What's Your Number? (2011)

I had nothing to do with the making of What’s Your Number? and yet I feel compelled to apologize to women everywhere for its existence.  The movie is the shameful philosophy of women’s magazines slapped onto the big screen as a moral lesson that feels painfully outdated in the 21st century or really anytime after 1960s.  It is a cruel, thoughtless picture that wants women to feel ashamed if they’ve slept with more than arbitrary number of men while casting no blame on guys who have racked up countless notches on their bedposts.  I can’t fathom why talented comic actors like Anna Faris and Chris Evans would decide to lead such a despicable picture, and not only are they wasted in this movie, only a handful of jokes get through.  But nothing can make up for the film’s awful subtext.

Ally (Faris) is having trouble finding the right guy.  She’s been fired from her job, her younger sister Daisy (Ari Graynor) is getting married, and Ally’s feeling the pressure to get her life right.  Then Marie Claire comes to the rescue when Ally finds an article saying that the average woman sleeps with 10.5 guys in her lifetime (I’ll let you argue what the .5 means).  Ally, having slept with 19 guys, can’t believe this irrefutable statistic, but her fears are confirmed when her sister and her sister’s friends all throw in numbers lower than 10 except for the one slutty friend who has a dreaded number of 13.  Ally swears she won’t go over 20 and the next man she meets will be the man she marries.  Then she gets drunk, sleeps with her awful former boss (Joel McHale) and comes to the conclusion that she must have met the right guy but she passed him by.  With the help of her womanizing neighbor Colin (Evans), she starts tracking down her past lovers in the hopes of finding Mr. Right, but then her relationship with Colin begins to “deepen” (read: he likes her sculptures, they have a couple of nice conversations, and go on a fun date).

I don’t necessarily mind that Ally wants to find a husband (although in the movie she’s working harder at finding the right guy than finding a new job).  What I mind is that she agrees with the “conventional” wisdom which says she’ll be undesirable if she’s been with “too many” guys.  In one of the movie’s many sad attempts at raunchy humor, one of Daisy’s friends comments that no man wants to go where fourteen other penises have been.  Only in the past century or so we finally got past the point where a woman could be married even if she wasn’t a virgin.  Before that time, men felt that wives were property, and they didn’t want to buy used goods.  In 2011, What’s Your Number? generously tells women, “You’re allowed up to 10.5 guys for your entire life.  Use them wisely.”  It’s the same paternalistic, antiquated belief but dressed in modern clothing.

What’s Your Number? doesn’t want to criticize or satirize this misogynistic philosophy.  It wants to celebrate it.  Ally’s emotional journey isn’t to say, “Hey! Wait a minute!  I’m a responsible adult who uses condoms and I don’t see why I should have to limit the amount of sex I have when my neighbor across the hall can happily bang every woman in Boston.”  No, instead Ally proclaims, “I’m a whore!  And I’m okay with that!”  That’s not me paraphrasing.  That’s her big revelation line in the movie.

The movie not only wastes its opportunity to thoughtfully critique modern American social mores, it wastes its lead actors.  Anna Faris and Chris Evans have been hilarious and charming before and I’m sure they will be again, but What’s Your Number? made me despise them for a solid 105 minutes.  The movie has about five or six really good jokes and none of them come from the lead actors (the best gag in the movie involves Andy Samberg’s character and a puppet).  Instead, Faris and Evans subscribe to the Brad Pitt “Always Be Eating” school of acting and struggle to find anything redeeming in their characters, which is like trying to find something redeeming in a gigantic pile of garbage.  Ally is neurotic and insecure, Colin is cowardly and childish, and they’re perfect for each other because I can’t think of anyone who could love these people.

I went into What’s Your Number? willing to give the movie the benefit of the doubt even though all the trailers strongly indicated I would find the premise disgusting.  I have to applaud 20th Century Fox for the truth in their advertising, although the final product is somehow worse than I imagined.  The movie feels like someone forgot to put in a laugh track, it squanders the comic talent and affability of its lead actors, but more than anything, it upholds a vile, mean-spirited message all the way down to its final, unfunny joke.

Johnny English Reborn (2011)

Rowan Atkinson is a comedian best known to make people laugh by not uttering a single sound. His comedy is the physical kind - making quirky gestures with his face, setting-up nonsensical situations or just being plain naive and aloof. He could probably beat-up Charlie Chaplin if he was born a wee bit earlier. Of course we are talking about the infamous Mr. Bean. In "Johnny English Reborn", we see a different side of Rowan Atkinson - a talking one and yes, no thanks to the leading man, "Johnny English Reborn" works. It just proves that Mr. Atkinson should not be stifled to a television show character. And yet, one man can only do so much to salvage a film rife with subpar screenplay and a mediocre story.

Johhny English (Rowan Atkinson) has been on hiatus since the assassination incident that killed the President of Mozambique. English has been training in a remote region in Asia. When MI7 finds out that the assassination of the Chinese Premier was being planned, the agency seeks the help of its lost top agent. English agrees and with one shot at redemption, finds out that a group called the Vortex are the ones behind the plot. Vortex is composed of three men with each one having a portion of a key that's going to be used as the primary weapon to kill the Premier. English will go around the world to find out who are the men behind Vortex.

"Johnny English Reborn" is successful because of two men - Johnny English and Rowan Atkinson, the actor playing him. The character is not your usual comedy-spy-fi guy. Johnny English may be aloof or naive but he isn't stupid and he actually knows his secret agent stuff. As for Rowan Atkinson, it might be his British accent but he fits perfectly as Johnny English. Our favorite sequence was the one in Hong Kong. It's so inventive, imaginative and funny at the same time. It takes a jab at how the usual action scenes are set-up and how stupid they are at times. As much as we liked the witty one-liners and thrilling comedy-action scenes, we hated the plain Jane story. It's the usual meaning it's also predictable. It doesn't help that the screenplay felt a tad subpar when compared to other films in this calibre. Overall, "Johnny English Reborn" will make you laugh. The story may be the usual but it tickles the funny bone more than the usual.

Moneyball (2011)

The joy one gets from going to a baseball game is an intangible.  You can keep the foul ball you caught in the stands or the souvenir cap you got at the gate, but there’s no quantifying the thrill of seeing a walk-off home-run or watching a player make a diving catch or seeing a pitcher strike out the batter with bases loaded.  Oakland Athletics general manager Billy Beane (played by Brad Pitt) presented an anathema to the intangible by trying to quantify every play and every player.  The uproar against his plan was tremendous and oblivious.  The game had already been quantified in dollars, and the A’s didn’t have much of those.  What they did have was a willingness to rethink an unfair business to so they could have a shot at the championship.  Bennett Miller’s adaptation of Michael Lewis’ Moneyball takes the interesting ideas presented in the book and transforms them into a funny, dramatic, and captivating tale that can hold competing ideas simultaneously.

In 2001, the A’s reached the American League Division Series but were defeated by the New York Yankees.  The A’s had a payroll of $38 million to New York’s $114 million.  The A’s also had star players Jason Giambi, Johnny Damon, and Jason Isringhausen, all of who went into free agency at the end of the season and would garner a price tag out of the Atheletics’ budget.  Unable to get more money and desperate to win, Beane discovers Yale economics graduate Peter Brandt (Jonah Hill) and learns that every team in baseball is wasting their cash.  Too much has been placed on intangibles like looks, a good swing, and deceptive statistics like runs-batted-in and even home runs.  On-Base Percentage is everything because runs generate wins and wins are everything.

Unable to compete under conventional means and with nothing to lose except his job and his reputation, Beane takes a chance on statistics-based-baseball (popularly known as Sabermetrics).  Beane also has a personal reason in this radical concept since he was a former baseball prodigy who looked like a hall-of-famer and instead flamed out.  Given a false sense of his own worth, Beane wants to see value on paper and never again fall for the same deceptions.  As Beane and Brandt’s new strategy struggles in the face of opposition from manager Art Howe (Philip Seymour Hoffman), skeptical scouts, and the ire of every single sports pundit, the two risk everything on players who have tweaked nerves, funny pitch delivery, and old legs.

Moneyball skillfully plays with the question of how baseball can remain fun if it’s boiled down to a science.  If everything is just a statistic, and the statistics celebrating walks while ruling out staples like base-stealing and bunting, then how much is left for us to enjoy?  Doesn’t science remove the poetry of a game when a batter’s stance and poise is irrelevant when compared to how many walks he draws?  Those questions may bother a fan, but Billy Beane needs to win not just for his career but to change the game in way he never could as a player.  Moneyball is a sports underdog story presented in a more thoughtful manner than simply “Must win championship.”

Miller does a tremendous job taking complicated ideas and delivers them in an easily-accessible drama.  Steve Zaillian and Aaron Sorkin’s script distills the ideas and bullet points of Lewis’ book and turns them into charming quips and shorthand that will work for baseball fans and non-fans alike.  More impressive is that Miller doesn’t rely on graphics or playful visual aids to explain the stats and why they matter.  Sharp, succinct dialogue and some close-ups on computer monitors is all he needs to make his point.  There’s enough confidence in the story, the themes, the humor, and the performances that big visual flourishes like numbers running across the screen or expensive animated graphics are unnecessary.  Moneyball is only frustrating when it betrays its self-assured tone and drags in the middle when the story drives home the point that the baseball establishment thinks Beane is a lunatic, and a cloying relationship between Beane and his daughter where she writes him a song to cheer him up.  It certainly doesn’t need a character at the end summing up the result of Beane’s experiment.

But these shortcomings aren’t to the greater detriment of the picture.  Moneyball keeps cool even when it comes to its complicated climax and the A’s are going for the longest winning-streak in major league history.  It’s an unexpected crystallization of how statistics don’t kill our enjoyment of baseball.  If Beane and Brandt were truly heartless stat-hounds, the streak would be meaningless to them as would a championship beyond increased revenues to buy more players.  Beane may be able to fool himself that he doesn’t care about championship rings or win-streaks or anything beyond proving his point, but he’s as excited as the rest of us when he watches Scott Hatteberg (Chris Pratt), a washed-up catcher turned first basemen that every other team had given up on, comes to the plate.

Science may beat out superstition but that doesn’t mean it destroys awe or excitement.  Sure, “Casey at the Bat” would lose some of its poetic power if “Mighty Casey has struck out” was changed to “Mighty Casey struck out because he didn’t realize he was statistically more likely to hit pitches that were up-and-in than down-and-away.”  But intangibles can’t be destroyed by statistics.  Does an Athletics fan feel less joy if a game-winning home run comes off the bat of Scott Hatteberg rather than a Jason Giambi?  Is a strikeout any less of a victory if it comes off the arm of Chad Bradford rather than Jason Isringhausen?  Science doesn’t remove mystique and it doesn’t diminish a victory.  It just means you don’t write off a hitter if he has an unattractive girlfriend and you certainly don’t write off Moneyball because you think you don’t like sports movies.  It’s much more than another underdog story (although I don’t have the stats to prove it).

Kung Fu Panda 2

Kung Fu Panda 2 stands as a shining example of DreamWorks finally getting the sequel formula right. Building off of the success of the original 2008 hit, Panda 2 delivers more laughs, larger scale, finer animation, and arguably more heart. Jack Black returns as the  incompetently powerful Po the panda to battle the next stage in warfare that threatens to make hand-to-hand combat extinct. Joined by the Furious Five, the group wages war amidst the beautiful landscape of China in thrilling sequences of 3D combat that highlight the evolution of the fighting in the first film. With newcomer Jennifer Yuh at the helm, backed by the returning talents of writers Jonathan Aibel and Glenn Berger along with the full voice cast, Kung Fu Panda 2 is the latest animated film to blur the lines between the admiration from adults and kids alike, and brings bang for your buck in 3D. Hit the jump for the full review.

Po (Black) is living it up as the legendary Dragon Warrior alongside the Furious Five—Tigress (Angelina Jolie), Crane (David Cross), Monkey (Jackie Chan), Mantis (Seth Rogen), and Viper (Lucy Liu). They watch over the Valley of Peace and defeat all threats. But when a new enemy rises in the form of Shen (Gary Oldman) with a deadly weapon, it threatens to irradicate the need for any form of martial arts. Po and his companions must travel into the heart of China to face off against Shen, but the secret to securing the future lies in Po’s mysterious past.

One clear sign that the DreamWorks crew were listening to the criticism and praise of the original is that the hand-drawn animation that took place in the intro of the first film is not only back, but makes a few more appearances throughout. Rendered in 3D, the opening sequences for Kung Fu Panda 2 are dripping with the fine detail that the extra dimension provides to a layered but flat scene. While this may be Yuh’s first feature film as director, she is familiar with the hand-drawn animation as she directed the sequences in the first film. Another interesting addition is how Po fights alongside the Furious Five. Instead of fighting as individuals, they work in tandem to disperse foes in interesting combinations. While they sometimes end up a blur, it never becomes frustrating. The fights are relentlessly entertaining, and the infusion of humor into the skirmishes feels fresh.

Unfortunately, not everything in this sequel is better. One of the weaker parts of Panda 2 is in the main baddie. While Tai Long was capable of single-handedly defeating the Furious Five, Shen has no such skill. Considering he is a peacock, I had my doubts about his ability to fight to begin with. Luckily, they didn’t try and sell him as an overly powerful fighter but instead a thinker. That isn’t to say that Shen can’t hold his own at times; his use of metal talons and daggers hidden within his tail help give him an edge.

However, one built-up fight feels over before it even started until he makes his escape. Considering the film is so immersed in fighting, it’s an odd quirk to have your main evil doer rely on means other than kung fu. Meanwhile, the wolf henchmen that Shen utilizes provide worthy opponents to showcase the talents of our kung fu heroes. They also provide comic relief in the sense that they are constantly beat up in humors ways. Additionally, with Danny McBride providing the vocals of the head wolf, you get verbal quarrels that leave both child and adult in laughter.

As for Po’s past, it is thoroughly explored and sets up nicely for a future film. Unluckily, having Black voice his flashback parents may be a bad trend in sequels if they go down that route. Back to Po’s past, though, his journey isn’t quite as easy to track compared to the first film. At times it feels splintered, and we are unsure why his past is so troubling. There are also revelations made that will catch many off guard and get them thinking about the various characters we have encountered along the way.

The mere fact that Panda 2 makes you want to think back and become retrospective is impressive. For a film that appears to just be a barrel of laughs on the outside, there is a surprising amount of heart built in. The other qualm with the story is the opening sequence. While it is visually stunning, I think it may have dulled my ability to pay attention to what the animation was trying to tell me. Make sure you are ready to get on board with the story when the film begins.

With my nitpicking out of the way, let’s get back to the improvements. Remember the end sequence of the first film and how many enemies the sextuplet were facing as they leap off a cliff face? Imagine adding 3D to the scene, and playing it out three or four times. With that in mind, you get a sense of scope of the action set pieces. They are massive and with the additional dimension, look stunning. Unlike so many films that seem to just play with 3D, animated films have long been the torch bearer the last year and a half because they work in the extra dimension so well. Yet, Panda 2 goes a step beyond. DreamWorks as a whole seems to have a knack for adding much-needed value for your extra dollar, and the film really pops. This is one film I would actually encourage you to see in 3D.

Another advance is the humor of the film. We are ready to believe that Po is a capable fighter, but he is still a klutz. While he is brave, he is also headstrong and often times it is to the detriment of his own body. Panda 2 never makes excuses for where most of its humor comes from—it’s slapstick wrapped in some of the prettiest packaging around. But there is an intelligent quality to the slapstick that keeps it from feeling tired. When Po notices his foe’s head bouncing on the steps as they roll down them, he places his fist right in front to dole out more punishment. Even the jokes have improved, with Black’s delivery and enthusiasm garnering most of the laughter but still leaving the other cast members room to make their mark.

Kung Fu Panda 2 could have been a quick cash-grab without any soul. The film was a follow-up to a smash success, and yet I can’t stop thinking about how much the film impressed me. Having been an outspoken fan of the original, it brings me joy to praise its sequel. With the oddity of improving in every facet except for the antagonist, Panda 2 shows that hard work can pay off and DreamWorks can be trusted to improve on a previous product. There is no denying that this film has a smooth confidence, and if this is a sign of the future of the franchise, I can’t wait to see where they go from here.

Fright Night (2011)

I'm here to tell you that the remake of Fright Night isn't a bad film. Seriously, it's not. The original goes down as one of my favorite vampire films of all time...so, for me to say that this new version isn't bad is pretty remarkable. However, the film isn't really all that great either. Here...let's discuss...shall we?

I won't talk much about the original in my review of this new version. I was going to make a side by side comparison...but, instead, I'll simply use the original as reference for this new Fright Night. I'm sure some devout fans of the original are hating this remake before the projector even rolls...so, I don't really want to add more hate to my review. Had this new version really sucked, then believe me...I would be spraying the hate around like the goddamn Bellagio fountains.

Aside from the characters' names in the film, it really goes for it's own thing. I mean, don't get me wrong...the film has the DNA of the classic all throughout the movie...but, it does attempt to create its own universe. The premise this time around takes place in the desolate suburbs of Las Vegas. Kind of a perfect place for a vampire to snack on all kinds of prey. Especially when given the fact that today's economy has most home owners abandoning their houses in foreclosure. So, the occasional vacant home doesn't really cause any kind of alarm. The neighbors haven't fallen prey to a blood-thirsty vampire...they must've just moved. It's a really great place to tell a new story involving Jerry Dandridge...if you think about it.

Speaking of Jerry Dandridge...Colin Farrell does a really kick ass job playing the original role that Chris Sarandon made so iconic. He really goes for the throat with the lethality that he brings into the character. If I were a vampire...this is exactly what I would be. A blood-thirsty predator that doesn't give a fuck about romanticism and humanity. Instead, he's like a shark. His only instinct is to kill. If anything, I hope this film inspires new incarnations of the vampire in films and pushes things away from the sparkly, prancing vampires from tween novels. Farrell is the best thing in this new remake. He even throws the apple eating thing from the original film in there for good measure.

If Farrell stands out as the best part of the film...then, Christopher Mintz-Plasse is the bottom of the barrel worst thing in the film. His rendering of the Evil Ed character feels so forced and cheap...it kind of takes you out of the good vampire film that you seem to have been watching and instead plants you right back into the cheap remake that you are watching. I know that Mintz-Plasse, whom you'll remember as McLovin' from Superbad, really tried to do a 180 on the iconic character and inject his own thing...but, I wished that he could've just embraced the character instead of trying to make him his own. I don't feel that he has the range as an actor to just go away from the source and attempt something original. Well...neither was Geoffreys, for that matter...but, at least he created something wild and fresh at the time. This is a remake...so, you either pay homage to the originals...or you knock your own spin of the performance out of the ballpark. Mintz-Plasse does neither.

The character of Charley Brewster is basically wasted in this new Fright Night. He comes off as such a douche that you don't really attach yourself to the character like in the original. I usually don't mind Anton Yelchin as a character actor...but, during this retelling of an old horror classic I kept thinking about plugging in another young actor. Like, Kyle Gallner (The Haunting in Connecticut). He would've made a cool kind of brooding Charley Brewster. Or maybe Bret Harrison (Reaper) might've made an awesome Charley Brewster as a little older take on the character. But, then I stopped myself in the midst of my lapse of distraction and realized that the character of Brewster in this version didn't really captivate me. I could care less about his plight against the vampire that moved in next door. In fact, I wanted Dandridge to win in this film...and that's kind of bad when your film's hero becomes unimportant.

The unfortunately named Imogen Poots does her thing as Amy. Not really memorable...but, likeable enough. However, I was surprised that she actually stayed with Charley in the film. Peter Vincent is now played by the awesome David Tennant who plays Vincent as a sort of rock and roll style vampire illusionist who works on the Vegas strip. It's funny because he plays a better Russell Brand than Russell Brand does. We later find out that this version of Peter Vincent actually goes a bit deeper thus tying his relationship to Dandridge at the end. Many have complained that Vincent as a Vegas magician doesn't really fit into the whole story...but, I actually liked this version. It makes sense when you take into account the setting of Vegas and the desperation thrown into Charley's world.

There's a bunch of silly stuff going on in this film like the stupid "How to Pick a Lock" app that was completely unnecessary. Lisa Loeb as Evil's mom was kind of silly and distracting. And the in-your-face depiction of how completely vapid of depth and soul this generation of young teenagers is shown as in the film. Almost taken out of an Old Navy commercial.

Still...there are lots to like about this version. Director Craig Gillespie does a decent enough job of creating the tension and the atmosphere in the film. There's a really good scene where Charley attempts to rescue a victim from Jerry's house only to be met with a really cool ending. Oh(!)...and there's even a really awesome cameo from someone from the original film that you won't see coming...I won't spoil the scene for you, but when it did come the audience that I watched the film with nearly gave a standing ovation (myself included). I already mentioned Farrell's portrayal of the killer Jerry Dandridge. Even the CGI isn't too bad...well, except for the final battle scenes, which look like you just defeated a final boss in a video game.

In all, Fright Night is nowhere near the iconic classic that the original came to be...but, I won't hold that against it...because I will always love 1985's version. However, it is a film in a dry season of horror that is enjoyable enough to spend an hour and a half in a dark theater. Nothing more. I didn't watch it in "Real 3D"...so, I can't speak on those effects...it didn't really seem to matter, tho. I would say...watch it as a horror film lover and try to check your grudge of classic remakes at the door...and you should have a good enough time. Don't worry about this version pissing all over the original Fright Night (like the Nightmare on Elm Street remake did to the original)...because, it doesn't. And besides, we'll always have that one in our hearts.

The Guard (2011)

That Gerry Boyle (Brendan Gleeson), he’s so unorthodox. He takes half the drugs he finds on corpses, he hires prostitutes on his days off, he unashamedly makes racist slurs, he tampers with murder-scene evidence. He’s a renegade, marching to the beat of his own drum, abiding no-one’s rules but his own! Um, OK.

In rural western Ireland, he pretty much is the police force. There are no ramifications if he does drop a tab of acid taken from the pocket of a recently deceased drunk driver. There are no consequences if he does take a day off, because nothing really happens in such a sleepy community.

Enter some international drug smugglers (Liam Cunningham, David Wilmot, Mark Strong), dropping onto the Connemara coast any time soon, with millions of dollars worth of cocaine. Too much for one rural force to handle, the FBI has sent over Wendell Everett (Don Cheadle) to assist in the arrest.

The Guard is trying to be both a buddy-cop film, as Boyle and Everett must put aside their differences and team up to get the job done, and a fish-out-of-water story, as both Boyle and Everett are well out of their respective comfort zones with what unfolds.

Similarities have to be drawn between The Guard and Hot Fuzz (2007); the premise is similar, there are themes in common. However, Gleeson and Cheadle lack the chemistry that made Pegg and Frost so enjoyable to watch. They’re not friends, they don’t overcome difficulties to reach a utopic equilibrium, and they’re not funny even when they’re at loggerheads.

Separately, both Cheadle and Gleeson are good actors with solid portfolios, but together they both fall flat, though I think that the script is more at fault than they are. I had high hopes for Gleeson after In Bruges (2008), but The Guard lacks both indie charm and high-spec polish, and a human core on which the thin plot could revolve around.

I found Boyle to be hugely irritating and not remotely funny. Had I warmed to him, I feel as though I would have enjoyed this film so much more. He fumbles accidentally into victories, treading a fine line between being incredibly stupid or incredibly smart, and whilst this is deliberate on the part of the film, it grew tiresome. In an attempt to humanise him somewhat, they give him an ailing mother, but this element isn’t explored enough to be of any real emotional depth, and felt a bit tacked on.

Mark Strong played the most interesting character, though his screen time was low, as a jaded drug lord with a penchant for quoting philosophy. Brooding and surprisingly attractive, he’s tired of life and is craving something new, something exciting. I felt an affinity with him; he felt about life like I did about the movie.

It rolled along with no mystery, no tension, no laughs (for me anyway), and the climactic action sequence was a let down.

The dialogue was uninspired, the characters relied on cliches and tired stereotypes. With memorable lines such as “I thought only black boys were drug dealers, and Mexicans”, “I thought black people couldn’t ski, or is that swimming?” and “I’m Irish, racism is part of my culture!” Well, I don’t think that it should be. Ironic racism is still racism, and even if you “don’t mean it”, I still find it crass, and a lazy way to get cheap laughs. Are racists still even worth laughing at? Aren’t we tired of that whole schtick now?

Cinematographically, the scenery wasn’t utilised to its highest potential. The location could have brought more atmosphere to the piece, but it just sat there in the background, being beige and a bit bleak. The music didn’t add anything of note either.

The Guard isn’t a bad idea, but it didn’t nearly come close to living up to its potential.

The Change-Up (2011)

Body-switch comedies aren't new. While we can point to a myriad of incarnations that failed to impress there are also those that entertain despite this unoriginal conceit. Two that stand out in my mind are Big and Face/Off; one a sweet, child's adventure into adulthood and the other an outlandish farce heightened by the talent in front of and behind the camera. Neither are believable, both are using a silly and generic premise, and both are entertaining features in their own right. As far as I'm concerned, The Change-Up is the R-rated, raunchy, dumb comedy addition to that shelf and the funniest film I've seen all year. Sure, Bridesmaids is very funny, and probably a better overall movie, but when it comes to laughs this one delivers.

The Change-Up begins with a poop joke that is more than a gross-out moment. Had the feces that were fired from the baby's visibly-pulsing, CG rectum only splattered Jason Bateman's eye it would have been merely a gross-out moment. Instead, a second solid stream lands squarely in his mouth. I didn't have time to think. I didn't know what to do. I certainly didn't want to look, but one thing was for certain, I was no longer thinking of the stupid concept at the film's core. I was suddenly on guard and at attention as to what other surprises this film had in store.

This single moment had effectively reminded me I was here to watch a comedy and not worry about the concept of two friends who switch bodies and live the other's life for a few days. Sure, it used juvenile potty humor to get its point across, but it was that moment of self-awareness I appreciated as I began to realize these guys probably wouldn't have made this film had there not been enough laughs to sustain it.

The premise follows Dave (Bateman), a lawyer and family man with a wife and two kids, and Mitch (Ryan Reynolds), a dead beat, F-level actor more interested in smoking weed than he is growing up. Early on we're given glimpses into these guys' personalities and how Dave is leading the straight and narrow life though he does have a wandering eye for his lovely assistant Sabrina (Olivia Wilde), and how Mitch is essentially a Fiero-driving whore with daddy issues and a mouth that's as unfiltered as it is non-stop. This all sets up the moment where Mitch and Dave get drunk, pee in a park fountain and suddenly switch lives. From there on out, things get a lot more entertaining and incredibly obscene.

It's no surprise we're watching a film from Jon Lucas and Scott Moore, the screenwriters that penned the first The Hangover (not the second), and David Dobkin, the director of Wedding Crashers. The film is consistently filled with laughter and only in the brief moments near the end does it overstay its welcome, forgetting the unapologetic nature with which its treated the film's concept and relying on typical genre trappings to bring the story home. However, it's a small price to pay for the number of laughs.

The good thing about a body-switch comedy is the story writes itself; two characters switch bodies, their lives are unfamiliar and turned upside down. They screw things up, learn things about themselves and their friends, fix things and eventually everything goes back to normal. This isn't rocket science. All that's necessary is to inject this outline with what is going to separate this film from those before it.

Big separated itself by approaching adult themes through the eyes of a child and casting Tom Hanks. Face/Off utilized a maniacal Nicolas Cage channeled through John Travolta… plus the addition of bullets, doves and Gina Gershon. The Change-Up pulls it off by being as foul-mouthed, offensive and raunchy as it can possibly get and doing so with only two poop jokes. Yeah, only two. Can you believe it? And both are seen in the variety of trailers that have been released and only one has to do with the babies. Gasp!

In a year that has given us several R-rated comedies, I was pleasantly surprised by the one I doubted the most. Maybe this is why I was so entertained. I don't know. What I do know is I laughed a lot and would gladly watch it again.

Crazy, Stupid, Love. (2011)

 “Crazy, Stupid, Love” is, on balance, remarkably sane and reasonably smart. Directed by Glenn Ficarra and John Requa, this movie, packed with appealing stars, is a smooth blend of modern comic genres with a surprising undercurrent of dark, difficult emotion. Essentially a study in the varieties of masculine sexual confusion, it travels the circuit from bromance to a kind of Y-chromosome weepie that might be called male-odrama, with a detour into the briar patch of adolescent awkwardness.

Steve Carell, who on the big screen often impersonates sweet, anxious guys dutifully holding their inner Michael Scott firmly in check, plays Cal Weaver, an everyman with a family, a nice suburban house and an office job. He also has a bad haircut and terrible fashion sense, as he will be told by Jacob (Ryan Gosling), a pickup artist who volunteers his services as coach in the game of seduction.

Cal accepts the offer because his wife of more than two decades, Emily (Julianne Moore), has told him that she wants a divorce, and that she has cheated on him with a co-worker (Kevin Bacon) only slightly less nebbishy than Cal himself. Nursing his self-pity at a sleek local bar, Cal meets Jacob, who tries to do for him something like what Will Smith did for Kevin James in “Hitch.” (The movie analogy Jacob proposes is Mr. Miyagi in “The Karate Kid.”) In a determined, half-pathetic attempt to even the score with Emily, Cal sets out to score with as many women as he can.

Complications, as the saying goes, ensue, but they are not necessarily the ones you might expect. The script (by Dan Fogelman, whose other credits include “Bolt” and “Cars”) follows what seem to be tangential threads of plot. These are eventually spun together in a chaotic climax that manages to be astonishing without destroying the film’s hard-won credibility. (The superfluous tying up of loose ends that occupies the final 20 minutes or so does some damage, I’m afraid.) “Crazy, Stupid, Love” takes its time, understanding that digression can be more important, and more satisfying, than relentless forward momentum. The movie also prefers small improbabilities and minor-key incongruities to big, loud, naughty jokes.

And so we spend some time with Cal and Emily’s son, Robbie (Jonah Bobo), who has a crush on his baby sitter, Jessica (Analeigh Tipton), who has a crush on Cal. We also make the acquaintance of Hannah, a recent law school graduate with the bad luck to have a useless boyfriend (Josh Groban) and the splendid good fortune of being played by Emma Stone. An early encounter drops the hint that Hannah and Jacob will wind up together, but we don’t know quite how, or how that connection will intersect with Jacob’s mentor-protégé friendship with Cal.

On the way to finding out, we are treated to two supervised visits with Marisa Tomei; a man-on-man shopping-mall makeover-montage; a sweetly funny almost-hookup; and bumpy scenes from Cal and Emily’s marriage, which staggers and wheezes but will not quite die. With understated sympathy to match its sense of human ridiculousness, “Crazy, Stupid, Love,” when dealing with this weary, worried couple, navigates a zone of adult ambivalence and disappointment that most comedies are too timid to explore.

Mr. Ficarra and Mr. Requa showed an ability to mix pathos, whimsy and eccentricity in “I Love You Phillip Morris,” their debut feature. Here they balance respect for the romantic imperative that is part of the movie’s Hollywood DNA — there is lots of soapy, sincere talk of soul mates and endless love — with a sober acknowledgment of the limits of romanticism.

In part because of this attempt to balance skeptical wisdom with dreamy reassurance, the movie itself is far from perfect. Its missteps include an icky and uncharacteristically insensitive resolution of the Cal-Jessica-Robbie triangle and too little screen time for Ms. Moore and Ms. Stone. They are not badly treated — not shamed, slobbered over or idealized, as women often are in man-centric comedies — but you may wish that their own predicaments had as much weight as those of their former and potential mates.

But comedies don’t really work that way anymore. The old screwball idea of heterosexual courtship as a battle of equally matched, contending forces is close to extinct. Same-sex friendship — male in “The Hangover” and a hundred others like it; female pretty much only in “Bridesmaids” and the “Sex and the City” pictures — now provides both the machinery of humor and the scaffolding of sentiment that prevents the jokes from becoming too mean.

Mr. Gosling and Mr. Carell (whose production company is responsible for “Crazy, Stupid, Love”) make a pretty good couple. Both are nimble enough to sidestep egregious caricature, but neither is above a bit of obvious mugging when it serves the cause. So Jacob, a smooth, self-satisfied master of the game — you have the feeling that he has indeed memorized “The Game” and watched every episode of “Mad Men” and “Entourage” at least twice — is also a bit of a fool. (It takes Hannah to perceive this and to see it as his best trait). The logic of Cal’s character works in reverse: His wardrobe and manner are the butt of easy, foolproof jokes, but in time we discover that underneath his clumsiness lies an anxious commitment to his own battered dignity.

It is possible to wish that “Crazy, Stupid, Love” were sharper and also to admire its decency and its unshowy skill. “I know the PG-13 version of this night,” Hannah says during her second encounter with Jacob, insisting that what she wants is R all the way. The movie, true to its own PG-13 rating, opts for mildness, modesty and chastened optimism. At the same time, though, it seems to know that a crueler, more cynical rendering of its story — a “Bitter, Hopeless, Love” — lurks between the lines. What makes it worth watching, and worth liking, is the sense that it arrives at its warm and comforting view of things not by default but by choice.

“Crazy, Stupid, Love” is rated PG-13 (Parents strongly cautioned). Naughty business is referred to more than it is shown, and the swearing does not get out of hand.

The Smurfs (2011)

The Smurfs is one of the safest, non-offending children's films I have seen in a long, long time. It hardly evokes a reaction due to the fact it doesn't even try to evoke a reaction. Outside of a couple of funny one-liners, a bit of fun had with Hank Azaria as Gargamel and the annoying "la, la, la, la, la, la" of the little CG Smurfs, there's nothing to takeaway.

Utilizing the narrative last used by Disney's Enchanted, we begin in a land of fantastical beings. In this case we meet the three-apples-high Smurfs as they go about their daily lives, hidden in the forest from the evil wizard Gargamel who wants to capture them and extract their "Smurf essence" (yeah, this film is rife with innuendo) and become the most powerful wizard in all the land. Problem for Gargamel is he can't find their mushroom village. Not his fault, it's protected by Papa Smurf's invisibility shield. Boom, score one for the Smurfs.

Fortunately for Gargamel, there's Clumsy Smurf (voiced by Anton Yelchin) who accidentally leads the wizard back to the Smurf village while he's out picking some Smurf root. The resulting chase scene ends in a wet and wild ride through a magical portal that sends Papa Smurf (Jonathan Winters), Gutsy Smurf (Alan Cumming), Brainy Smurf (Fred Armisen), Grouchy Smurf (George Lopez), Clumsy Smurf and the ever so tantalizing Smurfette (Katy Perry) to Central Park. But watch out! Gargamel and his cat Azrael are right behind them and the chase continues throughout Manhattan as Papa searches for a way home and Gargamel searches for Smurfs. Smurfin' nuts… amirite?

The Smurfs ultimately end up in the hands of Patrick and Grace Winslow played by Neil Patrick Harris and Jayma Mays, the latter of which for some reason has a problem speaking like an adult. As for Patrick, he was just handed the executive advertising position at a cosmetics company, which is run by a tyrant played by Sofia Vergara ("Modern Family"), and you better believe he's on a deadline for a new campaign. 48 hours? What the what? Hmmmm, I wonder if Clumsy will mess things up, or will Patrick learn a valuable lesson? Or both? The tension is killing me!

So the whole group — Smurfs, wizards and humans — runs around the city in search of whatever they may need to keep the plot moving forward all while posing for advertising tie-ins for the likes of Blu-ray and the Blue Man Group (you know, because Smurfs are blue and it's free money) as well as Wacom, Guitar Hero, FAO Schwartz and M&Ms (again, free money). When the product placement stops, Gargamel points out how Papa Smurf has 99 sons and one daughter and sarcastically adds, "Yeah, because that's not weird"; Patrick points out that just because the Smurfs are named after their most dominant trait it doesn't mean that's all they are; and Smurfette stands over a vent which results in her dress going over her head (no pervert, they don't show it). So if you thought you would be walking into a film without deep morality lessons, guess again.

Still, having said all that, The Smurfs is a movie that's just as impossible to hate as it is to like. In fact, it's too safe to have any real feelings toward. The curious thing, is how do you judge such a movie? With recent kid fare such as Mr. Popper's Penguins and Zookeeper there was plenty to harp on. The Smurfs doesn't fall into the cliched traps of stupidity those films mined, but that's only because it seems to be actively avoiding them to the point it does absolutely nothing to offend or entertain.

Smurfs director, Raja Gosnell, is probably best known for bringing Scooby-Doo to the big screen and seems destined to hack out similar features for the rest of his career. His last film before this was Beverly Hills Chihuahua, a film more along the Popper's Penguins and Zookeeper lines. By comparison, it seems with The Smurfs he finally decided that if he can't make a film that will please everyone, he'll make one that won't please anyone, and he'll do it in such a way you hopefully won't have too many bad things to say. Success!

In the end, it's a movie titled The Smurfs and it delivers on its title's promise. There are Smurfs in this smurfin' thing, but if a Smurf is in a movie and nobody cares to smurf it, did it really smurf and is it really a movie?

Friends with Benefits (2011)

 “Friends With Benefits,” a breezy, speedy and (no kidding) funny comedy with a nicely matched Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis that is about love and sex in the age of social networking, gets some of its juice and tang partly by trash-talking its own genre. The setup is familiar, as are the essential elements: a single man and a single woman, two battered hearts yet a pair of resilient, eager, pretty bodies. But Ms. Kunis’s character is dark and savvy, not blond and dippy, and when she comically rails against an unseen Katherine Heigl you may sigh with relief (fingers crossed) that you’re watching the “Scream” of romantic comedies.

Much as the first “Scream” movie gave horror cinema a jolt with self-consciously knowing characters who knew the bloody ins and outs of the genre — and were sadistically subjected to those clichés firsthand — “Friends With Benefits” starts from the premise that its characters, and you, are sick of the romantic comedy clichés they may secretly, or not so secretly, adore. In other words, the director Will Gluck, who wrote the script with Keith Merryman and David A. Newman, doesn’t just want to have his romantic comedy cake and eat it too, he also wants to throw it in your face and make you laugh as you lick the icing off your lips. The results are about as naughty as that sounds (not very), but it also makes for a fairly giggling good time.

A corporate headhunter but, you know, cool, Jamie (Ms. Kunis) meets Dylan, a Web site art director (Mr. Timberlake) , when she lures him to New York to interview for a spot at a men’s magazine. They meet cute — she’s scrambling atop an airport baggage carousel and he’s wide-eyed and willing —and they’re soon off and running, or really walking and talking, mostly talking. She needs him to take the job to earn her bonus and so sweetens the deal by showing him around what she calls the real New York. That this tour includes a flash mob shouldn’t be held against Jamie, not least because Ms. Kunis is fast proving that she’s a gift that keeps giving to mainstream romantic comedy.

One reason is that she doesn’t play the stock girl, teary and needy or plucky and needy, but rather a woman who can go joking round for round against men. Ms. Kunis looks itty-bitty enough to hang on a charm bracelet, but her energy is so invigorating and expansive and her presence so vibrant that she fills the screen. If she continues to score roles like this, she might even be able to break out of the genre. Of course she’ll probably be forced to compete with the equally appealing and tiny — if paler and pinker — Emma Stone, who, with several other name actors, makes the most of a tiny role. Mr. Gluck directed Ms. Stone in “Easy A,” a lightly (very lightly) self-aware flick about a high-schooler play-acting as Hester Prynne.

The genre self-consciousness in “Friends With Benefits” extends from the throwaway “Pretty Woman” nods to a goofy (and entertainingly bogus) romantic movie within a movie that Jamie and Dylan watch after their initial business relationship turns into something a bit more touchy-feely and squealy. Having both been dumped, they decide that an occasional quickie with a friend is a perfect post-romance pick-me-up. Much like the recent similarly themed if less satisfying and cruder “No Strings Attached,” “Friends With Benefits” uses sex and bared skin to get at questions about the possibility of romantic love between true male and female equals. After all, without Mommy and Daddy, religion, community or a ticking clock forcing the issue, what’s the point of settling down (or just settling)?

Mr. Gluck largely distinguishes himself in this movie by the casting (Woody Harrelson plays a randy gay colleague of Dylan’s, and Patricia Clarkson shows up as Jamie’s mom) and by directing the actors to talk at warp speed. Jamie and Dylan do more than trade teasing laughs, they slam their lines like Chinese Ping-Pong champs, hurling the quips so fast at times that it’s a wonder they don’t gaspingly reach for the oxygen. That speed makes the duds easier to miss and the dreary heavy stuff easier to ignore, and may of course also remind you of the screwball comedies of the 1930s and ’40s, a comparison that Mr. Gluck hopefully flags with a conspicuous poster for “It Happened One Night.”

Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert kept their distance with a blanket in that 1934 gem, whereas only their Calvins usually get between Jamie and Dylan, and rarely for long. That said, despite the sex and chatter, which includes some amusing bossy instruction, it’s the sentiment that keeps you hooked.

Too bad the whole thing is so very hard on the eyes: “Friends With Benefits” is certainly likable, but it may be the ugliest digitally shot movie ever released by a major studio. The problem isn’t the serviceable shooting, the camera setups and the like, but the poor digital quality that makes New York look like a blurred Xerox copy and puts so much yellow in the actors’ faces, especially Ms. Kunis’s, you may think it’s their livers that are giving them trouble instead of their hearts.

“Friends With Benefits” is rated R (Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian). There’s enough simulated sex and nearly full nudity that if you see this with your parents you will be embarrassed.

MONTE CARLO (2011)

We see a shot of the Eiffel Tower.  The tour guide says, "Welcome to Paris."  A title appears on screen, telling us this is indeed Paris.  Subtlety is not one of Monte Carlo's strengths.

Neither is presenting characters whose arcs are not preordained from the first time they appear on screen, creating a scenario in which the protagonists are particularly sympathetic, nor building momentum to a farce of a finale of that depends upon people entering and exiting doors at the worst time possible.  On the other hand, though, it does have characters who do—predictable as it may be—undergo change, a prince-and-the-pauper situation that has a minor rebellious spirit by eliminating the willing participation of its wealthier half, and a understanding of basic farce's use of scattering people to generate chaos amid a traditionally classy event.  So it's not all a waste.

It begins in a small town in Texas, where Grace (Selena Gomez) works as a waitress at a local diner with her best friend Emma (Katie Cassidy) and is about to graduate from high school.  The two have planned a weeklong excursion to the City of Lights as a celebration for Grace, and a wrench is thrown into the works when Grace's mother and stepfather (Andie MacDowell and Brett Cullen, who end up as wholly unconcerned parental figures, considering how, due to the eventual series of complications, none of the girls are able to be contacted) decide that Grace's stepsister Meg (Leighton Meester) should accompany them.

The characterization is established immediately without any fuss.  Grace blends in perhaps a bit too much to her surroundings.  She encounters a group of her fellow students at the restaurant, and they immediately shoo her away.  Emma is the relative wild-child of the town, a fact established by her status as a high-school dropout, her determination to have a good time on her holiday, and the existence of steady boyfriend Owen (Cory Monteith), who gets jealous when she keeps referring to Paris as the City of Love.  Meg does not get along with either Grace or Emma, because she's the worrywart, the snob, the downer, and, perhaps worst of all, the stepsister they don't want with them while they explore Paris because she'll ruin all the fun.

Co-writer/director Thomas Bezucha twists expectations early on in their arrival (after the unnecessarily repetitive declaration of their arrival) by turning the travelogue aspect into a whirlwind tour from a sightseer's worst nightmare.  Passing up Notre Dame (with an announcement of its appearance given too late), breezing through the Louvre, and staying in a hotel where the room is small and the window has a view of a man in the tub, the tension between the three builds.  The last straw is when their tour bus leaves them behind at the Eiffel Tower (where it's revealed that Emma has a case of acrophobia, which is only referenced one other time, as the trio shambles across the ledge of a hotel, and to no effect).

While walking back to their lodgings, the group stops into a fancy hotel to get out of the rain, and there, Meg and Emma learn that Grace has a doppelganger: a rich brat of an heiress named Cordelia Winthrop Scott (also Gomez).  Soon enough, after some mistaken identity, the three young ladies are off to Monte Carlo in a private jet to attend a fundraiser for a philanthropist and his son Theo (Pierre Boulanger) under the guise of Cordelia.
 

It will come as no surprise to learn that Grace and Theo hit it off (as she tries to maintain a British accent and appear that she knows how to play polo), and that Meg and Emma meet their own men who challenge their natures (respectively, backpacking Australian (Luke Bracey), whose nonchalant attitude plays quite well against the craziness of the climax, and a prince (Giulio Berruti)).  The fantasy here is not that a girl can travel to an exotic place and wear expensive clothes and jewelry while staying in a luxurious hotel room but that somewhere there's a man who will complete her.  In that way, the movie bypasses one stereotype to move straight to another.
The fantasy goes too far elsewhere, as well, especially when Grace twice makes the "think of the children" argument with success and how simply everything is resolved.  Happiness in Monte Carlo is just a scream, a whistle, or a dimmer switch away.