I go to the movies for different reasons, and different things happen each time. That is the beauty and wonder of art. If you view music, poetry, literature, and film as expressions of art rather than mere forms of entertainment, you can gain a deeper appreciation and understanding of the world, of your own environment, and of yourself and those around you. When you gain that appreciation, these are the times when art speaks to your soul, when it achieves something great. I’m not trying to be melodramatic, but I’m a person who likes to think and to feel. When you do anything that makes you really think, or really feel, I think that is a wonderful thing, and that is one of the many aspects of art that I love. I saw two movies this weekend (Bobby and Blood Diamond) that made me think and made me feel something. Let’s look at Bobby first.

It’s hard to believe that the life and assassination of Robert F. Kennedy hasn’t been tackled yet, but I think actor and director Emilio Estevez (Judgment Night, The Breakfast Club) is the first to take on the task in Bobby. The movie is as much about Kennedy’s effect on the American public as it is about the actual man. Bobby is told through the eyes of the occupants of The Ambassador Hotel, where RFK was shot in 1968.

Estevez has assembled an impressive ensemble cast, including Martin Sheen (The Departed), Demi Moore (Ghost), Helen Hunt (As Good as It Gets), Nick Cannon (Drumline), Lindsay Lohan (Mean Girls), Christian Slater (Murder in the First), and Joy Bryant (The Skeleton Key), among others. You get the idea – there’s a gang of people in this movie. The people are not important; what resonates so deeply from Bobby is the powerful effect RFK had on American citizens from all walks of life. People just don’t feel that way about politicians nowadays. I’m looking at the movie and I’m struck by how much people LOVED this man. Estevez interspersed the movie with actual footage of RFK, and there is no denying that the man was absolutely adored and that he had a good heart and a good soul. During a tumultuous time for our country, he offered some semblance of hope for the future, and not in that cheesy bullshit way we see now, but like he really gave a damn. I’m not trying to sip the Kennedy kool-aid, I’m just trying to convey to you what the movie conveyed to me. The man next to me in the theater was crying, and when the closing credits rolled over a Kennedy montage – no one got up to leave. That means that this man had more than just a passing effect on people. There has always been something sad and tragic about not knowing what might have been. That is the legacy of RFK: untapped potential, untold possibilities. He was a truly good man who was snuffed out during a time when the country seemed to be going crazy in a perfect storm of tragedy: the assassinations of JFK, MLK, the Vietnam War, etc. Bobby uses its ensemble cast of characters to convey this turbulent and desperate time.

The movie is not without its flaws, as the script is plodding in places and the dialogue borders on sappy. The transition between scenes and characters was less than smooth, a flaw which was magnified by the intersecting storylines and characters. Many scenes felt choppy and disjointed. All of these flaws were erased in the electrifying final 30 minutes of the film, which depict the actual assassination and its chaotic aftermath. Here the ensemble cast shines in its delivery of collective pain, suffering, comfort, and finally: despair. Emilio Estevez’ Bobby is ambitious and deeply meaningful in its portrait of a fallen paragon of hope, taken too soon as the great ones always seem to be.

Question: If the great Denzel Washington (Inside Man) stars in a bad movie, is the movie still bad? Answer: YES. If, like my mother, you believe that any time Denzel graces the screen it’s a cause for celebration, by all means – walk don’t run to your nearest theater to check out Déjà vu. However, if you need more than a handsome face to make your movie-going experience worthwhile, I’d think twice about it.

Déjà vu reunites director Tony Scott (Man on Fire) with Washington and super-producer Jerry Bruckheimer (Con Air, The Rock). If these two are on board we at least know that a whole lot of shit is going to blow up. And it does. Washington plays ATF agent Doug Carlin, who is assigned to investigate an explosion that kills hundreds on a Naval Ship in New Orleans, during Mardi Gras. Simultaneously, he must solve the murder of Clare Kuchever (Paula Patton of Idlewild), whose death is linked to the explosion. To borrow a line from the script, if he can find Clare’s killer, he can find the person responsible for the blast. After this initial puzzle is established, we are introduced to the main concept which drives the film. The government has stumbled upon technology that allows it to not only record the past, but to manipulate it as well. As a matter of fact, they are able to send objects and people into the past in order to change the future (present). Agent Carlin is now looking at Clare’s last few days in order to uncover her killer’s identity and foil the terrorist plot.

This premise is acceptable, perhaps even intriguing, but its execution is flawed. I’m talking major plot holes and piss-poor writing. Have you ever been unable to comprehend something, not because it was so “deep” or “over your head,” but because it was just plain dumb? That’s Déjà vu! I don’t go to the movies to pick them apart, but I’m not an idiot either. Some of the things that happen in Déjà vu make absolutely no sense; it’s like the writers expect the audience to accept certain truths about this time travel technology although they directly conflict with other elements of the technology that have been presented. The implausibility level is 9 out of 10 in Déjà vu. Can the mere presence of Denzel Washington overcome these glaring flaws? Well, that depends on the viewer. Denzel will always be Denzel, but Déjà vu’s problems are bigger than him. In addition to the poor writing, the cast is wasted as the actors are relegated to one-dimensional beings that only serve to advance the plot. Jim Caviezel (Frequency, Passion of the Christ) is featured as the villain and prime suspect, while Val Kilmer (Heat, The Doors) is a federal agent assigned to the case. Neither one of these actors will be remembered for Déjà vu. If you want to see a movie that deals with concepts of time travel, fate, destiny, or government surveillance in a manner that is genuine and thought-provoking, I would suggest any one of the following: Frequency, The Butterfly Effect, Minority Report, or Donnie Darko. Despite a provocative premise, Déjà vu is ultimately disappointing, although Mr. Washington makes a valiant effort. He can’t do it alone though, and even if you put a diamond on a turd, it’s still a turd, feel me?

As a fan of the James Bond franchise, I make sure to catch every new installment. Like many other fans, when I heard that Pierce Brosnan would not be reprising his role I eagerly awaited his replacement — and like many other fans I was completely disappointed with the naming of Daniel Craig (Layer Cake) as 007. Quite simply, I just didn’t think he looked the part. Normally one might think that “looks aren’t everything,” but when it comes to Bond I beg to differ. Let’s take a look at the previous Bonds, starting with the original, the irreplaceable Sean Connery. Connery was the best Bond. He was tall, dark, and handsome. He was smooth and debonair, and when he entered a room, women melted. Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan, hell even the short-lived George Lazenby all looked the part, to varying degrees. But Daniel Craig? Yuck. I’ve given this whole spiel to say one thing: I stand corrected. Not only was Craig fantastic in the role, but he managed to leave a unique stamp on our favorite spy.

Casino Royale takes us back to Bond as he is first given “double-oh” status. He is passionate, reckless, and simple. He has not matured into the experienced spy we are used to seeing; he’s raw. His impulsivity frustrates M (Judi Dench of The Chronicles of Riddick, Shakespeare in Love), who tries to corral James before he compromises the mission to stop the funding of global terrorism. The title refers to the casino where James must play a high-stakes game to win the money used to finance the aforementioned terrorism. We have some familiar Bond themes: the requisite Aston Martin, martini, beautiful women, the even more beautiful locales, etc. However, something is a little different this time around. Gone are the bells and whistles and fancy gadgets, along with the cheesy commercialism that pervaded the last Bond movie, Die Another Day. Everything is darker and understated. We don’t experience some of the mainstays of the franchise until the very end, like the theme music for example. Nor does Bond order his martini “shaken, not stirred.” We’ve all heard it a million times before, and there’s no need to trot out every corny Bond cliche’.

I think diehard Bond enthusiasts will be begrudgingly pleased with Casino Royale. Daniel Craig gives Bond the masculinity that Connery infused into the character, coupled with an earnest simplicity and honesty. He makes Bond seem like more than a mere spy, he’s almost like an assassin! Craig is far and away the most athletic actor to portray Bond, and his body is sick. He’s no fancy-pants pretty-boy; he’s a man’s man and I like that. What he lacks in overt attractiveness he makes up for in sophisticated swagger. Call it the Jay-Z effect. Bond’s allure was always that men wanted to be him and women wanted to be with him. I’m glad to say nothing’s changed.

The Departed is a movie-lover’s wet dream. It was impossible for this film to be anything less than fantastic, and I think it’s an instant classic. The cast is absolutely stellar, reading like a virtual who’s who of Hollywood. You’ve got Martin Sheen (Apocalypse Now, The West Wing), Mark Wahlberg (Four Brothers), and Alec Baldwin (Malice, Glengarry Glen Ross)…and that’s just the supporting cast. Any one of these actors could carry a movie on his own, but perhaps the most important name attached to The Departed is that of its legendary director, Martin Scorsese. Scorsese is responsible for some of the greatest movies of the last 30 years, and it ought to be a crime that he hasn’t won an Academy Award yet. Goodfellas, Casino, Taxi Driver, Raging Bull…I dare say that the man is at least partly responsible for making Robert Deniro one of the finest American actors of our time. I think you get the idea.

The Departed’s premise is an enticing one: the Irish Mafia, led by boss Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson of Batman, As Good As It Gets) has placed a mole in the Massachusetts State Police Department. Conversely, the police have one of their own deep undercover in Costello’s organization. Matt Damon (The Bourne Identity, The Talented Mr. Ripley) plays Colin Sullivan, Costello’s unofficially adopted son, and Leonardo DiCaprio (The Aviator, The Basketball Diaries) stars as Billy Costigan, the undercover officer. I still think that Matt Damon is rather underrated, but hopefully that’s a notion that can be dispelled permanently. He lends his character a charming craftiness, giving Sullivan a resourceful arrogance that permeates the film. DiCaprio is simply masterful in his portrayal of Costigan as tortured but courageous. His character must reveal and exploit his own weaknesses in an attempt to curry Costello’s trust. Costigan is sympathetic without being weak, fearful without seeming cowardly. Nicholson is tailor-made for his role as ruthless mobster, and he does it as only he can do it. He’s got the eyebrows raised in his trademark sneer, and he has the same demented look he wore in The Shining. The Departed is also cleverly-written, with lots of salty dialogue and ‘F-bombs’ aplenty. I loved it! By the way, I think Mark Wahlberg has replaced Vin Diesel as the #2 bad ass MF in the movies. Of course Samuel L. Jackson is #1, but I digress. Bottom line: The Departed is a must-see movie, and easily the best of ’06 so far.

I enjoyed this noir movie. With a dash of mystery and plenty of old-Hollywood glamour and sophistication, Hollwoodland harkens back to an era where actors and actresses were icons. The women were beautiful, the men were handsome, and a cigarette dangled elegantly from every pair of lips. Much like L.A. Confidential, Hollywoodland depicts 1950s Los Angeles as an alluring but dangerous place.

The movie is based on the life and brief career of George Reeves, the actor who portrayed Superman in the original television series. Ben Affleck (Paycheck, Pearl Harbor) plays Reeves, a charming, charismatic, and naively sincere actor looking to branch out from the character of Superman. As you know, Reeves allegedly committed suicide. The movie explores a variety of competing theories as to Reeves’ cause of death. The story is really told through the perspective of Louis Simo (Adrien Brody of The Jacket), a seedy private investigator looking for a quick buck by selling a sensational cover-up story to the newspapers. While investigating Reeves’ death, Simo realizes that there are many people who had a motive to bump him off, including his mistress Toni Mannix (Diane Lane of Unfaithful), his bitchy fiancée, and the husband of his mistress–the powerful head of MGM studios.

Adrien Brody is very convincing in his role, as Simo’s quest for the truth begins to erode his life. Diane Lane is good in just about anything she does, and she plays Toni with just the right amount of love, lust and venom. Now for Ben Affleck. I noticed that the commercials for Hollywoodland fail to mention his name in connection with the movie. Three years ago he would have received top billing. Now he’s relegated to third place, billed behind Brody and Lane. Just an observation. I think Affleck did a good job in the role. Say what you will, but he’s charming, tall, and handsome if nothing else. He doesn’t do it for me, but he’s got the movie star thing going, and I think that star quality serves him well, especially in the scene where he first meets Toni. He’s the boy toy to her seductive older woman, and it works well. Hollywoodland is a lot of things rolled into one: drama, mystery, and most importantly: a sad commentary on the ruthlessness of an industry that thrives on the believability of facades and lies. You’ll leave with the same unanswered questions you had at the beginning, but I guess that’s the point.

It was a pleasure to watch this enchanting movie, starring Ed Norton (The 25th Hour, The Italian Job) as an early 20th century magician. Norton plays Eisenheim, a quietly charming stage entertainer. His sold out performances feature a mix of both standard slight of hand tricks and supernatural feats. The story opens with a glimpse into Eisenheim’s childhood and the forbidden friendship he shares with Sophie (Jessica Biel of Stealth), a member of the royal family. When the two are forced apart as teenagers, Eisenheim flees and travels the world, perfecting his craft. He returns to his home of Vienna 15 years later and is reunited with his lost love at one of his performances. Sophie is planning to marry the Prince, but must confront the feelings she never stopped harboring for Eishenheim. The Prince is ruthless, and the two lovers must devise a plan for Sophie to escape his violent grasp.

One part love story, one part murder mystery, The Illusionist is a captivating movie that shouldn’t disappoint. It is clever and well-acted, with very good performances from Norton, Biel, and Paul Giamatti (Sideways, Lady in the Water) as an intelligent but conflicted police chief. Definitely not your run-of-the-mill movie, and worth a look.

Absolute garbage. That’s all I can say. Despite starring the super-sexy Jason Statham (The Transporter), the only man ever to look good with a bald spot, Crank was just terrible. The movie’s creators seemed to have done a wholesale ripoff of director Tony Scott’s (Domino)movie-making style, with much less success.

Statham stars as Chev Chelios, a hitman with one hour to live. He’s been injected with a poisonous concoction that inhibits his body’s ability to produce adrenaline. He must do any and everything possible to boost his adrenaline, because [paraphrase] “if he stops, he’s dead.” Okay, I know the plot sounds like it has the potential to make for a good movie, but it’s just an excuse to watch Chelios run around half-cocked on a revenge mission. Don’t get me wrong, Crank has its perversely entertaining moments. He snorts coke, chops off a guy’s hand, and literally screws his girlfriend (Amy Smart of Road Trip, The Butterfly Effect) in the middle of Chinatown, all to increase his adrenaline. This movie was just terrible. I didn’t expect much to begin with, but it was worse than I ever imagined. The teenage boys who sat in front of me in the theater thought it was great, but if you don’t fall into the 16-19 male demographic, I suggest you take a pass on Crank. It was an hour and a half of my life I can never get back.

Unlike most comedies, Little Miss Sunshine teaches a lesson, albeit an unintentional one. This movie is as much about family as it is about laughs. It follows the Hoover clan in its trek across country to enter its littlest member in a beauty pageant. Mom (Toni Collette of In Her Shoes) and Dad (Greg Kinnear of As Good As It Gets) are in charge of this lovingly dysfunctional bunch, which includes Grandpa, Uncle Frank (the always hilarious Steve Carrell of The 40-Year Old Virgin), son Dwayne, and the aforementioned Olive. Wanna know how messed up this family is? Dad is a washed-up motivational speaker, Frank just attempted suicide, Dwayne hasn’t uttered a word in months, and Grandpa is a cokehead. Oh yeah, let the good times roll. Yet somehow it works, because when the chips are down the Hoover family is there for one another – reminding us that you can’t pick your family, but that’s probably what makes them so special. Little Miss Sunshine might be the funniest movie of the year, because the laughs aren’t cheap, they’re heartfelt. There are no sight gags, no gross-out humor…just a touchingly funny portrayal of a family that isn’t so strange after all.

I don’t know how to begin to describe Idlewild, which stars Andre’ “3000” Benjamin (Four Brothers) and Antwan “Big Boi” Patton (ATL) of Outkast. Set during Prohibition, the movie spins the tale of Percival (Benjamin) and Rooster (Patton), two childhood friends who have matured into a hustler/musician and a piano player, respectively. Written and directed by novice filmmaker Bryan Barber, Idlewild has its moments of amateurism, but remains a lovely, endearing and truly special movie throughout. This is due in large part to the performances of Andre, Big Boi, and newcomer Paula Patton, who stars as the beguiling Angel Davenport, a singer who casts a love spell on Percival.

The plot centers on Rooster’s troubles running a popular jook joint/speakeasy while juggling his family responsibilities. Meanwhile, Percival yearns to escape his demanding father, a mortician for whom he works when not playing the piano at the club. Problems arise when Rooster becomes indebted to a local thug and bootlegger, played by the ubiquitous Terrence Howard (Crash, Get Rich or Die Tryin’). Here I must give a word about the amazing visuals. Director Bryan Barber is most well-known for music videos, and it shows. He is masterful at creating the musical performances, as well as using song to stir emotion and create mood. This is particularly evident in the love scene shared by Percival and Angel. It is viscerally beautiful: understated yet passionate. Idlewild has an avant-garde flair that will be lost on some people, which is unfortunate. I think the movie’s minor flaws, such as its occasional predictability – are outweighed by the truly unique and creative storytelling approach. Again, the performances are wonderful. I think we expect this from Andre’, but Big Boi is almost a scene stealer, in my opinion. Andre got the meatier scenes, but I appreciated the subtle authenticity of Big Boi’s portrayal of Rooster. They both push the envelope creatively, and are one of the few groups in hip hop that have transcended the game and are truly making art. Okay, enough of my rambling, I think you get the message. Idlewild is not a movie, it’s a film – and there is a difference. It should be appreciated on the big screen. Check it out.

This was a weird little movie. Robin Williams (Good Will Hunting) stars as Gabriel Noone, a late-night talk show host who befriends a young writer named Pete Logand (Rory Culkin), via telephone. Pete has written a book about the abuse he suffered at the hands of his caregivers. That same abuse resulted in him becoming infected with AIDS. Gabriel is first introduced to the boy by his publisher, and he also has conversations with the boy’s adoptive mother Donna, played by Toni Collette (In Her Shoes, The Sixth Sense). Eventually, Gabriel and Pete make plans to finally meet. Shit gets creepy when Gabriel starts to suspect that Pete and Donna are the same person, after detecting similarities in their voices. Add to this the fact that no one has ever seen mother and son in person together, and you have a regular little mystery. This movie is inspired by a true story, so I guess we can assume that nutjobs like Donna exist in the real world. Are you confused yet? Don’t worry, it’s not that complicated – it’s also not that rewarding of an ending either. I started this review thinking I would mildly recommend The Night Listener, but on second thought, I’d have to say it’s a bit too strange to spend your money on. Wait for it on cable, at least you won’t be disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, I think Toni Collette can act her ass off, and Robin Williams is fantastic also – but this movie was just okay, despite its intriguing plot. Next!