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2 stars

The Damned United is a movie about a soccer coach in Britian during the 1970s.  The coach, who is a very good coach, holds his slights and grudges dearly, which becomes his undoing.  Scripted by Peter Morgan (The Queen), it’s a fine film, but not really exceptional.  Michael Sheen is excellent as the coach, who burns himself up through ego, but the character he plays is a bit thin and one-note to justify an entire movie.  That said, one cannot sustain a career solely playing Tony Blair.

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A paint-by-numbers “ole’ broke down country singer gets its together by the love of a good woman” movie.  Tender Mercies is a better picture by leaps and bounds, and while Jeff Bridges is very good, he’s not exactly breaking a sweat.  Some of T. Bone Burnett’s numbers are very catchy and authentic,  though the one that was nominated for best song is pedestrian.

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An overly madcap, mildly amusing but eventually tedious comedy about a pathological liar (Matt Damon) turned whistleblower.  While the movie is no great shakes, Damon’s performance is excellent, and he manages to inject some humanity into what is a butt-of-a-joke, one-note character.  Given his performances from The Talented Mr. Ripley through The Departed, Damon seems never to be given the credit he is due.

How To Watch The Ring In Order (All 14 Movies)Unnecessarily convoluted but pretty creepy, it’s too bad this movie – which melds the historical ghost story of The Changeling with the silly modern fright of Videodrome – isn’t better.  Director Gore Verbinski (The Mexican, Pirates of the Caribbean) lards on more and more ridiculous plot twists and dumb plot contrivances that eventually, the pictures sinks under its own bloat.

The plot is simple: if you see a particular videotape, you get a phone call, and then you die in 7 days.  Reporter Naomi Watts gets on to the story, incredibly and laughably finds and watches the tape, receives the call, and wham! – we embark on a race to find the origins of the tape, going to places that make very little sense given where the tape was found.  During the process, Watts shows it to her ex-husband and then, is so negligent, she allows her spooky son to see it as well.  One shudders to think what would happen if she had a gun or her sex tape in the house, but either way, you’re not loaded with sympathy for this dimwit.

What follows is no more than hints and allegory as the story gets more cockamamie and out-of-control. 

It’s also pretty hard to be scared of a VHS tape.  As observed by the estimable Aldous Snow: 

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Roman Polanski won best director and Adrien Brody won best actor, so I expected something special.  I was disappointed. The story of a Polish pianist and his grueling fight for survival during the Nazi occupation (and extermination) of Warsaw depends on one caring for the lead (Brody). And to the extent one cares for any human made to endure unendurable suffering, the film carries you through.  But it becomes more of an assignment than an enjoyment. Brody is a blank slate in freedom and notoriety (he is a well known musician), and he becomes even less interesting during the Nazi occupation (most of which he spends hiding in apartments provided to him by sympathetic non-Jewish Poles).

The picture is beautiful – the scenes of a devastated Jewish ghetto are particularly memorable.  And the slow, desperate demise of Brody’s family, who incur one withdrawn right after another while managing to stick together, is affecting.  But the film is 150 minutes long, and the family loses its struggle about half way through.  That leaves us Brody.  He is not enough, and soon, the film becomes tedious and stubborn.  Many characters help Brody (from an old flame to fellow musicians to a Nazi collaborator to a Nazi officer), but we don’t get to know them.  Polanski is content to stay with Brody as he becomes more emaciated and desperate, and in the end, little more than a caged animal.  To the extent Polanski wants to demonstrate that even through the most awful of horrors, people can survive and return to the pre-horror life relatively undamaged, The Pianist succeeds.  But as drawn in the film, it’s a minor success.

Like most Darren Aronofsky movies, this is alternatively unpleasant and mesmerizing.  This story of a virginal and mentally disturbed ballet dancer who has been given the plum twin roles of the white and black swan in Swan Lake, you might be more interested in the ballet than the story, as it centers on Natalie Portman, who appears marginally more intelligent and interesting than your average runway model, but only marginally.  Because you don’t invest in her, the film ends up being a lot of visual game playing, a steamy lesbian scene between Portman Mila Kunis, and little more.

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Arty, ingenious, bloodless and about as fun as, well . . . The Matrix.  I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I thought, “How did Leonardo DiCaprio’s character from Shutter Island get modern clothes and walk into this picture.  And why did they cast an Asian actor who can barely speak English in a critical role, and did he just say ‘weesh need no tourish on dees shrip?’  And was that the kid from Witness?  Yikes!  He grew up ugly.”

And then I went back to sleep.

The Other Guys - Wikipedia

Will Ferrell’s antics have a shelf life.  There were a few good gags, but Mark Wahlberg steps on a lot of them with his clod-like turn as straight man (he substitutes volume for timing). But we do get a political tract on Ponzi schemes from director Adam McKay during the credits, so, there’s that.

Amazon.com: Greenberg: Ben Stiller, Rhys Ifans, Greta Gerwig, Noah  Baumbach: Movies & TV

Cyrus (2010 film) - Wikipedia

Similar films about dysfunctional and barely interesting people.  In Cyrus, poor John C. Reilly has the good fortune to start dating Marisa Tomei.  Unfortunately, Jonah Hill (Cyrus) is Tomei’s babied adult boy and what ensues is a muted power struggle played a little too seriously when there were more laughs to be had.

Greenberg is another filmic form of torture from Noah Baumbach, who has made quite a career of making movies about unpleasant, self-centered wretches (Jeff Daniels and Laura Linney in The Squid and the Whale; Nicole Kidman in Margot at the Wedding).  The sad center of Greenberg is Ben Stiller, a just-out-of-the asylum condescending dick who is house-sitting for his brother in L.A. Thankfully, unlike the prior films, Baumbach doesn’t put children front and center for the abuse he finds so illuminating.

To give credit where it is due, both Hill and Stiller do well with their appointed tasks, which is to squeeze a little humanity out of such creepy, crappy characters.  And while Cyrus ends up unconvincingly sweet, Greenberg is coyly ambivalent.

But really, do we care whether an ass like Stiller may find love at the end of the day?

We do not.