Half courtroom drama and half psychological thriller, Primal Fear must have made for an exciting time at the movies 10+ years ago. Bloodthirsty attorneys lurk in every corner, and a baby-faced Edward Norton hosts quite a coming-out party. Hell, even Richard Gere, as Head Honcho bloodthirsty attorney Marty Vail, is palatable (though Laura Linney is irksome). But ultimate satisfaction boils down to enjoyment of the surprise ending, reminiscent of The Usual Suspects (which was filmed one year earlier). And unfortunately, Primal Fear hasn’t aged well; there are wrinkles and pockmarks all over its face. With M. Night Shyamalan (The Sixth Sense; Unbreakable; Signs) seemingly using cop-out twists at every turn (and he’s not the only one), it’s not enough anymore to flip a switch at a film’s finale, kick back, and watch the audience ooh and ahh. There needs to be substantial meat on the bones; something to grab on to once the novelty of the conclusion wears off. That’s not really present here. The ultimate resolution is unsatisfying: to avoid spoilers, I’ll just say that it’s clear why the murderer did what (s)he did, but the motives are fairly mundane (if, er, understandable).

Director Gregory Hoblit , who hasn’t helmed much of note since this one, does a respectable job with the actors and screenplay here; Primal Fear isn’t dull, and the dialogue is always workmanlike, if rarely eloquent (though the courtroom scenes do tend to play like a dragged-out Law and Order episode). However, he fails to effectively flush out the film’s central relationship—Gere’ s emotional range isn’t great to begin with, and he’s reduced here to a series of agitated head shakes, agape mouths, and the occasional temper tantrum. The psychological elements are shoddily done, and Primal Fear‘s narrative structure—which portrays Aaron (Norton) as a secondary focal point who primarily reacts rather than act—leaves the heavy lifting to Marty. It doesn’t cut it, and as a result, we’re left pondering why we should care at all.

40/100

While reading Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner a few years ago, I constantly thought: “man, Hollywood’s gonna make this book into a soppy tearjerker any day now. It’s a shoo-in for an Oscar.” That sounds like a pretty harsh indictment of the novel, but it’s somewhat misleading—while the book is very sentimental, it’s also grand, old-school storytelling. I enjoyed it very much. Still, The Kite Runner scraped and clawed to avoid straying into an inescapable darkness of treacle, and modern American cinema obsesses over dumbing down our emotions to the lowest level imaginable. “The Kite Runner,” I mused, “is doomed.”

As it happens, though, Dreamworks tagged a good choice to helm a through-and-through melodrama; Marc Forster, director of Finding Neverland and Monster’s Ball. This selection keeps The Kite Runner from being unbearable—it manages to be mediocre. The first half, which examines centerpiece Amir’s cowardly, ignoble childhood and the painful scars it leaves, is a pretty effective rendering of Hosseini’s focal themes. The children give strong performances, particularly Ahmad Khan Mahmidzada as a loyal, brave young Hassan. Unfortunately, Forster fast-forwards to their adult years too quickly, and that’s all she wrote; the second portion of the movie is butchered beyond words. Deus Ex Machina, sketchy plot transitions, unconvincing emotional reactions, and one of the year’s worst performances by Khalid Abdalla as all-grown-up Amir. Everything good actors do, Abdalla did not. It’s a brutal second act, really.

Still…it’s important to remember while watching The Kite Runner that Hosseini always intended the story to be whimsical. Really, the lush Afghan scenery serves as nothing more than a backdrop for a deeply American story. The Kite Runner is written for U.S. sensibilities, and what our nation wants, especially right now, is digestible drama that goes down easy and doesn’t fight back; that’s exactly why the book was so immensely popular. As such, I think ripping The Kite Runner apart for what it isn’t, which I’ve seen from some of my fellow critics, is excessive. It’s not a political statement or richly layered story, nor is it close to a great movie; rather, it’s just a few hours of passable entertainment. For much of America, that’ll be more than enough.

44/100

Few cinematic experiences surpass that of seeing a beloved novel, play, or musical translated to screen with the proper respect and understanding of the source material. Sloppy adaptations can be incredibly painful to suffer through—for instance, my wife was crushed to see the brutal panning that Love in the Time of Cholera (one of her most cherished novels) received recently, and resolved to avoid it like the plague after watching Oprah deftly mash Zora Neale Hurston’s masterful Their Eyes Were Watching God (another Francesca favorite) into the equivalent of a Lifetime special. Even when things aren’t butchered as catastrophically, like the Harry Potter pictures, it can still be frustrating to want to throw things at the screen when the director dumbs down, trims, or ignores crucial thematic elements.

Upon first hearing that Tim Burton would be directing Sweeney Todd, my heart skipped a beat in glee, and it jumped to two beats when it was announced that the most versatile actor of our generation, Johnny Depp, would be playing our demonic barber hero. What perfect casting! And yet, Depp, who turns in a perfectly respectable performance, somehow manages to be overshadowed by the rest of the ensemble. Mind you, this is not an indictment of Depp, but a glowing endorsement for his supporting cast. Alan Rickman, best known to the masses as Severus Snape in the aforementioned Harry Potter movies, imbues Judge Turpin with the right dose of soft, evil venom. Timothy Spall (Peter Pettigrew in the Harry Potter‘s) is appropriately repugnant as the Judge’s rat-faced second-fiddle Beadle Bamford. But for those who aren’t familiar with her, Sweeney Todd is the coming-out party for a brilliant, scenery-chewing Helena Bonham Carter as the loopy Mrs. Lovett. A whirling dervish, Bonham Carter exquisitely captures the lunacy, lapdog-esque lust, and camp that make up Mrs. Lovett’s madness. Indeed, it’s her brilliance that reduces Depp to the background—though always competent and occasionally mesmerizing, Depp never quite fully embodies Sweeney’s insanity like Michael Cerveris in the recent Broadway adaptation.

Burton ensures that Sweeney Todd lives up to the hype with pitch-perfect direction; Sweeney Todd creator Stephen Sondheim must be proud (indeed, he was involved in the film’s creative process throughout). Almost every scene takes place at night, and the few daytime sequences are shot in washed-out colors, keeping the atmosphere properly bleak. Sweeney Todd takes place in a world of anger, deceit, and treachery, one without much happiness that doesn’t stem from some sort of misdeed or crime, yet it’s also a musical, chock-full of black humor. That Sondheim made such a formula work so wonderfully is nothing short of miraculous; that Burton smoothly transferred it to screen is even more remarkable. Like Edward Scissorhands and Ed Wood—the best that Burton’s offered us in the past—Sweeney Todd is exciting, extravagant, and crafted with dazzling production values. The imagery, music, and intoxicating blend of vengeance and madness—with just a smidgen of Priest; you’ll see, if you don’t already know—will linger long after you leave the theater.

74/100

When I first heard that The Simpsons were (finally) coming to the multiplexes, my initial reaction was, “um, now?” The TV series has been losing steam for awhile now, and the show isn’t nearly as popular as it used to be—many of its biggest fans have shifted loyalties to Family Guy. That’s not to say that The Simpsons have nothing left in the tank; new episodes continue to, at the bare minimum, flash semblances of its old brilliance, and the classics remain masterpieces of animation and television alike. The rapid-fire banter, political satire, and sophisticated banter—all of which complement the sheer awesomeness of Homer, Bart, & all of Springfield—remain unmatched in my eyes.

Which brings us to David Silverman’s long-awaited, if belated, big screen version; The Simpsons Movie. Thankfully, the cinematic adaptation bears a stronger resemblance to the earlier Simpsons episodes, with a consistent script, nonstop jokes, and lots & lots of Homer. The screenplay pokes fun at the modern-day environmental crisis and current events without resorting to sentimentality, and Silverman makes sure to include (almost) every character of Simpson lore for at least a cameo; there are sightings of Fat Tony, Comic Book Store Guy, Otto, and the rest of the crew. Of course it’s not perfect; The Simpsons‘ style works best in shorter bursts, and with such a large volume of jokes, some are bound to fall flat. All in all, though, The Simpsons Movie is a clever, extended episode, which should be more than enough to satisfy most fans

62/100