" For all its jaw-dropping special effects in service of a story about a man who ages in reverse, the most shocking moment in "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" was the crediting of David Fincher as the film's director.

The man who sharpened "Se7en," "Fight Club" and "Zodiak" to a visceral, mind-bending edge instead achieves a calm, meditative tone in "Button." Brad Pitt stars as the titled character, an anomaly of a man born with a senior's wrinkles and infirmity crippling his 5-pound body. As he matures in the elderly care home to which he was abandoned by his bewildered biological father, Button recovers his hair, his skin smooths out and his vigor swells.

Eric Roth's adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's short story wisely avoids dwelling on the paranormal aspect of its premise and only rarely parlays it into cheap humor. Instead, Fincher sells the illusion with stunning CG and makeup visuals. The 10-year-old Button is a balding, wheelchair-bound man whose inner youth seeps only from Pitt's unmistakable eyes. In his 60s, Button exudes a post-adolescent richness in his face that resembles Pitt in his earliest film roles. Successfully depicting its central character's condition in a matter-of-fact fashion frees "Button" to explore a few compelling themes.

"Button" often runs parallel to "Forrest Gump" in its wide-eyed romanticizing of life's endless possibilities - and the eccentric, kindred spirits one meets along the way - through its soft-spoken (and Southern) journeyman protagonist. Some messages resound more loudly than others; a chaos theory-frisking sequence that leads to a mishap for a main character feels prosaic and tedious.

Fincher's inexperience with such delicate, bloodless subject matter shows through in "Button's" lopsided pacing, which front-loads the early, wrinkly years of Button's life and quickly runs through his adulthood. Though this structure may simply reflect the conventional wisdom that time passes faster as one ages.

An amorphous storm metaphor looms over the narration of Daisy, the dying love of Button's life, who recounts their time together to her daughter while Hurricane Katrina approaches the hospital. It's the only trace of Fincher's heavy-handedness in "Button," which otherwise ages quite gracefully.

-David "

" I follow music, video games and movies with almost equal fervor. So, like most would-be arbiters of good taste, I make best-of lists at the end of every year.

I frame mine as lists of personal favorites rather than the out-and-out best of each medium. Not only have I not heard, played or seen everything released in a year, but I believe the notions of 'favorite' and 'best' are so intertwined that the more subjective-sounding term better shields me from reactionary readers.

Best, favorite or whatever, every year I encounter the same problems making these three lists. Most promising albums and games are released steadily over the year and I have little trouble obtaining and digesting them. By the second or third week of December, those lists are done. But at that same time, my favorite films list is hopelessly malnourished.

Oscar favorites like "The Wrestler" and "Frost/Nixon" are currently out of reach unless I fancy a trip to New York City. Other hopefuls like "Slumdog Millionaire" and "Milk" require more modest drives to Syracuse. The deluge of quality films in December and their delayed wide releases until January and sometimes February means that this Auburn cinephile gives no critics awards until well into 2009.

Last year I wavered on writing up a favorites list until I saw "There Will Be Blood" - which ultimately was my favorite film of 2007 - in early February. And I couldn't lay eyes on other standouts like "Persepolis" and "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly" until their DVD releases in the summer.

So, long story short, please bear with me. I've got a lot of catching up to do.

-David "

" Some random musings on "The Dark Knight," if I may:

- The more times I watch this movie (I'm at four total since its Blu-Ray release last week), the more astounded I am by its pace. Director Christopher Nolan and editor Lee Smith achieve a relentless tempo that can seem overwhelming at points. Yet it amazes me how much action they pack into two and a half hours: the characters they introduce and craft, the ethical dilemmas they explore and of course the gloriously reckless action itself. One film critic chided "The Dark Knight" for this constantly climaxing mood, but it rarely wearied me.

- Next to Heath Ledger's haunting Joker, it's easy to overlook how essential to "The Dark Knight" Aaron Eckhart is as Harvey Dent and later Two-Face. Eckhart brings such affability to the former and fatalistic fury to the latter.

- I implore Nolan to film the entire third film in IMAX. I know the cameras are quite weighty and the technology expensive, but the image quality would vindicate the investment. The IMAX scenes in "The Dark Knight" look so visceral that the regular 2.35:1 film almost suffers by comparison.

- And lastly, some obligatory speculation about who could play the next "Batman" villain. I'm all in favor of Philip Seymour Hoffman revisiting his scary conviction in "Mission Impossible III" as a no-nonsense Penguin, and as Catwoman I'd enjoy a 10-pounds-heavier Keira Knightley (Catwoman should have SOME curves). But please, a desperate no to the notion of Johnny Depp as the Riddler. Already overexposed, Depp would overwhelm a third re-booted "Batman" and, however inadvertently, shift the focus to himself with 20 times as much force as Ledger's Joker did in "The Dark Knight." I'd prefer the Riddler be nixed altogether in favor of a villain less flippant, which Ledger's Joker was to some extent.

-David "

" I'm relieved to hear that about 30 percent of "The Dark Knight's" DVD sales were in the Blu-Ray format. Though I knew from seeing the DVD copies fellow shoppers cradled that I was in the minority buying Blu-Ray, it's nice knowing that the minority could close the gap within a few years.

The film looks tremendous, though the sudden switches from regular 2.35:1 footage to 16:9 IMAX footage can be a bit conspicuous. As a whole, however, it's probably the best Blu-Ray I've seen - just a shade better than "Hellboy 2: The Golden Army." The fact that "The Dark Knight" itself trounces Guillermo del Toro's sequel in story, characterization and theme certainly helps.

-David "

" My desperation for "Battlestar Galactica" to resume has grown so urgent that I recently began looking to other fiction featuring the show's cast. That brought me to "Stand and Deliver," for which "BSG" star Edward James Olmos was nominated for a Best Actor Academy Award in 1989.

Olmos portrays Jaime Escalante, a software specialist who follows his heart into teaching math at James A. Garfield High School in urban Los Angeles. Escalante overcomes the apathy of his students and the social pitfalls that sap their attention - gang violence, poor families, teenage lust - to endear himself to the class. Following his ambition along, Escalante proposes teaching calculus at the school. His unheard-of proposition demands his students commit to rigorous hours of study that consume their free summer and vacation time. With the reluctant approval of his fellow faculty, Escalante steers his class toward the AP Calculus exam - a milestone of academics for the school, and one of personal achievement for Escalante and his students.

The story is loaded with teacher-meets-hostile-class tropes also found in films spanning from "Blackboard Jungle" to "Dangerous Minds." Worse yet are the Hispanic urban youth stereotypes, the cheesy '80s synth pop music soundtrack and the conventional story turns that drive "Stand and Deliver" along.

But single-handedly redeeming the film is Olmos (and, to a lesser extent, Lou Diamond Phillips as troubled pupil Angel Guzman). Olmos plays Escalante with a irresistible charisma that would induce any student to learn what he's teaching. He maneuvers the aisles of his classroom with a comedic vigor that never becomes so clownish as to disguise his determination. The only blight on his otherwise brilliant performance is Olmos' wig, which is the absolute worst comb-over bald cap I've ever seen.

Thankfully there'll be no such rug to put up with when "Battlestar Galactica" returns to Sci Fi in January.

-David "

" I recently watched "Heathers," which was re-released in Blu-Ray two weeks ago.

This nail-sharp template for the current generation's social climbing Serengeti film, "Mean Girls," holds up delightfully well. The dialogue - "This isn't just a spoke in my menstrual cycle," "Bulimia's so '87" - remains hilariously witty and the issues - teen suicide, youth cliques - remain urgent.

Christian Slater's Jack Nicholson apery is no less annoying, and some plot twists prompt head scratching, but the intact edginess of the film's satirical take on teen hysteria invites another viewing - and demands a first from new audiences.

-David "

" When I heard the Blu-Ray format may be Laserdisc-ed into oblivion by the recession, I couldn't help feeling its future would brighten if potential buyers watched "Hellboy II: The Golden Army" in high-definition.

Guillermo del Toro's films - "Blade 2," "Hellboy," "Pan's Labyrinth" - have always thrived on imaginative design realized through as few digital effects as possible. In "The Golden Army," it is painstakingly detailed costume design, make-up and physical effects that shape Hellboy's supernatural world into a visual feast. Most filmmakers couldn't introduce as many monsters as del Toro does without blurring them together and desensitizing the audience to the awe they're meant to inspire. But each creature in "The Golden Army" stands alone as a lovingly conceived marvel of moviemaking, and audiences are likely to remember all with equal resolution.

Anchoring all the aesthetic splendor is Ron Perlman as the titular red-skinned lug. His charisma makes Hellboy as ideal a candidate for a personal bodyguard as a slovenly big brother. The brusque hero is balanced out at the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense by his self-possessed lover, Liz Sherman (Selma Blair), and graceful bookworm, the amphibious Abe Sapien. The rapport between the three finds its finest moment when Sapien and Hellboy split a few six-packs and trade romantic advice between staggers down the Bureau's halls.

Seeing the cherry brilliance of Hellboy's skin and the turquoise lull of Sapien's is a never-ending treat in the Blu-Ray edition of "The Golden Army." Along with del Toro's phenomenal beasts, the heroes of the second "Hellboy" receive a beautiful welcome in high-definition.

-David "

" Starting off my summer movie leftover meal was "The Incredible Hulk."

By shrugging off the psychobabble and daddy issues that turned Ang Lee's "Hulk" into hurt, the sequel/reboot frees itself to satisfy audiences as a powerhouse action film. It wasn't the best - or even the third best - comic book film of the summer ("The Dark Knight," "Iron Man" and "Hellboy 2" superseded it). But the green behemoth recaptured enough smashy-smash glory to make his presence in the upcoming "Avengers" movie much less groan-inducing.

"Incredible Hulk" finds Bruce Banner on the run in Brazil, where he spends his time scraping together money at a bottling factory and communicating with a mysterious doctor about a possible cure for the gamma poisoning that turns Banner into the Hulk. But the U.S. military, represented by William Hurt's general, still seeks to capture Banner and weaponize his cellular mutation.

Much of the credit for "Incredible's" success goes to Edward Norton, who emits much more vulnerability than Eric Bana did as Hulk's human alter ego. Tim Roth's rugged killer instinct proves a favorable trade for Nick Nolte's disheveled charisma, and the showdown between Roth's Abomination - a second, spinier green giant - and the Hulk blows away the first film's climax in physical and emotional ballast.

Though "Incredible Hulk" can't touch its fellow comic book films in storytelling ("The Dark Knight"), likability ("Iron Man") or visual dazzle ("Hellboy 2"), it proves a more than competent stopgap between them on the summer movie schedule.

-David "

" To prepare for Darren Aronofsky's next film, the festival hit "The Wrestler," I decided to stop delaying my viewing of the director's divisive, millennium-spanning 2006 work: "The Fountain."

I'm thankful I did. Though "The Fountain" doesn't always satisfy its lofty ambitions as a grand treatise on life and death, its touching love story and sobering glimpses of man's fear of mortality still speak through the film's din of abstraction. Hugh Jackman is remarkable as Tommy, a present-day doctor tailspinning as he struggles to save his wife, Izzi, from terminal cancer. In Rachel Weisz's skillful hands, Izzi is vibrant, but the flashes of fright in her eyes betray a saddening vulnerability.

Concurrent with this narrative is a Spanish Inquisition-era quest through South America by a conquistador, also played by Jackman, who seeks the fountain of youth for Queen Isabella, also played by Weisz. And in the future, an astronaut (Jackman again) floats toward a golden-hued nebula in a large transparent orb with a dying tree and visions of the long-dead Izzi his only companions.

Some viewers may find "The Fountain" too weird or too abstract. On the surface, the three narratives are tied together only by the recurring faces of Jackman and Weisz. It's never clear which - if any - time frame is the film's true setting, and which are flashbacks, dreams or symbolic interpretations on the director's part.

But thematically, each story compellingly explores man's formidable fear of death and the fallout of his efforts to delay or even avoid it. Aronofsky depicts this instinct with the most intensity when the conquistador savagely plunges a knife into the Tree of Life to free its rejuvenating sap, when Tommy throttles a nurse after Izzi passes away, and when the astronaut neurotically frets as the tree wilts from his stripping its bark for his own sustenance. Through these moments, as well as the haunting performances of Jackman and Weisz and Aronofsky's inspired visual palette, "The Fountain" peers with fresh perspective into darker corners of the human psyche. "

" It's saddening to see dazzling special effects once again seduce people into thinking an awful movie is worthwhile.

I have no other explanation for the warm popular response to Danny Boyle's "Sunshine," which I watched last weekend. This 2007 sci-fi film observes the crew of a spacecraft sent to kickstart a dying sun in the distant future. On their way to delivering the stellar bomb that'll save Earth from a solar winter, the crew endures a series of ethical dilemmas and deadly catastrophes.

Boyle's influences are pretty transparent. Scenes of Cillian Murphy video-phoning home and crew members barreling from one ship's airlock to another echo "2001: A Space Odyssey." An abrupt story turn jerks "Sunshine" into the on-board horror territory of "Alien." And the absurd series of mishaps to beset the crew stinks of "Armageddon."

The torrent of disaster on board the Icarus (get it?) gives Boyle little time to craft likable characters or attach any sense of urgency to their mission. He asks compelling ethical questions, but cops out before the crew has to follow through on their delicately made answers.

The only impressions Boyle successfully makes on the viewer: The sun is really big and really hot. And the visuals serving this message are indeed spectacular - especially if you own a Blu-Ray player and enjoy the color orange.

But aesthetics only allay so much of the burden of good storytelling. And to his credit, Boyle tries to follow through. He occasionally frisks the spiritual belittlement the crew feels as it approaches the center of our solar system. But even that beacon fades in "Sunshine's" blinding nothing.

-David "

" I made the mistake of piling several Woody Allen films I hadn't seen onto my Netflix queue consecutively. I love Woody's work when he's in top form, but enduring his lesser films ("Melinda and Melinda," "Celebrity") between his better ones ("Deconstructing Harry," "Match Point") has not been a speedy process.

Last night I watched "Manhattan Murder Mystery," which falls somewhere in the middle of this scale of Allen movies. The mystery premise enlivens the typical Allen formula of neurotic fretting and romantic quibbling. Alan Alda and Anjelica Huston provide strong support as friends to Allen and Diane Keaton, who suspect their neighbor of killing his wife after she suffers an apparent fatal heart attack.

Keaton's character goes to dangerous lengths to investigate her neighbor's (Jerry Adler) activities following the death, and Keaton plays the role with the zeal of a rejuvenated middle-aged woman. The mystery and danger excite her and close friend Alda, though her husband (Allen) tries to discourage any meddling.

When Allen also sees enough evidence of foul play to warrant suspicion, he involves Huston and Alda. Keaton's chagrin at their plan deflates her excitement and even endangers her marriage. It's also at this point in the movie that its tone shifts from comic hijincks to life and death. The light vibe of the first hour of the film forecasts a big misunderstanding on Allen and Keaton's part, but the director hurries through a perilous, inorganic climax (and a forced homage to "The Lady from Shanghai") that vindicates their suspicions. To Allen's credit, he still satisfyingly pays off the characters' story arcs. But it'll still be a few days before I watch my next Allen movie.

-David "

" In light of the 12th "Saw" and eighth "High School Musical" topping the box office this weekend, I'm going to cheat on movies again and talk about TV. But it's TV in a cinematic sense, and a show that actually began as a movie: "Battlestar Galactica."

"Galactica" shares some story elements with the late-1970s show of the same name. A fleet of humans is fleeing through space after their 12 home worlds were attacked by a race of robots they invented, called Cylons. The humans are fleeing toward a rumored 13th world shared by their brethren: Earth.

The show trades in many of the genre staples of science fiction: space battles, robots, techno babble. But the rebooted version of "Galactica" also addresses ethical and philosophical dilemmas in ways made accessible to its audience. Because the story strongly echoes the Sept. 11 attacks and the subsequent war on terror, these issues take on modern resonance. The addition of human-looking Cylons to the "Galactica" story permits the show to explore the cynicism the fleet feels over who could be the enemy. Because, after all, it could be anyone.

At other times the show asks the audience to examine the real ethical values of genocide, abusing power, following orders (the Eichmann question) and more. But it's not all heady. "Galactica" excels at characterization by crafting fallible heroes whose virtues always shine through during moments of poor judgment. The audience may even side against the protagonists, but we never lose respect for them.

Add in some soapy romance and quirky humor - and yes, space battles - and you have one of the best dramas around in "Battlestar Galactica." The fourth season resumes in January, so there's plenty of time to catch up beforehand. It only took me a week and a half.

-David "

" The role of proper chronological distance in non-fiction cinema has received heavy attention in the critical response to Oliver Stone's "W." Like Stone's last high-profile film, "World Trade Center" - and virtually every movie about the current Iraq war and the war on terror - a vocal chunk of the popular reception to "W." can be summed up in two words: too soon.

I chose not to discuss this facet of "W." in my original review because the criticism applies more to the movie's concept than its execution. So I saved that talking point for this entry.

I don't believe "W." was made too soon for its own sake. Were the movie strictly about Bush's presidency, my opinion might change. It is probably too soon to grasp the lasting impact of Bush's time in office. Not only is his term not over, but its ramifications are too close in the rear-view mirror to size up within the greater landscape.

But "W." was not about President Bush. It was about George W. Bush the man, the son, the husband, and most of all, the hapless screw-up. Though I think the film gorged on policy criticism to its own detriment, the scenes of Bush meeting with his high-level staff traced the president's personality with modest success. When the movie refrained from politicizing itself, such as the scenes of Bush confiding in his wife and speaking with his spiritual adviser, it revealed the most about its titled subject.

When Stone focused on what motivated George W. Bush the man, "W." didn't feel too soon. If anything, it felt too late.

-David "

" I had no idea what I was expecting of "W." before I saw it this past weekend.

Director Oliver Stone's involvement suggested the film would attempt to assassinate the character of President George W. Bush in controversial fashion. Yet a prime talking point of early reviews was Stone's leniency toward Bush, the colossal administrative mistakes he made, his folksy manner and his ambition to do little more than drink beer and watch sports on TV.

Stone's involvement also suggested "W." would hold a serious and psychologically weighty lens over Bush's life and presidency. Yet trailers sent mixed messages; many climaxed with a zooming shot of a despondent Bush (played by Josh Brolin) screaming in solitude, and others conveyed a more comedic air about the biographical movie.

That last impression of "W." was the one that ultimately prevailed: It's a sitcom. Brolin recites many of Bush's more well-known verbal follies ("is our children learning?", "misunderestimated," "fool me once...") out of context, but no less comically. The actor impeccably channels Will Ferrell channeling Bush in portraying a drunken Texan buffoon in the bulk of the scenes that take place prior to Bush's sobriety. Probably 75 percent of Brolin's lines - intentionally or not - elicited laughs from the theater.

Most of those laughs were responses to the meat of the movie: The "war room" scenes between Bush and the high-ranking members of his administration, such as Vice President Dick Cheney (Richard Dreyfuss) and then-National Security Adviser Condoleezza Rice (Thandie Newton). When they discuss how to respond to the Sept. 11 attacks, the officials' dialogue betrays "W.'s" left-handed origins.

As repulsive as one might find Cheney's war-mongering and former Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld's ignorance, it is hard to believe Bush or any of his colleagues spoke with such brusque and absurdly unreasonable language about U.S. military strategy. But before the gravity of these words sets in fully, Brolin swoops in to lighten it with comic relief in the form of word butchery and plain stupidity.

Stone still manages to plant in "W." some of the headier content expected by anyone familiar with his work. Scenes from Bush's life are broken up by a straightforward recurring dream of him in an empty ballpark, and frequent clashes with his father, George H.W. Bush, suggest that sibling competition with (former Florida governor) Jeb Bush spurred W.'s political career along. Our current president comes off like a pawn to not only this competition and his father's withheld acceptance, but also to Cheney and even Born Again Christianity. And when W.'s not a pawn, he's a joke. "

" "Persepolis" finally came around on the Netflix queue this weekend.

This animated French treat tells the story of Marjane, a young girl who comes of age in Iran during its 1979 Islamic Revolution. She blossoms from a fiery but impressionable youth who takes both sides in the conflict to a headstrong young woman who reacts to the Ayatollah's repression with rebellious spirit, which takes form in Iron Maiden music and the removal of her veil in public.

"Persepolis" works as both a portrait of female puberty and of surviving oppression. Marjane's struggle for identity suffers circumstances specific to her time and place, such as Iranian heritage and her society's Islamic repression of women, in addition to those common to all young women, such as boys and her changing body. In enduring these hardships, Marjane becomes such a sympathetic figure that it's hard to take her to task when she lays the blame for a minor social transgression on an innocent bystander.

The film's serious subject matter lightens frequently with moments like Marjane's grossly overexaggerated pubescent growth spurt and an inspirational montage of her singing the English "Eye of the Tiger" in a mangling French accent. But the levity never overwhelms the gravity of the oppression Marjane and her family faces. Instead, the comedy feels like a welcome relief against which the characters' sadness sharpens by contrast.

This rousing story of persisting under repression is made all the more vivid by its remarkable animation style. Characters are rendered in a simple cartoonish black-and-white style, but they stand out against backgrounds that are speckled and deeply patterned. It's a beautiful aesthetic that matches the equally appealing nature of "Persepolis'" story.

-David "

" I saw "Charlie Bartlett" last night. Playing by the "outcast becomes popular" formula produces its share of trite moments, but a few things elevate this movie above its ilk.

First is the acting, particularly by Anton Yelchin as the title student - who becomes a bathroom stall therapist complete with psychiatric prescriptions - and Robert Downey Jr. as Charlie's principal. The former verges on cloying when Charlie gets sentimental, but Yelchin exudes an infectious manic energy when he takes too much Ritalin or plays the piano. Downey Jr. unsurprisingly steals the movie as the alcoholic principal pressured to punish Charlie for his pharmaceutical in-school enterprise. His motives as the father of the girl (Kat Denning) Charlie woos threaten to flatten Downey Jr. character's with protective father stereotypes, but the actor still manages to make his doubly authoritative role a sympathetic one.

Charlie's pill-running service is the basis for "Charlie Bartlett's" other strength: Its riffing on the over-diagnosing habits of the psychiatric community. Though the movie mostly plays this angle for laughs, its power to amuse us nonetheless brings our attention to the absurdity of over-medicating children with kneejerk consistency. Thankfully, the movie refrains from preaching about this problem when Charlie's enterprise almost results in the death of one of his "patients."

-David "

" Please be patient while I rant.

Last week I read that Travis Wright, co-writer of Shia LaBeouf thriller "Eagle Eye," is working on a sequel to "Blade Runner."

Yes, THAT "Blade Runner" - Ridley Scott's future noir cult classic made in 1982.

I learned that Wright has progressed as far as the pre-visualization stage and collaborated with Bud Yorkin, a co-executive producer on the original film. There is no word on whether Ridley Scott or star Harrison Ford is involved.

I've bemoaned sequelitis and its sister sickness, remakeosis, many times before in this blog. And I've probably spouted some variant of "But NOW they've gone too far" as well. But really...another "Blade Runner"?

I'll try to set aside my own mighty love for this movie in explaining why this is a terrible idea. The main reason is obviously motivated by fear - my own and that of the film's fans. "Blade Runner" is widely adored and a subpar sequel carries the risk of spoiling the mythos. If the titular detective Deckard - whether or not he's reprised by Harrison Ford - returns in another "Blade Runner," it will color the way the character is perceived in the first. He could become the guy who goes on to (insert poorly motivated act here), just as Darth Vader went from badass Sith Lord in the first "Star Wars" trilogy to the goofball with a girly moan and a clumsy gait in "Revenge of the Sith." Such changes can reflect on characters retroactively, regardless of how irrational it is of viewers to permit that reflection.

Consider again the jump from the first "Star Wars" trilogy to the most recent. "The Phantom Menace" confused fans by depicting technology vastly superior to what supposedly followed it half a century later in "A New Hope." While the physical and special effects and designs of "Blade Runner" still dazzle, they'd appear all the more dated by a sequel that doesn't carefully advance its technological aesthetic. Even with the astronomical leaps in CG technology since 1982, successfully matching the look of a new "Blade Runner" to that of its forerunner would likely require as much work - and imagination - as the first film's lengthy production.

So please, guys, leave "Blade Runner" alone.

-David "

" We lost one of film's finest personalities this weekend when Paul Newman passed away at 83.

His most towering works - which ironically don't include "The Towering Inferno," in my opinion - don't need my exaltation. But if you've never seen "Cool Hand Luke," "The Hustler" or "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," stop reading and start renting.

Though not his most popular film - depending on whom you ask - "Slap Shot" retains a connection to central New York. Part of it was filmed at the Onondaga County War Memorial Auditorium. By 1977, when the movie was made, Newman was one of Hollywood's most venerated names. He lent this credibility to the comedy about a struggling minor league hockey team, which otherwise may have been dismissed for its vulgarity and profanity. (After traveling a winter with a high school hockey team, I feel pretty comfortable saying these qualities helped the film nail the tone of the sport's locker rooms).

While the infantile Hanson brothers may have provided the comedic highlight of the movie, Newman was without a doubt its charismatic core. I'm of the wrong sex to speak to the natural appeal of his beloved blue eyes, but Newman's steely, freewheeling attitude could seize anyone's attention. Few stars can command the screen so effortlessly today. Few ever could.

-David "

" Auburn has already lived through the drama of Sabina Kulakowski's murder and Roy Brown's wrongful imprisonment for the crime. His vindication and release 15 years later ripened the tale to be told to the rest of the world.
Local filmmakers Alex Dunbar and Andrew Wolf relate the sequence of events that forever changed the lives of Kulakowski, Brown and others in "Blanchard Road," a documentary by Wind Up Films. Interviews with Brown, WSTM-TV reporter Jim Kenyon, former Auburn District Attorney Jim Vargason and several other key players in the tale push along its retelling in the skillful hands of Dunbar and Wolf.
From the gruesome murder and the shock it registered in Cayuga County to the joyous first days Brown spent reunited with his family, every part of the timeline is given equal gravity. Even Auburn residents fairly familiar with Brown's tale will find some new information in the accounts of the portentous bite marks left on Kulakowski's back and the story of the man now suspected of leaving them - Barry Bench, whom DNA evidence eventually fingered for the murder.
In a documentary covering so lengthy and detailed a series of events as that of the Kulakowski murder and Brown's court proceedings, pacing the storytelling presents a challenge. The filmmakers meet it with well sequenced interviews and narration that permit the viewer to absorb each turn just before the next arrives. Vivifying the tale is an extensive collection of archive footage shown during many of the interviews.
Dunbar and Wolf go to great lengths to avoid any basis for accusations of bias toward either side of the contentious issue of Brown's wrongful imprisonment. They do not gloss over the threat Brown lobbed at a Cayuga County social worker in 1991, the prison time he served for it or the conspicuous timing of his release just days prior to Kulakowski's murder in her Aurelius home.
Though the filmmakers could not speak with former District Attorney Paul Carbonaro or former Cayuga County Judge Peter Corning, Vargason is given ample time to explain his perspective on several key points of Brown's case and his appeal for DNA testing. What results is the most compelling kind of drama: One in which there is neither good nor evil, but real people with real motives made understandable by their respective frames of reference.

-David

"Blanchard Road -- A Murder in the Finger Lakes"
When: 7 p.m. Saturday, Sept. 27
Where: Palace Theater in Syracuse
Cost: $7 for the whole evening
Info: Doors open at 6 p.m. The showing begins at 7 p.m. and will last approximately 90 minutes. There will be a Q&A session with Roy Brown and the filmmakers afterward. Brown's band PONY (Prisoner of New York) will play a musical set after the Q&A. "

" This dude does not abide double-dipping.

Last week, the fourth DVD incarnation of "The Big Lebowski" was released. Well, fourth and fifth, when you include its clever bowling-ball-shaped special edition released simultaneously.

Unfortunately for Blu-Ray collectors like myself, the Coen Brothers' 1997 half-baked folly of a film noir wasn't released on the prevailing HD home video format. That release, by implication, will likely be the sixth time the movie is committed to disc.

"The Big Lebowski" is an endlessly quotable, endlessly watchable film that endears itself to viewers through crackling dialogue and madcap plot twists that weave "The Big Sleep's" complex detective yarn with absurdist humor and surrealist dream sequences. You may not know that the movie spawned a fervent cult following whose members convene every year to celebrate the movie's many eccentricities: white Russians, nihilism and, of course, bowling.

But Universal Studios knows this. Which is why "The Big Lebowski" is one of the most egregious examples of "double-dipping" I can recall. This practice refers to the bilking of money from a film's rabid audience through multiple DVD releases, each with its own unique features to sell its way into fans' hearts. Double-dipping most often takes the form of a bare-bones release followed a few years later by one loaded with special features.

But "The Big Lebowski" falls short of even this standard. The movie joins an exclusive triple-dipping club populated by "The Lord of the Rings" and few others. Last Tuesday's releases were the third and fourth standard DVD editions - not counting the abortive HDDVD release and sure-to-come Blu-Ray release.

It's easy to say buyers shouldn't tolerate this trend, but they simply aren't blessed with the gifts of foresight and will power. I tried to plan ahead once - with the "Kill Bill" DVDs, which I was sure would be integrated into a blow-out single edition. It wasn't, and I lost interest in the movie anyways. Sometimes filmmakers - like "Rings'" Peter Jackson - are kind enough to let you know when a special edition release is on the way. But your best bet is familiarizing yourself with a good DVD trade-in store. This aggression is gonna have to stand, man.

-David "

" It's never easy to admit this, but I'm a professional wrestling fan. Always have been.

One small reason for the stigma attached to wrestling is its silly treatment by Hollywood. Dreadful films like "No Holds Barred" and "Ready to Rumble" have depicted professional wrestling as real. This approach not only limits the scope of the movie to that of its carnivalesque subject matter, it insults the intelligence of an audience that knows full well wrestling is a scripted and collaborative form of entertainment.

The early buzz about Darren Aronofsky's "The Wrestler" give me hope that my hobby may finally see the classic it deserves. I can't speak with certainty for the movie's story, but I understand that it takes audiences behind the curtain, where wrestlers plot their moves and discuss things like "getting heat" - building audience interest - and "going home" - arriving at the scripted finish of the match. (I was actually in attendance at a New York City wrestling show where Aronofsky and then-lead Nicolas Cage were doing research with Ring of Honor wrestling).

As the titled protagonist, Mickey Rourke faces the limits of his aging body as he seeks the embrace of his audience. His odyssey gives Aronofsky the opportunity to explore issues that have adopted great urgency since Chris Benoit alarmed the nation by murdering his family and then himself last year. In "The Wrestler," we see the real pain these performers endure, the drugs they use to alleviate it and the high of a hot crowd that drives them to endure it.

I'm not expecting "The Wrestler" to win professional wrestling respect; on the contrary, I wouldn't be surprised to see it lose some when the desperation of its performers is laid bare by Aronofsky and Rourke. Regardless, I don't expect many viewers to continue thinking that professional wrestling is fake.

-David "

" I've used this blog before to bemoan Hollywood's reliance on known properties as movie material. But - no, really this time - now they've gone too far.

Last week, director Aaron Sorkin ("The West Wing") opened a Facebook page to announce that he is developing a movie about the social networking Web site.

A movie. About a Web site.

Also last week, director Brett Ratner announced his interest in developing a movie about the "Guitar Hero" series of video games.

A movie. About a video game (not based on a game, actually about a game).

Anyone who's taken an English class will tell you that narrative thrives on conflict. Where the conflict is in the story of either of these youth staples is lost on me. Facebook isn't Napster - it's not a revolutionary development that sparked conflict and debate. It's a venue for personal press releases used by a bunch of post-adolescents to tell their friends they got drunk the weekend prior.

And "Guitar Hero"? It's fun and it's popular; but why a movie? There's neither story nor theme to be mined from its finger-cramping musical challenges.

The reason for the existence of both movies is the same reason for the green-lighting of virtually every remake, every sequel and every adaptation to hit Hollywood in the last 20 years: familiarity.

Familiarity comes with brand recognition and lessens one's anxiety over throwing down $10 at the theater for a story they've never been told before. Facebook and "Guitar Hero" are popular, so people will pay to get close to their names - even if they'll be utterly bored or insulted by what their money gets them from there.

-David "

" As "The Dark Knight" glides past $500 million at the box office, his fellow DC hero, Superman, is finding his cape clipped. Warner Brothers, who holds the rights to the Man of Steel franchise, is reportedly looking to - once again - reboot. Bryan Singer's 2006 "Superman Returns" was supposed to breathe new life into the franchise, but the reception was apparently too lukewarm for the studio.

Warner Brothers Picture Group President Jeff Robinov recently stated the studio's desire to darken the next Superman movie the same way "Batman Begins" did to its titled superhero.

I think this approach is wrong on pretty much all possible levels. "Superman Return's" $200 million domestic box office was disappointing, but not quite a flop. Its overall gross was $391 million, so it at least made back its $270 million budget. While "Superman Returns" wasn't a blow-away hit like "The Dark Knight," it nonetheless netted a majority of positive reviews and good word of mouth.

Warner Brothers radically changing their game plan with the next Superman movie reeks of panic. They clearly want another Batman franchise, and their haste in abandoning Bryan Singer's vision for the hero almost suggests the studio is run by Superman fans hurt that he couldn't beat Batman at the box office.

Strangely enough, Robinov also said the rumored "Superman vs. Batman" film is likely off as a result of the Superman reboot. The presence of the mega-popular Batman would be sure to draw a molten crowd, but Warner Brothers seems too determined to prove Superman can draw the same audience on his own.

Attempting to do that by treating Superman like Batman is an absolute mistake. Superman simply isn't Batman and darkness doesn't suit him like it does the Dark Knight. I associate Superman with the fast-talking newsreels and the newsroom of the Daily Planet, not brooding and psychological battles. I think Warner Brothers may be shooting itself in the foot by thinking anyone else is willing to associate those Batman hallmarks with the Man of Steel.

-David "

" It seems a major controversy couldn't retard the profitability of "Tropic Thunder" at the box office this weekend.

Sorry, that was probably in poor taste. As an infant student of semiotic theory, I just can't help being intrigued by simple words and the significance we invest in them. The firestorm over "Tropic Thunder's" liberal use of the R-word to describe the mentally disabled has reignited that intrigue, so allow me to dissect it.

"Tropic Thunder" director Ben Stiller portrays Tug Speedman, an actor reeling from losing an Oscar for his role as a mentally disabled farmhand, mockingly named Simple Jack. While filming the war movie central to "Tropic Thunder's" plot, Speedman discusses his failed role with fellow cast member Kirk Lazarus (Robert Downey Jr.).

In a scene transcribed several times over in editorials and blogs targeting the film, Lazarus recounts the successes of past mentally disabled characters like Forrest Gump (Tom Hanks) and Raymond Babbitt (Dustin Hoffman) in "Rain Man." Lazarus - himself a fatuous actor who undergoes skin pigmentation to play a black soldier - tells Speedman that those actors didn't "go full retard." Doing that, Lazarus insists, was Speedman's mistake.

I could never argue against the potency of the R-word as a term of ignorance and blanket negativity toward the mentally disabled. In fact, I often cringe when I hear people use it. The word speaks more to the stupidity of the user than the stupidity they carelessly and erroneously attach to the mentally disabled with its use.

But in "Tropic Thunder," that's the point. What many of the film's detractors have done is divorce the word from its context. These characters, Lazarus and Speedman, are clearly cast as pompous morons with whom the audience is not supposed to sympathize. Nor do we laugh with them, we laugh at them (lines like "be moronical" sandwich their use of the R-word). Each time that word is uttered, it strengthens both our disaffection with the characters and the satire our emotion serves.

The real target of this scene, and "Tropic Thunder" as a whole, is Hollywood - where mentally disabled roles are tacitly considered Oscar bait and often rewarded as such. In satirizing this unwholesome trait of the film industry, "Tropic Thunder" draws strength from the very real emotions evoked by the R-word. A more euphemistic term wouldn't empower the message as potently, just as a drama about racism probably wouldn't achieve as much power if it wholly avoided using the N-word. That is the word the bigoted use, and, unfortunately, the R-word is the one the ignorant use. On the surface it is indeed offensive, but in the service of an artistic statement, it's necessary.

-David "

" I've been a "Star Wars" fan since I could pronounce Chewbacca.

I weathered the disappointment of the new trilogy that forever associated Darth Vader - the supremely evil walking iron lung - with some baby-faced adolescent who had the hots for Natalie Portman.

So you'd think I'm stoked to see the next "Star Wars" movie, coming out this Friday. What "Star Wars" movie, you ask?

Exactly. For a while I've known about "The Clone Wars," a CG saga bridging "Attack of the Clones" and "Revenge of the Sith." But the LucasFilm hype machine has never been content with people merely knowing about "Star Wars" films. Before their release, those movies became ubiquitous entities whose faces you'd see all over TV screens, on supermarket shelves and behind fast food counters.

But that hasn't been the case with "The Clone Wars." So this seventh canon "Star Wars" movie feels like nothing of the sort. It won't even have the traditional "Star Wars" slow crawl that whisks viewers into a galaxy far, far away with those familiar yellow letters cast against a starry space.

One reason for the minimal fanfare is that "Clone Wars" was never originally intended to be a film. It was first conceived as a Cartoon Network TV show to premiere later this month. But the show's spectacle impressed "Star Wars" creator George Lucas so much, he felt a film should serve as an introduction of sorts to the newest chapter of his saga. The movie wasn't even announced until February of this year.

Without that sense of urgency hammered into my head by Lucas' advertising brigade, I'm not even sure I want to see "The Clone Wars." It certainly doesn't feel like I should. Early pans of the film were taken down due to a "no negative review" embargo enforced by LucasFilm.

Luckily, we "Star Wars" fans have been conditioned for disappointment. This time, Lucas even skipped the part where he gets us excited before the big let-down.

-David "

" I recently bought a high-definition TV and my first few Bluray movies, but the bulk of my collection has yet to be released in the new format.

To celebrate the recent announcement that my favorite movie ever, "M*A*S*H," is coming to Bluray in December, I rewatched Robert Altman's 1970 black comedy classic for the hundredth-or-so time.

Rather than shower the movie in praise, I'll try keep this entry relevant. It strikes me that today, a war-time movie as irreverent toward war as "M*A*S*H" would either never be green-lit or fly so far below radar (ha!) that it'd take years to receive popular appreciation. Even "M*A*S*H," made during the movie industry's gutsiest period in the early 1970s, went through developmental hell. But an Iraq War black comedy? "Life is Beautiful" director Roberto Benigni is apparently taking a funny approach to the war in his next film, but one coming from America seems far less likely. And I'm sort of sad about that, because it could be my new second favorite movie.

-David "