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The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Rooney Mara is mesmerizing as Lisbeth Salander, the tiny birdlike product of the Digital Age. She’s tattooed, pierced in all the wrong places, fierce, anti-social, abused, and sheathed in black leather and even wearing “Oliver Twist” gloves with the fingers cut out. Lisbeth is a genius computer hack. She joins forces with Mikael Blomqvist (ably played by Daniel Craig) a journalist who is on the wrong end of a very expensive libel suit. Ms. Mara’s performance is truly remarkable.

The film is shot in cold, desolate Sweden where snow is punctuated from time-to-time by rain or sleet. Much of the action takes place on an isolated private island owned by the very wealthy and very despicable Vanger clan, who range from corporate parasites to exiles to outright criminals and Nazis. The one possibly upright family member is old Henrik Vanger (portrayed by the inimitable Christopher Plummer) who hires Blomqvist to look into an apparent crime committed decades ago. In the course of pursuing leads Blomqvist is introduced to Salander, and the two work together to solve the puzzle. The issue is the mysterious disappearance and presumed murder of Henrik’s niece, Harriet. In order to find the answer Blomqvist must interact, as best he can, with the very nasty Vangers, most of whom do not even talk to one another.

From scene to scene Salander, abetted by Blomqvist and an aging detective, flits across the screen – often on a high speed motorcycle – and skillfully hacks into computers to arrange the puzzle pieces. In the course of all this her past as an abused young girl slowly develops, and explains her behavior.

The soundtrack, while not disconcerting, enhances the gloom and punctuates the excitement. The photography is superb as it captures the overriding gloom of the island and Sweden in winter. For the queasy, be aware that the film is violent and has a full range of explicit sexual content. It’s not to titillate, but rather to illustrate the gruesome nature of the segment of society and the plain rotten core of the Vangers.

Director David Fincher ably transitions from the early disgrace of Blomqvist to the search for the truth and to the brutal aftermath. Ultimately the film belongs to Ms. Mara in a startling and compelling portrayal of the troubled and vengeful Lisbeth Salander. It’s a portrait that lingers long after the credits disappear.

We Bought A ZOO

“We Bought a Zoo” is the ultimate feel good movie. It’s based on a true story that actually took place in Devon, England. Cameron Crowe, noted for directing “Jerry Maguire”, “Almost Famous”, and several other hit movies, decided to try his hand at family entertainment.

Benjamin Mee (Matt Damon in a much different role than usual for him) is desolate after his wife’s death. He has two kids; a precocious young daughter and a surly teenage son. Adrift, Mee looks to change the direction of his life, and winds up buying a dilapidated house close to Los Angeles, with (Surprise!) a dilapidated zoo. The wee daughter is entranced; the son is estranged. Aided and abetted by a zoo staff that wants to save the zoo, Benjamin strives to restore it. He, of course (this is Hollywood after all) meets and surmounts all hurdles, including a real financial pickle. Even his dubious accountant brother is ultimately won over.

The interaction between Damon, Scarlett Johansson (as a good looking zoo keeper), Patrick Fugit as a worker with a real monkey on his back, a mostly drunk enclosure expert (Angus MacFayden) and very friendly animals, including a grizzly bear that escapes briefly, is fine. Nothing gets very exciting or is terribly suspenseful. Young son Dylan (Colin Ford) is enchanted by a young zoo apprentice (Elle Fanning) who works diligently to get Dylan out of his funk. Daughter Rosie (Maggie Elizabeth Jones) is a cute little scene stealer, and John Michael Higgins is mildly threatening as a government inspector who may – or may not – close down the zoo.

The film’s main crisis revolves around son Dylan who spends his time drawing violent scenes and blaming his father for mom’s death and the aftermath. Dylan does not like leaving urban Los Angeles for the woodsy life and adorable animals. Dylan’s struggles with adolescence and his mom’s death represent the most serious underpinnings of the movie. For those who care, in real life Benjamin’s wife died after they bought the zoo, not before. The zoo is in England.

The musical score has snippets of Randy Newman, Neil Young and Tom Petty, and enlivens the script. Crowe directs with a light touch, apparently geared for a young audience. There are some amusing scenes and Matt Damon is captivating as usual.

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The latest movie version of “Sherlock Holmes” (“A Game of Shadows”) is decidedly not the Holmes we know and love from the much beloved A. Conan Doyle stories, or even the old Basil Rathbone films. The new Holmes is a macho gunslinger and hand-to-hand fighter. He’s just not very smart. His favorite violin has gone missing. So, too, is his finely tuned mind. He’s now more of a comic book version complete with massive explosions.

This time around, against a largely sepia background, Holmes (Robert Downey, Jr.) and sidekick Dr. Watson (Jude Law) more closely resemble Batman and Robin as they Pow! Zap! Zing! various bad guys. The great mystery of the movie is how so much action can, at the same time, be so boring. It’s also long, running more than two hours. As Holmes, Downey is more silly than cerebral. Watson is also a man of action rather than the calming doctor.

Director Guy Ritchie and the writers have stitched together a crazy-quilt of tidbits from several of Doyle’s stories, including a fairly brief appearance by Rachel McAdams as the luscious Mlle. Adler. She disappears early and is replaced by Noomi Rapace as a sort of sexy gypsy. Holmes and Watson track their way through various majestic European settings – from London to Switzerland – finally reaching the climax at the famous falls where Holmes and the evil Dr. Moriarty (Jared Harris) where the two had their notable set-to in the Conan Doyle version. When Holmes vanished in his “last” encounter, the British readers were irate, and Doyle had to revive his famous hero.

One of the finer touches in the film is including Holmes’ older, wiser, larger brother, Mycroft. He normally spends his time at the Diogenes Club in London, where he thinks great thoughts, and is available to Holmes whenever Sherlock is stuck on solving a particularly difficult problem. Stephen Fry is wonderfully cast as Mycroft, and adds a bit of sophistication and humor. Moriarty is also well played by Jared Harris. It’s too bad he doesn’t engage in a better exchange of wits other than a last minute chess match.

A good deal of the photography of Europe is beautiful. The remainder of the movie is not.

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“Hugo” is a charming mixture of the real Georges Melies, a French film pioneer, and Hugo Cabret, a 12 year old boy who lives in the Gare Montparnesse in Paris, and is a combination orphan, station clock minder, and part-time petty thief. The film is based on Brian Selznick’s 526 page book “The Invention of Hugo Cabret.

In 3-D, the colorful and beautifully conceived and acted movie intertwines the stories of Hugo’s search for family after his beloved father’s sudden death in a fire; and the search of Georges Melies for his past life.

Hugo lived with his father in the train station where they tended the huge number of station clocks while working on the restoration of a small automaton (robot) that is designed to write messages. After his father’s death, Hugo took over the clocks and dodged his alcoholic uncle and the station inspector, whose main occupation appeared to be cleansing the station of orphans.

Georges, a dour old grandfather, runs a small booth at the station. He was a successful magician who turned to film-making in the 1890’s, and continued into the 1920’s. In the movie only one of Georges’ numerous films (“A Trip to the Moon”) has been found intact, and the quest for other of his pioneer films is pursued by a professor. “A Trip to the Moon” may be seen on You Tube.

Hugo is intent on completing the restoration of the automaton and deciphering the meaning of a cryptic drawing, retrieving a stolen notebook and finding a mysterious key. Isabelle, Georges’ granddaughter, provides answers to part of the puzzle.

The scenes of Paris, digitized and drawn imaginatively, are dazzling. The station scenes are intriguing, and the 3-D enhances the action of an otherwise casual film. What really creates the enchantment is a brilliant cast: Ben Kingsley is an impeccable Georges; young Asa Butterfield is a blue-eyed charmer as Hugo; Chloe Moretz plays Isabelle beautifully; and Sacha

Baron Cohen is a terrific surprise as the station inspector.

Film history is at the core of the movie, and it is enhanced by clips of Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton, masters of movie comedy. Hugo reprises the famous Harold Lloyd clock scene when he escapes the fevered pursuit of the station inspector and his vigilant Doberman.

Although the movie starts as a children’s story it morphs into much more as Georges and Hugo search for their past and present.

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At the very beginning of this engrossing film, “The Descendants” Matt King (George Clooney) cautions us that Hawaii is not the total paradise we mainliners think it is. Matt is neither poor nor deprived. On the contrary, he is a hugely successful real estate lawyer, a descendant of generations of haoles (whites) and native Hawaiians, a member of an exclusive beach club and very well-off certainly by Hawaiian standards. Matt, however, is personally “thrifty”…he drives a small Honda; he lives in a modest home and he dresses in Aloha shirts and casual slacks. We learn immediately that Matt’s wife is in a coma, the result of a boating accident. Most of the film pivots on that point.

Matt is a family man, but he’s detached. He even describes himself as a “back-up parent”. His youngest daughter, Scottie (Amara Miller) is a mixed-up 10 year old. His older daughter, Alexandra (Shailene Woodley) is a 17 year old, into booze and drugs and angry with her mother beyond “normal” teen hostility. Alex has been shuffled off to a very expensive private school. As a result of the accident, Matt’s thrust into something completely foreign. He has to cope with his wife’s condition and learn how to be a parent. When he learns that his wife’s coma is irreversible, he finds out that he has been a cuckold, and that his wife has been conducting an affair with a very ambitious real estate agent.

While in the middle of a personal family tragedy, Matt must also deal with his responsibility as trustee for a magnificent, unspoiled property on the Island of Kauai. The property is eagerly sought by developers who want to build the usual golf course, hotel, condos and the works. Most of Matt’s many cousins, scattered among the islands, want to cash in on the huge profits from the sale. Not only that, the property appears to be subject to the ancient legal Rule Against Perpetuities (the bane of every law student’s existence) and the property may have to be divested or otherwise dealt with in two years.

At an almost leisurely pace this superb film deals with a main plot and subplots, and with tragedy interspersed with moments of brilliant comedy (Matt running like a mad stork down a road), without getting maudlin or over-the-top. Clooney is magnificent as the indecisive, sometimes bumbling Matt who makes mistakes along the way, while learning to cope with a family tragedy while balancing his decision about what to do with the trust property. He conveys bewilderment, anger, determination and resolve with keen underplaying. He’s nothing short of brilliant.

Every performance in this film is outstanding – from the two daughters who must cope with the loss of a mother and dealing with an often hapless father, to a Robert Forster as a perpetually angry father-in-law, to Beau Bridges in a cameo as one of Matt’s myriad cousins. Shailene Woodley is superb as Alex who emerges as a tough, tender teen who becomes Matt’s support. The unhurried direction of Alexander Payne avoids both the pitfalls of over-sentimentality and farce.

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From the opening bars of music this film is stamped “Director Clint Eastwood”. Mr. Eastwood serves us an inner look at the man who elevated the F.B.I. from a second-rate, narrowly limited police department to an all powerful force in the federal government. Interestingly, the movie is not about the intricacies of the F.B.I. It’s all about the psychological make up of the man who was obsessive, secretive, ambitious, single minded, sexually ambiguous, and amoral enough to lie and indulge in political blackmailing.

Leonardo Di Caprio is J. Edgar Hoover from a 19 year old clerk at the F.B.I., where he is known as “Johnny” to one of the most powerful figures in Washington, D.C. – a man powerful enough and devious enough to take on a series of Presidents of the United States and retain his prestige and power. In the one scene of Hoover taking on the powerful establishment, he confronts Robert Kennedy about President Kennedy’s alleged dalliances. According to the film Hoover kept incriminating or prurient tapes of other public officials, and apparently enjoyed secretly listening to them.

In constantly jumping from one time period to another Eastwood painstakingly paints a portrait of a man who is chained to his mother (Judi Dench) and obsessed with what he views as a threat to America’s very existence. A bomb set by an anarchist at the home of Attorney General A. Mitchell Palmer in 1919 shocks Hoover, and motivates him to organize and modernize the Bureau to meet his expectation of a law enforcement arm that will protect America. In the film’s beginning the voiceover is that of the aged Hoover, and turns to a view of the stooped, balding, pasty, pudgy Hoover of his last years. The movie’s vehicle is Hoover dictating his memoirs to a series of young F.B.I. agents, and the scenes constantly shift between the present and the past as Hoover describes his role in the life of the agency.

DiCaprio admirably gets into the psychological interior of Hoover as he progresses from a deep hatred of anarchists to revulsion of a perceived Communist threat to bring down the United States to an all-out assault on the gangsters of the 1920’s and ‘30’s to utter contempt for Martin Luther King and the Civil Rights movement. As Hoover progresses from a very young department deputy to Bureau Director in the course of his almost 50 year career he builds his own reputation in lockstep with his building of the Bureau. Eastwood is careful to note the good efforts (fingerprinting as a “science”, comprehensive filing systems) as well as the bad (an obsessive dress-code, illegal wire tapping and disregard for civil rights and ignoring the existence of the mafia).

As a young agent Hoover has a brief attempt at a binding relationship with a woman – Helen Gandy (admirably played by Naomi Watts). She rejects him as a suitor, but becomes his devoted lifelong secretary, serving him until the very end.

Hoover becomes infatuated with young Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer, who played twins in “The Social Network). Hoover is taken by Tolson’s good looks, suave manner and taste in clothing. Tolson becomes the focal point of Hoover’s puzzling sexual ambiguity, although Eastwood carefully avoids any direct assertions. Soon enough Hoover and Tolson become inseparable, lunching every day at the Mayflower Hotel in Washington, and going to the horse races together where Hoover, oddly enough (!) never loses money. The closeness develops into a relationship, but never explicitly romantic in the movie.

Hoover’s mother and Tolson are the only two people who get anywhere close to the inner Hoover. Helen Gandy is the loyal servant who knows him, but is carefully kept at arm’s length. Several reviewers have characterized the film as the humanization of Hoover. That’s up to the viewer to judge. It does well in showing as much of his inner character as possible. In a climactic scene Tolson, laid low by a stroke, delivers a scathing denouement, pointing out how Hoover altered history by lying about his claimed involvement in the Lindbergh kidnapping case, and numerous mobster arrests to construct a myth about Hoover the Hero. The movie depicts Hoover as devious about his own role as to apparently believe his tales of personal heroism.

Eastwood directed the film in his usual low-key way. He develops scenes patiently and uses lighting and music to bring out every scene. The make-up of each cast member is impeccable, and the portrayals are outstanding.

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David Frankel, who directed the hit “The Devil Wears Prada”, tries again with “The Big Year”, loosely based on a non-fiction book. By intertwining the lives and problems of three “birders” the plot uses the otherwise benign hobby of bird-watching to explore, superficially, their human problems. Champion Kenny Bostick (Owen Wilson) holds the one year world record for most birds seen. He’s pursued in another one year competition by Stu Preissler (Steve Martin) and Brad Harris (Jack Black).

Bostick, a successful home builder with a gorgeous wife (Rosamund Pike) is obsessed with winning – the Great American pastime. He’s conceited, vain, pompous and out to repeat his championship at any cost – particularly his marriage. Stu is a tycoon on the edge of a much wanted retirement. His adoring wife supports his bird-watching fixation, but he is constantly pursued by two of his underlings to keep attending meetings to expand his empire. Brad is a flop. He’s 36 and divorced, and lives with his parents (Dianne Wiest and Brian Dennehy). Brad desperately wants to succeed at something, and a new bird watching record might just be it. Unfortunately, Brad’s father just doesn’t get bird-watching, and winds up with a heart attack.

The mad race, on foot by helicopter, rental car(s) and bicycle sometimes in drenching rain or bitter cold, goes through beautiful pastoral scenes and elegant plumages. Many of them are digitally created but who can tell?

Will Bostick let his obsession ruin his marriage (or is it going nowhere anyhow)? Will Stu be able to relax, enjoy his new grandchild and escape the ulcer kingdom of big business? Will Brad rebuild his Life With Father, particularly after Papa has a heart attack? Who will win the contest? Will there be a new world’s record? Winning pays nothing except prestige and the cover of Birding Magazine.

The scenery is spectacular. Fine shots are interspersed with the scenes “back home” where the family tensions simply won’t disappear. Too bad the script is so subdued that the comic talents of the three protagonists are a bit wasted. Steve Martin is one of the true comic geniuses of our time (as well as being an art connoisseur and superb banjo picker), but has no outstanding moments. There’s fun in watching the antics of myriad watchers racing to catch a teeny glimpse of a teeny bird. It’s all low-key amusement, with a few moments of tension. Is it worth seeing? Yes, if you are in the mood to relax and not be bothered by a complex plot, interminable car chases or deeply symbolic stuff.

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If you are not already cynical about the state of politics you may be after watching “The Ides of March”. This film is not about ideology; it keeps its focus on the human beings who tangle themselves in the political process. The story could easily focus on a Republican primary campaign by changing just a very few words in the script. The vital part is the human interchange. There’s virtually no end of double-cross, who leaked what, and the results of crass ambition.

George Clooney, who also wrote part of the script and directed the film, plays Mike Morris, popular (Democratic, but that does not matter) governor of Pennsylvania, who is locked in a tight primary fight with Senator Pullman a less colorful figure, mostly seen in debate scenes. Although the movie is supposedly focused on the primary battle, it is really an exploration of the ethics and emotions of the assorted campaign workers – plus a couple of reporters – who wage the backstage war. At stake in the plot is the Ohio primary vote that will probably decide who will be the party’s nominee. There’s a key bloc of votes up for grabs, under the control of an Ohio pol who wants to be the next Secretary of State.

There are a slew of superb performances: Ryan Gosling who plays Stephen Meyers, a young tactician on the election staff; Philip Seymour Hoffman as the campaign director; Paul Giamatti as Tom Duffy, Hoffman’s c o u n t e r p a r t in the Pullman camp; and newcomer Evan Rachel Wood as Molly Stearns, a young intern who becomes sexually entangled with Stephen.

Throughout the film, issues of loyalty and honor rise above the rest of the plot – thus the title reference to Mr. Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar”. Beautifully directed by Mr. Clooney, the film is shot primarily in semi-darkness that adds to the nature of the story. Interspersed with some understated scenes with focus on the suave Governor Morris are some high octane confrontations between Mr. Hoffman and Mr. Gosling. Throw in a twist of an aging Marisa Tomei as reporter Ida Horowicz and Max Minghella as a young campaign assistant yearning to get Stephen’s job, and the result is a clever probe into the psyches of those who get caught up in the political web.

Do not expect guns, gore or glory. This is a fairly complicated plot that is well handled all the way around without offering modern Hollywood’s high intensity action scenes.

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Don’t expect “Moneyball” to be an old, hackneyed, romanticized Hollywood film such as “Pride of the Yankees” in which Gary Cooper couldn’t even pretend to be Lou Gehrig (they had to reverse the batting scenes because Cooper couldn’t even pretend to bat left-handed), or the monumental flop in which William Bendix does a horrible impersonation of Babe Ruth. “Moneyball” based on a 2003 non-fiction story, is all about the backrooms of sports enterprise and the characters who set values on human performances. It’s much more like “The Social Network” than my own favorite “Bull Durham”.

Brad Pitt is Billy Beane, who had been a “can’t miss” young high school phenom, but failed as a major leaguer. Instead of being a star player, he found himself General Manager of the Oakland Athletics, a team that originated in Philadelphia under Connie Mack, the legendary tightfisted owner of the then Philadelphia A’s. Beane took over a team that had won three straight world championships from 1972-1974, and another in 1989. In 2001, the A’s finished second in the American League West, but lost to the Yankees in a playoff.

The A’s, despite having a few stars, were not able to compete with the Yankees and others with huge payrolls. Enter Peter Brand (Jonah Hill), a computer nerd recently graduated from Yale (the real life character, Paul DePodesta, actually went to Harvard!) who is doing a backroom computer job. Beane is attracted to Brand’s approach to valuing players. After pushing and bullying the geeky Brand, Beane convinces him to join the A’s management. The two set out to reconstruct the existing system so that their small budget club could compete with the big boys. They relied on the work of Bill James, who created a completely new computerized analysis of skills, rather than the judgments of baseball scouts and “experts”. This is encapsulated in a glorious around-a-table scene in which the grizzled old-timers are introduced to Billy’s new approach, based on objective data rather than their expert opinions.

This movie goes behind the field to the grubby backrooms, corporate suites and inner-workings of managements. Pitt is wonderful as the cold eyed, hyper, crusty, superstitious, conflicted, ex-jock who is now intent on changing the culture from old-time baseball lore to the new computer -based knowledge. He works the phones, setting up deals to pick up undervalued players while disposing of his starts. The interchanges between Beane, the scouts and Manager Art Howe (Philip Seymour Hoffman) are crisp and well written. Suspend disbelief about the appearance of the real Art Howe and Hoffman, who bears no resemblance at all.

Flashbacks are woven into the film’s fabric to provide insight into the Beane character. They are effective, as are the shots of the A’s field. There’s little focus on Beane’s marriage, but enough to see why his character is so single minded.

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Heeee’s back! Once again Johnny Depp, complete with his trade mark heavy black eye makeup reprises his role as Captain Jack Sparrow in “Pirates of the Caribbean – On Stranger Tides”. This time, in Version Four, he minces through two hours and seven minutes of a vapid exercise in alleged moviemaking. I will admit that the film was so exciting it nearly, but not quite, awakened me in the last ten minutes. The plot is virtually non-existent; the direction (Rob Marshall) is tedious; the actors, with a few exceptions, appear to be going through the motions.

Sparrow has lost his beloved ship, the Black Pearl, and through a series of small adventures in London (perhaps the best part of the movie) he embarks on a quest for the Fountain of Youth. Back to the Caribbean for him. His competition is the notorious Blackbeard (Ian McShane) and, to some extent, his old nemesis Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush). Throw in Penelope Cruz as Angelica; is she or isn’t she Blackbeard’s daughter? There’s no electricity between Cruz and Depp, and her presence simply adds a little glamour to the background. At one point there’s a chance of a tango scene with Depp and Cruz, but even that did not materialize. The addition of a handsome young missionary and a bevy of well photographed mermaids, including one in particular seem to be an attempt to liven up the plot. Instead you have a neatly photographed, but very boring Disney package.

There are a few redeeming features: Richard Griffiths executes a farcical turn as King George III, and there’s a fleeting glimpse of Judi Dench as a society lady in a London carriage as Sparrow makes one of his numerous escapes. The mermaid Syrena is attractive as a good mermaid – contrasted to the evil pod of mermaids inhabiting a Caribbean cove. Woe unto any sailors who enter that cove – except Sparrow, of course.

Producer Jerry Bruckheimer usually cranks out good action stuff on television. This time something deserted him.

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The Lincoln in “The Lincoln Lawyer” is not in Nebraska, and is not a beloved president. It’s an automobile.  The license plate reads: NTGUILTY. That alone tips off who the main character is. He’s a sleazy, sleek Hollywood lawyer fresh off a suspended license to practice. Although we’re not told the reason for the suspension, it looks like part of his operating system. To Mick Haller (McConaughey) money talks and little else matters. He’s a criminal defense lawyer who cares only about the long green, and uses the Lincoln as his office. His driver, Earl, is a pearl of wisdom as the two of them careen about the seedier parts of L.A.

Mick is divorced from a charming, caring woman, neatly played by Marisa Tomei (who does not look her 47 years). She still cares for Mick, as well as their daughter. Indeed, the two of them intertwine very nicely.

The plot centers on a rich, youngish punk with a very rich nasty mama. The punk (Ryan Philippe) is accused of beating up a woman. The family, aided and abetted by the slimy family lawyer, is willing to pay Mick the big bucks to get Louis Roulet off without any punishment or record. For reasons that are a bit mysterious at first, but are very understandable later, the family retains Mick to get Louis off.

Mick’s investigator, played wonderfully by William H. Macy, discovers enough to make everything about the alleged beating very suspicious. Throw in a murder o two and the film has all the questions and ultimate answers of an old Dashiell Hammett plot. There are enough twists and turns, even involving some of Mick’s clients in a motorcycle gang, to keep anyone’s attention riveted.

The biggest mystery is how McConaughey suddenly springs to life in this role after a bunch of walk-throughs. He makes a very believable L.A. lawyer, working with society’s dregs, and not caring about right, wrong, or apparently ethics so long as he can bring in the bucks.

It all moves at a good pace with a solid cast throughout, including portrayers of L.A. detectives who have no love whatsoever for Mick.

Based on a character invented by Michael Connelly in a series of books, this is one of the more satisfying movies of the first part of this year.

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Despite some silly touches and gaps, “The Adjustment Bureau” is a very enjoyable film. That’s due in part to always-excellent Matt Damon as a young Kennedyesque politician and Emily Blunt as Elise the budding ballerina.

The movie is based on a rather dark short story by Philip K. Dick in which the protagonist finds the adjuster turning elements of the world to dust. The film shifts focus (no pun intended) to the interplay of free will, determinism, life, death, God, love in competition with “career” and human determination to overcome.

David Norris (Matt Damon) is in the midst of losing a senatorial campaign when he encounters Elise (Emily Blunt) in a men’s room. Why is she there? Maybe simply to meet him. It’s one of those unexplainable things. Naturally they go for each other until the sinister guys who all wear fedoras break it up. It’s simply not in “The Plan” for David and Elise to hook up. The fedora guys, and what can only pass for storm troopers, exist for the purpose of seeing to it that “The Plan” is followed according to carefully graphed books. When “The Plan” is threatened by some outside influence the fedora adjust life to get back on the track. David is ticketed to become a U.S. Senator and, ultimately, President, while Elise is destined to be a prima ballerina. If they depart from the script they may wind up poorer, but with each other. Therein lays the crux of this fairly predictable but fast moving, taut movie.

After trying for three years to re-connect, David does again stumble upon Elise, and the chase is on. David chases Elise; the fedora guys chase David; Elise is perplexed; David’s best pal is bewildered and; one of the fedora guys turns out to be a good guy. However, David has all kinds of doors to open and close while pursuing Elise.

The characters of David, Elise, good guy fedora, and best pal are all appealing and well-played.

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Every once in a while a film seizes you and won’t let go. Sometimes the film is not well publicized or well known. So it is with “Barney’s Version” centered on a dumpy producer of an awful soap opera. “Barney’s Version” is a forty year story of Barney’s chain of poor choices, his descent into utter boorishness, his apparent redemption, and even a murder according to a bigoted, vindictive Montreal detective (Mark Andy).

Barney Panofsky is a pudgy, profane, cigar puffing, scotch swilling, hockey loving, balding son of a Jewish cop in Montreal. As Barney, Paul Giamatti is brilliant. Not only does he appear in virtually every frame of the movie, but his dazzling performance makes you reach out to an otherwise distasteful character. Dustin Hoffman is Barney’s dad, Izzy, a retired cop who reflects on the serious side of life even as he interweaves some dizzying touches of humor. The interplay between Barney and Izzy is sheer wonder. In flashback we learn that Barney lived the Bohemian life in Rome in the 70’s amidst some writer/artist pals and hookers. His troubled Italian first wife (Rachel LeFevre) commits suicide, and Barney goes back to Montreal where he meets his second wife – spoiled, rich, stereotypical, and well played by Minnie Driver. As Barney and his unnamed second wife are in the midst of their wedding reception, Barney’s eye wanders to Miriam Grant, beautiful, gifted, and completely captivating. Barney is instantly smitten, and runs out on his own reception to pursue her. Eventually his marriage to wife number two collapses and Barney apparently succeeds in finally finding a loving relationship. He marries Miriam (played exquisitely by the elegant Rosamund Pike who transforms Miriam into the most appealing character in the film). Their relationship is brilliantly portrayed.

Things change upon a visit from one of Barney’s old pals from his days in Rome. Boogie (Scott Speedman) appears, and that results in disaster. There’s a puzzle in the ending, and it challenges the viewer to figure it out. Above all, this is a great example of how a bittersweet story can capture you in spite of the central character’s many faults and weaknesses.

Most of the movie was shot in Montreal, and even has cameo parts for some well known Canadians. Even with a number of faults this is an outstanding movie, and the real mystery is why it was barely publicized or even known. In fact, it’s remarkable that Paul Giamatti won a Golden Globe with so little exposure.

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Suspend your disbelief; sit back; relax and enjoy a pretty good thriller. There’s some resemblance to “The Bourne Identity” and even a sprinkling of the much older “The Man Who Knew Too Much”, but there are enough twists and turns to hold your attention.

Liam Neeson succeeded in the well-received “Taken”, and once again plays an apparent victim of circumstances. He is Doctor Martin Harris, a botanist who arrives in Berlin for a conference, accompanied by his somewhat vacuous young blonde wife (January Jones). As they arrive at the famous Adlon hotel he realizes that he left his briefcase at the airport, and off he goes – sans wife – to retrieve the case. He takes a taxi driven by a very unlikely woman Diane Kruger). She’s a luscious young Bosnian exile living in Berlin. Unfortunately the cab is involved in an accident, and the game is afoot. The good doctor winds up in a hospital; the cab driver (who saved him) vanishes; and no one believes that Neeson is indeed Dr. Harris. In fact there is another Dr. Martin Harris (Aidan Quinn) at the Adlon, happily intertwined with Mrs. Harris. The second Dr. Harris has impeccable credentials and Neeson has nothing. Even his wife does not know him. In fact, he begins to play Who Am I?

The remainder of the movie is a search for the truth, of course, including finding and enlisting the help of the cab driver. Along the way there are several hair raising car chases and the emergence of two fascinating characters: a former east German Stasi operative and one of Neeson’s colleagues, well played by Frank Langella.

Is Neeson the real Dr. Harris, or is he that other guy? Why doesn’t anyone, including his wife, recognize him? Why is he in Berlin? Is it a dream? Who is the arab prince who pops up at the conference? Where are the police? You have to untangle a nicely constructed web to figure it out.

Neeson is excellent as Dr. Harris, as is the attractive cab driver, Diane Kruger. Three minor roles are acted to perfection by Frank Langella, Bruno Ganz as the old former Stasi agent, and Sebastian Koch as Bressler, a scientist who attempts to help Neeson.

“Unknown” is choreographed nicely by Director Jaaume Collet-Serra.

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A British film about the unlikely relationship between the future King of England and an Australian speech therapist is the setting for this engrossing story.

Albert Frederick Arthur George, the Duke of York (Colin Firth) emerged from a sickly childhood with a severe stammer, according to the film brought on in part by the harsh treatment he received from his father, King George V, as well as his nanny. The Duke, known as Bertie to his family, had flopped publicly in a short ceremonial statement before a crowd, and the stammer became well known. Those were the days of radio, a particularly poor time for a speech defect.

Enter Mr. Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush) an unconventional Australian speech therapist who, according to the film, was discovered by the future Queen to cure the Duke’s stammer. What followed was an unlikely friendship stemming from the series of peculiar and difficult voice lessons.

The story begins during the world wide depression of the 1930’s. In January, 1936, with war looming in Europe, George V died, and his son David, Prince of Wales ascended to the British throne as Edward VIII. However, Edward VIII was smitten with Mrs. Wallis Simpson, who was not only American, married at the time, but also a divorcee. This was a no-no according to the Church of England, as well as British attitude toward the rectitude of the crown. After 11 months Edward VIII abdicated and spent the rest of his life in exile as a playboy with the un-charming Wallis who became his wife. Their apparent fondness for the Nazis did not enhance their reputations.

Bertie became George VI and lived long enough to earn a reputation as a courageous and beloved wartime monarch.

In the movie the friendship grows as Bertie (as he is called throughout by Logue) and Lionel take turns verbally dueling with each other as they go through some agonizing lessons, including singing and swearing. The Duke is amazed to realize that when he speaks one-on-one to Lionel it is the first time he has talked to a commoner. Lionel, in turn, is unfazed by working with the future king. The acting by Firth and Rush is extraordinary as they work not only to overcome the stammer, but to understand one another as human beings.

The climactic radio address on the outset of World War II is set against the magnificent Second Movement of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony, and is staged brilliantly.

Not only are Firth and Rush superb as principals, but Guy Pearce is excellent as a cruel older brother and a hapless Edward VIII. The rest of the cast does well with Eve Best as a domineering Wallis Simpson (ordering David, now king, to fetch her a drink, Helena Bonham Carter as a doughty Queen Elizabeth Michael Gambon as George V, and others offer excellent support. My one difficulty with the cast was Timothy Spall as Winston Churchill. He seemed to me to make a caricature of the role. Incidentally, in the movie he was portrayed as favoring Edward’s abdication; in historical fact Churchill opposed it.

This is not a movie to be seen for complete historical accuracy. It is thoroughly enjoyable as a well-structured screenplay with some outstanding performances and a number of light, welcome touches.

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