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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.

Winter's Bone (DVD) - Walmart.com

A rough, gritty picture about a girl (Jennifer Lawrence) living a bleak life in the hills of Missouri.  Her father is a crank processor who put up the family land for bond and has gone missing.  Accordingly, it is up to his daughter to navigate the familial bonds and brutal reality of her surroundings to find him and convince him to appear for trial.  Her journey takes us to the core of a back hills and backwards society that in many ways echoes the distrustful, independent and dangerous world of Walter Hill’s The Long Riders, although the setting is modern day.  The film also echoes James Foley’s At Close Range, giving an insight into a foreign criminal world in our rural midst.  Gripping and authentic, and Lawrence gives one of those assured performances that portends stardom.

The King's Speech - Movie Review - The Austin Chronicle

If not exceptional, the film is a competent and beautifully appointed period piece. The Oscar nominations of Colin Firth and Helena Bonham Carter are well deserved.  As King George, Firth encapsulates the insecurity and terror of a man thrust into power who fears he will be found wanting, or even an imbecile, such is his speech impediment. As Firth’s wife, Bonham Carter deftly plays the role of droll, drawing room observer as well as the rock that supports her husband. Their bond is authentic.

The interplay between George VI and his speech therapist (Geoffrey Rush) is funny and very well written, and the introduction of modern psychology to the era’s infantile methods of treatment for the speech malady is interesting.

Guy Pearce also contributes as the callow Edward, leaving his brother and country in the lurch for that Baltimore tramp.

Time Magazine's 'Person of the Year' since 1927 | Wallis simpson,  Socialite, Wallis

I picked up The American mainly because it starred George Clooney and he had a gun in his hand on the DVD cover. So, on me.

There is a lot wrong here.  Foremost is Clooney, miscast as an emotionally detached killer-sort. Steve McQueen, sure. But not Clooney, who mistakes emotionally detached with catatonic.

He plays a killer and/or facilitator for killers who has to hide out in the most picturesque town in Italy.  There, he demonstrates that he is a spartan and a loner, because, well, he is alone, has no pictures in his apartment and does a fair amount of sit-ups and push-ups. Of course, he strikes up a friendship with a priest, who pushes him a little morally, and a prostitute, who, given how attractive she is, should charge $50,000 a roll.

George a gent for Violante sex – The Sun

And, yes, he decides it is time to “get out.”

The film is overbearingly serious, and chock full of tropes, like, oh, he kissed a prostitute on the mouth and went down on her = love.  And then he was in a shoot-out and won, and got in the car, and . . . is that blood?  Oh my God!  He was so in shock and it was all so crazy, he didn’t even know he’d been shot in the gut until he was driving a a mile out of town.

This guy is really . . . detached.

And “they” won’t let him “out.” Why?  Unsaid, unexplained. Apparently, it’s enough to say “I’m out” and then some really serious French dude makes arrangements for you to be offed.

I wish I could have gotten out too. But no.

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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.

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Julianne Moore and Annette Bening are two middle-aged lesbians with two teenage children in the midst of a mid-life crisis.  The kids decide they want to meet their father (Mark Ruffalo, who is actually just their sperm donor).  Very funny, occasionally poignant, and refreshingly devoid of the kind of politics you might fear from such an endeavor.  Bening is particularly good as the controlling, more responsible member of couple, the uncool drudge, trying to keep it all together in competition with cool “new” and fun, breezy Moore.

Cropsey (film) - Wikipedia

Cropsey focuses on an accused Staten Island child murderer in the 70s and 80s.  The documentarians do a very nice job of melding a crime story (there is, in fact, an accused killer) with a child’s sense of the bogeyman.  During my childhood, there was a myth of the house where a father slaughtered his family (in fact, a grandmother had a heart attack), there was the deranged retarded man who dragged kids to the woods (no, but he did sell newspapers), and, of course, the exorcist boy was in the vicinity and went to my high school for a short time.  Cropsey brings back those good ole’ creepy days.

Ben Affleck’s follow-up to Gone Baby Gone finds him sticking with his roots, again setting the film in a desolate part of Boston. But there is nothing to heavy here, just a crackling, straightforward crime caper, part Heat and part The Departed, with a few nice twists, solid performances and Don Draper as the dogged FBI agent on the trail of a Boston robbery squad. No great shakes, but efficient, smooth and entertaining. Best, Affleck smartly plays the lead as monochromatic, keeping his lifting to a minimum.  Bonus:  Blake Lively plays trashy and she carries it off!

True Grit is really near-flawless, hewing very closely to the structure of the prior film.  Some folks may feel that John Wayne’s larger-than-life persona is a bit of a blot in the original, but I always liked his performance, as well as that of a novice actor, Glen Campbell.  For those folks, this film is an upgrade – Jeff Bridges and Matt Damon deliver deft performances that don’t suck the air out of a scene or distract.  This version also replaces many of the laughs for the “grit,” though, thankfully, it is not a dour, bloody replacement (the scenes of the 14 year old Mattie Ross negotiating her father’s affairs are very funny, as is the cross-examination of Rooster Cogburn).  It is also beautifully shot by the Coen brothers.

Finally, I always found Kim Darby annoyingly showy in the original, even though the film was good enough to minimize her excess.  A newcomer (Haley Stanfield) plays her role in the re-make, and she’s just the right mix of earnest, savvy and bitchy, a perfect companion for Bridges and Damon as they search for her father’s killer (Josh Brolin, who has a mere two scenes and almost steals the film).