(Long Island, N.Y.) Man, I loved the Muppets as a kid. When I was little, birthdays usually consisted of my mom taking me and a bunch of my friends out to the movies, and then to Friendly’s for some ice cream…and one of the earliest memories I have of Win8Clave.com those great birthday outings is going to see The Muppet Movie. Jim Henson‘s magical puppet creations were a big part of my childhood, and while their importance to me waned as I grew older, I’ve never forgotten what made that one birthday movie so special those many years ago.

Sadly, Jim Henson died

a while back, and in an effort to scrape the bottom of the barrel to cash in on his Muppet legacy, the dolts in charge

of his estate allowed horrible, soulless cash runs like “Muppets in Space” and “A Muppet Christmas Carol” to be made. Heck, if they had churned out “The Muppets Meet Adolph Hitler” I wouldn’t have been surprised, but thankfully, the damage was done, and the Muppets faded into history, never to be seen again.

Until now, that is. Yes, the Muppets are back, and believe it or not, someone finally took the time to try and get these memorable characters and the whole fun-loving innocent vibe of the Henson era correct, as opposed to simply thrusting Kermit and Miss Piggy into yet another
Windows 7 Clave awkward attempt to bilk the masses out of their

hard-earned dough by going the lazy route and milking nostalgia for all it’s worth.

Don’t get me wrong, however- there’s PLENTY of nostalgia going on here, but it’s the good kind, for the most part. How could there not be, when it concerns reviving the Muppet name? Anyway, the plot concerns a puppet named Walter and his human brother, Gary (Jason Segel). How they could possibly be related, I have no idea, but whatever. So, Walter dreams of being a Muppet, and when Gary takes his brother to visit the world-famous yet run-down and abandoned Muppet Theater (seems all the Muppets have gone their separate ways) while vacationing in Los Angeles with his girlfriend Mary (Amy Adams), Walter discovers a dastardly plot to sell the building for oil rights.

Feeling his true calling, Walter tracks down the mack daddy himself, Kermit the Frog, and together they decide to round up the rest of the Muppets to raise the 10 million dollars needed to save the theater. Along the way, in true Muppet fashion, they run into all manner of trials, tribulations, and silly celebrity cameos, all on the way to running a telethon to hopefully generate the small fortune needed to save the day.

I’m telling ya…they almost nailed it with this movie. Respectful of the Muppet legacy to a fault, “The Muppets” is funny, heartwarming and a great throwback to yesteryear when children’s movies had heart and personality instead of flash

and pop-culture jokes (not counting Pixar movies of course). Seeing the old Muppet gang back on the big screen really took me back, and the whole story involving Walter and his dream of becoming a full-fledged Muppet was rather inventive and well-done, although not as fleshed-out as it could have been. Jason Segel and Amy Adams made a great on-screen pair and fit perfectly into the proceedings.

And yet, I said “almost nailed it.” There’s something that feels a bit forced here…as if the filmmakers were trying a little TOO hard to emulate the Muppets of old, and it shows. Also, occasional modern shortcuts are taken with some of the puppetry (Muppetry?), which stands out rather glaringly as cheap and lame. I mean, remember when Kermit and Miss Piggy rode bikes together in The Great Muppet Caper? You actually saw them pedaling the bikes and everything was all done in live-action, right on-camera. To this day, I still have no idea how they did that, and it actually creeps me out a little. Jim Henson found a way to make

that happen…technical ingenuity, a pact with Satan, I don’t know how, but he did it. But in the new movie, there’s none of that lifelike wackiness present. In fact, there’s a scene where there’s a ton of Muppets on-screen together, and it’s obvious they were green screened separately and put together in post-production, which is disappointing. Henson would have found a way to do it for real.

Still, with Hollywood cannibalizing everything nowadays for the sake of nostalgia, the Muppets remains one of the few times it has been done with a bit of care and heart, and if there was ever one children’s franchise that deserved to be revived, it’s this one. Check it out if you’re a big kid, have little kids, or, best of all, both.

(Long Island, N.Y.) I’d given up on Adam Sandler long, long ago…2010’s Grown Ups was pretty much the final straw for me when it came to ever expecting a semi-amusing film from him ever again. Well, leave it to Sandler to drive that point home with the instant death that is Jack and Jill, the movie that seems to have been the result of a concerted scientific effort to create the most reprehensible piece of garbage ever committed to celluloid.

If you’ve seen the trailer, then you pretty much already know what you’re getting into… Sandler plays Jack Sadelstein, an advertising executive with a disgusting, needy, ill-mannered, flatulent (apparently we’re not too old for non-stop fart jokes) twin sister, Jill. The catch, of course, is that she’s played by Sandler in drag! Doesn’t that already make you want to hurl in delight at the comedic prospects? Huh?

Of course, Jack has a wonderful wife (played by the ever-slumming Katie Holmes…you’d think hubby Tom Cruise would pull a few strings for the poor girl), all of whom think Jill is awesome and that Jack just isn’t giving her a chance. But trust me, folks…she’s one of the most unlikable characters ever conceived, and Jack and Jill takes every chance to drive that point home to the audience, over and over.

Of course, the kicker comes at the end, when we’re suddenly expected to forget the previous 90 minutes of the film and suddenly embrace Jill not in spite of her faults, but because of them.

Yeah, right. One could sooner love Adolph Hitler (note: I do not love Adolph Hitler. This was just a joke).

Jack and Jill is juvenile, unfunny, and just plain stupid, with more blatant product placement than any recent movie I can think of. Now, there was a time, long, long ago, when Adam Sandler actually made

some amusing films. I’ve never really been a fan of his, but I never used to shudder with the anticipation of brutal torture whenever one of his trailers hit the theaters. Now, it’s like the guy just doesn’t give a damn about what scripts he accepts.

And, apparently, a lot of other celebrities feel the same way, based on the sheer amount of big-name cameos in this movie. Of special note is Al Pacino, playing himself. Seems that one of Jack’s big accounts, Dunkin’ Donuts, wants Pacino to do a commercial or they’re taking a walk. Oh, and in an “ironic” twist of fate, Pacino also falls madly in love with Jill and Jack has to help set the two up to help the Dunkin’ Donuts deal go through, which I guess is supposed to be really funny or something.

But Pacino isn’t the only actor disgracing themselves here. Johnny Depp, Regis Philbin, Drew Carey, Shaquille O’Neal, and a whole host of others pop up for a quick paycheck and a tiny bit of erosion to their immortal souls. Oh, and apparently Dana Carvey felt THIS was the movie to come out of retirement for. Smart move, Dana. It’s not like I’d want to see another Wayne’s World movie (actually, yes I would).

So, Jack and Jill: it’s as bad as you expected it to be. It’s as bad as all the critics are saying. And, of course, I’M saying it’s bad, and when I say a movie is bad…well, it’s really time to run for cover, folks, because my standards are pretty much in the gutter. Avoid at all costs, let we get treated to Jack and Jill 2…and 3…and 4…

(Long Island, N.Y.) With the success of the recent Clash of the Titans remake, it was a sure bet that another over-the-top sword-and-sandal movie dealing with Greek Mythology was going to come out sooner rather than later, and here we have Immortals, which is basically Zach Snyder’s 300, only with the gods of

Mount Olympus standing in for steroid-infested Roman warriors. I’m not really a fan of 300, and I’m not really a fan of Immortals, either, and both for the same reason: all style, and not a shred of substance. Oh, the story’s a bore, also, but we’ll get to that in a moment.

Let’s just jump right into the plot…we’ll get to my critiques soon enough. The supposedly epic story of Immortals involves Hyperion (Mickey Rourke), the King of Crete who gets pissed that the gods didn’t save his family from dying of some disease or whatever. So, he does what any rational person does; he declares war on Mount Olympus, and to that end he seeks out a magical bow that

he can use to release the mythical Titans, who in turn will hopefully stomp the gods like cockroaches. Or so Hyperion hopes.

Of course, we need a human hero, so we get one in the form of Theseus (Henry Cavill, the Brit

who will be playing Superman in the upcoming Man of Steel), whose village is destroyed by our pal Hyperion as he searches for his bow. Thus, Theseus, who is actually the son of a god and a human woman and trained by Zeus (Luke Evans) himself in combat, begins his quest of bloody vengeance against Hyperion, and along the way does battle with all manner of creatures from the ancient Greek bestiary, including the fabled Minotaur. Eventually, it all ends up in a slam-bang battle royale as gods, Titans, and plain ol’ humans all duke it out in a crazy ending battle that almost makes it worth sitting through the first 2/3rds of what is otherwise a total bore of a movie.

Oh, wait, with a plot description like that, you thought Immortals would be entertaining? No such luck, I’m afraid. The problem is that, despite looking really, really, pretty, Immortals is nonetheless a total snooze-fest…well, at least until that ending. Damn, what an ending. The only thing that could have made that ending even better was if we cared at all about the characters, but as it is everyone involved is a vapid, soulless construct of a Hollywood script writer who was more concerned about getting to the next big CG set piece than

giving his leads likable or memorable personalities, or by telling his story with a brisk or interesting pace. But you can say that about almost any movie these days.

But, if you like special effects and beautiful (although very phony-looking) CG sets and locations, director Tarsem Singh has a treat in store for you. Doing his best to steal every single visual gimmick of Zach Snyder (especially his penchant for excessive slow motion fighting), Singh, whom I’ve never heard of before, makes millions of dollars of computer graphics take the front seat over his actors, which is a shame; Henry Cavill is a solid talent, and co-stars Mickey Rourke, Stephen Dorff, Luke Evans, and John Hurt all do their best with rather stunted roles. But if all you care about

is eye-candy, you’ll probably watch Immortals dozens of times.

And I guess there’s nothing wrong with that…is there?

So, Hollywood has churned out yet another flashy flick with the depth of a rain puddle. But hey, that ending is pretty much worth the price of admission, so what the heck. After all, Immortals is really no worse than anything else that’s out in theaters right now, and by default it’s loads better than the new Adam Sandler stinker Jack and Jill. Of course, that’s not saying much, but the general public keeps setting the bar as low as it is by constantly turning out to support lackluster films like this, so they must be happy with the film industry’s current state. Gee…now I’m depressed.

(Long Island, N.Y.) Brett Ratner is pretty much regarded amongst Holly directors with terms such as “middle of the road,” “solid,” and “average at best.” Me? I just think he’s okay. Wait…isn’t that the same thing?

Anyway, I’ve never really seen a bad Brett Ratner film, but I’ve never really seen a good one, either (except maybe Rush Hour). That is, until now. Tower Heist is a film that I expected to be terrible (despite the acting talent involved), but has actually turned out to be a fun and funny little crime caper…that is, until the last act, when it just kinda falls apart. That’s a shame, too, because up until that point, Tower Heist had just about won me over. But despite the belly flop of an ending, it’s still worth watching.

What we have here in Tower Heist is a great ensemble cast, all of whom work together flawlessly. I mean, look at this list: Ben Stiller, Casey Affleck, Alan Alda, Matthew Broderick, Téa Leoni, and Eddie Murphy in full 1980’s mode. You remember Eddie in the 80’s right? Back when he was actually funny? Well, he’s finally back…at least, until the allure of another Nutty Professor movie drives him back to the hideous realm of Unfunny Family Film Land yet again.

Here’s the skinny on the plot: clearly inspired by the whole Bernie Madoff Wall Street debacle, Alan Alda plays businessman Arthur Shaw, a millionaire who lives in The Tower, Manhattan’s ritziest hotel. There, he is waited upon hand and foot by the hotel’s manager, Josh (Stiller) and his staff. One day, Shaw is arrested by the FBI for running a Ponzi scheme that bilked his investors out of a fortune. Unfortunately, among the funds that Shaw raided to support his lavish lifestyle where the pensions of the entire staff of The Tower. Their futures basically destroyed, Josh and his staff wonder what to do next.

Hearing of a possible hidden $20 million nest egg that Shaw might have hidden in his apartment, Josh and crew hatch a plan to steal it as compensation for their losses. But in Tower Heist’s stereotypically-minded world, since Josh and his cohorts are all squeaky-clean white people, of course they need to turn to a black man to learn how to steal properly. Enter Slide (Murphy), Josh’s neighbor and former childhood playmate who’s serving time until he’s bailed out to help The Tower staff get their hands on Shaw’s $20 mil. What results is a pretty solid comedic outing, and an ending that, while fairly lame, is nonetheless probably not what you were expecting.

To say that Tower Heist is Brett Ratner’s best film since the original Rush Hour would be…well, it would be saying the truth. It’s consistently hilarious, well-acted, and briskly-paced. Stiller and Murphy have great chemistry on-screen…Stiller is usually almost always amusing, and it’s a breath of fresh air to see Eddie finally drop the kid-friendly act and get back to his raunchy roots.

Matthew Broderick gives a stand-out performance as a neurotic unemployed stock broker who, while not having been ripped off by Alan Alda’s character, is still included in the plot to rip him off for…well, for no real reason that I could see, other than the fact that he was kinda likable, I guess. Two other humorous surprises are Gabourey Sidibe (Hey, it’s Precious!) and Michael Peña, two Tower employees who are also in on the plan to get back at Shaw.

The movie manages to sustain a high level of entertainment almost all the way to the end, but just falls short of the greatness of Rush Hour. How, you ask? Well, everything’s fine until our gang actually manages to break into Shaw’s apartment and find his hidden prize. Honestly, I’m not spoiling anything by telling you that…anyone with half a brain knows this much, even if they’ve never seen the movie. But the form this prize takes is pretty stupid, and our gang’s attempts at removing it from the building are even more stupid. It’s actually a fairly major blow to the film’s pace and humor, as things go WAYYY overboard from that point on, but it doesn’t change the fact that Tower Heist still remains well worth watching…at least, up until that point.

But perhaps I’m being a tad harsh…honestly; the development at the end isn’t really THAT bad. It’s just that, when compared to the solid, entertaining, and somewhat believable first 2/3rds of the movie, the ending sequence just serves to annoy. Still, Tower Heist is well worth your time, and I recommend you check it out.

(Long Island, N.Y.) It’s amazing how something so fresh and new can get so stale so quickly. In 2007, independent filmmaker Oren Peli blew moviegoers worldwide away when he released Paranormal Activity, a cheap yet shockingly original and effective horror movie about demons terrorizing a young couple that he filmed in his own home with a simple camcorder. Taking the form of a “found footage” feature ala The Blair Witch Project, Paranormal Activity trumped it by sporting an atmosphere of absolute dread along with some truly horrifying visuals and a constantly escalating feeling of tension.

Paramount Pictures acquired the film, but, as with anything different and unusual, they chickened out, refusing to get behind Paranormal Activity by only giving it a small limited release. Crowds started freaking out, calling it the scariest movie ever, and the studio reacted to positive audience word-of-mouth and expanded it into full release. The rest is history.

Unfortunately, on those incredibly rare instances when Hollywood takes a chance on something unexpected and new and it DOES work, they bleed the concept dry for every cent they can possibly get, killing it in the process; it’s 2011 and here I am, reviewing Paranormal Activity 3. And that’s the problem…Hollywood never thinks long-term, but how to turn a quick buck in the here-and-now. Yes, they pad their bank accounts, but as a result, the future viability of the Paranormal Activity franchise is flushed down the toilet as a result.

I could tell you that, after Paranormal Activity 2 examined the events of the first film from a different perspective (and also served as a sequel of sorts); part 3 is a prequel that shows how the evil demon that keeps causing all these shenanigans first popped up on the scene.

The problem is, the strength of the first Paranormal Activity was in its uniqueness; nothing quite like that was ever attempted before within a storytelling context. The tale would unfold day by day, night by night, and the passage of time ushered in freakier and freakier events, until the tension had reached an unbearable zenith by the film’s climax. Audiences seemed to be touched by this approach quite strongly, perhaps because the film tapped into many primal fears that we all share; after all, who doesn’t get a bit unnerved by things that go bump in the night right in the supposed safety of our own home? Who doesn’t feel just a tad bit more at ease with our magically invulnerable bed sheets pulled up over our heads?

Audiences got into the first movie in a way I’ve rarely seen, screaming and crying and yelling whenever something even as simple as a high thread-count cotton sheet moved on its own accord. The live experience of Paranormal Activity was actually exhilarating.

But, we’ve got two sequels now in as many years, both taking the exact same approach, and the concept is dead, as far as I’m concerned. What was new is now old and tired; the strange little independent feature that you heard internet rumors about has now become the mainstream standard. It’s a shame, but as far as horror movies go, Paranormal Activity 3 is a solid entry, as was part 2. It’s just lacking the “oomph” that the original so totally delivered in spades.

You’ll notice that I’m not mentioning the actors, the effects, the story, options or anything like that. The Paranormal Activity series isn’t about that. The story is secondary to the creepy stuff that it serves to set up; the actors are just unknowns whose job it is to act stupid, act scared, or die.

Paranormal Activity remains a triumph of ingenuity and fear. Paranormal Activity 3 does what it sets out to do- make as much bank off an established franchise as possible until it’s time to move on to the next big thing. Like I said, part 3 of this series delivers solid horror thrills, but it remains a pale copy of the truly great original.

(Long Island, N.Y.) You know, I’ve seen worse movies than The Three Musketeers, director Paul W.S. Anderson’s UN-needed, UN-asked for addition to the many, many film adaptations of the classic Alexandre Dumas novel. But even though it’s not the worst example of cinema that I’ve ever seen, if you asked me to describe it in one word, the word that instantly comes to mind is “retarded.” I don’t think that I’ve ever felt the need to use that word in conjunction with other movies that I’ve seen in recent memory, even ones far, far worse than Mr. Anderson’s horrific take on the beloved tale of France’s guardians. Odd.

Perhaps it’s the fact that the name Paul W.S. Anderson has become synonymous with crap movies. Movies that are all style, flash, and rank stupidity and no substance whatsoever. Bad dialogue, big explosions, ridiculously stupid plots, and action scenes so over the top that the ability to suspend disbelief just can’t possibly be invoked…that’s all in a day’s work for Paul W.S. Anderson. The man makes movies you’d expect of a five-year-old.

But, for all of his grade school-level ineptitude, the man did manage to churn out one great movie- 1997’s Event Horizon. Man, I love that movie. But other than that one stroke of near-brilliance, Anderson’s remaining body of work is just pure garbage…garbage that typically attempts to shove his wife Milla Jovovich down the throats of viewers, and The Three Musketeers continues the trend.

If you’ve read Dumas’ novel, forget it; this movie is an altogether different beast. The plot has something to do with The Three Musketeers, dudes who protect and serve the King of France, and their theft of Leonardo da Vinci’s blueprints of “flying war machines” (really, just boats with blimps attached). Athos (Matthew Macfadyen), Porthos (Ray Stevenson) and Aramis (Luke Evans), successfully rip off the plans from da Vinci’s vault with the help of Athos’ girlfriend, Milady de Winter (Milla Jovovich). But, in a SHOCKING twist, Milady is a back-stabbing nogoodnick who betrays the Musketeers and instead gives the blueprints to the evil Duke of Buckingham (Orlando Bloom). For some reason this costs the Musketeers their jobs and they all become drunken sods and losers.

Fast-forward one year, and effeminate pretty-boy D’Artagnan (Logan Lerman) strolls into town hoping to join the Musketeers, not having any idea that they no longer exist. After an amazingly stupid series of coincidences where D’Artagnan manages to bump into, insult, and challenge each of the former Musketeers to a duel, they eventually all join forces and re-form the Musketeers in order to stop the dastardly plots of both the Duke of Buckingham (Orlando Bloom) and French Cardinal Richelieu (Christoph Waltz). Idiocy ensures, I fall asleep, the end.

First off, even though I just identified him in the previous paragraph, I must once again point out that Christoph Waltz is in this movie, and that after his acclaimed performance in Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds he appears intent upon making everyone forget all about that by accepting the crappiest roles imaginable. Between this movie and the recent Green Hornet flick, Waltz has just about used up all his Inglourious Basterds street cred. Better watch it, Chris!

As for this terrible movie…where shall I begin? The plot that makes little sense? Characters that have the same depth as the paper the script is typed upon? Battles where four men armed with swords easily manage to fight off hundreds of trained soldiers coming at them from every direction? Really, really glaringly bad CG effects everywhere you look (especially the CG water…man, that was awful). Bad acting, bad pacing, and possibly the most awkward part of this movie- an attempt to shoehorn in weird, advanced technology for no good reason. We’re talking rapid-fire crossbows, flying airships, flamethrowers, you name it. All that stuff certainly wasn’t in Dumas’ novel.

So, as a period action film, The Three Musketeers impales itself upon its sword, but as an unintentional comedy, it does have its moments. Milla Jovovich again plays a superwoman as she does in every other movie she stars in, doing hilarious aerial 360 spins through complex webs of razor-sharp wire while wearing this lavish dress that most women could barely walk in, and all to steal the diamonds of the Queen of France for some silly reason. The movie is loaded with humorous, retarded stuff like that.

Look, to wrap this up, all I really need to say is this: if you see the name Paul W.S. Anderson listed in the credits of a film in any capacity whatsoever, run away. Run far away. That is all.

(Long Island, N.Y.) I don’t get all the hate Real Steel was getting from people prior to its release. Based on its trailers, no one I spoke to or corresponded with online believed the movie could be any good, and I don’t understand why that is. I mean, I thought the commercials looked pretty neat, and Hugh Jackman always brings the goods, so what are the chances it could be bad?

Well, looks like I was proven right…so far, Real Steel has proven to be a hit with both critics and audiences. It’s funny, however…sometimes a trailer will come out that is vastly different from what the finished movie is, and one might speculate that being the case here in regards to why Real Steel is better than many felt the advertising led them to believe. But in this case, the commercials were pretty much spot-on, so I can’t answer that one for you, folks.

Real Steel (while I do like the movie, man, do I hate the title) deftly melds a stereotypical underdog sporting story (this one involving giant boxing robots) with a stereotypical father/son bonding story (this one involving a dad who abandoned his kid), all while leaving no cliché behind. But despite its stunning lack of originality (the end of the movie is an almost carbon-copy of the end of Rocky…well, if Apollo Creed and Rocky Balboa were robots, that is), Real Steel manages to turn out an engaging film within those confines that succeeds in being loads of fun, as well as the first movie I’ve seen in years where the crowd actually clapped multiple times. That NEVER happens anymore.

Oh, and this movie is based on a 1956 short story called “Steel” by the great Richard Matheson. Just thought I’d throw that your way.

Anyway, long story short: in 2020, robots have replaced humans in boxing matches, thus spelling the end of the career of “jobber to the stars” Charlie Kenton (Hugh Jackman). However, after hanging up his boxing gloves, Charlie himself gets into the robo-boxing game, with similar results (i.e., he loses a lot). While accumulating a large amount of debt (scrapped robots tend to do that to your bank account), Charlie finds out that his ex-wife has croaked and he is the sole guardian of his estranged 11-year-old son, Max (Dakota Goyo). Since Charlie has about as much use for Max as Herpes 2, he’s more than willing to sell him to his ex-sister-in-law (don’t ask), provided he babysits the kid while they vacation in Italy first. Seeing dollar signs that will enable him to buy a new robot, Charlie agrees, but for some reason Max is less than thrilled about spending some time with his good ol’ deadbeat dad. Go figure.

Of course, the two hate each other…but they both love robo-boxing, and one night while out scavenging for parts in a junkyard they find an old, discarded boxing robot named “Atom” that actually ends up winning them matches. Oh, and he also dances pretty well for a robot taught by a white boy. Will all this boxing and dancing tomfoolery be enough to mend fences between father and son? And will they get their shot at the champ, or will Charlie screw up his big chance yet again?

Real Steel is a brain-dead movie, but I loved every second of it. There’s seriously nothing wrong with this movie, at least in terms of it stacks up against your typical big-budget blockbuster release. It does everything that you would take any number of similar movies to task for, but does it all so well that you forgive it, and even enjoy it.

It’s really not a movie about robots beating the crap out of each other…at its heart, it’s a movie about a father and son getting mushy with each other, which would usually be instant death in a movie of this type (heck, ANY type), except for the acting talents of our two leads raising the material up several notches. Hugh Jackman plays a total a-hole…he’s actually very unlikable early on (hilariously so), which makes his transition into a better person later on in the movie easier to buy. And somehow a Hollywood casting agent has discovered a kid actor in the form of Dakota Goyo who manages to be a precocious little wise guy without making you want to wring his neck. Amazing.

Oh, and Real Steel is very pretty, too. The CG robots represent probably the best interaction I’ve ever seen between human actors and wire frame-based special effects. It’s pretty much seamless. Oh, and the movie, while just over two hours long, never feels slow or gets boring. It’s perfectly paced, funny, and charming.

Oh, and speaking of charming, let’s not forget Atom, with those great big blue glowing eyes of his. You’ll wince for real every time he takes a hit during a fight, and probably sob tears of joy whenever he overcomes the odds. For real…I’m getting weepy right now just thinking about it.

Basically, Real Steel is like if you crossed Transformers with Big Daddy, but removed all the pain and nausea that you’d find in Michael Bay and Adam Sandler films. So, if you haven’t seen it yet and were waiting anxiously for me to give you permission, it is given. Go and enjoy it, but leave your brain at home…you ain’t gonna need it. But in this case, there’s nothing wrong with that at all.

(Long Island, N.Y.) In 1982, Director John Carpenter created what I consider to be one of the few absolutely perfect movies ever made and possibly my favorite film of all time: The Thing, a masterpiece of sci-fi/horror, blending paranoia and an unrelenting sense of dread while introducing moviegoers to one of the most horrifying monsters ever captured on camera.

Functioning as both a remake of the 1951 film The Thing from Another World and as a more faithful adaptation of the novella Who Goes There? by John W. Campbell, Jr., upon which the 1951 film was based, Carpenter’s The Thing is the tale of an isolated American Antarctic research station infiltrated by an ill-tempered alien organism which is capable of absorbing and, in turn, perfectly imitating any living creature it comes into contact with. Soon the researchers are at each other’s throats, as no one knows who’s human and who’s…THE THING.

In addition to an amazingly talented ensemble cast including Kurt Russell and Wilford “Diabeetus” Brimley, one of the things that made The Thing work so well was the eponymous Thing itself (the word “thing” will obviously be liberally used in this review). Created by special effects wizard Rob Bottin, the twisted alien menace took on progressively more disturbing and insane forms each and every time it was discovered and forced to reveal its true form, resulting in some freaky transformation sequences using only good, old-fashioned physical and practical effects that hit with a force that most CG could never hope to replicate.

While flopping at the box office back in the day (I guess audiences circa 1982 were dullards), The Thing went on to become a cult classic and revered as one of the raddest movies ever made. Of course, with Hollywood being the creative black hole it is these days, rumors of a remake have been floating around for years (yes, I know Carpenter’s version was itself a remake, but A) it actually brought something different to the table, and B) back in ’82 remakes were much rarer), which infuriated me to no end. I mean, remaking generic crap horror movie #12 is meaningless, but The Thing? It’s pointless, as it’s impossible to improve on it. Of course, the whole modern “remake everything” attitude isn’t about improving anything, it’s about cashing in on nostalgia, so Hollywood “improving” Carpenter’s flick is a moot point, anyway.

Well, rumors of a new Thing film turned out to be true after all, but in this instance, it actually turned out to be a prequel as opposed to a remake, the story centering on a Norwegian camp that first discovers the alien Thing frozen in ice before it escapes, runs amok, and eventually finds its way to the American base where it must contend with the mighty beard of Kurt Russell.

Directed by newcomer Matthijs van Heijningen Jr., this prequel (also called The Thing, which is a confusing and stupid naming decision) deals with a group of Norwegians and Americans who discover a crashed spaceship buried in the Antarctic snow for 100,000 years. Finding the seemingly dead and frozen pilot and returning to base with it, the crew is busy patting themselves on their collective backs regarding their future Nobel Prizes when the alien decides to wake up and start eating and imitating them, one by one. What follows, while technically a prequel, is really more of a remake than anything else, actually lifting several scenes almost directly from the Carpenter movie.

However, that’s not to say that it doesn’t do what it does very well. While most of the characters are blank slates compared to the great collection of personalities in the 1982 version, the main characters of the 2011 film manage to be fairly well developed, at least for a horror movie. Mary Elizabeth Winstead plays an American paleontologist flown in to help with the excavation of the alien ship, Ulrich Thomsen plays a slimy scientist and the “Burke” of the movie, and Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje (AKA Oz’s Adebisi) and Joel Edgerton pop up as American helicopter pilots. Backing them up is a cast of Norwegian actors, many of whom seem like nice, jovial fellows, but none of whom are given the chance to develop at all.

Also, the prequel is briskly-paced and contains some very creepy atmosphere and very genuine, well-placed scares. When taken on its own and not in comparison with the almighty Carpenter movie, it’s actually among the better horror offerings to hit the cinemas in recent years.

Despite aping the original a little too closely, the filmmakers still found a few novel little ways of being different, such as how the characters discovered a way of testing people to see if they were a Thing or not. I thought the method they came up with made perfect sense, and it thankfully prevented them from ripping off the blood test from Carpenter’s flick. For a movie that made very little attempt to do anything different whatsoever from the ’82 version, it was one of the few things that set it apart. And while there are some nice little touches that tie the prequel directly into the ’82 film, there are also some continuity errors, but I’ll leave all that for the obsessive geeks out there (guilty!) to discover on their own.

One major thing I think they missed the boat on was playing up the language barrier (between the Norwegian and American characters) in regards to the paranoia aspect of the plot. They could have really done something cool with that…imagine not just being unable to trust your fellow man, but not even understanding what the hell they were saying. And Norwegian just sounds scary enough on its own, considering that the majority of Death Metal bands come out of Norway. The filmmakers touched on the language barrier, but only barely; it could have been a million times more effective in the hands of a better director/writer.

Also, on the creature designs: they were solid, and some even approached the brilliance (and insanity) of the original (that Thing in the chopper…YIKES!), but they all kept going back to the “big toothed maw/tentacles” motif. In the original, every Thing looked different and got progressively freakier, while all the Things in this movie looked pretty much the same. The CG used to bring

the Things in this move to life ranged from solid to impressive, but Rob Bottin’s practical 1982 effects still

trump them, and this is nearly 30 years later.

The ending (which was the only ending it could have been), was cool, but at the same time handled poorly. It felt really rushed and tacked-on as an afterthought, as opposed to an organic extension of the ongoing storyline. Oh, well.

Overall, The Thing is a very good horror movie and a solid prequel, but in the end it can’t even touch Carpenter’s brilliant original. But what movie ever could?

(Long Island, N.Y.) Well, Daniel Craig was on a roll…landed the role as James Bond (although the 007 series is currently on hold since its parent company, MGM, is in the financial toilet), starred in a big sci-fi/action blockbuster (Cowboys and Aliens), and now this. Dream House, a slow, boring wannabe thriller that takes the best parts of Fight Club and waters them down into a thin, icky broth. Does that make any sense? Neither does Dream House.

It’s funny…most thrillers have big plot twists, right? The Sixth Sense, The Usual Suspects, and so on. All had big, forehead-slapping reveals at their climaxes. And along comes Dream House, who rebels against this trend and supplies you with the plot twist in the middle of the movie! However, as a point where most films will end and roll the credits, Dream House keeps going…and going…and going. However, Morgan Creek, the company that produced this bore, evidently didn’t think this was enough of a spoiler, so they decided to reveal the twist in the trailer they cut to promote the movie! Sheesh!

Well, don’t worry, folks…if you’re interested in seeing this, and have somehow avoided being exposed to all this sensitive information regarding the big surprise that really isn’t a big surprise, I won’t spoil it for you. What I WILL spoil, however, is the amount of pain you’re in for if you DO decide to pay to see Dream House. And there will be pain…I assure you.

Dream House is about a guy named Will Atenton (Daniel Craig), who decides to pack up and move from New York City to suburban Connecticut with his wife Libby (Rachel Weisz, who’s looking quite thin these days) and their two little and rather uninteresting daughters. You see, Will’s all set to write his big novel and make untold millions…just like me! Anyway,

strange things start happening once they move into their new house – goth kids start partying in the basement, strangers peer in through windows, and a guy tries to run Will over in his own front yard. Oh, and Will also finds out that the previous owner of his humble little abode went nuts and killed his entire family. I mean, I know it’s a buyer’s market in real estate these days, but its little things like that that can really drive the price of a home down, you know?

So, Will starts looking into the fate of the former owner of his house, a man by the name of Peter Ward. He also starts getting odd visits from his neighbor, Ann Patterson (Naomi Watts), who seems to know more about Will and his house than she’s letting on. And other weird stuff starts happening, but I can tell you now: it’s just not very compelling. And when the big “twist” comes around, it becomes even less so.

The thing that really kills Dream House is its pacing; there is none. It’s as slow, bland, and as uninteresting as can be. Oh, and I can SWEAR that Daniel Craig was using an American accent at the beginning of the movie, but that over the course of Dream House’s running time it slowly dissolved away until he was practically speaking British cockney by the end. But maybe I’m wrong.

Aside from the pacing, the movie also suffers from its promotional campaign. I’ve already spoken about the spoiler-filled trailer, but in addition to that disservice, it also paints Dream House as an out-and-out supernatural horror movie, similar to films like The Ring or The Grudge. In reality, it’s more of a thriller/whodunit with maybe a little bit of a supernatural flourish thrown in for good measure. I really hate it when a trailer misrepresents a film’s intentions, since going into a movie with the right frame of mind is very important when it relates to the enjoyment you get out of it.

I can’t really hate on the acting in Dream House, since it’s solid across the board, but everyone involved (especially Craig and Weisz) seems to be having a bit of an off day. No one embarrasses themselves,

but something just seemed to be missing from their performances. But the flawed script and deadly pacing of Dream House are insurmountable obstacles for pretty much any actor, A-Game or not. Craig and Weisz are capable of better, but perhaps they just couldn’t get excited about the finished product, since rumor has it that the director and producers fought on-set practically every day over the direction filming was taking. Word is that the studio even made several cuts to the finished product that hurt it, but even if true, Dream House didn’t give the vibe that it was ever very interesting to begin with, so whatever.

Dream House: a run-of-the-mill thriller that should have ended when the twist was revealed, not an hour later. Skip it.

(Long Island, N.Y.) I’m not really that into sports. And I’m especially not much of a baseball fan. Hey, sorry, but we all have our own thing, right? So, with this being said, I went into the showing of the film I’m reviewing today, Moneyball, with a small bit of bias against it. Why, you may ask? Well obviously, if you couldn’t guess, Moneyball is a baseball movie. But you know what? That’s not necessarily a bad thing, because while it deals with a sport that I know almost nothing about (football comes in first when it comes to my sports ignorance hit list), Moneyball is, first and foremost, a good movie that just so happens to be about baseball.

In other words, you don’t have to know anything about baseball or even like it to get enjoyment out of this film. Just buy your ticket, plant your butt in the nice stadium seat, and prepare to be entertained.

Now, another thing Moneyball has going for it is that, while it IS a sports movie, what it’s NOT is yet another one of those “band of misfit underdog players make the most of their quirks and pull together to win the big game” movies. Well, actually…it kinda IS one of those movies, but there’s a twist that makes it fresh and unique in a crowded marketplace of “inspirational” sports movies.

Oh yes, did I mention that Moneyball is based on a TRUE STORY? Well, it is. The story involves the Oakland Athletics’ General Manager Billy Beane (Brad Pitt), who tries to revamp his team of losers in time for their 2002 season. The traditional route of throwing buckets of cash at the best players are denied to him due to the fact that the dough just isn’t there, so instead he goes for an unorthodox solution: Peter Brand (Jonah Hill), a young economics graduate who has discovered a way, via the power of computers and statistics, to assess overlooked players and figure out how best to leverage them so that the team wins as a whole.

Despite the obvious lunacy of drafting players that are considered old, injured, and just plain loaded with suck by the general population (not to mention his staff), Beane embraces Brand’s plan and, despite heavy opposition from head coach Art Howe (Philip Seymour Hoffman) to play these guys the way they need to be played, the plan eventually comes together and before you know it, the Oakland A’s are on a winning streak that is shocking the nation. But the question remains, can they bring home the championship and quell the regret hiding in Beane’s heart, himself a former pro baller who spent a lackluster career being traded around from team to team because he didn’t have what it took?

Like I said, you don’t have to be a fan of baseball to dig Moneyball. It’s well-acted, smartly paced (impressive, since most of the action takes place off the baseball field), and fairly engrossing, as there’s quite a bit of human drama going on. I’m not sure why director Bennett Miller spent quite so much time focusing on Billy Beane’s workout routine throughout the movie, but I guess when you have a guy that looks like Brad Pitt subbing for his decisively more average-looking real-life counterpart, you have to explain why he’s not fat and gross like the rest of his staff members.

Plus, in addition to getting deep into Beane’s nooks and crannies, we also get a nice glimpse into the life of a professional baseball player and all the hills and valleys their careers hit along the way. Some get hurt, some fired, some traded, some sent to the minor leagues. It’s a bumpy, uncertain ride for these folks, and I came away from the movie with a new-found sense of respect for what they do as athletes and human beings. I still don’t give a damn about baseball, but I feel for the people playing it.

So, sports fan or not, Moneyball is an excellent way to kill 2+ hours. Oh, and for you sports fans – I watched Moneyball with a die-hard sports maniac, and he liked it a lot as well, so if you can’t take the word of a non-sports schlep like me, then by all means, take his. After all, he knows his stuff when it comes to sports.