The top contenders for the Academy Awards start making their way to theaters. Eminem's new album is neither a disaster nor a masterpiece. Plus, movies about Hollywood schmucks, magical trains, sexologists, and superheroes.
The crush of Oscar-grubbing movies begins to overwhelm us. We run through the streets, frightened and bewildered. Fear not, I've seen a bunch of 'em for you already. Start with the ones at the top of this list. Proceed with caution closer to the end.
Vera Drake (Fine Line Features)
Another laugh riot from Mike Leigh. His bone-dry, dispassionate view of a 1950s sweet, little-old-lady abortionist fits in that same category as Dead Man Walking. Everything feels entirely real — so real, in fact, that when you get to the nasty business of punishment from the state, it's almost too much to bear. I do wish Leigh would stop populating his films with common-folk ordinaries, but he doesn't turn them into poor saints either. Also, he doesn't shove a message across in a film that seems to demand a preachy interlude but never really goes there. If you resisted his movies before, I can't say I blame you. (I debated going myself.) But this is as close as he's ever gotten to removing the stifling "realism" mannerisms from his work, and it couldn't have come at a better time.
Sideways (Fox Searchlight Pictures)
Perhaps it's unfair to compare Alexander Payne to the best American filmmaker around, Alexander Payne. But after a perfect film (Election) and a near-perfect one (About Schmidt), this meandering buddy comedy doesn't quite ratchet up as beautifully as one might hope. Paul Giamatti does good work playing the first human being of his life, but he seems unable to fully divest himself of the loserish puppy-dog tics that his wine-connoisseur character needn't be saddled with. Payne handles the road movie with more humanity than anybody, but does this film add much to the warehouse of wisdom on Middle-Aged Doubt and Male Bonding? From anyone else, a revelation. From Payne, a great lesser work.
Primer (ThinkFilm)
Occasionally, eggheads can make terrific indie films. Exhibit A: Pi. Exhibit B: Memento. Shane Carruth's debut film doesn't reach so high, but it does wholly justify his decision to get out of engineering to pursue filmmaking. A geek-boy flick with an impressive streak of cool and mystery — the belief that a creepy self-made score, a low budget, and a menacing shooting style can overcome just about anything — this sci-fi oddity makes almost no sense. Very rarely is that deficiency a good thing. But here, hey, let's just sit back and bathe in the visionary cool. In theory, repeated viewings might clear up some of the questions of what's going on and how these main characters' mysterious device really works. Leave these musings to the DVD extras and Ain't It Cool News. For 78 minutes, Carruth makes you think logic is bunk.
Kinsey (Fox Searchlight Pictures)
You know, it's a biopic. And there's not much Liam Neeson or writer-director Bill Condon can do about that, no matter how talented they are. Everything's in its right place, all the emotional parts come when they should, and they feel real. And, hey, it's a lot better than Ray. But, you know, it's a biopic.
The Incredibles (Walt Disney Studios)
Brad Bird's The Iron Giant flaunted such an agreeably retro feel that even its die-hards didn't want to admit the obvious — its story was deeply conventional. His Pixar debut splits the chasm between abilities and deficiencies even wider. Wizard production, perfect animation, terrific music, hip tone — all at the service of a tame moral that reminds us that, duh, dads shouldn't neglect their families. It deserves to make a ton of money — it's smarter and more purely entertaining than anything Shrek could muster. But Bird hasn't quite devised anything for the pantheon of Pixar's finest.
Tarnation (Wellspring Media)
If it wouldn't be rude to say to a guy who's endured so much so young — a mentally damaged mother, the life of a troubled gay kid in the heart of Texas — what precisely makes you so special that you warrant a movie about yourself? Jonathan Caouette's documentary compiles video-diary material he's shot of himself and his family since childhood, all in the mesmerizing, voyeuristic hope that personal anguish alone adds up to revelatory filmmaking. And damn if he doesn't almost get there. Caouette's narcissism is passionate and genuine, and he's talented enough to make us care about his plight — not to mention that it addresses how this country absolutely does not want to talk about mental illness at all. Caouette writes what he knows, and he knows himself — or, rather, he's fascinated by himself and the disturbing connection of depression that binds him to his beloved mother. On its surface, this is a self-indulgent vanity project starring an actor subjecting us to his messy life. But what makes it work is that Caouette never realizes how pretentious that is.
Overnight (ThinkFilm)
Beyond bitter Hollywood wannabes and disillusioned development executives, this cautionary documentary about a nobody-turned-hotshot-filmmaker-turned-nobody has valuable lessons for other people too. Troy Duffy is like a lot of jerks in "The Business": angry, insecure, delusional, not quite bright enough. When two of his friends suggested making a film of his leap from a humble bartender to a Miramax hotshot, he should have said no. But like so many documentaries, this film is blessed with the good fortune of its subject's helpless need to be the center of attention. Duffy's film career ended up being a huge nothing, but his hard-earned lessons might save some other people's souls. Too bad it didn't save his.
The Polar Express (Warner Bros. Pictures)
Somebody somewhere — a young kid with a vision and a hunger to tell a phenomenal story — will see this movie, observe the groundbreaking technology that allowed it to happen, and he or she will be ecstatic. Robert Zemeckis still has a blockbuster director's eye for the exciting action sequence — he even shows a little visual wit on occasion. But this bold effects epic can't overcome its trite story, its uninteresting child protagonists, and its godawful songs. For the record, the 3D IMAX version is pretty spectacular. But it's the type of film where you get wowed at how realistic the fake people's hair looks, and nothing more.
Ray (Universal Pictures)
The only interesting insight in an otherwise dullsville biopic is that Ray Charles' magnificent gifts only became truly popular when uptight, clueless white kids got hooked on them. So who better to understand such a complex life than an uptight, clueless white adult director, right? Jamie Foxx is enthusiastic and dedicated as Charles, but where's the humor, where's the joy, where's the sly-dog sexuality? See, actors need writers for substance and they need directors for vision and tone. Instead, Foxx got a résumé for a script and Taylor Hackford behind the camera. If anything, Ray Charles understood that a talent needs intelligent, sympathetic guidance around it to flourish properly. In all the wrong ways, this lump of a film strands a coulda-been-great Foxx performance to prove the same thing.
A.C. Newman, The Slow Wonder (Matador Records)
The leader of the New Pornographers goes solo. This means endearing lo-fi replaces endearing indie pop. Three spins and you get why cult fans adore this Canadian — his music is so ingenuously catchy yet under-the-radar that it screams for careful devotion. I wish more of it was as terrifically poignant as "Drink to Me, Babe, Then," but I find myself growing fixated on even the tracks that do little for me. Ear candy for smart people — or those who like discovering gems without a huge media blitz behind them.
Eminem, Encore (Aftermath Records)
Better than you've heard, but not great enough. His romantic problems seem as permanently hopeless as Lucinda Williams', but his records are far more remarkable. As a satirist, his role model should be the thoroughly un-hip Randy Newman. Great songwriter, smart shapeshifter, and merciless to boot, but Newman's chief target was the outside world. Either Marshall Mathers needs to plumb his depths even deeper or start to look beyond the universe of his posse and yes men.
Consumables is a regular overview of popular culture.
