Not the greatest start for a review, I know.  But after all, what can one legitimately expect from the fourth film in the Rambo Series?  You're not going to get Hitchcock, Renoir or even Emmerich; what you've got is Stallone,and a lot of him.  But if you're looking for 93 minutes of fast-moving, generally entertaining and ultra-violent cinema, it's hard to beat.

The plot line, such as it is, finds Rambo as a snake catcher, river guide and generally misogynistic outcast living in deepest Thailand.  And then in come the Christians -- a group of six or so medical missionaries from Colorado bent on going up river into war-torn Myanmar (née  Burma) to help the Christian Karan people against their government oppressors.  Although he initially refuses their offer, he's sweet-talked into it by the sole female missionary (Julie Benz).  After an eventful and (from the missionaries standpoint) horrendous trip up river,  Rambo is sent back home -- only to be recruited by the missionaries's pastor (Ken Howard) to take a troop of mercenaries back up river to find out what the heck happened to his flock.  From that point, of course, all heck breaks loose.

It's not Shakespeare by any means, but given the low expectations I had for it, I was not disappointed.  And as I've often said, if this is the kind of movie you'd like, you'd like this kind of movie.

    Well, once again his Hewittness has decreed that covering the free-for-all in Pakistan and rebroadcasting -- you'll never guess -- his Mitt Romney interview shall take precedence over the movie hour.  And since next week I'll be going bankrupt hosting a rehearsal dinner for one of the sties who will be marrying his lovely bride the next day, I won't be on again 'til January 11.  The only blessing is that it will avoid, or at least delay, Mr. Hewitt's list choice -- the Ten Worst Movie Releases in January Ever!  Now, wouldn't that have generated calls!

But as a partial penance for my absence, here's my quick-and-dirty list of the Top 10 Pakistan Movies of All Time!

10.    Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World (2005).
9.      The Kite Runner (2007).
8.      Spies Like Us (1985).
7.      A Mighty Heart (2007).
6.      My Son, the Fanatic (2000).
5.      Monsoon Wedding (2001).
4.      Earth (1998).
3.      Syriana (2005).
2.      Charlie Wilson's War (2007).
1.      Gandhi (1982).

I'll be touching bases concernng recent releases in the interim.  Really.  No, really!

Some days, your heart just isn't in attending a screening.  It's the Christmas season, people are busy, things are hectic, and the prospect of spending an evening at a screening of a film -- such as The Water Horse: Legend of the Deep -- that just doesn't seem targeted for your demographic isn't too exciting.  After all, who really wants to see a film in which the lead character looks like an amphibious Shrek?

Well, now that I've seen it, I do.  And I'd happily see it again.  The Water Horse is, simply, the best family non-animated film to see the light of day since Duma -- and coming form me, that's high praise.  The story takes place during 1942 in Scotland when a young boy (well played by Alex Etel, last seen in the underappreciated Millions) finds an egg in a loch near the palatial home which his mother (a wonderful Emily Watson) manages.  The hatching of the egg, coupled with the arrival of a new handyman (Ben Chaplin) and a company of soldiers assigned to guard the loch, lead by Captain Hamilton (David Morrissey), create the dramatic and romantic tension and the arc of the story. 

A word of warning:  this is not a kid's movie, and it's not a comedy.  It's a serious family movie in which the active participation of the parents will help their children make sense of what happens, some of which is quite dark (What happened to that dog, anyway?).  But the cinematography and locations are beautiful, the writing and acting is excellent, and neither the adults nor the children are treated like idiots.  So if you don't have kids, and feel awkward going to The Water Horse without them, go rent some and go.  It'll be worth it.

By now pretty much everyone has heard of the English teacher who has been/will be deported from Sudan because she permitted her kindergarten class to name their teddy bear "Mohammed".  And although many in Sudan have protested that sentence, apparently believing that it would be better if she was killed, that (fortunately) has not caught on.  But the impact of the outrage may be felt farther, and longer, than anyone expects.

Take, for example, the recent California Appellate Court case of Hossain vs. Hossain.   Now, as cases go, this one isn't very exciting: two gents with the last name of Hossain are battling over how much each owes on the dissolution of a hotel partnership.  But what I did find interesting was how the court referred to each party.  For those who don't know, when two parties to a reported case have the same last name, the court will normally distinguish them by referring to them by their first name.  Here, the plaintiff and appellant, Kazi Shadat Hossain, is referred to in the Opinion as "Kazi", while the defendant and respondent, Mohammed Jamshed Hossain, is referred to as ....... Jamshed.

Jamshed?  Why "Jamshed"?  Any particular rational reason not to refer to him by his first name, Mohammed?  Given that "Mohammed" is the No. 1 first name in the Moslem world, avoiding its use in business and law could get prickly.  And what would the court have done if it didn't have his middle name?  Would it have called him "the other Hossain guy" rather than risk traipsing on the sensibilities of those who name their child "Mohammed"?

It's one thing to get militantly upset at someone using "Mohammed" as the name of a teddy bear, but when a court refrains from calling a man named Mohammed "Mohammed", things may have gone a bit too far.

What do you expect when a film teams Steve Carell ("The Office" and "The 40 Year Old Virgin") with Dane Cook (a stand-up comic credited with the excremental "Employee of the Month" and "Good Luck Chuck"? Whatever it is, it's not what you get in "Dan in Real Life" -- and surprisingly, that's a good thing.

"Dan" is not an off-color, R rated laugh fest. What it is is a touching romantic comedy about love and loss, backed by an outstanding cast. Carell plays a widower with three daughters whose advice column -- Dan in Real Life -- is about to go into syndication. Meanwhile, he and his daughters are required attendees at the season-ending family gathering at the home of his parents {the always-wonderful John Mahoney and Diane Wiest) in Nantucket. Dan goes willingly; his daughters less so. Sent on an errand to buy the newspaper at a local book store, Carell meets Marie (Juliette Binoche) and winds up spending much of the morning talking with her. At the end of their meeting she indicates that she is "involved". What Dan doesn't know is that it's with his brother, Mitch (Cook).

Now, none of this is particularly inspired. You know from the outset what will happen to Mitch, Marie and Dan at the end, and your not surprised when it happens. But you are pleased. What brings "Dan in Real Life" out of the ordinary is how well the writer and director depict the reunion of a biologically-close but socially and emotionally distant family, and the remarkable interaction of the cast. "Dan" is not going to win any Oscars, but it is going to win a lot of hearts.

Okay, I'm trying to get back in the saddle again after a long layoff.  Let's see how I do.

If the goal of "The Game Plan" is to generate big box office, it may well be successful -- at least the first weekend.  Unfortunately, this is a mind-numbingly bad movie in virtually every respect. It is derivative, manipulative, confusing, poorly directed, poorly acted, and with a rather bizarre view of weather in the Northeast (at least as I know it) that undermines most of the film.

Duane "the Rock" Johnson stars as Joe Kingman, a selfish and self-centered pro football quarterback with a bizarre fascination with Elvis Presley. The night following a wild party at his home -- which, amazingly, is spotlessly clean as soon as he shoos out the last guest -- he receives a visit from his 8 year old daughter (Madison Petty, one of the more grating child actors currently working), whom he has never met, and who is, remarkably, even more selfish and self-centered as he is. The remainder of the movie deals with their efforts do deal with each other's obnoxious foibles, which are numerous.

What particularly grated on me -- and this is simply one of my personal foibles -- is that this film is set in Boston, in January. Now, I've never been to Boston in January (and frankly can't understand why anyone would be in Boston in January), but I'm pretty sure that nobody is running around outside in bright sunshine in short sleeves and light jackets without any evidence of snow.

Of course, the movie is not entirely bad. The juxtaposition between football workouts and ballet workouts was nicely done, and the ballet recital and crowd reaction to it are nicely done. And I did enjoy the signing montage over the credits at the end (or I may have just been glad it was over). But when the best acting in the movie is (arguably) by Kingman's pet bulldog -- who, unlike nearly everyone else, fails to over-act -- not even these worthwhile scenes are enough to save it.

I have no doubt that the movie will reach its intended audience, kids under ten. And they will enjoy it. And their parents, who will be dragged to it, will not want to tear their eyes out half-way through. But they might consider it.

As you may have heard, I'll be soloing the third hour of the Hewitt show tomorrow.  With luck and a good headwind (and assuming no rainout), we'll be getting two first-hand reports on the Great First Pitch Debacle.  One from Duane; one from Hugh.  And then, for obvious reasons, we'll be doing the Top 10 Liar Movies of All Time!  So listen in, and if you have any recommendations, let me know.

And if we have any time left over, I'll be reviewing Stardust.  Or Rush Hour 3.  Maybe both.  Tune in and hear!

Unlike Mr. Hewitt, I'm usually up for a good scary movie.  The problem is that most of the good scary movies are also good, violent, bloody scary movies.  And while gore has its place, I suppose, it's not the generally the basis for reasonable movie making.  So it's a pleasure to see a classy, well-acted, non-gory and still pretty scary movie like 1408 come along.

1408 is based on a Stephen King short story of the same name, which is part of his Everything's Eventual collection.  John Cusack plays an author of books about haunted mansions, castles, etc. -- called, for example, the Top 10 Haunted Mansions, if you can imagine the invade-the-copyright chutzpa -- who is heck-bent to debunk anything even partially paranormal.  But when he gets an anonymous postcard concerning Room 1408 in the Dolphin Hotel in New York, he can't resist making it the final chapter in his latest book.  And despite his best efforts, the hotel's manager, played by Samuel L. Jackson, cannot convince him that it's not the brightest idea.  By the end of the movie, Cusack wishes that he had.  It's a terrific performance by Cusack.

If you haven't seen it on the big screen -- and if you're in for a good, clean scare -- run out and do so. 

A new, slightly more militant Mickey Mouse has emerged.  Watch him here.

From a story on how the DHS learned about the Jidhadists arrested for planning on shoting up Ft. Dix:

"In court documents, prosecutors said the suspects came to the attention of authorities in January 2006 when a shopkeeper alerted the FBI about a 'disturbing' video he had been asked to copy onto a DVD.  The video showed 10 young men in their early 20s 'shooting assault weapons at a firing range ... while calling for jihad and shouting in Arabic "Allah Akbar" (God is great),' the complaint said. The 10 included six of those arrested, authorities said."

The moral:  sometimes VHS is good enough.

  ... but I'm not sure how it's going to go over with everyone else.

Don't get me wrong; it's not a bad movie, although not as good as the first two.  And let's face it, how many sequels exceed the original?  It has all the elements that made the first two succeed -- Spidey (Tobey Maguire) is still conflicted and confused, he's still smitten and clueless when it comes to the fair Mary Jane (Kirsten Dunst), he's still bedeviled by his current/former friend Harry Osborn (James Franco), son of the original Green Goblin (Willem DeFoe), and he's still working for the irascible J. Jonah Jameson (J.K. Simmons, wonderful as ever).  And the action scenes, once they roll around, are among the best of the series.

So what, you may ask, is the problem?  Well, it reminds me of another Warner Brothers cartoon called Ballot Box Bunny in which both Bugs Bunny and Yosemite Sam are running for mayor.  Bugs campaigns by saying "I speak softly, but I carry a big stick".  Sam's response:  "Oh yeah?  Well I speak loud and carry a bigger stick -- and I use it too!"  before he belts Bugs in the noggin.  One of the problems with sequels is that they can't leave the things that made the first movie successful alone.  Instead, they have to augment it, amplify it, make it bigger and (they hope) better.  After all, if one villain worked in Spider-Man 1, and 1.5 villains worked in Spider-Man 2 then why not have 3 villains in Spider-Man 3 -- the new Green Goblin (Franco), Sandman (Thomas Haden Church) and Venom (Topher Grace)?  And instead of just focusing on the Spider-Man daring-do, why not explore his more sensitive side in greater detail, and give Maguire the opportunity to act out a little? 

And here's why it's a less-than-grand idea:  It makes the movie too long and less focused than it could have been and ought to be.  A good 20-30 minutes could be lopped off without adversely affecting the story line, and without destroying those things that make its fans anxiously await the release of the next movie.  And Maguire, who candidly is not my favorite actor, is a much harder sell as Spidey in this version than in the prior one's when he was simply a good-natured dweeb with super powers.  Here he is called upon to strut his stuff once he's infected with the strange organism from outer space that eventually creates Venom.  That part of the movie -- and it goes on forever -- is simply embarrassing.

But on the positive side, the movie does flow, the action scenes and battles are everything you could want, and Topher Grace lifts the movie up on his own with a very entertaining performance as pre-Venom Eddie Brock.  And Bryce Dallas Howard as Gwen Stacy actually looks healthy for a change.

I have a theory about French movies.  Some French movies are very good; most are not.  It's the latter that are shipped to America.  Although that assessment may be a little harsh, anyone who has actually seen One Sings, the Other Doesn't, has to admit that it may have some merit.  But every once in a while I get roped into seeing one.  And when the Enchanting Mrs. Eye speaks French like a native and just got home from spending a week in Straight Paree with one of the sties, a French movie must be endured.

So it's a pleasant surprise when a new French movie is actually worth seeing.  The Valet is the latest offering from the very talented French writer/director Francis Verber, whose past credit include La Cage Aux Folles, The Closet and (my personal favorite) The Dinner Game.  While a poor automobile valet (Gad Elmaleh) is being rejected by his inamorata (Virginie Ledoyen), a selfish billionaire (the always-wonderful Daniel Auteuil) is rejected by his super model mistress (Alice Taglioni) for failing to get the promised divorce from his wife (Kristin Scott Thomas).  Due to a chance encounter, the valet winds up living with the super model so the billionaire can get on to the business of divorcing his wife -- or losing 20 million euros.  Well, it plays better than it sounds.

Although the continuity is a little jumpy, and it almost certainly funnier if you are fluent in French (at least my wife seemed to be laughing hysterically when all us pure English speakers were staring dumbly at the screen), it's certainly worth seeing if you can find it at your local art house.  Or you could just wait until the Americanized version comes out in 2008.

In a past (or maybe present) life I was/am a trial lawyer.  Consequently, movies about lawyers, the law, and particularly trials drive me batty -- just as I'm sure that medical movies drive doctors batty, police movies drive cops batty, etc.  And Fracture, the latest channeling of Hannibal Lecter by Anthony Hopkins, is no exception.  For example, if the primary prosecution witness not only flubs up his testimony, but leaps from the witness stands, dashes across the well, and leaps over the defense table to strangle the defendant, most lawyers would seriously consider asking for a mistrial.  But that's why there is reality on one side of the fence, and cinema on the other.

Still, with all its legal faults -- and there are many -- Fracture is a fairly entertaining film because of the bravura acting talents of Hopkins and Ryan Gosling.  Hopkins plays a very bright and slightly mad aeronautical engineer who shoots his adulterous wife (Embeth Davidtz) in the mug, confesses to it, and is then prosecuted by Gosling.  And with a confession and the murder weapon, it should be a short trial -- and movie.  But then again....

What makes the movie work (to the extent it does) is the interaction between Hopkins and Gosling.  Each is head and shoulders above any of their respective contemporaries, and both seem to have great fun playing off each other.  It almost makes you forget the incongruities of the plot.  Almost.

... the Top 10 Dance Movies have to be just that.  Dance.  No singing -- at least not by a character in the movie.  I know this will eliminate Young Frankenstein, but sacrifices have to be made.  And it's my list. 

I was roundly criticized by Mr. Hewitt today for not warning him about Grindhouse last week.  Now, I have two reasonably rational explanations for that.  First, I hadn't seen Grindhouse at that time, since a 3 hour 11 minute movie just didn't fit into my schedule.  Not that that would necessarily impair my ability to give an opinion on it.  And second, I can't imagine how anyone could not know what to expect when two of the most grisly directors in Hollywood -- Robert Rodriguez (El Mariachi, The Faculty, From Dusk Till Dawn, Once Upon a Time in Mexico) and Quentin Tarantino (Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs, and the Kill Bill movies) -- team up to pay homage to the C- movies of the '70's.

And generally, they do a pretty good job -- although they do seem to be working from different concepts.  Rodriguez's contribution, Planet Terror, is a the-zombies-are-out-to-get-us-run! film that looks like it's been shown 6,000 times -- gritty, streaked, a reel missing here and there, mismatched sound, burned film, etc.  And it is gruesome, action-packed and at times, pretty funny (Mr. Hewitt lasted a whole 18 minutes).  After a few faux trailers (including "Werewolf Women of the SS"), you get Tarantino's Death Proof, which surficially stars Kurt Russel as Stuntman Mike, a serial killer stalking three not-so-defenseless women, but is truly a vehicle (literally) for the amazing stunt work of Zoe Bell.  While Planet Terror is your standard low budget horror flick, Death Proof is a classic car chase film, with much more talking and (until the end) far less action.  But it's a much better film.

So why did it bomb at the box office?  The fundamental problem is that at 3+ hours, the most you can get in is three showings per screen per day, as opposed to the 5 or 6 a "normal" length film can generate.  That in and of itself cuts your box office by 40%-50%.  But a significant problem is that it's hard to make a great movie, or even a good movie, out of inherently bad material.  Even with very good actors and skillful directors, a schlocky horror movie is still a schlocky horror movie.

And if you're squeamish or offended by language or nudity, don't even think about going.