Nick Hornby’s script is both penetratingly exact yet opaque, without a wasted breath or scene in-between. Scherfig, meanwhile, uses her feminine touch to make the film resonate where it otherwise might not have – similar to the way Kathryn Bigelow’s unnatural masculinity enhanced The Hurt Locker. Also, John de Borman’s rich lensing gives An Education a pleasurable and alluring palette, like a cozy street-side café.

Carey Mulligan, a 24-year old English actress who will be a household name come Spring next year, gives a star-turn here as the perhaps ignorantly confident Jenny. She has such an immediate presence in the film that’s rare for a young actress and it’s easily the best in a top-to-bottom stunning ensemble. Dominic Cooper and Rosamund Pike, as David’s equally posh and carefree friends – plus Emma Thompson as the school headmaster – all contribute to the cause.

As Jenny finds her existential truths and her place in the world around her, An Education reverberates like no other coming-of-age drama of recent memory. “Action builds character,” she says, and although it’s not necessarily in the sense that she means at the time, the message fits regardless. Sometimes, the best education is the one that doesn’t have to be bought.

For the better part of a decade, Nicolas Cage has sauntered through a plenitude of dopey, dead-weight, mid-major action films. But like a true savior, Werner Herzog has turned Cage from the dark side – still sensing good in him – and given the 45-year old actor one of the greatest roles of his career as the reckless, off-kilter and just plain bad, post-Katrina Lieutenant Terence McDonagh.

After a rare bout of heroism during the opening scene in Werner Herzog’s crazily trigger-happy Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (an update of Abel Ferrera’s 1992 film), our titular subject and plainly described antihero suffers an evidently permanent back injury. His chest now slinks to one side, his gape more deliberate, his appearance more fatigued – the pain becoming impervious to the delicate relief of the merely prescribed pain medication. Such is the life of New Orleans’ most vulnerable powder keg of a police officer, and that’s before being placed in charge of a brutal quintuple homicide case.

Stevie Pruit (Val Kilmer) and Terence McDonagh (Nicolas Cage) -- New Orleans' finest.

With stress on the job and in his lower back, McDonagh takes advantage of his employee discount and acquires a taste for a more radical dose of painkillers. With the help of a cooperative yet cautious co-worker (Revolutionary Road’s Michael Shannon) and offenders who would like to avoid jail-time, McDonagh recklessly spirals into the life of a drug-addict. Of course, drugs lead to inebriated impulsions and our Lieutenant soon finds himself buried in debt to his regular bookie (Brad Dourif) and the target of a powerful city kingpin after an encounter with a non-paying customer of his prostitute “girlfriend” (Eva Mendes) turns sour. Then, when a break in the case is revealed, placing a cooperating witness in police custody, it’s McDonagh’s job to keep him in town and out of harm’s way.

But this police business proves to be tough sledding when you’re having to dodge your backwoods alcoholic father and sister or the precarious foot-long iguanas that aren’t actually there, if you’re listening to the advice of partner Stevie Pruit (Val Kilmer). There are no pulled punches in the provocation department, and like his main character of interest, Herzog proves to be an addict of the offbeat and the eccentric.

A renowned and legendary German director and documentarian, Herzog is best known for his 70’s/80’s masterpieces Aguirre: The Wrath of God (’72), Nosferatu (’79) and Fitzcarraldo (’82). The two of those films that don’t dredge in vampire legend are warped personal character studies about men who have lost themselves in an attempt to gain something (both played by Klaus Kinski). Here, decades later, Herzog is tapping into similar fundamental material – despite the fact that, at times, it’s unclear what Lieutenant Terence McDonagh actually wants – in a nevertheless, equally disturbing and fiendishly straight-forward study about a man in a serious crisis.

McDonagh doesn't resort to usual interrogation techniques at Deshaun Hackett's (Lucius Baston) home.

But this isn’t Aguirre, or Fitzcarraldo, or one of Herzog’s better films. Its maniacal tone and schizo-comedic shape outperform and upstage the film’s weaknesses and thematic shortcomings, resulting in something categorically auteurist in its own dark and comedically stimulating way. Shot with mostly handheld cameras on location in Louisiana and parts of Southern Mississippi, “Bad Lieutenant” looks like a post-Katrina doc on law enforcement insubordination. Interior lighting is limited to window streaks and only the wide-angle scene-setters of the New Orleans cityscape really glisten. It has all the spark and finish of a direct-to-DVD release.

What Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans has in manic energy and perverse excursions, it lacks in genuine artistry. It’s a pot-fumed, pass-the-joint cult classic in the making but it never calls itself out or gives any rhyme or reason to its motives to become anything more amply deserving. Neither does Terence McDonagh ever evolve over the course of the film, and even though Nicolas Cage is absolutely brilliant at this kind of pulsating, itchy and oddball acting, he’s never fully formed – there is never that moment. Still, it’s endlessly entertaining to watch an actor like this at the top of his game after such an Eddie Murphy-like drought of substance. Like McDonagh, Cage should apply to the theory that sometimes, it’s good to be bad.

With his modest looks, receding hairline and jolly, precarious smile, Michael Sheen is the “soup of the day” when it comes to playing historical figures on screen. In Tom Hooper’s The Damned United, which could be considered the final part in a trilogy of English biographical collaborations between Sheen and screenwriter Peter Morgan (The Queen, Frost/Nixon), Sheen plays the cocky, outspoken and infamous football manager of the 70’s and 80’s, Brian Clough.

Playing Prime Minister Tony Blair and talk-show host David Frost, Sheen has slipped into the shoes of these seemingly tepid yet charismatic and committed real-life figures with unobstructed ease and mild, respectable results – until now. Before the closing credits, we get to see archival footage of the real Brian Clough, where the resemblance between actor and subject is startlingly revealed. It only confirms what we were eluded to prior – that Sheen, for all of his previous workmanlike endeavors, has pulled off a performance that no other English actor could have inhabited with such clarity and reverberation.

Sheen plays Brian Clough, the fatally ambitious English football manager who took over for his arch rivals briefly in 1974.

The title, The Damned United – based on a novel by David Peace – refers to the 44-day period in 1974 in which Brian Clough (Sheen) took over as manager of his ruffian nemesis Leeds United after their beloved Don Revie (Colm Meaney) was beckoned by the national club to get England back to the World Cup. The board of the club, in their blind faith and desperation, turned to the rising star of the football world – the film explains why it never worked.

Manager Brian Clough, who would become one of the most renowned football managers in the history of English football, began his career as an easygoing, joyous and agreeable leader of the struggling Derby County in the late 60’s. When coincidentally handpicked to play mighty Leeds United in the 3rd round of the FA Cup in 1968, Clough saw himself and his club as more of a welcoming party than an opponent.

When Don Revie and his ferocious football club (known historically at the time as a group of “dirty” players who take after their manager) treat Clough and his players like an unsightly pest, refusing to shake this unknown manager’s hand, it ignites an unquenchable rage and ambition in the formerly passive manager, who will stop at nothing to gain football glory over Don Revie. Even when a close friendship with Peter Taylor (Timothy Spall) is in jeopardy or an unwilling chairman (Jim Broadbent) pleads him to use reason – ambition, like anything else, has its limits.

Don Revie (Colm Meaney) receives a hand from the Leeds United crowd, who disapprove of Clough's lack of results.

Through permissive spending, timely scouting and unmatched aggression and commitment, Clough turns Derby County from relegated bottom-dwellers to saintly underdog champions. As the film bounces back and forth from Clough’s Leeds fiasco in 1974 to the Derby County miracle story years earlier, the two sides of the manager’s stubborn, wildfire aspirations are plainly illustrated for what they are: an advantage and a detriment.

TV director Tom Hooper (“John Adams”) and director of photography Ben Smithard capture the rolling hills and cloudy temperament of the North English countryside with a green hue resembling the definable moments before or after a rainstorm. Each scene captures the muddy, wind-swept 70’s English landscape of gritty football, seamlessly co-existing with archival footage of the actual Derby County on the pitch.

The Damned United is a perfectly pitched – if shortsighted and modest – biographical account. In addition to Sheen’s terrific performance (in my opinion, the best of his career), it captures its era and environment with clarity and assuredness before surprising you with its insight and its emotion. At one point in the film, a highly noted and like-mindedly flamboyant and controversial American sports figure is seen on television calling on Clough, this spirited, talkative and contentious English football manager to, “stop it”. “There is only room for one Muhammad Ali in this world,” the greatest boxer of all-time touts.

The relationship is valid, but with one discernible difference. Ali, for all of his opinionated controversies and pre-match jeering, could always rely on the notion that he was, in fact, the greatest boxer in the world, without a flaw. Clough, on the other hand, revealed in a remarkably intimate later scene on a studio set, had to live with the fact that his unruly ambition, not to mention Don Revie, got the best of him.

As the decades turned over to the 70’s, it was time of international social and political unrest, where to rebel and to reject was to live. Some did it in a modest, harmless and nondestructive manner – innocuously listening to rock ‘n roll or experimenting with drugs – while others reacted in a more radical manner, heading straight to the source to confront it with unrelenting passion and hostility.

Che Guevara was trying to ignite a revolution in Bolivia, the United States’ intervention in Vietnam was ongoing and the Israelis and Palestinians were as volatile as ever, climaxing with the terrorist attacks at the 1972 Munich Olympics. Thus, rebellion was the order of the day, the college-age fad and the result of a tumultuous global climate. But it was one group in particular that impetuously took the next, seemingly appropriate step.

Uli Edel’s The Baader Meinhof Complex has been, and could fittingly be described as, the true story of the birth of terrorism. It chronicles the establishment and decade-long struggle of the Red Army Faction (a.k.a. “The Baader-Meinhof Group”) against the fascist, imperialistic state of West Germany and the general world order of governmental authority. This was a new generation of Germans, citizens who were adolescents or non-existent during the reign of the Third Reich. As Stefan Aust, a member of this generation and the author of the source novel, (which bears the same name as its adaptation) says, “The moment you see your own country as the continuation of a fascist state, you give yourself permission to do almost anything against it.”

The calm before the storm -- German communist activists protest the war in Vietnam.

The film traces the origins of the group through its leaders in the social unrest of West Berlin society, which reflected the worldwide anxiety and general disapproval of government power-flexing abroad and at home. (Protests and the resulting police brutality across the globe are shown in one of many news-style montages.) Ulrich Meinhof (Martina Gedeck) plays a well-known journalist who shares uncommonly radical, anti-governmental, views amongst her media peers. She meets Gudrun Ensslin (Johanna Wokalek) for an interview after an arsonist display in a high-rise department store, where she first hears of minor, premeditated terrorist attacks in an attempt to gain exposure and express distrust and disapproval. The arrogantly boisterous Gudrun and her cocky, confidently adamant counterpart, Andreas Baader (Mortiz Bleibtreu) form the foundation of the Red Army Faction (RAF), whose hierarchy and long-term business plan is hardly an envious model.

The first half of the film is a seductively rebellious political-bruiser. Our militant revolutionaries, with their wigs and aviator glasses and hip-hugging jeans, rob banks, bomb state buildings, break out their comrades when they’re in a tough spot and spread their anarchist views through writings and recruiting. As the stakes get higher and the tasks more extravagantly violent and reckless, The Baader Meinhof Complex takes on a more reflective tone, focusing on the consequences, influences and results of this initial wave of RAF expression. Baader, Ensslin and Meinhof, as well as the film as a whole, may not come to the conclusion that one would expect and it counteracts almost all of the flashes of glamour and bravura that came before it, hinting that these acts may have been impulsive, misjudged and underdeveloped.

Gudrun Ensslin (Johanna Wokalek) and Andreas Baader (Mortiz Bleibtreu) fight the power in West Germany.

A 2008 nominee for Best Foreign Language Film at the Oscars but unreleased in the United States until this year, The Baader Meinhof Complex is a capably committed portrait of political unrest and a really good political action-drama. With its worldview and broad scope, it carefully and rightfully captures the era as an evolving, emerging and budding anti-political landscape and the foundations that were laid out to be felt to this day. Therefore, whether intentional or not, it gives the film an extra dose of relevance when viewed within the framework of our current society.

Pacing is a bit of an issue, but not in the immediate sense that you might be thinking. It moves at breakneck speed, actually, but to the film’s detriment. It’s a good deal of mischievous West Berlin RAF activity and when it isn’t focused on the key members of the group, it’s advancing the story through time-lapse montages or newscast footage reels. Spanning an entire decade, even at 154 minutes, the film is too condensed and it never breathes.

The performances, on the other hand, are top-notch, especially from Martina Gedeck (The Lives of Others) as one-half of the titular “Baader-Meinhof Group.” She starts out as a fighter and a revolutionary with her words before turning into the leader of this terrorist group, taking on a more physical, activist role. The fact that her ideals and agendas may have been lost in the translation is one of the film’s strengths.

The Baader Meinhof Complex is compulsively watchable in the way that a fascinating account of history or a gripping historical documentary would be. It’s extremely well-acted, well-crafted, uncompromising and fit for its subject, but it doesn’t ever completely take off. Similar to the result of the RAF’s futile acts of aggression, the film’s desired impact and effort is never truly felt by its audience. It’s a silenced handgun – it gets the job done, but it doesn’t resonate very loudly.

Back when the possibility of nuclear war was a hot topic in the 80’s, there were various visions of the apocalypse and what might be left of both the earth and humanity after the destruction.  Cormac McCarthy’s 2007 Pulitzer prize winning book “The Road” details the story of a few survivors of such an event.  The film adaptation, directed by John Hillcoat (The Proposition), focuses not on the event of the apocalyptic destruction, but instead on what is left in its wake.  The aftermath sees an earth in tattered ruins and those left alive, struggling (in the immortal words of Malcolm X “by any means necessary”) to spend more time on it.

The Road stars Viggo Mortensen as ‘the man’ and Kodi-Smit McPhee as ‘the boy’; a father and son roaming the remains of earth in a journey to the coast.  The coast is seen as a place where there might be more fruitful means of living, but this might indeed be conjecture by the father, as he is attempting to teach his boy how to navigate this new version of life on earth.  Armed with a revolver with two spare bullets, the man will protect his child at all costs, against all comers.  The bullets represent the last opportunity to leave the planet with their dignity in tact.  One bullet for each person, to take their own lives should the will to win finally be too small or a situation be too fraught with danger to chance it.  Earth is inhabited by a clear sense of the unknown.  Fear everything, trust no one.

"The Man" has his game face on.

Since there are few survivors scrambling for any remnants of food, trying to achieve a means to an end, cannibalism has become the most gruesome, and in some ways necessary, means of death.  Some survivors have bonded together in rebellious groups figuring that it’s best to be part of a team to make their way through the landscape.  Most of these people would kill for a Mickey D’s,  well, really they would kill for a lot less.  Their is no sunlight, earth is covered in a steady dust.  It is cold and often wet.  Those without wilderness skills of cunning need not apply.  Hope you got your boy scout training on lock.  Clothing is at a premium.  The value of fuel makes our displeasure with high gas prices seem absolutely trivial.  A dented, still full can of soda is to be cherished.  A cigarette, even more so.  The bottom line is, things aren’t pretty.  Our duo roam like low-class homeless people, not because they are, but not because they aren’t.  Everyone is homeless.

So, not a lot happens in The Road.  That is pretty much the point.  It’s not like you are going to catch a baseball game on TV or go to the cinema.  There is no currency.  Really, there is nothing.  Nothing but what you have inside of you.  The film, in my eyes, is the most realistic and brilliant depiction of what might be left after an apocalyptic event.  That being said, it’s nothing nice.

These guys think cannibalism does a body good. That depends on which body you speak of.

This is as faithful an adaptation of the novel as necessary, an amazing job by Hillcoat. He allows the destructed landscape to speak for itself and offers up some great camera angles to keep things visually interesting.  There is a clever working in (an expansion from the novel) of the mother/wife character – portrayed by the usually strong Charlize Theron – that plays a role in how our characters views on life are shaped.  All the while, Hillcoat lets the actors be the key our participation in this desolation. Hillcoat luckily scored the rights to the novel, six months prior to it even being published.  Long before it was a best seller, a Pulitzer prize winner and an Oprah book club pick.  His gain becomes our gain, with the result being a difficult, but important, film.

The film (and the novel for that matter) is about both survival and love in their purest forms.  It is an examination of what it means to guide, to teach, to share, to learn.  It’s also on my short list for movie of the year thus far.  It is a perfect chance for all of us to look both outside – and within – ourselves, to discover what we are really all about.  While The Road is one that nobody in their right mind would literally want to travel, it is one that most should take the opportunity to see.

From the moment you emerge from the vast darkness of the womb, your parents start teaching. “I’m Mommy.” “That’s Daddy.” “Stop crying.” “Don’t ever lie.” That last one is a particular stickler. In the case of one’s growth into an adult, when the inevitable screw-up occurs, it’s usually difficult, but somehow better to just tell the truth. You might get yelled at for screwing up in the first place, but lord help you if you lie about it and get caught later. Then you’ve screwed up twice. The key phrase to this end is, “honesty is the best policy.” But is it? Some people can’t handle the truth, as Jack Nicholson so eloquently put it. If you tell it to them, they refer to it as “brutal honesty.” Is it worth making something up just to make someone feel better? That’s the question asked in The Invention of Lying and it’s a curious one indeed.

Mark Bellison (Ricky Gervais) is a creature who inhabits a world not wholly dissimilar to our own. He works in an office. He has friends. He has enemies. He watches television. The difference between Mark’s world and the one we occupy is that nobody on Mark’s planet has evolved the ability to lie. In fact, they don’t even have words like “truth” or “fallacy” or “real” or “fiction.” People describe things only as they are without a hint of deceit. Believe it or not – though I would never lie to you, dear reader – all this honesty makes for kind of a dry palace, sans fun. It’s reminiscent of that kid in school who raises his hand during the last nanosecond of class and reminds the teacher she forgot to assign homework. People speak their minds. There is no fear of consequences.

Mark is set up on a date with Anna (Jennifer Garner), which almost immediately spells doom. He arrives too early when she was in the middle of something private, frustrating her. Next, she notices he’s fat, short and has a snub nose. How does he know this? She tells him straight up. No need for internal monologue. Voice-over be damned. Apparently when you are told nothing but fact for your entire life, what we know as “brutal truths,” no longer seems like jabs and digs shot straight at the heart. Instead, they are more annoying than anything. Just a day in the life.

When his assistant tells Mark she’s always hated him and he’s about to get fired, there’s perhaps disappointment, but no insult. Mark is a screenwriter for Hollywood films. In his world, screenwriters are the stars, because there are no actors, only people who read the script in front of a stable camera. Scripts are solely based on historical fact. The only stories which exist are about things which have already happened. There is no make-believe. The firing from his job naturally creates financial problems for Mark and when his landlord demands the payment of overdue rent, Mark finds himself in a bind. He doesn’t have enough money in his bank account to cover the full amount. In a spurt of inspiration, he lies. The world’s first. He is given the money needed, because everything said is believed. He now possesses a superpower. Whether he uses it for good or evil depends on his character.

If you lie well enough, you can eventually be like Hef.

When the film was first announced, it was immediately accused of being an inverse Liar, Liar, when in truth, it’s much more than that. The Invention of Lying is certainly a high-concept film, which if starring Jim Carrey would have turned into a wacky good time, but with Gervais at the helm, it’s interested in more than just delivering laughs. It tackles bigger issues at hand. A lot of the film’s humor stem from the unexpected bluntness of the way characters speak to each other. No secrecy is veiled or comment guarded. It’s an odd world indeed, but one devoid of much vibrancy. The strict adherence to truth makes for a bland artistic output and the film goes to show why most people prefer some sort of scripted fare over The History Channel. The film’s big idea covers the advent of religion and is perhaps its biggest argument for the necessity to create some kind of story, as opposed to sticking to complete fact.

Co-directed and co-written by Gervais and Matthew Robinson, the film visually offers little more than any standard romantic comedy and sadly has a third act which is mostly geared toward Mark getting the girl, but their intention for striving higher is what puts the film in a different category. They don’t put complete reliance on the hope that characters speaking “brutal truths” can carry an entire film of funny. Instead, they manage to insert the larger societal conundrums and prove a lot more can be done within a basic framework than most filmmakers are either unwilling or unable to do.

Gervais may still be a long way away from becoming the star in America that he is in Britain, but here he’s crafted another role tailor-made for his persona. Mark isn’t the nicest human being, but not a jerk, either. He’s more of a product of his non-lying environment. Gervais does surprise in a scene full of emotion, displaying a depth to the actor unseen to this point in his career. We shall continue to yearn for purely comedic performances, but this new turn gives Gervais the ability to delve deeper into a role, as opposed to skimming the surface. Jennifer Garner is given perhaps the most befitting role of her career in the film, as beautiful, but slightly dim-witted and superficial Anna. It’s nearly impossible to distinguish between the actress and the character and one wonders if this is more up her alley than her five-year stint on “Alias.”

The Invention of Lying, doesn’t ride high throughout, but given weight to a high-concept without relying on the initial idea to be the sole driving force of the film, makes it one of the more enjoyable movie-going experiences of the year. Hopefully Gervais can continue his ascent to stardom, and will undoubtedly do so if able to stay the course he’s currently on. He overtook the small screen and has Hollywood dominance eventually forthcoming. That’s the truth. Go ahead and run with it.