Review: "Superman Returns"

by Jeff McGinnis, Lead Usher

**** stars (out of four)
155 minutes, Starts Wednesday, June 28th

Kids grow up loving Batman and identifying with Spider-Man, but wanting to BE Superman. He is the icon, the granddaddy of them all. For nearly 70 years the character has stood as an unspoken symbol of everything the idea of a “superhero” stands for. If Supes is not as “cool” as he once was to our modern youth, it’s because he’s seen as stagnant, ever unchanging, a boy scout through and through. But while some may see his stalwartness as a weakness, I see it as the character’s most enduring strength. The cape and the tights may be the symbol, but what makes Superman lasting is his unflinching ability to discern right from wrong, his desire to use his power for the betterment of all mankind. If that makes him stagnant, it does so only in the way that a gold standard reflects upon all others. Superman is the mark all superhero characters are compared to.

The fact that the character is so completely burned into the tooth of our collective memories makes him one of the easiest characters to depict, but also incredibly easy to mess up. Superman is one of those characters that EVERYONE has a strong feeling about. Take a wrong step with the Man of Steel, and you’re a dead duck. Just ask everyone involved with “Superman IV.”

This is what makes “Superman Returns” such a remarkable achievement. This was a project that was fraught with potential pitfalls. One wrong move and the whole enterprise could have come tumbling down like a house of cards. But through an amazing amount of respect for both the original material and preceding film versions depicting the Man of Steel, director Bryan Singer has made virtually every right choice and constructed a Superman film that not only deserves to stand alongside the previous films, but also does justice to the character that has such an eternal hold of the American imagination.

The movie begins with a title card establishing the base from which this story is being told - Superman was the earth’s greatest hero, but when scientists discovered the exact location of his former home planet, Krypton, he suddenly departed without warning. He left in his wake a populace puzzled by his disappearance, none moreso than Lois Lane (Kate Bosworth), who grows bitter and angry enough to write an editorial entitled, “Why the World Doesn’t Need Superman.” Life goes on.

Then, one night, at the Kent farm in Kansas, Martha Kent (legendary actress and former Theta Hardcore champion Eva Marie Saint) is shocked to see a meteor fall from the sky and crash into her backyard, just as one had so many years before. She travels to the crash site only to find her son Clark (Brandon Routh) emerging from the wreckage and collapsing into her arms. The look and feel of all of this is designed to not only be evocative of the previous film, but to emulate it fully - this is not a original film so much as a long-delayed follow-up to Richard Donner’s two original Superman films.

Soon enough, Clark is back in Metropolis, successfully re-integrating himself back at the Daily Planet, and meeting old pal Jimmy Olson (Sam Huntington). It is Jimmy who informs Clark that Lois is not only in a long-standing relationship with a new beau, Richard White (James Marsden), but also has a young son, Jason. He’s barely settled into his chair before a disaster unfolds involving an airplane that Lois is on…and, well, you can guess what happens from there.

Brandon Routh, relatively unknown, is handed the acting challenge of his life here. Not only is he playing one of the most recognizable characters on the planet, but he’s filling the boots of an actor whose portrayal of Superman will forever be associated with the character. No, Routh isn’t everything that Christopher Reeve was in the role - but then, how could he be? Reeve’s work was so spot-on perfect from all sides that comparing anyone’s performance to his would be unfair to them. But Routh embodies all aspects of the Superman persona very well - not only the cape and boots, but also the bumbling nerd that is Clark Kent. One of the best qualities of Reeve’s portrayal was how utterly opposite his Superman and Clark Kent were, so you could believe that people wouldn’t put 2 and 2 together. Routh plays many of the same notes here.

Bosworth’s work as Lois Lane is also deserving of major praise. Lois, in many depictions of the character, has a tendency to be little more than a damsel in distress, feisty though she may be. Bosworth’s Lane is far too complex for that label to stick. She is a strong, independent woman who loves Superman deeply, but was severely wounded when he decided to leave. A rooftop conversation between the two of them not only brings these emotions to a head, but evokes many memories of the characters’ first on-screen encounters, as well.

But of course, every hero is only as good as their bad guy, and “Superman Returns” has one of the best in Kevin Spacey’s portrayal of eternal Supes foil Lex Luthor. Freed from prison by a wealthy old benefactor, Lex has grandiose plans to inflict upon the world, beginning with a return visit to Superman’s arctic lair, the Fortress of Solitude. Helped along on his travels by girl friday Kitty Kowalski (the eternally entertaining Parker Posey), Lex’s plans once more have less to do with world domination and more to do with garnering a commanding share of real estate, though if billions of people are killed in the process, he has no problem with that. Like Routh, Spacey has an uphill battle, coming as he does on the heels of Gene Hackman’s portrayal of Luthor in the original films, but Spacey is more than up to the task, adding a more healthy streak of malevolence to the role than Hackman did. He’s still licking his chops with delight in every scene he’s in, but when the time comes to be evil, Spacey is downright scary.

The body of the film acts as little more than a set-up for the final act, an hour-long orgy of action and spectacular special effects, but the film never drags, even at its two-and-a-half hour length. The basic story is relatively simple and contains few surprises (one of which, if you know the previous films, can probably be deduced with the minimal clues I’ve provided here), but that’s okay, because the power of the tale lies in both its broad and small strokes. It is a masterful achievement for the same movie to garner equal emotional reactions from the greatest feats of strength by Superman and the poignant climax of Lois and Supes’ relationship.

The touches that evoke the previous films go beyond respect into reverence, and all of them are the exactly right choices to make. The use of John Williams’ immortal main theme was a given, but little touches like the main credit sequence flying in, just as in the original, and the final iconic shots of Superman as he flies away will make anyone even remotely familiar with the films smile. There are all sorts of little dialogue touches that are taken directly from Superman 1 & 2 (“I hope this doesn’t put any of you off of flying”), and of course the use of Marlon Brando’s work as Jor-El gives the enterprise as much weight and resonance as using him in the original movie did. The story that’s told is marvelous and works splendidly on its own, but those who know the first two films will enjoy it on multiple levels.

The Superman franchise has stuttered and stalled for the better part of two decades, trying to get another movie off the ground. Countless directors, writers and actors have been attached to the project, with each effort faltering for one reason or another. With the arrival of “Superman Returns,” we can view the intervening two decades as, perhaps, a gestation period, where we were just waiting for the right team to come along. Bryan Singer and his writers (Michael Dougherty and Dan Harris, who also wrote the excellent “X2” for Singer) obviously approached this film as a labor of love, out of admiration for those who came before, and out of respect for the icon they were bringing to life. Their success is plain for all to see. This is one of the best superhero movies ever made.

Review: "Click"

by Jeff McGinnis, Lead Usher

**1/2 stars (out of four)
98 minutes, Now Showing

Adam Sandler certainly has some likeable notes in his repertoire. The question I have whenever I see a movie he's in is, will he play them? Sandler's career up to this point has been a hit-or-miss affair, with the misses sadly far outweighing the hits. I recognize that this puts me firmly into the minority of modern moviegoers, as he's one of our most popular comedic actors. But when I watch his films, I can't shake the feeling that, more often than not, I'd rather die than share a table at Starbucks with one of his characters.

I can and have liked an Adam Sandler movie. The brilliant "Punch-Drunk Love" played wonderfully off of the quirks in Sandler's basic persona by twisting it into the confines of a P.T. Anderson premise, and Sandler was great in it. "50 First Dates" was the first out-and-out Sandler comedy I thoroughly enjoyed, so sweet and funny. I loved his remake of "The Longest Yard," though the idea of Sandler playing a hotshot ex-quarterback seemed somewhat ridiculous on its surface.

What do all three of these cases have in common? In them, Sandler either a.) played a likeable character, or b.) the fact that his character was NOT likeable was the point. In "Love," his character was a bundle of neurosis who saw no value in himself, until he fell in love. In "Dates," he was a womanizer who learned the value of love only when he had to try so hard to get it. "Yard" saw his character go through guilt and denial as he tried to define who he was to himself.

Now comes "Click." In theory, this would be another perfect opportunity to add another notch to the Adam Sandler Likeability Meter - a mainstream comedy with a nice message about learning to take life one day at a time, or else you might miss it. There is a good movie in here...but sadly, it gets torpedoed by the fact that Sandler's character is a flat-out jerk. And this isn't a case of "he learns that he's being a jerk and reforms." Not really. What he learns is that he should pay attention to his family and be less concerned about work. But a lot of other things he does - tormenting the next door neighbor's kid, holding senseless grudges, snipping at his kids - all these things are really unrelated to the main storyline, and put the audience off on the character right off the bat. When Christopher Walken's character says to him, "Good guys need a break every now and then," we wonder what good guy he's referring to, exactly.

The plot: Sandler plays Michael Newman, an architectural designer for a firm. His boss (David Hasslehoff) is a tool who takes advantage of his hard work, and Michael is constantly having to cut back on life with his family as a result. His wife, Donna (Kate Beckinsale) seems a sweet and lovely woman, and is very, VERY patient with Michael in some early scenes where any sane woman would probably have slapped him upside the head a few times.

Anyway, one night Michael tears himself away from his designs to buy a universal remote control, as he's tired of wrestling with his own pile of remotes at home. He stumbles into Bed, Bath and Beyond, and in the "Beyond" section (a joke which would have been way funnier if "Family Guy" hadn't done it a year ago), he meets Morty (Walken), a technician who seems just a hair removed from Philo from "UHF." He gives Michael a "very advanced" remote, stressing that there's a no-return policy.

It doesn't take long for Michael to figure out that the remote works on more than just his TV and DVD player. It controls everything in his life. He can fast forward anything he doesn't want to have to do, flash back to previous scenes to re-experience them, even listen to commentary on his life by James Earl Jones ("He does a LOT of voice-over work"). When his boss makes his latest set of unreasonable demands, Michael hits pause and proceeds to hit him across the face a few times, not reflecting upon the fact that he could just as easily stop time and get the work done almost instantly. He also skips over most any meeting with his parents, played by Henry Winkler and Julie Kavner. How the Fonz and Marge Simpson could have turned out such a rotten kid is beyond me.

The film's more emotional portions come later, when the remote begins to automatically fast-forward past things that it believes Michael doesn't want to experience, like illnesses or foreplay. Eventually it moves forward several years at a time, causing Michael to miss tons of important events and remember nothing, though he was still there, physically. Morty explains to him that when he fast forwards, all that's left is a shallow husk that performs only with the most basic of emotional responses. We in the audience can't see any really appreciable difference between "all there" Michael and "shallow husk" Michael, save for the fact that shallow husk doesn't yell as often.

See, there's the problem...I just couldn't care about the movie because I just couldn't care about the character. If Sandler had played the role just a notch or two lower, toned down the obnoxious persona, I probably would have really enjoyed it. It has a funny gimmick and a nice story, with some nifty gags and something genuine to say about life. The writers are Steve Koren and Mark O' Keefe, who wrote the wonderful "Bruce Almighty," which had a similar arc about a guy who learns about the faults in his own life through extraordinary intervention. But in that one, part of the arc was Jim Carrey's character learning and reflecting on what a jerk he had been, and making steps to correct that, too. With Sandler, a lot of what happens earlier is not addressed in the all-too-brief wrap-up which comes at the end. It's like seeing Scrooge buy the goose, but still not being sure if he's gonna give it to the Cratchetts or cook it for himself.

It's really a shame. There's a lot of very good stuff here, and Sandler's core audience will probably enjoy it very much. I, however, will just have to wait for the next film to come along and hope that Adam plays some of the nicer notes on his scale then. The odds aren't good, I admit, but it can happen. I've seen it.

Review: "Nacho Libre"

by Jeff McGinnis, Lead Usher

* star (out of four)
91 minutes, Now Showing

The Mexican tradition of Lucha Libre has a long and storied history in the culture. A more free-flowing and high-flying based style of wrestling compared to its American counterpart (it literally translates as "Free Fight"), Lucha Libre is a tradition with deeply rooted respect in the country. The stars of the sport become so much more to their fans than just simple wrestlers, they are national heroes and icons. When the most famous luchador of all time, El Santo, passed away, he was buried in his mask, so that the legend of the character would never be disturbed.

I pass along this information to establish my knowledge of and experience with the honorable art form, and not to bolster the film “Nacho Libre,” which is a piece of cr*p. I honestly don’t know how many more ways this could have gone wrong. I mean, come on! It’s Jack Black as a Mexican wrestler! The jokes are right there! How could this NOT be funny? Oh, very easily, apparently. I mean, you look at the list of talent connected with the film and you just shake your head at how all of it has been wasted. Jack Black! He’s a very funny actor! Mike White! He’s a very funny writer! Jared Hess! He’s…a director!

Okay, okay, maybe I’m being too hard on Hess. I must admit, for the sake of complete disclosure, that I have never seen his previous film, the much-beloved “Napoleon Dynamite.” For all the positive notices that movie got, I got two wretched reports from two of my most respected opinions on film (for the record, their names are Ebert and McGinnis), so I never really felt a pressing need to watch it. Now I feel like I have to. Because if this film is any representation of what Hess feels is “comic timing,” the success of “Napoleon” has now become a deeper mystery than the solution of the cryptex in “The Da Vinci Code.”

The film stars Black as a monk named Ignacio who has secretly dreamed of being a luchador ever since he was a boy. He is stuck making mediocre meals for an orphanage. One day, he sees a notice for new wrestlers and decides to sign up, recruiting a guy on the street who stole a bag of nacho chips from him (named Esqualeto, played by Hector Jimenez). Ignacio dubs himself “Nacho,” and the fearsome tag team proceeds to lose every match they are involved in. Meantime, Nacho lusts after the beautiful Sister Encarnacion (Ana de la Reguera), and dreams of learning from the great Ramses (Cesar Gonzalez, better known to wrestling and lucha fans as “Silver King”).

If I have made ANY of this sound even remotely interesting and/or funny, my apologies, for I have failed you, dear reader. There aren’t any laughs in the movie. Hell, there isn’t even A laugh, singular. None of the jokes work. Wait, that’s not accurate, because that implies that there are jokes in the first place. The film sets up what seems to be a comic situation, seems to head for a punch line, then stops before it gets there. Even the gags which were funny in the trailer flop horribly here. The timing is all off.

Jack Black, normally one of our funniest performers, doesn’t help matters. His performance seems to be at right angles with the movie. When a gag would be best served by underplaying, Black mugs shamelessly. When over the top physicality is required, he seems quiet. What happened here? Were Black’s typically keen performer’s instincts really this inaccurate, or did Hess just use takes which were horribly inappropriate? Seeing as how I’ve seen Black prevail in tougher comic environs, I’m inclined to blame Hess, but then I’m inclined to blame Hess for just about everything right now, save for the audience actually having to pay money to see this.

The wrestling scenes are particularly inept. Not only are there no laughs, but even as a simulation of a wrestling spectacle, it fails miserably. One thinks emulating the gist of a wrestling match would be hard to screw up, given how few specifics there are to miss - the rules are virtually non-existent, and the match ends with a pinfall. But by gum, never tell this director that he can’t miss something! Every match is just a half-hearted exhibition of maneuvers that maybe could be mistaken for wrestling moves, and then they just…end. No pinfall or submission or anything. Hmm. A lot of set up with no discernible purpose or climax. Hey, the matches are just like the jokes! It’s a theme!

Look, if you want to have a few laughs with the world of wrestling, just watch a wrestling match. A great deal of the art form is just broad comedy, anyway. I’ve laughed louder and more frequently in a wrestling arena than any audience will at this movie, I guarantee. So save yourself the price of admission and just watch TNA Impact some Thursday. Or Univision airs Lucha Libre on Saturdays, try that. As for this movie, I only hope that Jack Black and Mike White (heh, Black and White, now THAT’s funny) move on to better things, and quickly. As for Hess, well, I’m afraid the jury’s still out on that one.

Review: "Cars"

by Jeff McGinnis, Lead Usher

*** stars (out of four)
118 minutes, Now Showing

“Cars” is probably the most standard of all the Pixar films so far, which is not a criticism so much as an observation. Its story is fairly shopworn stuff, as these things go - a hotshot youngster gets detoured in a small town and learns the value of homespun wisdom. We’ve seen this kinda thing many, many times before, in countless other movies. But as it progresses, the film finds its own path and identity, and by the time the climax arrives, it has genuine emotional impact. The end result is a very worthwhile film.

The movie stars (so much as voice-over work can be considered “starring”) Owen Wilson as Lightning McQueen, a hotshot racecar who has taken the “Piston Cup” series by storm. In a world of sentient cars, of course racing would be the primary sport - one cannot envision a car world in which baseball takes place. His primary rivals on the circuit are retiring legend The King (voice of Richard Petty, of course) and the cocky eternal-also-ran Chick Hicks (voice of Michael Keaton). When the decisive race of the season ends in a three-way-tie, it is announced that all three cars will compete in a final race in California.

While being transported there by his loyal semi-truck Mack (voice of Pixar-favorite John Ratzenberger), Lightning accidentally gets left behind, and while driving blindly through the dark (he has no headlights), he stumbles into Radiator Springs, a small town on Route 66. A contrived series of events leads to him tearing up the town’s main road, after which he is arrested and detained in the impound lot (with a parking boot on his tire, one of the many nice touches in this script), and then commanded to remain in town until he himself repairs the road.

Lightning meets all the usual assortment of colorful local residents: the town mechanic/tow truck, Mater (“As in TOW-Mater? Get it?”), voiced by Larry the Cable Guy, the local sheriff/police car, voiced by Michael Wallis, a VW bus with the mind and soul of a 60’s hippie, voiced by George Carlin, and so on, and so on. It’s the usual assortment of “types” you find in movies about small town life, only this time they’re played by automobiles. The most distinct and memorable characters carve out a life of their own: Doc, voiced by Paul Newman, a grizzled old car who hides a past life, and Sally, the fiery Porshe who Lightning steadily falls in love with.

Again, the plot is nothing to write home about (we’re basically looking at “Doc Hollywood on Wheels” here), but as the film progresses the requirements of the story become secondary to the main things that distinguish Pixar’s work, which are imagination and heart. The three lead characters (Lightning, Sally and Doc) all emerge as fully founded people (or automobiles) with a complete arc of development and personal evolution, all of which wonderfully comes to a head at the big race, but not in the way we think it might.

Technically, as always with Pixar, the film is outstanding. The animation of every car establishes the unique identity and personalities of each, and demonstrates a remarkable variety of motions from characters where, on the surface, a lot of emoting would seem impossible. Beyond the basic events of the story, the writing is crammed with the company’s usually generous amount of imaginative gags and situations, all variations on the movie’s basic automotive theme (all the bugs buzzing about are actual VW bugs, a late night trek into a field for a little tractor-tipping). In a world where the general filmmaking technique seems to be barely-contained laziness, you can’t help but be grateful to the Pixar gang for always trying so hard.

If I’m less enthusiastic than I have been for previous Pixar outings, it may be that they have set the bar so amazingly high that it will prove difficult for themselves to clear it. From the “Toy Story” movies, to “A Bug’s Life,” “Monster’s Inc.,” “Finding Nemo,” and “The Incredibles,” this company has consistently turned out a level of quality in their work unrivaled by virtually any movie studio anywhere. If “Cars” seems weaker, that is only in comparison to what came before. Taken on its own, it’s a very fun ride.

Review: "An Inconvenient Truth"

by Jeff McGinnis, Lead Usher

100 minutes, Now Showing

There is a certain level of irony that “An Inconvenient Truth” widens its release so near to the opening of “Superman Returns.” Not merely because it will not draw probably even five percent of that film’s total box office take in its opening weekend (we love our summer blockbusters), but also because watching the film made me think of the opening of the original “Superman.” Jor-El, standing before the council at Krypton, informing them coolly but firmly that the planet would self-destruct, soon. The rest of them standing idly by, firm in their belief that he was a paranoid reactionary. Sure, Jor-El was proven right, but he didn’t do anything, and he got fried, too.

Al Gore, on the other hand, is trying to do something with the new film “An Inconvenient Truth.” The former vice president and passionate environmentalist has been giving a speech about the impact of global warming on our planet for years, basically ever since he left office, and the lion’s share of the film is little more than him talking. It is surprisingly involving and polarizing. It has been written more than a few times that if he had shown this kind of fire in the election, he would have won. (We’ll set aside for another day the fact that in many respects, he did.)

What I rather think we see in the film is a man with a great passion about an issue, in a situation where the gloves are off. Gore no longer has to cow-tow and tone down his fire for fear of alienating some of his constituents. We’re seeing a man who is simply trying to share a deeply held belief with others, and trying to get us to join him in that belief, or at least think a second time about it. The nebulous concept of “global warming” has been batted about in pop culture so long that it has doubtless had its impact dulled. Gore’s words and images force us to confront it head-on.

We are shown images of snow-covered mountains taken years ago, and marvel at how much less snow covers them today. We see ancient glaciers cracking and shrinking. We view the polar ice caps breaking off and taking new shapes…smaller than before. Beyond the statistics, charts, graphs and countless studies Gore offers up as evidence, these images stick in the mind. The ice that was there clearly isn’t anymore. What’s happening?

Gore outlines the basic concepts behind global warming, its causes and cures. It comes at us in a blizzard of facts that is never once disorienting or confusing - at every point we understand what we are being told and why. Yes, the global climate index is steadily increasing. Yes, the scientific consensus is that human-based CO2 emissions are the reason why. And yes, there are things we can do about it.

So why aren’t we? Why is society so far from a consensus on this issue? Gore argues it has less to do with the science involved than with the public relations arms of the businesses which would stand to lose the most from more broad public awareness on the issue - namely the oil companies. Gore accuses them of trying to confuse the public by blurring the definition of “theory” and by misrepresenting what the issue is really about. As if on cue, these lobbyists have commissioned a whole new set of ads in response to this movie, one of which extols the virtues of CO2: “Carbon Dioxide. They call it pollution. We call it…life.” (Watch it here: http://streams.cei.org/ ) It’s so ludicrous you’d swear a Daily Show staffer somehow snuck onto their writing staff.

There is debate going on about global warming, no doubt, as there is debate involved in all scientific theory. (For a good public forum for the discussion of the issue, be sure to check out http://www.realclimate.org/.) Gore does not claim there is complete agreement on the issue. What he points out is that a recent study compiled nearly 900 peer-reviewed works on the subject, and all of them agreed that global warming was happening. By contrast, he offers the point that in a recent media study, a sample of media reports related to global warming was compiled, and nearly 50 percent treated the matter skeptically. The incongruity, he argues, is PR at work. (Want another example? Look up how media outlets, as a matter of political expediency, treat evolution as a quote-theory-unquote as well, despite the fact that legitimate scientific debate on that one was closed a long time ago.)

What’s astounding is the way that the tone of the film is not maudlin or even terrifying, as the ads will have you believe. The real, definite feeling at the end of the film is one of empowerment. Yes, this is happening. Yes, we are largely responsible. But we also have the power to do something about it. During the credits, a series of titles appear detailing actions both big (buy a hybrid car, if you can) and little (turn off lights if you’re not using them). Gore states in the film how the human animal has a tendency to go from a state of denial to a state of panic. What’s missing in the middle is the moment where we decide to take action. And the ability to perceive and act based upon intellectual analysis is a big part of what makes us human in the first place.

You may have noticed that I did not assign a star rating to the film. That’s because this is a case where I can’t help but feel one is utterly unnecessary. This film cannot be rated, ranked, in any traditional manner. It comes across more like a document, an argument, a plea. The true test of its value will be in the impact it has, both on the individual and on the culture. I will only say this - no matter what your political or social views, you need to see this movie. As a cultural event, it is important. As a film, it is remarkably involving and moving. And as a passionate plea to instill action and investigation, it is utterly inspiring.

Review: "The Lake House"

by Jeff McGinnis, Lead Usher

**1/2 stars (out of four)
108 minutes, Now Showing

Maybe I'm just too cynical. Maybe I've seen too many movies and have become too experienced at picking up clues in the narrative. Maybe if I wasn't as experienced in such matters, I would have enjoyed it more. I dunno. It makes the question of how to evaluate this movie tricky - trickier still, the question of how exactly to address my problems without spoiling everything for those who are not as cynical as I.

All I can say is, something happens within the first, say, 15 minutes of "The Lake House." Something that the plot treats as relatively insignificant at the time, but for me, it was immediately apparent what had happened and what that meant. From that moment on, watching the film became an exercise in when it would catch up with me.

It didn't until about five minutes before the end credits, which is unfortunate. I don't like being that far ahead of the storytellers. I like being surprised, tricked, fooled. When a filmmaker can catch me off guard successfully, no one is more delighted than I. But the cynical side of me can often rear its head and ruin the surprises well in advance. When that happens, I am disappointed. Not just that I have been spoiled a surprising twist, but that the filmmakers weren't able to put one over on me. Come on, guys. It's not that hard. I'm not THAT smart.

What makes it doubly a shame is that there's a lot to like in "The Lake House." The main characters are nice people, who you want to see together. The performances are good, the writing has a lot of nice touches, and the story has a lot of promise. If it didn't all come together for me, well, maybe that was just me. Maybe you'll fare better.

The plot is located at the intersection of "Love Letters" and "The Twilight Zone." We meet a woman named Kate (Sandra Bullock) who is moving out of a house located on a lake just outside Chicago. To say on the lake is not as accurate as saying above the lake - it's a glass structure supported on stilts suspended high above the water. It's imaginative and unique, though one does wonder about the bathroom facilities, but never mind.

Anyway, Kate's moving out, and she leaves a note in the house's mailbox for the next tenant. We then see the letter being retrieved by Alex (Keanu Reeves) as he is moving in. He's confused by the letter - no one has lived in the house for years. He should know, his dad (a great architect played by Christopher Plummer) built the place himself. He writes back that she is mistaken. She writes back that she most certainly is not, and asks if Alex could please forward all her mail to her new address. Alex goes there only to find the apartment she lives in hasn't been built yet.

It becomes quickly apparent to them that he is writing to her from the year 2004, and she is writing to him from the year 2006. They are astonishingly quick at figuring this out and accepting it, all things considered (to a degree they seemed less ready to believe it in the trailer than in the actual movie), but then, it becomes equally apparent that they are falling in love. When that happens, more inexplicable elements become less important. Just like in real life.

So we have two people who clearly are meant to be together, separated by a gulf of time. Now, how do they get together...or even can they? This is an intriguing premise, with all sorts of possibilities of what could impact such a relationship. She tells him facts about his current time, which astonish him when they come true. She waxes rhapsodic about the trees at the lake which she misses, and then is astounded when a tree appears in front of her new place (he planted it). At one point, he coincidentally meets her at a party in 2004, but says nothing about what he knows - but then, how could he? If he did, she'd think him crazy, right? And going further, if he did, isn't it possible that he has then altered the timeline, and then she'd never start writing him, and thus then they'd never meet at all?

These are tantalizing questions that the film could have dealt with, but the movie side-steps them all in favor of adding in some relatively standard and contrived obstacles. In 2004, she's dating an utter tool by the name of Morgan (Dylan Walsh), who she is clearly unhappy with, but who pops in and out of the story as necessary to add complications. When the two of them try to arrange a meeting and things go awry, things go sour between the two of them with such bizarre haste that it feels less like honest emotional reaction to the situation and more like the screenplay pulling the strings. The writer is David Auburn, a Pultizer Prize winner and writer of the play and film "Proof," though this script is adapted from a previous film. Maybe he got handcuffed by the requirements of the plot from the previous work - you get the impression that so much more was possible here.

There really is a lot to like here. I enjoyed both Bullock and Reeves's performances, as it's pretty clear these two have good chemistry as an on-screen couple that Hollywood should have reunited long ago. There are all sorts of nifty screen tricks to establish the "conversations" that these two have in their letters, though if you follow the logic of the letter writing such conversations are impossible. The director, Alejandro Agresti, has a nice flair for visuals and pacing. I enjoyed a lot of the film as it was happening.

At least, to the extent I could, given that I knew precisely where it was going, and how. It really disappointed me that the climax was laid so plain so early on, as it prevented me from getting truly invested in the fate of these characters. As far as I could see, it had already happened. Which, in a way, it had. So, the movie didn't quite work for me. But hey, maybe it'll work for you. Give it a shot and see.

Review: "A Prairie Home Companion"

by Jeff McGinnis, Lead Usher

**** stars (out of four)
104 minutes, Now Showing

When Robert Altman accepted his lifetime achievement Oscar at this past March’s Academy Awards telecast, he informed the audience that he always thought that receiving that kind of award meant “it was over. Then, it dawned on me I was in rehearsals for a play in London that opened last night, and I just finished my new film 'Prairie Home Companion.' So it's not over.”

How wonderfully appropriate that he should have mentioned this film in the context of those comments. If Altman’s acceptance speech stood in opposition to the expected tradition of the twilight of a career, so too does “A Prairie Home Companion” stand in opposition to the real life circumstances of the show that inspired it. The film tells the tale of the final night of Garrison Keillor’s long-running weekly radio variety show, a bittersweet evening of death, life, reflection, denial and above all, joyous performances.

In reality, the show, amazingly, goes on, a time capsule of what radio once was and will never be again. In a world where the airwaves are dominated by the latest bubble-gum pop hits and political blowhards spewing their ungainly views so their followers will know what to think, Keillor’s cheerfully old-fashioned opus remains a rock on public channels across the country. “It’s the kind of show that went out of style 30 years ago,” observes Guy Noir (Kevin Kline) in the opening narration. “Problem is, somebody forgot to tell them.”

The film is a hypothetical tale of the night the truth comes crashing down. Written by Keillor himself, it depicts the last broadcast of the proud old tradition that still commands the attention of “hundreds” of listeners, according to Noir. (The character, whose adventures are depicted on the Companion as a sly detective satire, appears in the flesh here as the theatre’s supposed head of security.) A big conglomerate has bought the station that broadcasts the show, and will be tearing down the theatre it runs in to make it into a parking lot.

The cast whispers about these happenings to one another in questioning tones, not knowing how close the axe actually is. Keillor (playing himself) seems to be in denial, refusing to even acknowledge the event on the air. There is little doubt that there is a serious sense of finality to the proceedings, even among those who still refuse to believe it’s the end. Before the curtain falls, tears will be shed, a life will end, old wounds will be opened, and a sad remembrance of what once was will transpire.

But I’m making the film sound maudlin. The tone is far too joyous for that to stick. This isn’t a funeral, it’s a rip-roaring wake where laughter and music fill the air. The dialogue, while still having depth and weight, is wonderfully crisp and sharp, frequently hilarious, and always true-to-character. Each of the performers and stagehands connected to the show emerge as fully-realized individuals, brought to glorious life by the actors.

We meet them as they arrive for the show, in various states of acceptance of its fate. Most memorable are the Johnson Sisters, Yolanda (Meryl Streep) and Rhonda (Lily Tomlin), a country duet act whose best days have long since transpired. Streep and Tomlin, two of the best actors we will ever have, engage in eternal verbal debate with one another, overlapping, completing each other’s thoughts and sentences, thoroughly believable as both characters and siblings. Along for the ride is Lola (Lindsey Lohan), Yolanda’s daughter, ever-exasperated by her mother and aunt, slouching in her chair as if she wishes she could fall through the cushions. It’s suggested that she perform one of her songs on the show. She explains, “They’re mostly about death.”

Bringing an aw-shucks attitude to pretty much everything that transpires are Dusty (Woody Harrelson) and Lefty (John C. Reilly), a pair of singing cowboys who, like the show they perform on, seem caught in a time warp. It is they who perform a particularly hilarious and over-the-top number, in classic “What can they possibly do to us?” fashion. Maya Rudolph is equally funny as Molly, the overworked stagehand, whose pregnancy brings about many sideways glances and sarcastic remarks.

Then there is the Dangerous Woman (Virginia Madsen), whose arrival leads to no end of speculation and curiosity. Eternally clad in a white raincoat and appearing in and out of shots, her presence is a mystery, as no one knows who she is, or why she would be here. When she finally reveals her nature to Keillor in a backstage conversation, we’re not sure if we believe it, but then, we shouldn’t be. A late arrival is the Axeman (Tommy Lee Jones) a representative of the company which is ending the show, who sits in the back observing the proceedings with a halfway interested gaze. His demeanor suggests that just maybe, a stay of execution will be granted - or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

The film is wall-to-wall with music, with acts coming to and from the stage all night, and virtually every event occurring with accompaniment in the background. Virtually every cast member will take a turn at the microphone, including Lola, though her lack of preparation leads to a somewhat, shall we say, half-remembered delivery. You can practically feel the joy of performance coming through the screen - everyone up there is loving what they’re doing, and it shows.

That kind of joy is apparent throughout Altman’s work. He made it plain in that same Oscar speech that he never had to make a film he didn’t want to, and nowadays that kind of autonomy is rare. Here, he has made a film that is gloriously entertaining and has so much truth within - truth about death, society, obsolescence, living, so much more. There are so many movies nowadays where you can (and often do) have a wonderful time as they are happening, but if you dig even a bit beneath the surface, you find them hollow at their core. This one, however, is filled to the brim with joy, nostalgia, and even a little hope. This is one of the year’s best films.