Less a modern Western than an inside look at Hollywood’s fragile psychology, the film “The Magnificent Seven” is a lesson in the way that the movies think at the moment. It’s an encouraging thing, and a more honest historical assessment, to re-create an Old West posse with minorities in major roles. It’s another thing to be so perfectly, comically and distractingly fancied up with diversity that a focus group seems like

I was forced a laugh after being faced with this issue recently: why aren't there more black directors directing mainstream Hollywood pictures? Is it a rhetorical question? Probably. But it’s also one that we as filmmakers and producers don't like facing because the answers are always inadequate. Some facts: among the 200 top-grossing films of 2011 approximately five where helmed by black directors, and only two among those were

The cop a week away from retirement. The cop forced into corruption to support his family. The cop so deep undercover that he doesn’t even know who he is anymore. Clichés? Sure. But Antoine Fuqua’s police drama “Brooklyn’s Finest” is a gritty and compelling film, made all the better by three actors who find the humanity in their characters.