Have you ever been to Louisiana? It’s creepy. There are nine populated areas and a lot of dark waters with things that can eat you. The swamps probably stay dark in the daytime just to make it all creepier. And the thing is, I think they like it creepy. So I have a hard time imagining Louisiana swampland as a romantic setting for a movie. Nonetheless, The Lucky One gives it a try, featuring a lost photograph, adorable dogs, a lovely rose

There’s a famous Hollywood joke about how you can describe any action movie over the past twenty years as something like ”Die Hard in an orbital maximum-security prison.” That would be the one that applies to the very entertaining Lockout, a movie that is Die Hard by way of Star Wars by way of Blade Runner by way of La Femme Nikita by way of The Fifth Element by way of Escape from New York by way of Big Trouble in Little China.

The Hunger Games will sap up comparisons to science fiction. That’s what happens with stories about futuristic dystopias and freaky hovercraft. The better comparison is to Roman or Biblical epics of the fifties. Its story, of the youth of twelve outlying provinces exploited for the bloodsport of a wealthy and perverse capital, is reminiscent of Ben Hur. It even has a grand chariot parade, with crowds adoring Katniss Everdeen, a coal-haired

Homer’s memorized recitals of the stories of the heroes and gods certainly required a attention span. The Wrath of The Titans certainly does not. It demands only the attention typically demanded by modern Hollywood blockbuster screenwriting. But would Homer, in all his “As I lay dying, the woman with the dog face wouldn’t close my eyes as I descended into Hades”-ness, been better served by less longwindedness and more

21 Jump Street isn’t just another forgettable adaptation of a television program, the disappearance of which noone laments. Mais non! The only interesting thing about this one is how it inadvertently ended up on the red carpet to greet the arrival of Hollywood’s unexpected leading men. Channing Tatum looks the part. The Hollywood heartthrob of a million female fantasies, he has anchored a string of overperforming rom-coms (Step Up, Dear

Every March Hollywood thrusts forward a summer blockbuster that is neither summer nor blockbuster. It has a habit of being directed by Zack Snyder and always contains overly heavy CGI. This year, that film is John Carter. It is also a $250-million risk, and this adaptation of old Edgar Rice Burroughs pulp novels has a great deal of potential energy for backfiring. The fact that the film is repetitive and not particularly eye-catching

How long can any film review go before calling Salmon Fishing in Yemen a fish out of water story? Not to mention that the film stars Emily Blunt and her prominent lips. Every time Ewan McGregor’s Scottish fish expert looks at mackerel, he must think of her. The man who took over Obi-Wan Kenobi becomes a new Dr. Jones, taking on an impossible mission of faith in Arabia. At one point, he even mentions the Ark of the Covenant

Teenagers in movies are smarter than those in real life. They’re smoother. They’re cooler. They spend Friday nights at hip parties with hip music, rather than locked in their rooms with their best friends lip-synching to an embarrassing amount of Katy Perry. Mass-marketed films with teenagers operate outside of the neuroses of growing up, the insecurities of personality, in confidence rather than confusion about sex.

Act of Valor begins with the sort of sappy voice-over letter that someone should regret. Preceding the storyline (and hence the letter) directors Mike McCoy and Scott Waugh appear on camera in what looks like a pre-emptive apologia. Speaking directly to the audience, the two men explain they cast real-life, non-actor Navy Seals and their families in hopes of celebrating the real people and capturing the experience raw. These real

It’s commonly accepted among the film literate that this is the year of living in the past. What else could it be? The frontrunner for a Best Picture Oscar is a silent movie for crying out loud (or not crying out loud, as the case may be). Can flagpole-sitting and the Charleston be far behind? While the conventional wisdom has reached this conclusion, it hasn't established what the wisdom of eating a bowl of sugary yesteryear for