JACK AND JILL: ½ STAR

"Hey! There's a new Adam Sandler movie coming out," is the first part of a sentence no discerning movie fan ever wants to hear. That's bad enough but it's the next part that really rankles. "And it co-stars Al Pacino." Yes Virginia, it's been a long time since Pacino’s name was mentioned in the same breath as Brando and DeNiro, but his reputation as one of the great actors of his generation shines a little less brightly today.
 
Sandler plays both title characters in "Jack and Jill." They're womb-mates--twins--who live on different coasts. His California based advertising agency is about to lose their biggest client, Dunkin' Donuts, if they can't convince Al Pacino to appear in a commercial for a new product, the Dunkaccino. Jill is a singleton, having devoted her life to looking after their parents back home in the Bronx. She's the kind of plain talker who says things like, "Are you going bald? No, you getting fat and your hair doesn't realize it has more face to cover." Now the parents are gone and Jill comes to visit, turning Jack's life upside in the process. On the upside Pacino becomes smitten and agrees to do the commercial if he can play twister with Jack's sister.

Sandler has corralled a number of his friends to make cameo appearances--including one of the biggest stars in the world (wearing a Justin Bieber t-shirt), Bruce Jenner and the usual suspects like David Spade--and they get the movie's biggest laughs. The rest of the movie makes some of Sandler's other films, like the odious "Little Nicky," look like the Marx Brothers.

For his part--or rather, parts--Sandler does his usual schick times two. Once in a wig and painted nails and once in his trademark t-shirts and sneakers. We don't expect much more from him, so he doesn't exactly disappoint, but it is hard to understand what Pacino was thinking.

Like Neil Patrick Harris in  "Harold and Kumar go to White Castle" the Oscar winner is playing a heightened version of himself, but his "Pacino related shenanigans" as Jack calls them, aren't funny. Instead it feels like we're witnessing a slow slide into self parody and the movie's references to Stella Adler and Marlon Brando only add insult to... well, insult.

Near the end of the movie Pacino says (SLIGHT SPOILER), "Burn this. this must never be seen by anyone." Certainly not anyone who cherishes his performance in the first wo "Godfather" movies. He is, of course, free to do what he wants, but we are just as free not to watch it happen.

I don't blame Adam Sandler for showcasing Pacino in this way, but I do have some advice for him. If he keeps making movies as bad as "Jack and Jill" he might end up like Pacino--appearing in bad Adam Sandler movies.

J. EDGAR: 3 STARS

Given the significance of J. Edgar Hoover to very fabric of his country it's not surprising that he is the subject of a big screen biopic with a-list talent both in front of the camera--Leonardo DiCaprio in the title role and Naomi Watts--and behind--Clint Eastwood. No, what's surprising is that it to this long. The man credited with creating the modern method of crime investigation died almost four decades ago. It's almost as though he has hidden files on everyone in Hollywood, stashed away. Waiting...

“J. Edgar” spans fifty years, focusing on its subject’s career and the information he both gathered to use as leverage against his enemies and the secret he guarded which could have ruined his carefully constructed image as America’s top cop. Controversial, enigmatic and tyrannical, the power hungry Hoover used his position to bend the law to its breaking point in the name of reform, patriotism and personal glory. Trusty sidekick and constant companion Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer) and faithful secretary Helen Gandy (Naomi Watts) assist in Hoover’s efforts to build the FBI, find the Lindbergh baby and discredit Martin Luther King, but this is Hoover’s story, warts and all.

"J. Edgar" is a handsome film. Eastwood brings a classic sensibility to the story, shooting on his now trademarked desaturated film stock, which gives an almost sepia tone to the movie, as though we're actually looking at footage from years ago. It's a nice touch that visually establishes a sense of history to go along with the period costumes and sets.

So far, so good. But as J. Edgar himself understood, appearances can be deceiving. Underneath the fine performances--more on those later--and craftsman like filmmaking is... not much. Or too much, depending on your point of view.

Lance Dustin Black's script is ambitious, covering fifty turbulent years, both politically and personally for Hoover. But as the story jumps from decade to decade, interweaving old and young versions of the characters, you can't help but wish Black and Eastwood had chosen one aspect of the story and told it well instead of this scattershot approach. It's a case of too much information and too little insight.

DiCaprio is remarkable--and Oscar worthy--in his ability to convincingly play Hoover over the span of fifty years, although it must be said he is aided by some impressive makeup. Too bad Hammer as Hoover's right hand man—and possible love interest—Clyde Tolson and Naomi Watts as the ever-faithful secretary Miss. Gandy, aren't given the same advantage. Hammer, although effective in his role, resembles a burn victim for much of the movie and Watts, with her running eyes and wrinkled visage, a living Dorian Grey portrait.

The relationships between Hoover and, well, everyone, don't feel genuine and as a result there is no emotional impact when the story could use one. We never get a true sense of why these two faithful companions give over their lives to Hoover, who, at best is a cold, calculating tyrant. Eastwood is clearly trying to create a real person out of Hoover, but having him writhing around on the floor, wearing his mother's jewelry and dress, is a rather melodramatic way to go about it.

JUDY MOODY AND THE NOT BUMMER SUMMER: 2 STARS

By the end of “Judy Moody and the Not Bummer Summer” Judy won’t be the only moody one. Parents unlucky enough to have to attend this manic adaptation of the popular Megan McDonald book series will likely go through a gamut of moods including irritation and vexation.

The story is simple enough. Judy (Jordana Beatty) a precocious third grader on summer break, planned to have the greatest school holiday of her life, but when her best friends leave for circus camp and an extended trip to Borneo she is left to her own devices. As the movie’s title implies, things look up when her parents get called away to California and bring in free spirited Aunt Opal (Heather Graham) to babysit. Suddenly the summer’s not such a bummer after all.

This is a movie for the eight-and-under crowd, a loud, hyper slice of shenanigans that doesn’t aim to entertain anyone over a grade three reading level. What it lacks in story it makes up for in slapstick which is probably fine for the pre-tweens but will test the will of their guardians to stay in their seats for the whole ninety minute running time.

Mixed in with plucky Judy’s tomfoolery are some messages about friendship and imagination but they are overwhelmed by the movie’s chaotic middle hour wall of noise.

Despite the presence of the fetching “Boogie Nights” star Heather Graham there’s nothing particularly cinematic about “Judy Moody and the Not Bummer Summer,” which suggests that a viewing could wait until it comes out on DVD… and parents can safely sit in the next room while the kids watch this on TV.

JANE EYRE: 4 STARS

You could be forgiven if you have a feeling of déjà vu at the movies this weekend. According to IMDB there are at least 22 versions of the Charlotte Brontë novel “Jane Eyre,” the first dating back to 1910, the most recent opening this today.

“Alice in Wonderland’s” Mia Wasikowska makes the title role her own in director Cary Fukunaga’s elegant retelling of Jane Eyre’s search for happiness and love. After a bleak, loveless childhood Eyre finds employment as a governess at Thornfield Hall, working for the brooding Mr. Rochester (Michael Fassbender). The pair forms a romantic bond but this is a gothic story, so of course Jane’s happiness is waylaid by her fiancée’s terrible secret.   

Fukunaga, whose last film was the violent Spanish language “Sin Nombre,” has created the most gothic version of “Jane Eyre” to date. Things go bump in the night, mysterious shadows lurk in flickering candle light and mortal danger seems constantly close at hand. It’s a gorgeous vision, ripe with the repression and melancholy so crucial to the story. It is spare in a way that Victorian period pieces rarely are, yet sumptuous with atmosphere to burn.

The movie looks fantastic but that wouldn’t mean much if the characters weren’t as well defined as they are in the hands of Wasikowska and Fassbender. As plain Jane Wasikowska brings a quiet intensity and resolve to the role while Fassbender gives Rochester a brooding bravado which belies his troubled mind. Together, sparks fly and the passion of the story bubbles to the surface despite the reserved nature of the storytelling.  

Add to that terrific supporting work from Judi Dench as the devoted housekeeper Mrs. Fairfax and a nice turn by Amelia Clarkson as young Jane and you have a worthy addition to the “Jane Eyre” canon.

JUSTIN BIEBER: NEVER SAY NEVER: 3  STARS

WARNING! No matter what age you are “Justin Bieber: Never Say Never” will make you feel old. The story of a pop prodigy who mastered a drum kit before entering the double digits and sold out Madison Square Gardens when he was barely old enough to drive will make you wonder what you have done with your life.

This documentary – concert film hybrid, which could be more rightly called “Portrait of a Sensation,” follows Bieber from his humble beginnings with single mom Patti in Stratford, Ontario to YouTube sensation to sharing the stage with Miley Cyrus and Jaden Smith at Madison Square Garden. It’s an up-close-and-personal look at the star. So up-close-and-personal we even get a shot of his vocal chords!

Bieber, in case you’ve been living under a rock for the last year, is the singing sensation who Tiny Fey describes as looking like “a dreamy Christmas elf.” After being discovered singing covers of chart hits on YouTube he was mentored by hip hop star Usher when he was only in grade eight and is now the heartthrob du jour for tweens everywhere. One young girl admits to thinking about him “99% of my life,” while another teen confidently announces, “I’ll be his first wife.” Lock up your daughters; it’s Bieber Time.     

Generally these kind of music bios offer up lots of music with some exclusive backstage footage and embarrassing childhood photos wedged between the tunes, and by and large that’s what “Justin Bieber: Never Say Never” provides, but it also paints a portrait of a real kid in a very unreal situation.

It wasn’t that long ago that he was playing for 40 or so fans at a water park in Poughkeepsie, New York—2009 to be exact—and now he’s selling out Madison Square Gardens in 22 minutes. It’s been a wild ride and we get a sense of that in the movie, of the hard work and talent that got him to where he is, but don’t expect any searing personal insights.

We learn that he’s very close to his family, that he behaves like any other sixteen year old kid would when he isn’t on stage, and that he still gets told to clean his room by his grandmother but there is little light shone on how his rise to fame has really affected him. We’re told that he sometimes “whines” that he doesn’t have a normal life and his Stratford buddies complain that they don’t get to see him everyday anymore, but there is very little from Bieber himself. Maybe it’s too early to tell how all this will affect him, after all it has all happened rather quickly, but some insight from the star himself would have made this more interesting.

Still the movie seems less contrived than you might imagine from someone at the very peak of teen stardom. It’s interesting to compare Bieber to his Disney and Nickelodeon colleagues. Demi Lovato and the Jonas Brothers, for example, all have tightly controlled public personas, but Bieber, who hasn’t been pushed through the Disney / Nickelodeon sausage factory, seems far less manufactured. Perhaps it’s because he’s Canadian, but Bieber comes across as earnest, not contrived. Maybe it’s the difference between well-managed rather than prepackaged.    

“Justin Bieber: Never Say Never” has some touching moments—hearing his grandparents talk about their grandson’s movie to Atlanta to follow his career—some odd moments—Snoop Dogg discussing hair styles—some self depreciating moments—a slo mo hair flip montage is funny—and lots of standard teen dream music. It’s bound to be a fan favorite but a little more depth might have opened up its appeal to people not yet infected with Bieber Fever.  

JUST GO WITH IT: 1 STAR

With the release of “Just Go with It,” the latest Happy Madison comedy, Adam Sandler puts himself one step closer to Woody Allen territory.

But not in a good way.

He now joins the ranks of middle-aged movie stars who cast themselves opposite impossibly hot love interests. Watching the 44 year old star whooping it up with a 23 year-old swim-suit model put me in the mind of Woody’s endless attempts to recapture his long forgotten cinematic youth.

“Just Go with It” begins with one of those premises that only exists as a movie idea. Sandler plays Danny, a successful Beverly Hills plastic surgeon. Twenty years ago he learned the kind of valuable lesson that can only be taught in rom coms. That is, women cannot resist a man with a wedding ring and a story of martial woe. By day he reshapes rich people’s bodies with the help of his pretty assistant Katherine (Jennifer Aniston); by night he picks up young women in bars. Everything changes though when he meets Palmer (Brooklyn Decker), a va-va-voom twenty-something teacher. For the first time he meets a woman without using the ring trick, but when she discovers his prop wedding ring he fabricates a long story about being on the edge of a divorce. Of course she wants to meet the soon-to-be-ex to make sure the story is true. And then the fun begins.

Except that it doesn’t.

The movie never takes off. It feels less like a story and more like an endless stream of inappropriate remarks and IBS gags masquerading as jokes. That’s true of several of Sandler’s movies, but usually he‘s charming enough to carry the day and usually the movies aren’t this bad. This truly is a case of likeable actors making an unlikeable movie.

The film’s premise is odious enough, even for a rom com but worse than that is probably the most annoying kid’s performance ever—sorry Bailee Madison, but that Eliza Doolittle accent thing you do isn’t cute, it’s grating—and the comic stylings of Nick Swardson manage to make things even less amusing than they already were.

The film’s nadir is a desperately unfunny scene in a nightclub that will make you long for the days when Adam Sandler got into fist fights with Bob Barker and battled a cursive problem.

On the plus side there’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cameo from Heidi Montag which suggests maybe she does have a sense of humor about her plastic surgery woes. Also former swim suit model Brooklyn Decker adds some eye candy, (but acts about as well as you would imagine a swim suit model would act), the “Ha-wow-ee” setting is nice and boomers may enjoy the all-Sting soundtrack but that’s about it.

Despite its beautiful features—both location and cast—“Just Go with It” should be, more truthfully, titled “Just Go Away From It.”

JONAH HEX: 0 STARS

My motto is “I watch bad movies so you don’t have to” and rarely has that ever been as true as it was when I watched, nay, endured “Jonah Hex.” Clocking in at a brief 80 minutes—73 without the end credits—“Jonah Hex” isn’t just painfully short, it’s also painful to watch for about 70 of those 73 minutes. The story of a supernatural bounty hunter set on revenge against the man who killed his family is as disfigured as its main character’s face.

Jonah Hex (Josh Brolin) wasn’t always the pizza-faced avenger we meet in the movie. Once he was a war hero, a confederate soldier whose refusal to obey a direct order from his commander Quentin Turnbull (John Malkovich, grabbing a paycheque) led to the death of Turnbull’s son. Drummed out of the military he settles down with his wife and son; settles down that is, until Turnbull tracks him down, makes him watch his family be killed and scars his face with a branding iron. Left for dead he survives, but just barely. He has one foot in the human world, one foot on “the other side.” He can “talk” to the dead, which is convenient because most everyone around him winds up six feet under. His only companions are his horse, his dog and a courtesan named Lilah (Megan Fox) who clearly does not judge Jonah’s book by its cover. Hex gets his chance at revenge when he is hired by the government to stop Turnball from using his “super weapon” to destabilize the government and achieve what the civil war couldn’t—succession.

“Jonah Hex” is silly, but so are a lot of movies based on comic books. Its sins are way worse than a dose of silliness. It’s not just poorly made, it’s inept, with little idea of how to tell the story and even less of an idea of how to stage a cool action scene. There are odd flashes here and there—a surreal resurrection sequence must be seen to be believed and Jonah does have some cool moves—but by and large it looks cheap and feels incomplete, as though the cutting room floor is littered with the connective tissue that would have fleshed out the story to something that made sense. The production company responsible for this mess is called Weed Road so perhaps it shouldn’t be a shock the story has a drug induced, hallucinatory  feel.

Josh Brolin brings his real-life swagger to the role and has fun with some of the tongue-in-what’s-left-of-his-cheek lines, but because of the heavy make-up he’s wearing it is often hard to understand what he is saying.

Former It-Girl Megan Fox brings a tight corset, wasp waist and little else to her brief role and others, like Will Arnett and Wes Bentley, are given even less to do.  

The best thing about “Jonah Hex” is that at 73 minutes, it isn’t longer.

JENNIFER’S BODY: 3 STARS

The pitch for “Jennifer’s Body” is certainly attention-grabbing. Mix “Transfomer’s” sexpot Megan Fox and “Juno” screenwriter and all round “it’ girl Diablo Cody and the result should be pure gold. Well, pure gore splattered gold in this case. “Jennifer’s Body” leaves behind the world of giant robots and pregnant teens for a bloody story about demonic transference and a cheerleading succubus who feeds on the intestines of teenage boys.

Despite its name the town of Devil’s Kettle, Minnesota is not a demonic hot spot. Not at least until a rock band named Low Shoulder plays at a local bar. At the concert are Jennifer Check (Fox) and Needy Lesnicky (Amanda Seyfried). Best friends since they were kids the underage girls are there to check out the band, and in Jennifer’s case, specifically the lead singer. When a fire breaks out in the bar, chaos ensues and as most of the concert goers are trapped inside, Jennifer and Needy make it out, but something is isn’t right. Jennifer is glassy eyed and unresponsive, and when Needy last sees her, in the band’s van. Later, when Jennifer comes back to visit Needy she isn’t so pretty anymore—unless blood covered, tar vomiting girls turn you on. Something has happened to Jennifer, but what? When boys from school start to go missing Needy thinks she might know…

“Jennifer’s Body” breathes the same air as the great Canadian horror film “Ginger Snaps.” Both are inventive takes on established horror mythology—in Ginger’s case it was the werewolf legend here it is demonic possession—both feature humor and lots of blood and guts. But—you had to know there was a “but” coming—where “Ginger Snaps” had effortless dialogue that sounded like real teenagers talking to one another, “Jennifer’s Body” is weighed down by the overly cute pen of Diablo Cody.

In Cody’s world teens talk as though they have Hollywood screenwriters feeding them lines. Oh wait! They do. They drop sparkling bon mots as easily as Dorothy Parker after her fifth martini in the Oak Room. Cody’s characters don’t get jealous, they get “jello;” they don’t feel ill they feel “boo hoo,” and when they curse they say things like “cheese and fries.” I’m all for inventive language but much of the dialogue here seems to be trying a bit too hard.     

Cudos to Cody though for coming up with an inventive story and peppering the script with laughs. When she describes one of the creature’s victims resembling “lasgna with teeth,” when they found him it’s funny. It’s dark humor reminiscent of the horror comedies of the 1980s like “An American Werewolf in London” and “The Toxic Avenger” that covered the laughs with lots of red stuff.

At the heart of “Jennifer’s Body”—or should that be soul?—is Megan Fox. As the victim of a botched satanic ritual—they apparently don’t work if the sacrifice isn’t a virgin—she seems to be having more fun here than in either of the “Transformers” movies, but despite being this year’s Zeitgeist grabber she’s upstaged by Amanda Seyfried. Only in a movie like this could Seyfried be portrayed as the “dorky, plain girl.” I guess it’s because she wears glasses, but there is nothing dorky or plain about Seyfried or her character.

“Jennifer’s Body” is bound to grab a teenage audience—the gratuitous kissing scene between Fox and Seyfried alone is bound to sell tickets to many a seventeen-year-old boy—but despite being an enjoyable bit of fun, likely won’t have the same impact as Cody’s attention grabbing work on “Juno.”  

JULIE & JULIA: 4 STARS

Julie & Julia isn’t a typical book adaptation, although it is based around two books. The story takes its lead from two very different tomes, one a blog inspired book by a self confessed “government drone by day, renegade foodie by night,” the other a classic by chef Julia Child. Bringing together the stories of Julie Powell, who made a name for herself on-line by blogging about her 2002 attempt to make all 536 recipes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking in just 365 days, and Julia Child’s coming of age in France in the 1950s seems like it shouldn’t work, but the mix and match of the two stories has resulted in one of the most delightful films of the year so far.

The contemporary story begins with Julie Powell (Amy Adams), a frustrated writer working as a temp at a government agency. Looking for a way to make her mark she hits on the idea of cooking her way through the seminal Julia Child cookbook on French food in one year, blogging as she goes. Turning the dial back fifty years we are then introduced to Julia Child (Meryl Streep) and her foreign diplomat husband Paul (Stanley Tucci) at the beginning of their life in France. “French people eat French food everyday,” a delighted Julia says on arrival. The stories mix and mingle, following the lives of these two women as they search for something to enhance their lives and find it in food.  

Directed by Nora Ephron, a filmmaker who is occasionally pitch perfect—Sleepless in Seattle—and occasionally not—Bewitched—the movie has an awkward structure, but after a rocky start rights itself as the two, seemingly disparate stories come together thematically. As similarities emerge—both women are bored government workers with doting husbands who are looking for something to fulfill them—the movie’s flashback structure starts to make sense.

Either of these narratives could have carried the film on their own—although I found the Julia Child storyline more compelling—but bringing them together gives the story a depth I’m not sure the Julie Powell story could have achieved on its own.

At the forefront here is the performance of Meryl Streep as the indomitable Julia Childs. Standing 6’ 2” Childs, with her distinctive voice and formidable stature, is an easy target for mimicry. Dan Aykroyd’s bloody Saturday Night Live take-off on Julia is a classic—and one that she herself enjoyed, keeping a copy of it to show guests—so the trick for any actor playing her is to reach past the parody and find a real character. Streep does this, playing Childs with gusto, bringing out the real person beneath the character’s affectations. It’s the kind of performance the Academy loves, so look for it to be nominated at awards time.

Amy Adams is a bit more of a slow burn. Her mousy character gets bowled over in the early part of the film by Streep’s zesty performance, but manages to establish an interesting character by the time the credits roll.  

Julie & Julia is an unexpectedly touching, uplifting story, unconventionally told, that will leave you feeling better when you leave the theater than you did when you went in.

JONAS BROTHERS: THE 3-D CONCERT EXPERIENCE:
FOR JONAS BROTHERS FANS: INFINITY STARS
FOR EVERYONE ELSE: 2 STARS

When I think of concert movies my mind immediately conjures up images of Jimi Hendrix lighting his guitar aflame in Woodstock, David Byrne’s “big suit” sequence from Stop Making Sense or James Brown tearing up the dance floor in The T.A.M.I. Show. Those were classic moments enshrined on film for those of us not lucky enough to see them live. Somehow though, I don’t think I’ll be adding the laser reflection from Kevin Jonas’s purity ring as seen in Jonas Brothers: The 3-D Concert Experience as one of my memorable rock moments.

Until recently honest to goodness concert films, had almost become a thing of the past, a relic relegated to direct-to-video releases. Then new interest in 3-D breathed life into the concert genre and acts as different as U2 and Miley Cyrus had great success with large scale three dimensional filmed opuses. The latest group to jump on the bandwagon are teen idols The Jonas Brothers.

For any of you who aren’t familiar with The Jonas Brothers—and that’s likely everyone over the age of 18—here is a quick run down on the band. Sprung from the rockin’ world of Walt Disney, The Jonas Brothers are Kevin, Joe and Nick, three siblings from New Jersey who have set teen hearts atwitter with four CDs and a Disney Channel Original Movie called Camp Rock. Their family-friendly rock and habit of wearing purity rings to declare their virginity make them the anti-Mötley Crüe and safe for little Johnny and Sally to enjoy.

I have no doubt that the boys in the Jonas Brothers are nice young men. They’re a good looking trio and by all accounts clean living and wholesome. Trouble is good rock and roll is rarely ever made by wholesome individuals. Not that I am in any position to judge the music, I’m thirty years too old and the wrong sex—judging by the audience in the film no boys listen to the Jonas Brothers—but to my ears this is just typical teen pop rock with crunchier guitars. Disney rock. The up tempo songs, which all seem to be about girls or falling in love with girls, sound to me like the kind of music that virgins listen to. The trio is like a Paul and two Ringos. What they need is a little John.

Edgy they are not.

The Rolling Stones wanted to spend the night; Joe ‘Mini Mick’ Jonas sings that all he wants to do is “kiss you girl.” See what I mean? Wholesome.

The concert footage itself is the usual thing—swooping cameras, the obligatory shots of overcome girls swooning, crying and fainting—but the boys put on a good show geared for the girls in the audience. There’s the obligatory unplugged set, guitars are tossed in the air, flash pods explode and the band creates enough teen heat to melt every purity ring in the front row.

Parents, or anyone over 17 for that matter, may not have much interest in Jonas Brothers: The 3-D Concert Experience so Mom and Dad may want to send the kids and stay home and watch the Blu Ray of Woodstock.

JACK BROOKS: MONSTER SLAYER: 3 STARS

Jack Brooks: Monster Slayer provides a welcome break from horror’s gorno trend—that’s gore-porn for the uninitiated—of the last few years. This Canadian made chiller has more to do with the bloody fun of Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead and Stuart Gordon’s Re-Animator than the recent movies which used saws or thrill seeking torture tourists as major plot points. 

When we first meet Jack Brooks he is a small child enjoying a camping trip with his parents and sister. As Bobby Darin’s Beyond the Sea plays on the radio the family dances and enjoys the great outdoors… until a monster attacks and brutally kills everyone but Jack.

Flash forward to Jack’s (Trevor Matthews in what can best be described as the Bruce Campbell role) early twenties. He’s a plumber with a bad relationship, repressed memories and an anger management problem that makes Adam Sandler look well adjusted. His life changes forever when he tries to fix his college professor’s (Robert Englund) old, rusted pipes and accidentally unleashes a demonic power.

The kindly old professor is the first victim of the Jack’s discovery when he becomes possessed by the evil force and transforms into Professor-zilla. While battling with his former professor’s monstrous makeover Jack comes to grips with his troubled past and puts down his wrench and roto-rooter to pursue his true calling—monster slayer.

Jack Brooks: Monster Slayer has cult hit written all over it. Breathing the same fetid air as genre classics Dead Alive and Demons, it has all the earmarks of a midnight movie in the making—humor, a tormented anti-hero, crazy creatures, gallons of guts and goo crowned by an over-the-top performance from horror legend Robert ‘Freddy Krueger’ Englund.   

The film takes a tad too long to really kick into gear but compensates for its slow start with good performances, fun old-school latex monster effects—no CGI!—and an energetic twenty-minute coda featuring Jack’s hand-to-hand combat with a variety of metamorphosed monsters. It’s a wild ride that should have audiences whooping along as Jack whoops the bad guys.

Jack Brooks: Monster Slayer is a throw back to the creature features of the 1980s that served up the scares with a smile.
  
JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH 3-D:  3 STARS

Journey to the Center of the Earth 3-D is a throwback to the action adventure movies that used to run on The Wonderful World of Disney every Sunday night in the 60s and 70s. You’d watch the show and then plan your vacation to take the ride based on the show at Disneyland or, even better, Disneyworld.

It recalls the family friendly romps of yesteryear, but with its appealing “Gee whiz, we’re going to the center of the Earth!” enthusiasm I think today’s kids will eat up the adventure story and the impressive 3-D effects.

The story is pretty simple; this is, after all aimed at tweens and not the sci fi geeks who would have read the Jules Verne book it is loosely based on. Set in present day, Brendan Fraser plays a scientist who travels to Iceland to search for his missing brother and to prove his theory that there are giant volcanic tubes that connect the Earth’s surface to its center. In tow are his nephew (Josh Hutcherson) and a beautiful Icelandic mountain guide (Anita Briem). While exploring a cave they become trapped and their hunt for an escape route leads them closer and closer to the center of the Earth and the wild landscapes—and creatures—that exist below the surface. 

Journey to the Center of the Earth 3-D is jammed with corny jokes—“Haven’t you ever seen a dinosaur before?” asks nephew Sean as a T-Rex chases them. “Not with skin on it!” says Fraser’s character Trevor—and has cool phosphorescent birds, vicious man-eating plants and treacherous sea creatures all of which should appeal to youngsters, but parent’s don’t have to worry, there’s nothing too intense here or that will give them nightmares. The approximate thrill level is akin to an amusement park ride, which, no doubt, this movie will inspire.

Brendan Fraser anchors the cast as Trevor, and while I miss the actor who once made movies like Gods and Monsters, when he actually tried to act rather than rely on charm to skate by, he still has the chops to out shine the special effects and bring some humor to the film.

I‘m not sure that anyone over the age of twelve is going to want to sit through Journey to the Center of the Earth 3-D more than once, but the 3-D effects are good, there’s a strong female role model, the story is exciting and kids will enjoy the adventure.

JUMPER: 2 ½ STARS

Why would 20th Century Fox release a science fiction film on Valentines Day? Counter programming perhaps? Or could it be that it is actually about love conquering all, including platinum blonde religious fanatics and metaphysics? Based on a novel by Stephen Gould Jumper, a new film starring the Vancouver born Hayden Christensen, is sci fi that wears its heart on its sleeve.

Once, says David Rice (Max Thieriot as the teenage Rice), he was a normal guy like us—“a chump,” with Metallica posters on his bedroom wall—but that was before he discovered he could transcend space and “jump” from one place to another. At first he sees this amazing power as his ticket out of a miserable home life; a chance to leave the teen angst of his Ann Arbor high school, where he is known as “Rice Bowl” behind. His first jump takes him to New York City where he transports himself into bank vaults, empties them and disappears all without opening a door or picking a lock.  

The movie then jumps forward eight years. David (now played by Christensen) has matured into a handsome twenty-something with a strong resemblance to Anakin Skywalker. Self indulgent to the extreme, he squanders his gift, robbing banks to finance his globetrotting lifestyle while jumping from one exotic locale to another.

If this was an episode of Dr. Phil it might be noted at this point that David is likely very unhappy and simply uses his teleporting gift to run away from a deeply troubled childhood and the memory of his soul mate, a girl he has loved since he was five-years-old and who he hasn’t seen since he fled his hometown. While that may be true, he also has other reasons to run.

Since the beginning of time jumpers have had a sworn enemy in the form of Paladins, religious fanatics who believe that “only God should have the power to be all places,” and will stop at nothing, murder is big on their list, to exterminate David’s kind. Christensen’s Star Wars co-star Samuel L. Jackson plays Roland, a platinum blonde Paladin with a nasty attitude.

After his first encounter with Roland David seeks refuge in his old hometown, where he reconnects with Millie (The O.C.’s Rachel Bilson), his high school crush. Of course after a quick trip to Rome she becomes the target of the Paladins who plan on using her to get to him. Add in Griffin (Jamie Bell), an experienced teleporter with a hate for Paladins, and Jumper takes on the patina of a metaphysical chase movie, but is, at its heart, a story of love lost and found.

Jumper has some spectacular visuals—a double-decker bus flies from one dimension to another and the helicopter shot of Christensen eating lunch perched atop the Sphinx must have cost a fortune—but not much more depth than an episode of Quantum Leap. Christensen’s David may be able to transcend space and time, but underneath it all he is still just a geeky love sick teen.

The idea of jumping through space is a cool one, and is beautifully rendered in the film, with characters unexpectedly popping up here and there, but the love story is mawkish and clichéd, as though it was cribbed from the inside of Hallmark Valentines card.

It’s hard to know what to make of Jumper. The film has a rough time making up its mind what it wants to be—is it sci fi or romance? Despite its cool imagery the mushy stuff may not appeal to the Space Channel crowd and the speculative fiction aspect tarnishes its appeal as a date movie.

It’s tricky to place romance in the center of a science fiction action film, but if done properly it can take the narrative to new levels and ground the more fantastic elements of the story. Unfortunately Jumper’s star crossed love story is too under developed and immature to do anything but distract from the film’s distinctive sci fi elements.

JOE STRUMMER: THE FUTURE IS UNWRITTEN: 3 ½ STARS

Joe Strummer was the embodiment of punk rock even though he was the polar opposite of what the punk movement stood for. As the leader of The Clash his edgy good looks and charisma made him a star in a culture that treated celebrity with contempt. He squatted in London’s abandoned homes but came from a privileged background, with a father who was a career diplomat. He moved The Clash away from punk’s do-it-yourself ethos, skillfully crafting ambitious and interesting songs; and for a movement whose rallying cry was “No Future” he created music that more than twenty-five years on still sounds rebellious and fresh.

In other words he was a paradox, but it was this contradictory nature that made him one of the most exciting and unpredictable musical figures of the twentieth century. In Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten director Julien Temple presents the facts of his life, told by those who knew him best.

Temple, best known as the director of the outrageous Sex Pistols’ film The Great Rock ‘N’ Roll Swindle uses Strummer’s friends and associates—most of whom are seated around a giant campfire, reminiscing and playing music—and beautifully edited montages to paint an intimate portrait of a man many thought they knew, but few really did.

But this isn’t a typical big screen bio. Although it is told in a linear straightforward fashion, Temple uses his visual flair to punctuate each of the pieces of Joe’s life. For instance when the Sex Pistols burst on to the scene they were, arguably, punk rock’s big bang, so Temple accompanies the Pistol’s footage with an explosion. He uses stock footage and clips from Animal Farm the way Strummer used his guitar—with a rambunctious power that is guaranteed to grab your attention.

What holds your attention, however, is the spirit of Strummer, which is infused onto every frame of the film. We see him at various stages of his life, from round-faced “boarding school bully” to long haired art student to sneering punk rocker through to chunky elder statesman with voice clips from his radio show London Calling and various interviews providing the soundtrack.

As cantankerous and confounding a character as Strummer was in life, (he died in 2002 at age 50) his overriding love of life and people shines through. “Without people we’re nothing,” he says near the end of the film. Sounds more like hippie-speak than the words of one of punk rock’s most famous sons, but there you have it, yet another contradiction.

JUNO: 4 STARS

If you‘ve been paying attention to the Critic’s Awards lists that are coming out all over the place these days you’ve probably noticed a name you probably aren’t familiar with popping up here and there. It’s Ellen Page, a young Haligonian who in recent months has become Hollywood’s “It-Girl.” You’ve glimpsed her in X-Men 3, maybe heard the buzz out of Sundance for Hard Candy and TIFF for The Tracey Fragments, but up until now it’s been hard to put a face to the name. Juno should change all that.

Directed by Thank You For Smoking’s Jason Reitman, Juno is an screwball comedy about a pregnant sixteen year old who decides to give up her baby to a young, seemingly perfect childless couple. Reitman, working from a script by the excellently named Diablo Cody, handles the material with the ease of someone who grew up around comedy—his father is Ghostbuster’s director Ivan Reitman.

Despite the hip and impossibly witty dialogue—almost every line sounds like a punch line and is so slick it threatens to teeter over into “so hip it hurts” territory—Reitman and Page manage to ground this story, keeping it funny but also injecting a goodly amount of humanity into the proceedings. That’s a good thing because when you have, for example, a convenience store clerk (played by Rainn Wilson of The Office) watching Juno shaking her pregnancy test and saying lines like: “That ain't no etch-a-sketch. That's one doodle that can't be undid, homeskillet,” there better be strong grounding or the movie could degrade into a quirky Napoleon Dynamite wannabe and little else.
 
The movie’s secret weapon is Page who carefully portrays the spunky Juno MacGuff not just as a smart-mouthed teen who got herself in the family way by seducing her high school crush, but as a complicated young woman who uses her wit as a wall to protect herself from the harsh realities of life.

Bouncing off Page are Brampton, Ontario’s Michael Cera, fresh off his turn in the hilarious Superbad, playing the kind of sensitive teenager not often seen on screen and great supporting work by Jennifer Garner, Jason Bateman, J.K. Simmons and Allison Janney. They’re all great, but make no mistake; this is Page’s movie from top to bottom.

THE JANE AUSTIN BOOK CLUB: 2 ½ STARS

Based on the title alone I would guess that theatres owners aren’t going to have to worry about huge crowds of men descending on their theatres this weekend, clogging up their lobbies while standing in line to buy tickets for The Jane Austin Book Club. 
 
The film is an adaptation of Karen Joy Fowler’s bestseller about a group of five women and one man who form an Austin book club only to discover that their own lives echo the predicaments, both romantic and otherwise, of the characters in the novels they are studying.

The Jane Austin Book Club has lots of characters—too many too actually define any of them properly. Each of the women in the club is supposed to represent a theme or character in an Austin novel, but each are so broadly written it is hard to not to see them as caricatures rather than characters. There are six Austin novels, so I suppose there had to be six main characters, but fewer, more defined characters would have given this movie more oomph.  
   
That is not to say that the movie fails. It is predictable—particularly if you have read any of Austin’s novels or seen any of the dozens of film and television adaptations of the books—but isn’t without its charms. Emily Blunt makes the most of an underwritten part while Kathy Baker (best known as Jill Brock from the late, great television show Picket Fences) adds some verve with her madcap take on the book club’s much married founder. First time feature director Robin Swicord takes pains to make the book club segments cinematic, but is stymied by the inherent bookishness of the dialogue. These segments end up sounding more like Coles Notes of the novels than interesting dialogue. What worked so well to propel the story in Fowler’s novel doesn’t translate to the big screen. 

The Jane Austin Book Club wants to be a female bonding movie along the lines of The Joy Luck Club or Waiting to Exhale, but, despite a few laughs here and there, is done in by the superficiality of the characters.

JOHN Q

If not for Denzel Washington’s charismatic performance John Q wouldn’t even cut it as a TV movie of the week. Bombastic, predictable and utterly unbelievable, the story of a man who takes a hospital hostage to get his son’s name on a heart transplant list, has its priorities skewed. The hospital officials, the doctors and the police are the bad guys, while the guy who waves around a gun, kidnaps an emergency room full of people and generally makes a nuisance of himself is hailed as a hero. He does it for the love of his son, so I guess that is supposed to make everything OK. James Woods and Robert Duvall do some grade “A” scenery chewing and seem to be having a good time despite the lousy dialogue. Ray Liotta, on a bit of a career comeback these days overacts his way through his scenes, while Anne Heche seems to be almost completely without any emotion whatsoever.

JULIE WALKING HOME

Director Agnieszka Holland is an intelligent art house filmmaker who makes interesting, layered movies like Europa, Europa, for people who like to exercise their minds at the cinema. With her newest film, the Canadian / German / Polish co-production Julie Walking Home, she may have outsmarted herself. There are simply too many ideas and dangling story lines thrown into the mix. Julie, nicely played by Miranda Otto, comes to a cross roads in her life when she discovers her husband with another woman. Then her cute son is diagnosed with cancer which can’t be treated because he is allergic to the chemotherapy drugs. Pretty depressing stuff, but it gets worse. As her personal troubles mount she does what any caring mother would do to save her child – she runs to Poland and finds a faith healer. The charismatic Alexei (played by Canadian Lothaire Bluteau in a riff on his Jesus of Montreal role) lays his hands on the boy and in the process also wins Julie’s heart and follows her back to Canada. IN the third act story threads are left to sway aimlessly in the wind, while the tone of the film grows bleaker and bleaker. Holland frequently examines issues of faith in her work, and had she stuck to just the faith healer’s plot line this could have been a great film. Bluteau is terrific and could have easily carried the emotional weight of the story. As it is we are left with unanswered questions about where this film stands on almost every topic it tackles from faith to medicine to ethics.

JUST MY LUCK: 2 ½ STARS

In Just My Luck the world is Lindsay Lohan’s rabbit’s foot. She is blessed with the gift of incredibly good luck. Everything in her life is perfect—she can’t lose with scratch and win tickets, and when the dry cleaner drops off the wrong dress to her apartment, it turns out to be one of Sarah Jessica Parker’s frocks and is exactly the right size and just the perfect thing for her to wear that night on a date.

Into her ideal life stumbles Chris Pine, a busboy / music impresario who is also the unluckiest schlub in NYC. He is so cursed that even when he is fortunate enough to find a discarded five-dollar bill in the trash, it has recently been used as a pooper scooper—the first of many poo jokes in the film.

Their paths cross at a charity masquerade ball. On the dance floor they exchange an anonymous kiss, their identities hidden behind masks. Somehow in their moment of passion they swap more than spit, and in minutes the polarity of their lives is reversed. He is golden and she finds herself being hauled off to jail following a series of unlucky events.

This is a romantic comedy, so of course they meet again, but will they get together? 

This is being touted as flame-haired Lindsay Lohan’s move away from the teen films that have made her a star and a shift into Julia Roberts territory. I’m not so sure Just My Luck is the movie that will shed her teen queen image. It isn’t exactly a mature film, it lacks the sophistication of Notting Hill or even My Best Friends Wedding. Instead it’s more like Freaky Friday with a love story. Lohan is a likeable performer, but here she is forced into doing physical shtick that was old when another famous redhead—Lucille Ball—did it. She pulls it off, but the movie feels overly long and to call it predictable is an understatement.

JAMES BOND 007 ULTIMATE EDITION BOX SET: 4 STARS

Great repackaging of the all the official Bond movies. The films have been lovingly restored and haven’t looked this good since Sean Connery had a full head pf hair. The discs are packed with extras, some recycled from previous reissues, others done specifically for this set. Not be to missed are Roger Moore’s commentary tracks for his Bond films. If that Bond thing hadn’t worked out so well for him he could easily have had a second career as a stand-up comic.   

JARHEAD: 4 STARS

Jarhead isn’t a typical war movie. If you’re expecting the sonic boom of Black Hawk Down and Platoon or the anti-war sentiment of All Quiet on the Western Front you’re in for a surprise. Rather than making a statement either for or against war, director Sam Mendes has crafted a bloodless, but emotionally charged character study about men who fight. Jarhead has elements of the great Hollywood war pictures—the drill sergeant seems cribbed from Full Metal Jacket, the arid desert setting from Three Kings, the cynicism from Catch 22—but instead of going for bombast, Mendes takes us inside the heads of the soldiers. Jake Gyllenhaal hands in another impressive performance in the lead role, while Jamie Foxx adds layers to the clichéd role of the hard-as-nails Marine, turning it into compelling viewing.

JUST FRIENDS: 4 STARS
Charm can over come many faults. A well-timed funny quip can get you out of a jam, and casting charming actors can save a predictable romantic comedy. The set up for Just Friends is pretty simple—a high school outcast made good returns home for the first time in a decade and rediscovers his high school crush. Of course there are complications—it wouldn’t be a romantic comedy without screwball obstacles that our hero must overcome—he’s no longer the small town sweetheart he was in school and he’s not alone. With him is his ex-girlfriend and prospective client Samantha James, a spoiled Hollywood brat part Ashlee Simpson at her angry-McDonalds-customer worst and part Paris Hilton.
The action progresses in a predictable manner but the movie really finds its spark in the performances of Canadian leading man Ryan Reynolds whose comedic timing and delivery really sells the jokes and Anna Faris as the spoiled sex symbol Sam. Faris does a magnified version of the air-headed pop star she played in Lost in Translation and steals every scene she's in without taking away from the story.