2004 / 163 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

Okay, okay, I don’t get it. By and large, critical reaction to this movie has been rather poor. Personally, I don’t understand it. For me, “Troy” was a pleasant surprise. It could’ve easily been another “Gladiator”, another movie with a snarling, overwrought villain (though I do enjoy those, and Phoenix played it well, it didn’t get pushed far enough to be truly entertaining and it wasn’t realistic enough to be award-worthy) and incoherently edited fight sequences and absolutely no social relevance beyond its own running time. That’s what I think of “Gladiator”, and that’s why I don’t get why such a big deal was made over that movie. Russell Crowe was good in it, but even he could have been better if he had been given better material to work with. All in all, I found “Gladiator” incredibly overrated and very disappointing. The movie could have used gladiatorial combat to make a statement about the world we live in today, and the way that sports are used to distract the masses from more important issues. That could have been the crux of the movie; instead it was only one line in that movie. I actually think “A Knight’s Tale” played that idea a bit better (and that movie isn’t given proper credit either, if you ask me, it’s a gloriously entertaining and ultimately, strangely moving little film that charmed me and thrilled me with audacious little touches and a great deal of heart). So I am not a huge fan of “Gladiator”, and I wasn’t expecting a whole hell of a lot out of “Troy”. Not only that, but I really didn’t like the last film by the director of “Troy”: “The Perfect Storm” was overwrought, hamfisted, boring and completely bland (I still don’t care if it was based on a true story, that makes it even worse, because it has turned REAL PEOPLE into these bland stick figures at the mercy of big special effects). So I didn’t walk into the screening of “Troy” with what you would call high expectations.

As the film unfolded, however, I found myself thoroughly engrossed by the majestic spectacle and intelligent epic that is “Troy”. The plot of the film concerns the Trojan War. Contrary to popular belief, the war was NOT fought over condoms (though, if you ask me, Warner Brothers is missing a lot of extra revenue by not striking a deal with the major condom companies) but was instead waged when Paris, a Trojan, wooed away Helen, the wife of a major member of Greek royalty. The Greek king Agamemnon (played by the unstoppable force of nature that is Brian Cox) uses this as an excuse to try and take over Troy and extend his kingdom. So he starts a war, calling into play his chief warrior, Achilles (Brad Pitt). Achilles is the greatest warrior in the world, and he KNOWS it. So, as you can assume, he is a bit of a self-absorbed, cocky prick. He also has no love for Agamemnon and basically goes to war on his own whims. I don’t know about you, but that makes him a far more interesting character than Russell Crowe’s in “Gladiator”. We’ve seen tons of guys out for revenge (and even a couple of women) but I’ve never seen a huge budgeted Hollywood action film revolve around an arrogant prick before. This is a novelty, and I for one found it fascinating. Achilles is a fascinating, complex prick and you never really know what he might do next. Pitt takes a while to really sink his teeth into this character, but within the first hour he’s got it, and he exudes the confidence and swagger necessary to make Achilles believable.

Most of the acting in the film is top notch. I especially like how the film actually makes good use of Peter O’Toole as the Trojan king (he just exudes a regal, debonair and majestic presence that elevates the whole film) and makes me finally understand what the big deal is with Eric Bana. Bana is terrific here as Hector, the warrior god of the Trojan side of the conflict. Sean Bean is also great as Odysseus and Brendan Gleeson shines as the man who has lost his wife. I also loved how there were no real villains in this movie. Both sides of the war are presented equally well. Each side has their good points and their bad and neither is glorified or demonized more than the other. That was rather refreshing, and amped up the suspense to a considerable degree. Not only was I unsure how things would turn out, I was unsure how I personally wanted them to turn out. And that was unique. Most of the characters were well rounded and had a bit of dimension to them, which is always nice, and the action sequences actually got the heart pumping. The special effects were even good, blending seamlessly in with the live action footage and enhancing the story rather than showing off.

If I had to nitpick at the movie, I would have to say the music was a detracting factor. It was just too obvious and hamfisted (there’s that word again) for my taste. Besides, I’m a little tired of some lame choral effects trying to clue me in to the tragedy of a moment. No thanks, I’d rather figure it out for myself. Oh, and I think Helen of Troy could have been played by a hotter woman. (Hey, she did launch a thousand ships. She should at least give a couple of boners.) And Orlando Bloom was the weakest link as fast as the cast went. Sure, women swoon over him, and that’s all well and good, but he’s proving to be a rather one-note actor with every new film he does. He looks good, he shoots arrows well, but that seems to be the extent of it.

Those minor qualms aside, “Troy” is an amazing movie. It concerns itself with the politics of the warfare without getting overly caught up with them and becoming boring and it delivers the goods on the action front without sacrificing its brain. It has strong performances, a great plot, interesting themes and it’s the only war movie I’ve seen that actually shows you an entire war, from start to finish, and without overdoing it. Sure, the mythology angles of the source material are gone. But the movie is strong enough that you shouldn’t even miss them. At least I didn’t.

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2004 / 132 Minutes / PG-13
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

From the grade I have bestowed upon this film, you might think I’m being a tad hard on it. But believe me when I tell you that this film has EARNED my wrath. There is no way you could believe how terrible, how atrocious, how completely retarded this movie is just from reading the bad reviews. It’s the sort of atrocity that you have to see to believe.

The plot seemed promising when described: Hugh Jackman, so good as Wolverine in the “X-Men” flicks, stars as Victorian era vampire hunter Gabriel Van Helsing. Van Helsing, you may remember, is the guy who defeated “Dracula” in the original novel and in pretty much everything else that Dracula has appeared in. So, obviously, Van Helsing is going to take on Dracula. But not only does he go up against Drac, he takes on Frankenstein’s monster and The Wolf Man and a terrible CGI creature that is supposed to be Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (mostly Mr. Hyde). All these Victorian era baddies have allied themselves for a simple task that involves resurrecting Dracula’s love children (Dracula has a bevy of cleavage-enhanced undead brides). You see, since Dracula and his bitches are all undead, their children are also undead. Actually, the children are just dead. The little imps look like gremlins with wings (see “Gremlins 2”) and are housed in eggs that look like the alien cocoons in the “Alien” films. (Two of the many, many films that this one shamelessly cribs from.) So Drac and his overacting brides attempt to use the technology that created Frankenstein’s monster to bring these little bastards to life. The how’s and why’s of this are never explained, which wouldn’t be a big deal if the film were entertaining. But since this movie is a two-plus hour lump of warmed over shit, that becomes a bit troublesome.

The film’s only good bit is the beginning, which is filmed in black and white and is heavily reliant on angry villagers bearing torches. From then on, the film begins to careen downhill. It’s like a piece of shit acting as a snowball: it just keeps getting shittier and shittier as it rolls downhill (as it goes on, rather). The first fight of the film, between Van Helsing and Mr. Hyde is ludicrously over the top and pretty much disregards any rule of gravity or science known to man. But at this point, you are hoping this will be an isolated incident and that the film is clever enough to stick its worst fight scene at the front and get it over with. This soon shows itself to be a flawed line of thinking. Every fight scene in this movie is godawful. Without exception, they all go on for entirely too long, make absolutely no fucking sense, are not remotely fun to look at, are clumsily staged, cluttered with lame and ugly “period” detail, and involve a lot of swinging on wires and ropes and God knows what. Remember how I said the action in the second “Charlie’s Angels” film was too unrealistic and CGI to be remotely entertaining? Well, this is like that only a hundred times worse. These are some of the worst action scenes ever committed to film. But wait, it gets worse. Hugh Jackman is the only one who doesn’t overly embarrass himself (oh, he does embarrass himself, just not as often as the others). Richard Roxborough gives one of the worst performances of all time as Dracula. His accent is outrageous and too broad to be effective as even caricature. His mannerisms are insanely over the top. Even his hair seems to be overacting to a moronic degree. He seems like an annoying and effeminate version of Ozzy Osbourne, a bad Ozzy impersonator, if you will, never like a vampire. I was struck dumb by the sheer awfulness of his performance, and yet I looked forward to every time he was onscreen, because he was so terrible as to be morbidly fascinating. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion whenever he came onscreen. Seriously. I can’t think of adjectives to describe how terrible and grating and over the top he is. It’s just astonishing crap. Each of his brides is also awful. In fact, the direction of this movie makes me want to use profanity in its description. It’s so atrocious. No line is ever just delivered when it could be shouted or screamed or even, God help us, maniacally cackled. The bad guy performances are so bad that they make mustache-twirling look subtle. This movie was never even on nodding terms with subtlety, and that’s its whole problem. This is easily the most overwrought and overdone movie I’ve ever seen in my life. There is not a single moment of naturalism, not a moment that isn’t amped up to eleven and filled with bombast. Any hint of humanity was siphoned from this film. The dialogue is wooden, clumsy and jaw-droppingly irritating. I was groaning or doubled over with unintended laughter more than sixty percent of this movie. And I was not alone. Everyone else in the theater was making “Mystery Science Theater” style comments within a half hour of the film. (That is, those that didn’t simply walk out. I’ve never seen an exodus like I saw during the course of this movie.) There isn’t a single shot in this film that isn’t slimily coated in bland computer imagery. There is no detail to the imagery either, no craft or even care. The film apparently cost over a hundred million to make and it looks like a movie that was made for the Sci-Fi channel. I can’t believe the level of ineptitude displayed on every facet of the filmmaking process here. If you told me that this was the first film ever directed by a gorilla, I’d say that seemed about right.

I recently wrote a review in which I referred to “Die Hard With a Vengeance” as the best summer film ever made. Well, of all the summer movies I’ve ever witnessed, this is easily the worst. No contest. It’s uniformly embarrassing all across the board. The first half of the film had me unintentionally laughing and the last half had me fidgeting from boredom. I was constantly tempted to walk out, but I hung in there for motives I may never explain. Why didn’t I spare myself? Why do I feel the need to punish myself like this? I may never know. Granted, I’m not a huge fan of the old Universal horror movies that have been stolen from to create this film. I find most of them (aside from “The Bride of Frankenstein” which is the only one worthy of its status) to be creaky, wooden affairs. But creaky is better than the high-octane, deafening cacophony of garbage on display here. The film botches any sentiment it tries to create (and it unfortunately tries for a few moments of alleged pathos). Its jokes fall flat. Its acting is awful (Kate Beckinsale should be barred from film for several years, such is the disaster of her accent and her awful so-called characterization). It effects are bland and obvious and nowhere near magical (by the way, I will always hate CGI werewolves, there’s something about them that just pisses me off) and it makes no attempt at cohesive, rational thought. There is a full moon every other day in this film, people are able to ride horses across Europe in a matter of hours, vampire rules change according to scene, revelations that are supposed to be shocking are completely by rote.

In short, few films can fail on as many levels and in as many shocking ways as “Van Helsing”, which I guess makes the film something of a unique achievement. If you must involve yourself in an entertainment venue that involves the letters “VH”, then stay home and listen to some Van Halen. Hell, even the Sammy Hagar years of that band are better than this movie. I will go so far as to say that listening to the worst Van Halen song on earth is preferable to watching this movie. At least the Van Halen songs are shorter.

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1931 / 75 Minutes / Not Rated
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

Dracula may live forever, but he hasn’t aged well, my friends.

Where do I begin? Well, you probably all know the story behind Dracula, unless, of course, you have been living in a coffin for the past four hundred years. Man loves girl. Girl dies. Man spends his (very long) lifetime tracking down the girl’s doppelganger (or reincarnation, whatever) and then tries to bite her. A lot of people get bitten and he moves to London. That is the basic plot.

Dracula is, as you all know, played by Bela Lugosi this time. And I must say that he was very disappointing. After all these years of hearing how excellent he is at the part, seeing him in action was a grave letdown. He walks around (rather slowly), he drains a couple of people (off camera) and he says his hammy dialogue in very…..slow…..cadences. Very, very slow cadences. I understand that you are playing a vampire. But the man is UNdead, not dead. Not that it’s all his fault. I suppose, at the time, this was the best there was to offer. But after seeing a couple of other guys play Drac (most impressively: Gary Oldman), well, Bela loses his charm. I mean, if this was the best role that the man ever got, that is pretty sad.

But I will give this much to Old Bela: he’s the best actor in the movie. Every other actor delivers their lines either with all the gusto of soggy plywood or with the over-enthusiasm of a Freshman in a high school drama club production of “Fiddler on the Roof”. Bela at least is doing….well, something. He does have a bit of charm to him, I can’t say that he doesn’t. But, well, I thought Dracula was supposed to be seductive. I thought that was part of his power, part of his bag of tricks. Dracula just forms a claw with his hand, rakes it through the air and says “Come here” in a thick, European accent. And women come to him. This is meant to be seductive?

Sure, there are a couple of creepy moments, and I am being a tad hard on the movie, I’m sure. But a movie can be this old and still not be this dated. I cite the two Buster Keaton films that I have reviewed here as evidence.

So why am I giving it a marginal recommendation? Two reasons: the movie does evoke a neat mood. I like its baroque atmosphere and the use of effects like fog and the lighting.

Two: it’s often hilarious. Every moment involving Dracula’s servant, Renfield, for example. There should be a statue erected to this guy in the School of Overactors. And the guard at the mental hospital. This guy is a riot. I don’t know if he was meant to be, but, boy, is he ever. And the way that the women move when they are meant to be zombies? Quite comical.

Bottom line: if you rent this film expecting a cinematic masterpiece of some sort, you will be sorely disappointed. If you rent it for a couple good laughs and to see what passed for “Scary” in the early Talkie days, then give this one a shot. Now that I think about it, I think I’ve been a little too hard on Bela. You can’t entirely rip on a man who has defined what this character is supposed to be like for entire generations of filmgoers.

And besides, no one deserves to have to make movies like “Plan 9 From Outer Space”. I wouldn’t wish that on even Pauly Shore.

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2004 / 137 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

There are those who find this second installment of “Kill Bill” to be a rather disappointing film. Upon my first viewing of the movie, I was actually one of them. But I enjoyed it enough to go again, and upon second viewing, I understand everything. It is all clarified and I believe that Quentin Tarantino is nothing less than a genius. I will watch any film he decides to write and especially direct, because he has subverted the entire revenge fantasy genre of filmmaking, one of my favorite little sub genres of film, in a way that at first you don’t understand. But when you realize that this cinephile universe that Quentin has created has suddenly crossed over into the real world during the final reel, that it will all click for you, as it did for me. And you will no longer think that David Carradine’s character is a letdown because he is not evil enough to validate this rampage. The fact that Carradine is more of a misunderstood character than he is a psychopathic madman is the point of this entire exercise in film. (He strikes me as a cross between Hugh Hefner, Charlie of “Charlie’s Angels” fame, and a low key version of Bond’s nemesis Blofeld.) The relationship between him and the Bride is completely original as well as completely understandable. Both Uma and Carradine are such great actors that they project a sort of chemistry in their scenes together that make the concept of her being in love with this man work dynamically. This relationship also adds another layer to a film that is already bustling with them. So much so that, at the end of the film, we feel much the same as The Bride, and we finally understand the point of both films. Both movies are enriched by the revelation made in the final minutes of the “Kill Bill” saga.

I’m not going into plot on this one. Uma is pissed, her wedding was ruined (that should be enough for ANY woman to be baying for blood) and all her friends were seemingly killed and she believes her daughter is dead. From the end of “Volume One” (“Volume Two” stands alone and, due to the episodic nature of these films, you really don’t need to see the first volume to enjoy the second one on its own merits, but you should’ve seen “Volume One” anyway and, if you haven’t, then it’s out on DVD and you no longer have any fucking excuse you limp-wristed pantywaist) we know that her daughter isn’t actually dead. But The Bride doesn’t know that. To her, the baby is dead and she is royally pissed. You have to remember that, because it’s crucial to her reaction at the end of the film. The look she levels at Carradine over the shoulder of her daughter once the two have been reunited is equal parts gratitude, love, fury and dull, throbbing hate. It’s a look that could wither a sequoia and I’ve got a list of perhaps five actresses who might have essayed it as well as Uma, and Uma lords over them all. It also makes her final confrontation with Bill a sticky affair. This isn’t a clear-cut case of “Shoot the evil bastard” and the fact that we are squirming in our seats as discomforted as Uma is by the end of the film is due to the sheer brilliance of Tarantino’s writing. Not just his dialogue, mind you, which is in top form here and has been lauded on a thousand occasions by a thousand different critics. No, no, I’m talking about his plotting and his skill with characters and situations. In these realms, Tarantino’s writing prowess has never been better. After all the severed limbs and blood splatters and gauntlets of hell that The Bride has gone through (the film reveals her real name, and virtually every other review I’ve read goes out of their way to mention it, but I shall not because I have a soul and want you to discover it on your own) and that we, the audience, have experienced by proxy, the film really comes down to a fundamental truth.

Violence isn’t the answer.

Yes, that’s right. That is the moral of this bloody rampage of exhilarating carnage, my friends, if you are bold enough to look for it. Quentin doesn’t pander and sell out his themes easily, my friends, but the films are rich with them for those adventurous enough to look. With each corpse Uma leaves in her wake, she has bested an adversary and beaten an obstacle in her path, but at the end of the movie, we see that she feels no better for it. The only good thing in her life is her daughter, and she loves her daughter and seeing the two of them together makes you understand that every bit of hell she went through was absolutely worth it. But as for the revenge itself, we feel that it has left her hollow and empty and that her actions will haunt her for the rest of her days, despite the joy she has been given by the reunion with her beautiful daughter.

Did I give away the ending? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I have given away a certain thematic relevance, but I have told you nothing. I have not told you what exactly causes this film to surpass the very genre it is told in. I have not told you of the strength of Bill’s character and that he is probably the farthest from a one-note villain of any film villain I have ever seen. I love his character and I think that Carradine is going to get a Best Supporting Actor nod come next February. He’s simply to good to ignore, even for those dipshits in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. So is Uma, though they have already ignored her once and will likely have spots reserved for them in hell for doing so. I know Charlize was probably excellent in “Monster” and I simply don’t give a fuck, my friends. Uma’s name should’ve at least been read along with Charlize’s and Samantha Morton’s in that auditorium. If it isn’t read next year at the same time, then there truly ISN’T any justice in the world. But that’s okay; I’ve been saying so for years. Uma gives one of the best female performances in the history of cinema. I said so the first time around, and her work here only builds on that awesome performance and enhances it. I can’t think of a more amazing cinematic heroine. She is simply staggering.

Aside from its transcendent quality, the film has other treasures to be cherished as well. It’s got a wonderful soundtrack, with nearly every tune fitting as a perfect underscore for the scene it accompanies. The soundtrack enhances the film and complements it perfectly. Also, Ralph Richardson’s camera work is again blissful, as is David Wasco’s gorgeous production design. Last time, my favorite set piece was the beautiful House of Blue Leaves and its iconic outdoor garden. This time, my favorite set is the dingy, thrift shop interior of Budd’s trailer house. Never has such a grungy locale been such a great place to spend time.

Speaking of Budd, I love the notes Michael Madsen hits in his performance as the one male member of Bill’s crew (and his little brother). His response to Bill’s question about a prized sword is worth the price of admission all by itself. I also love the fact that a deadly, international assassin is now working as a bouncer at the sleaziest strip club I’ve ever seen (as well as the emptiest). His character is a shitheel, to be certain, but he’s also got a strange sense of chivalry and conscience (though his having a conscience never means that he’s unable to ignore it) and a sense of immense sadness and the pathetic also enhances his character and brings it into more interesting dimensions. Budd is a man who has sold his soul and is smart enough to know it, which is what makes him such a sleazily tragic figure.

Daryl Hannah on the other hand. Hee hee. Oh God, she’s a real wonder in this film. She gives the sort of performance on which legends might be based. She’s a one-eyed bitch of gargantuan proportions (“that’s one of my favorite words, gargantuan, and I so rarely get a chance to use it in a sentence”) and her comeuppance is probably my favorite moment of both films. It’s hilarious and ironic and exciting and fucking disturbing all at the same time. In that manner, it really could sum up the films themselves.

I say that you don’t really need to see the first “Kill Bill” to understand and appreciate this one for the same reason I would say that you don’t have to watch a Japanese sword fighting ass-kicking film in order to love a good spaghetti western. Because, with its desert locations and Morricone-influenced soundtrack, that is definitely what this one is. The first film came alive in Japan. This one comes into its own in the desert. That is why the two films barely belong in the same sub genre. They are both revenge films, but their blood burns in two separate and equally heartfelt locations. Fans of both genres will enjoy both movies (as will those who are fans of neither genre, no doubt), but the two films feel so different that it’s almost unfair to compare them. If the film had been released all at once as it was originally planned (I’m beginning to think they weren’t even planned to be released that way, actually, it sure doesn’t feel like it) the film would have felt “too talky” and “anticlimactic” which was, in fact, the way I described it upon first viewing. But the more you think on this movie (and you will think on it, believe me) the more you will realize the ingenuity and glory of it. The more you think on it, the more you realize that it has done more than you initially suspected it would. It is a tribute to all the films Tarantino cut his teeth watching, to be sure, but it is more than that. It’s about redemption and revenge. It’s about life. It’s about the complications of life and how there is no such thing as black vs. white, no such fucking thing as Pure Good vs. Pure Evil (“The Lord of the Rings” movies would have you believe there is, and that’s fine, it works within that world, but it don’t work within ours). It has struck out for territory more interesting than you had hoped it would go for. It has defied your expectations, even if it has giddily enchanted you by honoring those expectations and your familiarity with its genre conventions. It seems to do more than you expect and in such a way that you might not even be able to grasp it in your first viewing. I know that I grasped the greatness of neither film on first viewing. But on subsequent viewings, both films have taken on that strange, intangible quality that keeps you coming back for more. It has spoken to a part of me that I think no other Tarantino film has spoken to. Both these films have come to occupy a special place in my heart, and I love them both almost equally. (I think I love the first film a bit more but that may change on later viewings.) Why else would I have devoted this much time and energy to writing exhaustively about them on this website? They’re the rare movies that you can just talk about for hours on end, poring over the endless minutiae of them with fellow geeks. They’re an obvious labor of love for Geek Extraordinaire Quentin Tarantino and perhaps that’s what makes them so special, even within the already special world of Tarantino films that are all uniformly excellent. I’m not saying they’re better than Quentin’s other films, but there’s a certain loving care infused into them that sets them apart from Quentin’s other films and that really distinguishes them from other films in general. I can’t say anything about this film that’s any better than that. Except, perhaps, that this film features the Best Buried Alive sequence in cinema history. There. If that doesn’t get your ass in the seat, then you’re not the sort of person I’m talking to anyway.

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2004 / 132 Minutes / PG-13
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

I absolutely loved this movie. Then again, I have a soft spot in my heart for films in which an ass-kicking wiseass must prevent a supernatural Armageddon (you all know what my favorite movie of all time is, so I shan’t remind you again…but it is “Ghostbusters”).

The plot is some kind of brilliance: during World War two, as a last ditch effort to win the war; the Nazis enlist a madman priest to bring them the use of an otherworldly evil. At the last moment, the Allies bust in on this party and stop them just in the nick of time, but not before they’ve called forth a demon. Fortunately for us, the demon was a mere baby with a penchant for candy bars and pancakes. The American government raised him right and now he is a protector for all humanity from the forces of darkness. However, that priest the Nazis were making use of isn’t exactly dead and he’s still got enough followers to bring about the end of the world unless something is done to stop him. Enter Hellboy (Ron Perlman, at his very finest behind layers of excellent demon makeup), the demon raised to do good, to stop the forces of darkness once again.

Fortunately, Hellboy won’t have to do it alone. The entire Department of Paranormal Research is behind him, including psychic fish man Abe Sapien (with the droll voice talents of David Hyde Pierce), Hellboy’s pyrokinetic girlfriend Liz (Selma Blair) and new human recruit Myers (Rupert Evans). Under the guidance of wise mentor John Hurt (always a pleasure to see him at work) they might just have a fighting chance to saving the entire planet from the evil designs of Rasputin (yes, THAT Rasputin).

The reason “Hellboy” works so gloriously and provides such stupendous fun from beginning to end is that it takes itself seriously, yet not too seriously. There is a delicate tightrope balance to be achieved when a movie involves Nazis and evil creatures from other worlds, when there are hellhounds roaming the sewers and the hero is a man who is dark red and must file his horns down every day to keep from resembling Beelzebub. Thankfully, Guillermo Del Toro (director of “Blade 2”, a movie that did not understand that balance) has achieved it. There are moments of humor in abundance here, but they are not obvious or stupid jokes, they are not even jokes for the sake of being jokes. Rather, they are jokes that arise from ridiculous and goofy situations and because we actually care about the characters. That’s not to say that I shed tears when a couple of major characters met their ends (I didn’t) but I did care enough about them to have an interest in their problems and personalities and to care whether they lived or died. As comic book adaptations go, this one is on a par with the “X-Men” adventures, particularly “X2”. It has a lovely, dark tone to it with deep reds and plenty of delicious shadows, and it actually imbues its characters with something of a soul. Hellboy is an endlessly fascinating character: a demon who has actually made the choice to fight for the side of good. He is a complex and intriguing hero and Ron Perlman plays him just right to gain our respect and our sympathies. Same goes for Liz, as played by Selma Blair, as a woman whose gifts are more of a curse. She has trouble controlling her innate ability to create fire out of thin air so much so that she doesn’t even trust herself. She is a bruised, fragile soul and she gives the film a heart that most action movies don’t have. In his strained relationship and love for her, Hellboy also gives the film a heart. Beneath his gruff exterior, he is something of an old softie. (Which isn’t to say that he can’t kick a lot of ass, wouldn’t be much of a movie otherwise.)

Aside from the soul that I just mentioned, “Hellboy” also has a wealth of inventive touches. Everything about the Department for Paranormal Research and Development was simply riveting to me, with plenty of creative little moments that stick in the memory long afterward. It also had plenty of little offhand details that enriched the film without calling attention to themselves (such as a moment involving a box filled with kittens and a reference to the real fate of Hitler). The movie even manages to take the plot of “Howard the Duck” (the part with the Dark Overlords and the way they are brought to Earth) and make it work. You’ve got to admire a film that can pull off that Herculean feat. The effects are all rather great (okay, a couple of them are iffy, but not many), the humor is natural and never at the expense of character, and the film has an atmosphere and feel that is truly one of a kind. Last week I said that I admired “The Ladykillers” because it was unique and bizarre. “Hellboy” is not quite as bizarre, but it’s still unique and a great deal of fun. And just as Alec Guinness lent an air of class to “Star Wars” and Sarah Polley lent one, to a lesser extent, to “Dawn of the Dead” so does John Hurt give these festivities a droll veneer of class. He takes the movie seriously and, if he does, so can we. He gives us license to care about this dazzling and unique little world that is unfolding. Also, the film has some wonderful subtext about choosing your own destiny and deciding for yourself what to make of your lot in life. (After all, if a demon can choose to make the world a better place, why shouldn’t we?)

It navigates the same territory as films like the “Men in Black” movies; only this one does it much better. (Especially compared to the travesty that is “MIB2”. Ugh!) It’s the sort of movie that I really get into when done right and the sort that I really bitch about when its screwed up. Thank God, this film actually does it right.

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2004 / 104 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

There is a certain maniacal gleam in Tom Hanks’s eyes throughout the course of “The Ladykillers”, and it isn’t hard to understand why. It’s been nearly a decade since he has seemed to be having this much unadulterated fun in a movie. It’s been nearly a decade since he’s played a character quite so unique, quite so off the wall. One must go back to “Forrest Gump” to find him playing someone so one of a kind and one must regress even further to find the last time he was the lead in a flat-out comedy (I count “You’ve Got Mail” out because, although it was a cute movie, a nice movie, a romantic movie, and though it did have very funny moments, it was not exactly a comedy, it was a romantic comedy, paying lip service to the institution of a comedy in name only, as it were, though I have already said that it has funny parts, and it is a good movie, to be sure). The last one I can really think of is “A League of Their Own”, in which Tom also gave a wonderful, unique and unusual performance that was the equal of his fine work here. Jimmy Dugan was a great character for Tom: a drunk, a loser and a complete pig, something you can imagine John Belushi having done had he not succumbed to the monkey upon his back. And Forrest was a character worthy of every accolade that movie earned: a completely original character turned into a three dimensional human being by this generation’s finest actor, when many other actors simply would have carved him into a caricature. And in Goldthwait Higgins Burr, PHD, Hanks has created yet another comedic triumph.

Goldthwait is a unique man. He is a dandified Southern professor so enamored of his own vocabulary and unique elocution that he rarely stops talking. Aside from his garrulous nature and his PHD status, Goldthwait is also the self-proclaimed mastermind of an intricate heist plot. (In fact, one gets the sense that he is pulling off this heist for simply intellectual reasons. One can imagine Goldthwait making a gentleman’s wager with a colleague at the University of Alabama that he could pull off the perfect crime.) He has assembled a group of men (based solely on their response to a classified advertisement he placed in the local paper) to help him steal the riches of a “gambling debt cash cow” or rather a casino boat called the Bandit Queen. You see, the boat’s winnings are kept in an underground holding area and all Goldthwait has to do is organize his team to tunnel in, liberate the ship’s holdings, and tunnel back out again, covering their tracks with a large detonation of plastic explosion. Simple, right? It would be, had Goldthwait not chose to build his tunnel from the root cellar of a highly religious and seemingly clueless little, old lady named Marva Munson (played to absolute perfection by Irma P. Hall). Marva knows that something funny is going on in her root cellar, even if she can’t quite put her finger on what it is. But from the moment she meets him, she doesn’t quite trust this odd man with a penchant for old languages and the poems of Edgar Allen Poe. Mama, as one might say, didn’t raise no fool when she raised Marva Munson.

You see, the great delight of “The Ladykillers” lies not only in its great direction and razor-sharp writing. Although without these, the film would flounder and sink like a riverboat that has run aground. No, no. The great pleasure of the film is the way that each member of this ensemble seems to attack this material with equal gusto and with his or her own oddball sort of sensibility. Each member of this cast is strong and makes the most of the great material they have been given. J.K. Simmons (so great as J. Jonah Jameson in 2002’s “Spider-Man”) is fantastic here as Garth Pancake, a demolitions expert and “jack of all trades” (master of none, however, which is proven quite rapidly). Marlon Wayans has a winning turn as the “inside man”, a janitor aboard the Bandit Queen with a foul mouth and an argument for any occasion. Tzi Ma is brilliant with few words as “The General” and even Ryan Hurst has some good moments as Lump, the organization’s “blunt instrument”. Great supporting work is also put forth by the likes of George Wallace and Stephen Root and a decidedly expressive painting above Miss Munson’s mantel. But the real gems of this movie are Tom Hanks and Irma P. Hall. Hanks is his usual great self here (though it’s a lot of fun to see Hanks having fun again after all these years) and Irma P. Hall is at least his equal. She takes a character that might have been sort of annoying (a religious zealot and a general buzzkill) and makes her endearing and genuine and hilarious.

Each member of the cast is hilarious in their own way, each adding their own unique ingredient to this winning concoction. And the Coen Brothers more than back each of them up with their usual adept screenwriting (Hanks’s blustery monologues and droll, wordy insights spring to mind and each of The General’s words count) as well as a droll sense of the macabre. Mark Twain and Edgar Allen Poe are both alluded to in the course of this movie, and I believe that both men would be proud to be associated with it. It has Twain’s sense of Southern eccentricity and Poe’s sense of the Gothic darkness and insight into the shadier aspects of human behavior. Yet it’s set in a decidedly Coen world all of its own. The characters in a Coen movie don’t talk or behave like people in reality, but that’s what makes their movies so fascinating and so unique. That’s what keeps me riveted by each and every one of their films. In each of their films, I usually have no idea what is going to happen next or how on Earth the story could possibly end. “The Ladykillers” is no exception to that rule, and it has all the little touches that make their films worth visiting again and again and again. There is the Gothic mood of the film to be sure, as well as the nicely integrated moments of Gospel music and the original ways that their meticulous plotting seem to go wrong. Moments like the Professor’s explanation of what is happening in the basement and his reaction to an unexpected visit by the local sheriff are sheer brilliance and each trip beneath the bridge by the local garbage barge is another exercise in hilarity. Most good comedies make you laugh a lot, and maybe even make you care about the characters. But the Coens always seem to go a little farther than that, they always seem to provide layers of insanity and odd little spins that other filmmakers wouldn’t have included. This is why movies like “The Big Lebowski” and “Raising Arizona” and even “O Brother Where Art Thou” find their way into my DVD player so often and I suspect the same will be true of “The Ladykillers” which is a brilliant slice of insanity with more huge laughs than even the recent “Eurotrip” could provide. Yes, it has laughs, but it also great acting, a definite sense of atmosphere and mood and enough little touches to give it a handcrafted feel rather than the feel of a comedy designed by committee. “The Ladykillers” may not be the Coens greatest movie, or Hanks greatest movie, but that doesn’t mean its anything less than a delightful triumph.

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2004 / 97 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

This film represents a definite first: the first zombie film ever set in Wisconsin. This is it. We’ve made it, people. Time to open a Miller and celebrate. I think any one of us who’ve watched Wisconsinites stagger home at bar time can find subtle irony in this setting. So can any of us who’ve noticed the vacant stare of a Packer fan staring at the television on a Sunday afternoon. But I digress.

Since George Romero pretty much invented the zombie genre with “Night of the Living Dead” there have been many zombie films unleashed upon us. None are quite as nerve-rattling as that initial film, however, not even Romero’s own sequel: “Dawn of the Dead”. According to film critics everywhere, “Dawn of the Dead” wasn’t really about the last vestiges of humanity holed up in a shopping mall and fighting off a zombie horde. It was actually a comment upon the retail industry and America’s own zombified consumerist culture. Apparently. (Silly me, I thought it was just a film about zombies.) The new “Dawn of the Dead” doesn’t have such things in mind. Or does it? I think that enough of Romero’s original cynicism is transplanted into this film, intact. And I also think that there are a great many things to recommend about this particular zombie flick, which has a few subtle jabs to level at American consumerism as well as a few other targets. When we see a top down shot of the Milwaukee suburbs (which looks a little too nice to actually BE the Milwaukee suburbs), it reminds us of another brain-dead symptom of our greedy culture: those damn houses that all look identical built outside American cities so suburbanites can stagger home from work and curl up with a beer far from the inherent violence of living within the actual city. That illusion comes shattering to pieces when the pretty suburbanite nurse living in one of these identical homes awakens one morning to see a small child feasting on her husband’s jugular vein right before said husband tries to devour her. Violence has found its way out of the big city, my dear, and right into your bedroom.

This jarring prologue is only one of the many jarring moments of “Dawn of the Dead”, which has much better acting, much better special effects, a polished yet unsettling look and much faster zombies than the film it is remaking. “Dawn of the Dead” takes the premise of the original and mines it for all its worth, a lot more effectively than the original did. The original explores the way the survivors all begin to turn on one another and bicker, which is all fine and dandy, but I personally want some gory, zombie action. Sure, the original film was definitely gory. It was one of the few films I’ve ever seen that nearly made me vomit (the others being “The Exorcist” and, for other reasons, “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”). This new version doesn’t make my lunch do somersaults, but it did have me on the edge of my seat for the majority of its running time, which is a feat to be commended. The survivors do a little bickering towards the beginning (probably to satisfy fans of the first flick) and then thankfully the film just rushes at you full steam ahead, with a zombie threat around every corner and enough scares to keep your heart on its toes. I can’t remember a lot of moments that got under my skin from the original (the only one that springs to mind is a moment where some biker zombies are lunching on a man’s intestines) but there were several that wormed their way under my skin from this movie. One of the most intense of those involves a woman delivering a baby in the shopping mall while slowly fighting a particularly nasty infection. It’s a ballsy movie that goes to the places visited in this scene, let me tell you. But to tell you more would spoil this movie’s gruesome fun.

If the first movie is more character-based, this one is more action based. If the first film can bear comparisons to “Alien” (and let’s assume that it can, why the hell not) then this one is pure “Aliens”. “Alien” was about creepy mood and atmosphere, whereas “Aliens” is just balls to the wall alien ass kicking. If the original “Dawn” was a mood piece, then this is the one where they kick some serious zombie ass. A great portion of this film is pure adrenaline-soaked bloodbath, and it’s all the better for it. Though the film has some solid acting in it as well. No one is going to win an Oscar here, but Ving Rhames exudes a quiet authority and Sarah Polley lends this film a sense of indie class just as Alec Guinness lent a sense of class and authority to “Star Wars”. I don’t remember any of the characters from the original film, but I have a feeling that the characters played by Sarah Polley and Jake Weber especially are going to haunt me for a while. Jake Weber is great as an everyman who finds courage in a crisis, a man who has never been able to hold a steady job who steps to the fore and takes charge in a crisis with a level head and a big heart. I liked him a lot here. He made the human characters worth rooting for. And that is really what puts this movie ahead of the first one for me. It has a human element to counterbalance the cynicism of the original. It has a heart to go along with the bloodshed. Mekhi Pfiffer’s love for his “family” is a lot more disturbing and yet human than anything I can recall from the Romero version. Not that any of this is hardly fair, mind you. Romero was operating on a shoestring budget whereas the director of this new one has untold millions at his disposal. (And the director, Zack Snyder, has done a fine job, by the way. He may have directed only commercials and music videos prior to this gig, but he more than ably asserts himself here.) But Snyder still outdoes the Romero version where it counts: in the human department.

The film is far from flawless, however. Many of the characters in the early scenes are done in strokes that are a bit too broad and some of the humor is a bit out of place. And the film also has one of those dumbfuck women who risks her life and the lives of everyone else to save a fucking dog. (My God, are there actually people who would be that stupid?) But no matter. The film still has more than enough good things going for it, and the final conflict between the humans and the undead is a doozy. “Dawn of the Dead” ain’t perfection, but it’s a hell of a lot closer than I expected it to be, with enough well done elements to make it worth recommending. Plus, I like the fast zombies better than the more traditional, slow moving zombies. I mean, which would be scarier coming after you? A zombie that moves with all the determination of a sleepwalking sloth or one running flat out directly at you with no hint of humanity in its soulless eyes? See, that’s what I thought.

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2004 / 106 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

“Spartan” is easily the most riveting, most tightly wound and more refreshing thriller I’ve seen since at least 2002’s “Insomnia”, and it’s probably even better than that. In fact, it’s one of the best thrillers I’ve seen in my entire life, and I have sat through a great many films.

The plot is pretty simple, at first glance. A young woman has been kidnapped. A group of government agents are assigned to restore her. But there are some strange things about this kidnapping. First of all, no ransom note has been left. Second of all, no one saw or heard anything about the kidnapping. Third, the woman in question is the daughter of the president.

If this all sounds like your average suspense film, the sort that gets shat out on a weekly basis, usually with Ashley Judd involved somewhere, then you are in for a rare treat. While the plot may sound like old hat, the film is anything but. This is one of those all-too-rare movies that actually respect the intelligence of the viewer. There is not an instant of this film where you can take it easy. You can’t turn your back on this movie for one minute, or you’ll be doomed. I didn’t understand exactly what was happening at certain moments along the way, but the film usually paid me off a few moments later. If you pay attention, the film actually makes you feel smart for your attentiveness. It rewards your attentiveness, relishes it, and appreciates it. It’s rare that a movie displays those qualities. Such is the rare greatness of this film. Most thrillers also thrive on implausibility. They depend on ridiculous twists that are put in simply to surprise the audience and take them off guard. There are plenty of surprises in this movie, but they feel more than just organic. They feel right and they are also rendered in such a low key manner that they actually gain punch because the movie does not seem to make a big deal about them. They are not telegraphed in advance or underlined with ominous music or effects. They simply arise, as such circumstances often do, I suppose, and that makes them all the more stunning. This is a thriller that is plotted and written with all the efficiency of a Swiss watch, and it’s completely absorbing as a result. The movie maintains a tone of menace and urgency, pushing ever forward like a hungry shark and never wasting a moment on anything trivial or mundane. There isn’t a second of wasted screen time here. There isn’t one line of dialogue that doesn’t fit, that doesn’t seem like something that would realistically be uttered by a person in the situation at hand. This film doesn’t feel overly commercial or manipulative. It does not tread the same paths as many other films that have the same plots. It rises above its genre and elevates its thriller foundations, using them to explore notions of valor and courage and corruption and even patriotism without speaking down to these subjects or even seeming to make a big deal of them. There is even a moment near the end where the lessons one of the main characters have learned have led him to a different life in a different country and the moment feels every bit as right as that moment at the end of “Dirty Harry” where Eastwood tosses his badge into the water, disgusted with the whole police process. The moment in this film may not have the power of that image but in its own way, it’s every bit as cynical and makes a rather ballsy statement. The direction and especially the tense, riveting dialogue of David Mamet are the real stars of this film. The characters are fascinating, despite their lack of obvious quirks or attention-drawing mannerisms. The characters are professionals in professional situations, for the most part, and it is refreshing to see them behave in such a way. These are not the sort of eccentric characters we might be treated to in a lesser film on these subjects, and yet they project a wealth of interesting facets and behaviors that draw the viewer into their plight as well as never hitting a false note. This is one of the most realistic-feeling films in the thriller genre that I have ever seen. For that, Mamet deserves the lion’s share of credit. I felt that one of his last films, “Heist” suffered from a certain overdose of quirky style. How thankful I am then for this film, in which the characters are hard men doing their job as best they can and the dialogue is not showy. The dialogue is hard and lean and effective and the actors deliver it as though spitting bullets. The production design and cinematography are also sleek and effective and overall beautiful without being showy. This is a no-nonsense movie and every artisan involved has done his or her part to ensure this.

That includes the actors. Val Kilmer stars as a relentless agent (we’re never entirely sure from which agency) assigned the task of bringing her back. The methods he employs in doing so are simply fascinating. Most of these methods were ones that I had never seen put to use in a film before. Kilmer is amazing here, better than I might have ever suspected. He is a man used to taking orders and following them immaculately until the moment when he must decide what to do for himself, the moment that he must trust to his own moral compass and figure out quite rapidly what that compass might be and where it might point. He is a no-nonsense, businesslike man, and yet we know the strength of his character and the type of man he is with a simple smattering of detail. It is not the amount of detail that makes a character, this movie seems to remind us, instead it is the quality of the details that we are given. Contrast his well rounded and tensely drawn character to the showier thumbnail sketches of characters that are given to us in 95% of Hollywood fare and maybe you will see my point. Kilmer takes a well-written role and delicately and intelligently rendered dialogue and runs with them. It is a relief to see him this good and hopefully will serve as a reminder to other directors that he is a force that can truly stun when properly utilized. (And, perhaps, from rumors I have heard, when he can keep his ego in check.) Derek Luke is also excellent as the young agent taken under Kilmer’s wing. The film takes the idea of the rookie character and gives it a little more weight, which Luke handles quite well. The roles given to William H. Macy, Ed O’ Neill (yes, Al Bundy himself), and Tia Texada (I liked her so much I looked her up on Internet Movie Database) all add nicely to the whole affair, enhancing it gracefully and detracting nothing from the immersive, mesmerizing whole.

Simply put, this is tense, gutsy, sleek and mentally stimulating entertainment that leaves you with a few things to think about when it’s all said and done. I love this movie. I love that this movie credits me with a brain and the ability to use it. And I love that this movie didn’t cop out or even go where any other movie with this plot might have led me. This is one hell of a film, perhaps the best one that Mamet has been involved in since his screenplay for “The Untouchables”, but that isn’t giving it enough credit. This film is the sort of movie that might someday be mentioned in the same breath with thrillers such as “3 Days of the Condor” and “The Manchurian Candidate”. Yes, film lovers, it’s just that great.

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1993 / 197 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

This is easily the most powerful film I have ever seen. A film of raw, uncompromising power, a film that will get under your skin and plant images in your mind that will never leave. It will get under your skin. There is no way that it can’t. That is the power of the film, and the reason that it is Spielberg’s most astounding achievement.

Spielberg has made mature films before. Those who know him only as the man behind such rollicking entertainments as “Raiders of the Lost Ark” or “Jurassic Park” have no idea the level of the man’s skill. He can affect a viewer in a way that most other filmmakers only dream of. And in “Schindler’s List” he puts all of his gifts to work at the service of a story that will chill you to your very core and make you sad. Not cathartically sad in the way that movies like “Terms of Endearment” or “Steel Magnolias” make you, but in a way that will weigh heavily upon your heart.

The film is the true story of Oskar Schindler, a German factory profiteer. At the beginning of the movie we see him walk into a restaraunt in Poland where no one knows him. By the end of this evening, Oskar has the entire room gathered around him. He has that sort of presence.

Schindler is a vulture. He knows the war is coming and he sees a way to make a buck. So he takes advantage of it. He hires Jews because he can get them cheaper than any other laborers. Plus, they really have no other choice.

During the course of the film, however, Schindler begins to care. This is done so elegantly that it does not feel like a plot device. After all, this is a true story. It is not the result of a screenwriter trying to fashion a feel-good story. “Schindler’s List” is not about making you feel good. It is about throwing away the curtains of time and making the horrors of the Nazi regime evident to you. It is about reminding you that there truly is evil in this world and that to forget what evil looks like and what it can do is to run the risk of having it happen all over again. This is an important statement, and it makes this a movie that demands to be seen. It should be mandatory in high schools, although I don’t think a high schooler would truly appreciate the craft behind this haunting film.

I know that I didn’t.

What works? Everything. The performances are all top drawer. But the best of the best is Ralph Fiennes terrifying portrayal of the Nazi untersturmfuhrer Amon Goethe. This is the most chilling and human and pathetic portrayal I have ever seen of the true face of evil. The scenes between Goethe and his housekeeper are almost unbearable in their building of suspense. The editing is totally remarkable. Every shot is edited to give it its ultimate amount of punch. The tone is brilliant. It is a film that feels immediate and alive, like a documentary.

These cease to be actors, and this ceases to be a movie. It is a filmed record of horrible things and experiences. Spielberg does not go for easy sentimentality as he has in other films. That would diminish this film’s impact. When this film does show the nobility and resilience of the human spirit (among its lesser virtues), it has earned its every point with hard moments.

This is truly a triumph. It has earned every honor it received. If you haven’t seen it, you must. It is not an easy movie to sit through, even though it is crafted with startling skill. But it demands to be seen, nonetheless. And it was not even as depressing as I remembered.

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2004 / 135 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

I think I can safely say a few things about Mel Gibson’s new Biblical epic. First of all, I have never seen a film stir up this much media hoopla. I’ve never seen a movie that was discussed so relentlessly on CNN. I defy you to tune to the news network and not see something about the movie. Do it, right now, I dare you. I told you so. Heck, “The Daily Show” was even discussing this movie, and they’re a fake news source (although, I get most of my news from Jon Stewart and the others at Comedy Central’s finest news source, but I digress).

Secondly, I have never seen a movie that left me so utterly numb at the end.

You know what this movie is about. It is based on the last twelve hours of the life of Jesus Christ (before the Resurrection, anyway, which I personally believe in). It begins with Jesus being tempted by the Devil in the Garden of Gethsemane. Personally, I found this to be one of the film’s most powerful scenes. I’ve never seen a movie that makes Jesus so utterly human, and it does so within five minutes of screen time. Now, before you start complaining, that does not mean that the movie takes a single thing from the divinity of Christ. Far from it. In the moments when this film is not oozing blood, it does a masterful job of presenting the most believable cinematic Christ I have ever seen. Jim Caviezal is amazing in this film. He effortlessly conveys divinity and utter humanity simultaneously. It’s a fascinating, gripping performance and it goes a long way toward making the rest of the film one of the most excruciating times I’ve ever spent at the movies.

Why so excruciating? Well, the sheer volume of the violence is such that it personally ground me down. Near the end of the film, near the Crucifixion, I could hear others in the audience openly weeping, but all I felt was a sort of weariness and numbness that affected me to the very bone. At that point, I just wanted the movie to get itself over with. I was beyond being moved, simply because I had been so bone-crushingly numbed by what I had seen. The whipping, the scourging, and the utter inhumanity of the Roman soldiers all ground into me. It dragged me so far down that I was unable to feel my spirit being stirred anymore. I wanted to be moved to tears. In fact, I envied those that were. But I think the movie is actually too violent. Not the Crucifixion. That was potent stuff, or it would have been if I hadn’t already been exhausted by the whole experience of the film up to that point. The scourging was an experience that drew all the reserves I had left, friends. It’s not as violent as it has been touted in the media (no movie is as violent, I believe, as this one has been touted) but it is certainly the grimmest and most brutal film I’ve ever seen. Peter Travers, of “Rolling Stone” magazine, had said, of the movie “Mystic River” that it had “taken a piece” out of him. Well, “Mystic River”, while a great movie, was definitely a drag, but this one is even more so. “Mystic River” didn’t actually take a piece out of me the way that it did Peter Travers, but it was far from a happy movie. I emerged from “The Passion of the Christ”, however, with at least a couple pieces missing. At least, that’s the way it felt. I was too emotionally drained to cry at the end of this movie. I felt ragged, beaten. I was like a sponge that has had so much water wrung from it that I had nothing left to give. The violence in this movie, while not quite as gory as movies such as “Robocop” or “Kill Bill”, is so unrelenting and so realistic that it wears away at you. This is a great movie, but it’s not one anyone will sit through for the fun of it. This isn’t the sort of movie that you pop in as background noise while you clean your room. This, like “Schindler’s List” and “Requiem For a Dream” is the sort of film that is too powerful NOT to be seen. But I wouldn’t take the kids. Yes, this is an important message that everyone should experience (especially those who believe in Christ) but it’s also one that should wait until a person’s teenage years. Trust me. Please.

As I said, the Crucifixion is more powerfully rendered than it has ever been in a film before. There is a moment at the end of the Crucifixion, an amazing shot from above the whole scene, as if seen from Heaven, which is truly awe-inspiring. And the performances are uniformly excellent. Maia Morgenstern is wonderfully moving as Mary. One needs only to look at her eyes to see the heartache she cannot verbalize. The same goes for Monica Belucci, who is better than her brief turn in “The Matrix Reloaded” would have led anyone to believe. And the name of the man who plays Pontius Pilate escapes me, but he gives a riveting performance as a conflicted man with a terrible choice to make.

Gibson’s direction is bold and powerful, even if it is sometimes a tad overdone. The Roman soldiers are so evil that they nearly come off as cartoonish and a scene involving Herod is just not that effective. It’s hokey and rather lame, particularly in comparison with the rest of the film. The music gives the film a nice undercurrent for the most part, but there are parts of the film where I would have preferred a little more subtlety on its behalf. The same goes for the usage of Satan in this film, but I understand the point of this (to show the constant temptation with which Christ was presented) and I respect the intent, even if the effect isn’t always the greatest. The same goes for the rest of the film, in fact. It’s a great movie, and I only realize how great it is now that I sit here collecting my thoughts into this review, but it sometimes suffers from a lack of subtlety and an overdose of violence and melodrama (such is the danger when you deal with such an inherently powerful bit of history). But I respect what Gibson, as a director, is trying to do here. He is attempting to show us the inhumanity of man toward their fellow man, motivated by greed and anger and the need to maintain the status quo. In this case the fellow man isn’t just a man, but the Son of God. The film shows us just how much Jesus had to endure to absolve us of our sins. Gibson has spent his own money and invested his own blood, sweat and tears to show us the enormity of Christ’s sacrifice for us. And you can’t watch this movie without coming to a better understanding of this. Christ paid an enormous debt for us. The movie drives that point home amazingly well. My only qualm, really, was that I wanted to see more of how Christ arrived at this point. There are a lot of flashbacks in this film where Christ reflects on certain moments in His life. And those moments offer us a tantalizing glimpse of an even better film. If this movie had been as long as the final “Lord of the Rings” film, for example, I would have liked it even better. Caviezal is so amazing as Christ that I wanted to see more of his performance in the Sermon on the Mount, more of the famous moment where He instructed those without sin to cast the first stone, more of his teachings and his interaction with his disciples. If Gibson had made that movie, taken out a few of the more redundant moments of Christ’s suffering, and preserved the intensity of those final twelve hours, then he would have had a movie that trounced all other Biblical epics. Perhaps Mel would have done that, if he had been given a huge budget rather than having to fund it from his own pocket. I don’t know. I know that I would have liked to see that movie. I know that. But, as it is, “The Passion of the Christ” is still immensely powerful and riveting. It’s also numbing and relentless and nearly too much at times. But the things this movie does right far outweigh the few missteps it takes along the way.

By the way, many have accused this film of anti-Semitism, but I have to say that’s a bit unfair. Sure, the Jewish priests took a part in condemning Jesus because he was threatening their entire way of life. But, if you pay attention, everyone in this movie but the Roman soldiers is Jewish. Mary is Jewish. Jesus was of Jewish lineage. The man helping Jesus bear his cross is Jewish. Jesus’s disciples are Jewish. The Jews did not kill Jesus. People did. More specifically, our sins, our pride, our arrogance, our simple inhumanity killed Jesus. If you can’t see that then, my friend, you cannot see the forest for a single tree. Mel’s treatment of the British soldiers in “Braveheart” wasn’t this even-handed, and no one talks about that movie being Anti-British (as far as I know) though perhaps they should.

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