“Who is Salt?” That question drives this movie’s marketing campaign and truly does propel the film along for its 100-minute runtime. But you wouldn’t be wrong in thinking it sounds like a bit of an identity crisis.

Salt is less a thoughtful political thriller than it is an action vehicle for Angelina Jolie, no slouch when it comes to stunt work (Tomb Raider, Mr. and Mrs. Smith). Think of this film as the feminine version of The Bourne Identity crossed with The Fugitive with a little bit of The Manchurian Candidate thrown in.

The movie opens by introducing us to its namesake character two years ago. CIA operative Evelyn Salt (Jolie) is captured, interrogated, and tortured by soldiers in North Korea, but eventually released thanks to the efforts of her colleague Ted Winter (Liev Schreiber) and her soon-to-be husband Mike Krause (August Diehl).

Cut to the present day. Salt is about to head home and celebrate her wedding anniversary when a mysterious Russian named Orlov (Daniel Olbrychski) turns himself in, asking to defect. During his interrogation, Orlov reveals to Salt that the Russian government had a secret training program for sleeper agents (beginning with Lee Harvey Oswald), creating assassin-spies from a young age to infiltrate the U.S. government. He then drops the biggest bombshell: That Salt is also one of these spies, with plans to kill the Russian President during his visit to the United States the next day.

Surely Orlov is lying, except tests show he’s telling the truth; moments later he escapes. Salt says she’s innocent—yet too proceeds to break out of headquarters and become a fugitive. We soon learn that Salt is cut from the same cloth as James Bond and Jason Bourne—a killer skilled in several forms of combat, able to improvise in response to her surroundings.

But is she really a Russian mole intending to assassinate the Russian President? Is she loyal to the CIA, frantically trying to prove her innocence? Or is there something more complex at work? And why is she so obsessed with finding her husband? Who is Evelyn Salt?

We learn more about the character as the story progresses, offering flashbacks to Salt’s past and some insights to her motivations. This is one of those films built on mystery and intrigue where it’s best not to reveal too much about the plot. But this much can be said: when the aforementioned assassination attempt happens midway through the story rather than the finale, you know you’re in for some twists. Things unfold somewhat predictably for a while, only to yield some interesting surprises when you least expect it. To Salt’s credit, I found myself asking, “What is going on here?” several times. It does keep you guessing.

Salt also excels with its pacing. Director Phillip Noyce has a strong track record with films of this kind, including the Tom Clancy adaptations Patriot Games and Clear and Present Danger. Though relatively short for an action thriller, a lot happens in this fast-paced movie, and things rarely let up. The movies doesn’t take much time for expository dialogue or touchy-feely moments—which proves to be a strength and weakness.

In a summer where blockbusters have relied more on slick, computer-generated visual effects than tangible stunts, it’s refreshing to see Salt strive for realistic looking action. True, some of the scenes are as over-the-top as anything Bond and Bourne have pulled off. (After the movie, I heard at least three filmgoers complain about Salt’s ability to grab onto a moving truck like Spider-Man with seemingly nothing more than her fingertips.) But this is the kind of movie that relies on crazy stunts. Besides, it’s fun to watch Salt work her way through obstacles, and Jolie is (mostly) convincing as a tough-yet-graceful killer.

If only Noyce didn’t try to so hard to emulate Paul Greengrass’s jittery camerawork from the Bourne movies. Though Salt similarly tries to place the viewer directly in the action, sometimes the effect is too disorienting.

More frustrating, however, is that Salt doesn’t satisfactorily resolve all of its dangling plot threads. As things progress toward an implausible climax, Salt’s motivations for action are more implied than explained, and often bewildering—you’ll ultimately find yourself questioning if she might have been better off turning herself in. The relationship between her capture in North Korea and the present is never firmly established, or else it’s a hollow letdown that needed more emotional resonance to succeed. There are other flashbacks that seem primed to reveal important puzzle pieces, only to end without explaining much. And the final scene is truly disappointing, failing to provide answers and closure where it should.

Still, Salt is a fun ride, offering an interesting and fast-paced spin on the spy thriller genre; it’s a film that’s more about the journey and not the destination. But who is Salt? The movie seems less interested in answering that than in establishing a new franchise, but I’m not sure it has rightfully earned a sequel.

I’m a bit confused about Grown Ups. It’s not that the movie is complicated, nor is it profound: It’s just that it sends mixed signals. I can’t figure out who the film was made for, who is supposed to actually enjoy this movie. And that’s a bummer, because at first I thought it was me. See, Grown Ups is a comedic reunion—both on and off screen—between Adam Sandler, Chris Rock, David Spade and Rob Schneider, the so-called “Bad Boys of Saturday Night Live,” whose antics and bawdy humor I grew up watching on that show (whenever my mother would let me). Kevin James is added to the mix, too, which is fine by me; I thought he was terrific in Hitch.

But no: This is not a glorious return to mischief. For these Bad Boys are now, well, Grown Ups, with wives and kids to think about. So it’s no major surprise that this is something of a “family” flick, especially in that it’s literally about family, specifically the families of five boyhood friends who reunite after the death of their beloved childhood basketball coach. Their lives have gone in totally different directions, but upon seeing each other again they realize that their camaraderie hasn’t diminished one bit—so they decide to spend a weekend in an old lake house, enjoying the great outdoors with their various family members in tow.

You can probably guess what happens. Old friendships are rekindled, and tempers sometimes flare, but, after some soft piano music plays in the background and a few well-meaning clichés are passed around, everything goes back to the way it was, poignant lesson learned. Our characters learn that there is more to life than work, that family is really important, that it’s an admirable thing to be a good loser, etc. And they get hurt a lot: The humor is squarely in the sitcom/America’s Funniest Home Videos camp of people getting hurt in various ways. And when they’re not getting hurt, they’re taking cheap shots at some of the most stereotypical physical traits of the characters: Kevin James is overweight. An old lady has a lot of flatulence. That kind of thing.

I would be okay with these guys making this kind of movie if it was executed with a little more originality, and if I truly felt that their intentions were pure. They certainly didn’t make this movie for those hoping for a Bad Boys reunion; the humor is far too limp and predictable, the “family values” moments too unbearably sentimental to appeal to that crowd. But then again, the movie doesn’t work as family fare either; apparently, you can take the Bad Boys out of SNL, but you can’t take SNL out of the Bad Boys.

Sure, there are family lessons—right alongside the numerous scenes of bare backsides and ogling views of cleavage. They make fun of Kevin James’ weight, but they also make fun of David Spade for being sexually promiscuous. There are jokes about feces and farts, and a long-running gag about breastfeeding that reaches a rather disgusting climax late in the movie. There is at least one reference to having sex with a dog.

And so Grown Ups is this pathetic beast of a movie, a low-brow family comedy that’s too plotless and pointless for comedy fans and too stupidly offensive for all-ages audiences. That it is so muddled, so utterly beneath the talents of so many of the people involved (it’s not just that Sandler and Rock are wasted, but how did supporting actors like Maria Bello and Maya Rudloph end up in such a mess?) is disappointing, but hardly surprising: The guy who directed this trainwreck is Sandler’s buddy Dennis Dugan, the same guy who helmed another confused Sandler/James vessel called I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry—a film that spent much of its running time mocking homosexuals before ending with a lesson about how we should all be more tolerant toward homosexuals.

Grown Ups is similarly confused about who it’s meant to impress, and what it wants to say. It’s not as offensive as Chuck and Larry; there are enough sort-of-poignant moments that I’m willing to say the heart is in the right place. But I can’t say I derived any pleasure from seeing these comedy stars back on the screen together. Grown Ups is a movie that could have gone in any number of directions, but it ends up being one that goes nowhere.

The critics are nearly unanimous in their praise of the animation, the story, the voice work, and the new characters (The Hollywood Reporter calls Michael Keaton’s performance as the preening Ken “terrific”). The one angle that may cause some minor controversy (and perhaps a few nightmares among the youngest moviegoers) is the film’s darker tone. No spoilers, but we can say that there are some very tense scenes, more akin to an action film than a G-rated romp.

But, hey, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Ty Burr of The Boston Globe writes that the toy characters are “forced to contemplate an annihilation that is total and complete.” That, he writes, “is heady stuff for a kiddie flick.” Still, Burr is positive, noting: “The tale needs to go that far into the dark to come back into the light… the twists of the climactic scenes and the emotions they conjure up carry a weight that feels deeply and powerfully earned.”

Owen Gleiberman of Entertainment Weekly gives the movie an “A,” writing that the film is “the studio’s greatest achievement since ‘The Incredibles,’ and — just maybe — since the original ‘Toy Story.’” Parts of the movie, he writes, have “the poignancy of a Tennessee Williams play.”

USA Today’s Claudia Puig gives “Toy Story 3″ four out of four stars. While “the movie segues into a prison escape thriller with apocalyptic undertones, the suspense [is] always leavened with laughs.” Calling the movie a “masterpiece,” Ms. Puig also writes, “the tale touches the heart as no movie in recent memory has done.”

But the praise doesn’t stop there. A.O. Scott of The New York Times applauds the movie’s “subtle use of 3-D” and calls it “as sweet, as touching, as humane a movie as you are likely to see this summer.” Some scenes, he writes, may be frightening to small children. But that seems like a small quibble. According to Scott, on the whole, it provides “sheer moviegoing satisfaction” and is “wondrously generous and inventive.”

Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times was a bit less impressed, but still gives the movie three out of four stars, calling it a “jolly, slapstick comedy.” Like other critics, Mr. Ebert did notice the level of danger the toys face. He writes that “even an Indiana Jones toy would have trouble surviving” what Woody and Buzz go through. At one point, the heroic toys go up against “Big Baby,” a character The Hollywood Reporter’s Michael Rechtshaffen calls “truly disturbing.”

Online critic James Berardinelli starts off his review with a phrase we’ve all seen before and will, most likely see the next time the charmed studio releases a movie: “Pixar has done it again,” he writes. One of his criticisms is with the film’s use of 3D. “In the case of ‘Toy Story 3,’” he writes, “3-D adds nothing except a box office surcharge.”

With the second half of the film’s title, it’s obvious that Walt Disney Pictures would love for Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time to kick off a new action-packed franchise. Reteaming again with producer Jerry Bruckheimer, they’re clearly positioning this as the next Pirates of the Caribbean. And since it’s inspired by a popular video game series dating back to 1989, the hope is that Prince of Persia has a strong built-in audience.

But that’s all marketing rhetoric. I’d love to say POP:SOT is the first truly successful movie adaptation of a video game (at least it’s better than most attempts) or that it’s true to the source material (though faithful in spirit, the plot details are different), but who cares? Does any of that ultimately matter if the results yield another mediocre and forgettable summer blockbuster?

Jake Gyllenhaal stars as Dastan, the prince in the title, and there lies one key problem. With all-American boy-next-door good looks and a put-on British accent, Gyllenhall looks about as Persian as Canadian teen-pop star Justin Bieber (or as Siamese as Yul Brynner in The King and I, or as Mongolian as John Wayne in The Conqueror). The story takes place within the heart of The Persian Empire during the height of its reign hundreds of years before Christ’s birth—not exactly an ideal time for Persian-European relations. Gyllenhaal isn’t the only casting oddity, though at least some of the other British actors are passably Middle Eastern.

Still, the main problem isn’t whitewashing, but believability. Everything seems staged rather than recreated; it feels more like another sword-clanging fantasy in Middle Earth than an adventure in the Middle East.

Dastan, a street urchin, is adopted by King Sharaman because he shows “great courage” standing up to guards who threaten one of his orphan friends. He leaps across rooftops like a monkey before he is caught, pardoned, and ultimately raised as royalty with the King’s sons Tus (Richard Coyle) and Garsiv (Toby Kebbell).

Fifteen years later, the three brothers are off to war with their uncle Nizam (Ben Kingsley) as their military advisor, who suggests they attack the holy and peaceful city of Alamut for suspicion of forging weapons for enemies of Persia (WMDs, anyone?). The brothers reluctantly agree, despite Dastan’s misgivings, capturing the city along with its beautiful Princess Tamina (Gemma Arterton, Clash of the Titans).

After single-handedly infiltrating the city, Dastan uncovers a strange (plastic-looking) dagger with magic sand inside its handle, allowing whoever wields it to rewind time by a minute and change events—it’s basically a “save game” device. Soon, King Sharaman is killed and Dastan is framed for the murder. He flees with Tamina, who turns out to be the sworn sacred protector of the magic sand, and the two forge the usual squabbling romantic-comedy bond while trying to uncover the villain responsible for Sharaman’s death and to thwart a plot to use the sands of time for evil.

POP:SOT aims for a swashbuckling Arabian Nights-styled adventure with feats of derring-do, but it never provides enough thrill to set it apart from so many other CGI-fueled fantasies over the last decade. Given the agility of the Prince from the game—leaping the rooftops, diving off ledges, and climbing up walls—you would think the movie would be filled with breathtaking parkour (“free running”) action sequences similar to the chase from the beginning of Casino Royale or the French film District 13. Instead we have lots of slow-motion leaping that often suggests the use of wire work and quick-cut editing. As far as the swordfights, they’re not impossible to follow, but they tend to be shot close-up with lots of noise and little attention to technique.

This is another one of those films that relies more on effects than good stunt work. When Dastan makes the game’s trademark dive near the start of the film, there’s no sense of dizzying vertigo or danger to the event—he looks like a guy standing on a platform with computer-generated special effects in the background. For that matter, the nasty looking snakes used by the villain’s “Hassansin” henchmen are all computer-generated. Even the fire looks fake in a couple battle sequences. Topping it all off is one of those big effects-heavy finales that’s heavy on magical swirls of fire and sand where the hero doesn’t seem to know what’s going on—and neither do we.

It doesn’t help that the story doesn’t aim for anything new either. Of course Star Wars and Lord of the Rings still played to archetypes, but the characters were fleshed out with heart and humor. Here everyone seems conventional and two-dimensional, with forced attempts at humor by Alfred Molina as a black-market sheik, played as a more comical version of Oliver Reed’s character from Gladiator. He has a knife-throwing African sidekick who is silent for his couple scenes in the first half, but later he suddenly gets dialogue and a pivotal action sequence.

Meanwhile, Dastan and Tamina fall in love not out of natural chemistry (or a sense of destiny as the film suggests) but because the script requires them to. And particularly frustrating is the way the trailers and character makeup make it painfully obvious who the bad guy is, yet the script boldly pretends as if there’s mystery and surprise to the identity of the King’s assassin. Trust me, you already know.

Director Mike Newell is capable of heartfelt romantic comedy (Four Weddings and a Funeral) and drama (Donnie Brasco), but he’s struggled with fantasy-adventure (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, the weakest of the franchise). He seems similarly ham-fisted here, going through the motions of a typical lame-brained Bruckheimer blockbuster.

The film isn’t awful, but how I the days when big-budget movies (Avatar notwithstanding) actually delivered on memorable thrills and characters. POP:SOT has neither—only a lazy script enhanced by computer-generated visuals.

When reviewing films based on the legend of Robin Hood one can’t help but get caught up in all the men in tights who have trod across the movie screen in previous stints as the original dark knight.  Despite an abundance of computer generated arrows flying around in scene after scene in Robin Hood (opening this weekend) Russell Crowe is no Errol Flynn.

In a workmanlike performance, Crowe has re-teamed with director Ridley Scott to create a tale well-rooted in history but lacking in the original story’s authenticity.  The battle scenes are highly realistic, the costumes are textbook perfect, but at end of the film’s 148 minutes you are left feeling slightly empty.

The year is 1199 and Robin Longstride (Crowe) is on his way from a crusade with Richard the Lionhart (Danny Huston).  In an attempt to overtake a castle in France, Richard is killed.  Robin and a group of men who would soon become known as “merry” decide that they need to journey back to England.  On the way, they stumble across an ambush as a group of thieves led by the evil Godfrey (Mark Strong) are trying to steal the English crown.  Godfrey gets away but Robin and his men are left with several items, one of which is a precious sword entrusted to him by a fallen knight.

Robin promises the mortally wounded knight that he will return the sword to his father (Max von Sydow) in Nottingham.  There is but one problem – when he arrives there it is decided that he should impersonate the fallen knight.  When Robin agrees he encounters a whole host of issues he wasn’t expecting, the least of which is what to do about his perceived “marriage” to the fiesty Maid Marion (Cate Blanchett).

Through this arranged relationship, Robin soon discovers the harsh realities of what King John’s (Oscar Isaac) taxation is doing to slowly destroy Nottingham and other villages like it. Justice must be served and Robin decides he is the one to lead the rebellion.

Robin Hood is filled with all the grit and harsh reality that previous Robin Hood films have lacked.  That is a good thing.  But for every castle set on fire or the whooshing of an arrow that makes you feel like you are right there in the middle of the action, one can’t help but get lost in the historical hyperbole.  I would recommend you do a little light reading on the Third Crusade and the Magna Carta before paying the price of admission.

Not your typical Robin, Crowe benefits greatly from intricately detailed sets and the superb sound editing surrounding him.  His brooding demeanor is larger than life.  He is certainly an intense, brawny warrior.  But by film’s end, I was left thinking I had just watched Maximus in Sherwood Forest.

While Blanchett turns in her usual well-crafted performance (although I could have done without her presence in the final battle scene), viewers are likely to be more tuned in to other cast members.  Von Sydow does a splendid job of portraying Marion’s elderly father-in-law, Sir Walter Loxley, in a sometimes humorous manner.  Mark Addy seems to be perfectly cast as Friar Tuck while Robin’s band of merry men are well represented by Kevin Durand (Little John) and Scottt Grimes (Will Scarlett).

While we see many strong virtues in Robin and his men, viewers should be wary of a fair degree of violence.  There is not a great deal of blood but many sequences of warfare are featured including sceme involving a man being dragged by a horse with a rope tied around his neck.

In addition, there are a few scenes carrying sexual tension between Robin and Marion that never quite materialize.  However, viewers are left to process one suggestive scene early in the film involving a sexual encounter between King John and a French woman while his long-suffering wife stands outside the door to their bed chamber weeping.

Scott had a difficult task in taking on a project so well traveled in story and scope.  In essence, he is taking a 900 year old tale and filtering it through the lens of Hollywood .  To some extent he has done a credible job.  The battle scenes are fantastic.  The costumes are exquisite.  As for the actual telling of the story; I’m not so sure.

I never thought I’d say it, but I really think it’s true: The best part of Iron Man 2 is Gwyneth Paltrow.

That’s a bit of a surprise, given that this franchise stars Robert Downey Jr. in all his snarky, scene-stealing, unabashed Downey-ness, and that this sequel features a highly-publicized, creepily sinister turn by Mickey Rourke (as the villain Whiplash)—to say nothing of the fact that, in the first film, Paltrow’s role was fairly minor, serving more as a plot device than as a rounded character. She only has slightly more screen time here, yet her character, Pepper Potts, serves to summarize just about everything that’s great about these two films—and the areas in which this sequel makes small strides forward from its predecessor.

Pepper is the personal assistant to Tony Stark (Downey), a cocky billionaire inventor who moonlights not-so-secretly-anymore as the world-saving techno-hero Iron Man. She’s as close to Stark as he will allow her to be—which is to say, not very, but she knows him better than anyone, and for some reason, she still seems pretty nuts about the narcissistic jerk. There’s always been romantic tension between the two, and here it bubbles over into some wickedly funny scenes in which the two of them play off each other with one deadpan barb after another. The sparks that fly in these scenes are the film’s greatest special effect.

And that’s saying something: This movie has a lot of cool CG work, and the action sequences are every bit as thrilling as those in the first. But the vigorous work between Paltrow and Downey emphasizes the greatest asset that this cast—and director Jon Favreau—brings to the Iron Man movies, and that’s their childlike enthusiasm.

This franchise has never given any indication of wanting to be something as grave or as meaningful as Christopher Nolan’s recent Batman movies, or even as socially and politically aware as the X-Men flicks. There are some throwaway lines here in which Whiplash (Rourke) hints at deeper personal and political ramifications for what Stark is doing—how his world-saving exploits have left a trail of dead behind him—but the movie seems to grow bored of this theme long before it offers anything substantive to say about it.

And that’s probably for the best. Leave the politics and the big statements to other superhero franchises; Favreau’s films want nothing more than to give the most blockbuster bang for buck, to be the comic-bookiest of all the big superhero franchises.

They cram as much plot into this second episode as they can—big happenings for Stark and his company, plus plenty of new characters and plot threads—while still keeping things to a relatively streamlined two-hour running time. One of the first scenes is of our hero defending himself—in typical over-the-top fashion—during a Senate hearing, in which an old curmudgeon tries and fails to seize the Iron Man suit for the U.S. defense department. That subplot that runs through the movie, but splinters off in other directions too: Stark spars with a rival weapons designer named Justin Hammer (Sam Rockwell), does battle with the grubby but devilish Whiplash, and finds himself increasingly entangled with the mysterious S.H.I.E.L.D. group, even as he seeks to unravel a decades-old mystery involving his late father’s most secret invention. Oh yeah: Did I mention that he’s dying of metal poisoning from wearing the suit too much?

Those 124 minutes fly by, Favreau keeping a bumpy but ultimately efficient pace, the film crackling with energy and wit and vitality, the actors—especially Downey and Paltrow—investing all their vim and vigor into selling this story and these characters.

Indeed, there’s something beguilingly old-fashioned about this movie, at least as summer blockbusters go; it actually seems like everyone involved is working extremely hard to ensure that the audience is having a terrific time. Their enthusiasm is winsome, and it pays off in spades: This is the kind of movie that can juggle hilarious comic-book geek in-jokes with more populist fare, that can remain true to the story’s roots while providing its own fresh attitude, that can expand the Iron Man universe in every direction without feeling like it’s growing bloated or tiresome. And there’s more forward momentum than in the first movie; while the initial Iron Man felt almost like a prologue, an origins story to establish the latest Marvel franchise, this one is more robust, more substantive.

Which is not to say that it’s any deeper or more rounded: As with the first movie, so much time is spent lighting the fireworks of superhero action scenes and Downey’s deadpan wit that characterization gets the short end of the stick. Scarlett Johansson, new to the franchise, plays a character (Natalie Rushman) who serves essentially to pave the way toward the eventual Avengers film (and to provide eye candy for ogling teenage boys), while both Rourke and Rockwell are two-dimensional. Don Cheadle, in the role of Stark’s friend James Rhodes, doesn’t make much more of an impression here than Terrence Howard did in the same role in the first film; “Rhodey” doesn’t really figure into the film as a pivotal character until the final act. But maybe that’s just in keeping with the Iron Man spirit; if they don’t work as characters, they at least work as comic book stand-ins, Rourke being suitably weird and menacing, Rockwell hamming it up in a way that would steal the whole movie if he were matched up against anyone but Downey.

Scarlett Johansson as Natasha Romanoff

And then there’s Paltrow: Once again, she’s the movie’s real muscle, and not just because of her energy and wit, or even her chemistry with the leading man. She’s also the film’s beating heart: While Favreau and screenwriter Justin Theroux may gloss over other on-screen characters and relationships, the one between Pepper Potts and Tony Stark is actually fleshed out a bit here. There is romance, and there is also real compassion. It’s a sign of the franchise not just expanding, but actually deepening. These two—Paltrow and Downey—are not just building action figures, but characters that we care about. And by the time this second movie ends, that becomes just as important as the film’s energy and humor: We don’t just want to spend time with this movie, but with these people.

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Reviewing the Rob Marshall film Memoirs of a Geisha, Roger Ebert wrote, “I suspect that the more you know about Japan and movies, the less you will enjoy Memoirs of a Geisha.” This is such a useful critical rule of thumb that there ought to be a shorthand way of referring to movies fitting that description. I don’t suppose we can call them Geisha movies. No, probably not.

Still, let the reader understand when I suggest that Green Zone is a Geisha movie, in the sense that the more you know about Iraq, the less you will enjoy it. I don’t know a lot about Iraq, and even I know too much for this movie.

Director Paul Greengrass’s biggest credits include the slick, well-made escapist thrills of two Bourne sequels and the restrained docudrama realism of United 93. Green Zone is an awkward fusion of the two. The film is situated squarely not only in the war in Iraq, but in the circumstances around the case for war. It’s framed as a conspiracy-minded action thriller in which real things happen, but not in the ways or for the reasons that they really happened.

Matt Damon as Roy Miller

Matt Damon is back in heroic form after playing against type in Steven Soderburgh’s The Informant, returning to the role of an unstoppable warrior off reservation on a relentless quest for the truth that corrupt higher-ups don’t want him to find. Greengrass’s trademark shaky-cam urgency is accentuated by cinematographer Barry Ackroyd, who brought similar documentary-like rawness to The Hurt Locker.

But chief warrant officer Roy Miller (Damon) isn’t on the trail of some fictional black-ops CIA organization. He’s part of the 2003 U.S. effort to search for fictional weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Jason Bourne’s shadowy nemesis was an agency called Treadstone; Roy Miller’s is a man named Poundstone (Greg Kinnear), a Pentagon intelligence agent who seems to be the only one in the loop on where the intel is coming from. “It’s actionable,” Poundstone says in response to Miller’s queries about the intel, meaning that Miller’s team will act on it.

It’s a foregone conclusion that the search for WMDs is an exercise in futility, but Miller’s quest puts him on the trail of a more tangible target: the “Jack of Clubs” in the U.S. playing card schema, General al Rawi (Igal Naor), who, if you look up the actual playing card schema, is not the actual Jack of Clubs, although he seems to be a similarly built guy with a similar mustache.

I haven’t read Imperial Life in the Emerald City: Inside Iraq’s Green Zone, Rajiv Chandrasekaran’s award-winning nonfiction account of U.S. mismanagement of the attempted reconstruction of Iraq, supposedly the inspiration for the film. From Charles Ferguson’s documentary No End in Sight I vaguely recognized some of the mistakes made by civilian authorities in Green Zone: insular thinking; excluding other points of view (e.g., Brendan Gleeson’s frustrated CIA analyst); shutting out former Ba’ath party leaders; shutting down all existing Iraqi military forces. A subplot involving Amy Ryan as a Wall Street Journal reporter named Lawrie Dayne whose bungled reporting on WMDs helped to make the case for war sounded familiar.

Greg Kinnear as Clark Poundstone, Any Ryan as Lawrie Dayne

After seeing the film, I refreshed myself on some of the details. The real players—L. Paul Bremer, the head of the Coalition Provisional Authority who actually made the controversial decisions depicted in the film; New York Times journalist Judith Miller, who actually wrote the problematic WMD stories; Ahmed Chalabi, the U.S.-backed Iraqi politician who boasted about falsifying Western intelligence—are replaced by fictitious stand-ins who diverge from their real-world counterparts in significant ways.

As for Miller, there’s simply no real-world basis for his role in the Iraqi conflict. By the end he’s become a whistle-blower like Marine captain Brian Steidle in The Devil Came on Horseback, a documentary about Darfur. It’s tidy, comforting revisionism, like sending Rambo back into Vietnam so we can win this time. Instead of a morass in which the search for WMDs simply peters out, we get the closure of a smoking gun, a scapegoat whom Miller can buttonhole with righteous fury like Harrison Ford lacing into the president at the end of Clear and Present Danger.

Brendan Gleeson (left) as Martin Brown

Even on an Oliver Stone paranoia-thriller level, Green Zone is undermined by its faint-hearted fictionalizing. At least an Oliver Stone movie names names and proposes scenarios that may or may not withstand scrutiny, but offer something to scrutinize. JFK’s fevered speculations may be crashingly wrong, but Green Zone offers a scenario that is “not even wrong,” in the useful phrase of theoretical physicist Wolfgang Pauli. Whether Clay Shaw was involved in a plot to assassinate JFK is a question about the real world; whether Clark Poundstone knowingly falsified WMD intel isn’t, because there is no Clark Poundstone.

Consider Lawrie Dayne, whom the original screenplay placed at The New York Times, but the finished film has writing for the Wall Street Journal. According to L. A. Times blogger John Horn, “the legal departments at Universal Pictures and producing partner Working Title Films changed her affiliation to the Wall Street Journal so that audiences wouldn’t confuse the character with an actual journalist.”

Does Judith Miller exist in the world of Green Zone? If so, are she and Lawrie Dayne competitors? Were they each trying to out-scoop the other on WMDs? It’s like the film is set in a parallel universe, like how comic-book fans have been expected to accept that the fictional cities of Metropolis and Gotham are located somewhere on the East Coast in close proximity to New York City. The story is too closely bound to real events not to jostle uncomfortably with the facts.

Military-minded critics of The Hurt Locker who complained about implausibilities like Jeremy Renner’s solo journey on foot through unfamiliar Baghdad streets in the rain at night, returning to his base without ID and not in uniform, will have a field day with Green Zone. Miller does all this and so much more; he may not be quite up to Bourne-level super-heroics, but he’d put Renner’s “wild man” in The Hurt Locker in a hurry.

Director Paul Greengrass with Damon on the set

A bit more interesting than all the WMD nonsense is the role of an Iraqi nicknamed “Freddy” (Khalid Abdalla, who played one of the terrorists in United 93) who comes to Miller claiming to have information about secret meetings of former Ba’ath party leaders and acts as his translator for much of the film. Freddy isn’t a complicated character, but he’s a character American audiences aren’t used to seeing, and the film maintains some suspense about his motives. In the end, he makes a better case than anyone else in the story against Western interests trying to decide the fate of Iraq.

In my review of United 93, I expressed gratitude that the first film to dramatize that dreadful day got so much right, since in our media age a film can help make an event “real” to viewers, but “the wrong movie can make it obscenely unreal.” Green Zone is something of a case in point. Somewhere between the Green Zone of defensible fiction and the red zone of harsh reality is a no-go zone of dishonesty. The boundaries may be hard to determine, but at the very least Green Zone is close enough to no-go territory to deserve being received more or less the way Freddy was when Miller first found him, on the ground in the crosshairs of weapons and pointed questions.

Talk About It
Discussion starters

1. A soldier takes an oath of service and is expected to obey orders, even if he disagrees with them. How far does this obligation go? When must a soldier be willing to go against his own judgment to follow orders? What if doing so means lives may be lost? When, if ever, is he justified in disobeying orders? Would you be willing to take an oath of service like this? Why or why not?
2. How does this apply to other areas of life? Must children obey parents, teachers or other authority figures even if they believe they’re being treated unfairly? When if ever is disobedience to parents or teachers justified? What about an employee and his or her boss, or a policeman and a citizen?
3. Can a falsehood ever serve the greater good? Is it ever right to lie in order to justify what is considered to be a necessary course of action? Is it ever right to lie for any reason? Does it matter to whom you are lying and why? If so, how?

The Family Corner
For parents to consider

Green Zone is rated R for much explicit, realistic wartime violence, including torture and execution-style killings as well as battlefield crossfire; constant obscenity, some crass language and misuse of God’s name.

http://www.christianitytoday.com

Legion redefines the “disaster movie,” though not in the apocalyptic sense that director Scott Stewart intended.

The film is a confused mess of ideas reminiscent of The Prophecy, The Matrix, and the standard horror/action standoff depicted in virtually every zombie movie. Oddly enough, Stewart steals most heavily from The Terminator, in both story and imagery. (James Cameron ought to sue concerning the desert highway shots with the voiceovers.)

Whatever. Legion is a rip-off any way you slice it, and not just because the action and core storyline are both so derivative. The plot is ultimately nonsensical, the questions it raises are never answered, and a recap of the details should be enough to turn off any Christian with half a brain—though attempting to summarize the story is good enough for some laughs. That’s because Legion pretends to be about spiritual/apocalyptic warfare, but ultimately depicts nothing more than the confused cynicism of the filmmakers.

In Legion, God has given up on mankind … again. Why? The movie never specifies beyond generic references to mankind’s propensity for hatred, racism, and war. One character says it’s because God is “sick of all the [BS].” That’s apparently a brilliant enough answer for Stewart (who co-wrote) to use in the movie twice.

As the film points out, God used a flood to destroy humanity last time. Now the extermination is to be carried out by the angels, his “dogs of heaven.” Golly, you’d think God would be more efficient than that and do it himself, right? Why not use a global catastrophe like the one depicted in 2012?

All right, angels it is—because they look cool. Except one of them, Michael (Paul Bettany), still has faith and love for mankind—according to him, equal to the Lord’s. So he defies God’s orders, comes to earth, chops off his wings, and removes some sort of mystical collar that’s never explained. Then he proceeds to the local armory and steals an arsenal of weapons to protect the last hope of all mankind. (More on that in a bit.)

Now in Legion, angels can fly and deflect bullets with their steely wings, as well as use them to cut their foes in half. So why would Michael dispose of his wings readily? For that matter, much like demons (or the agents in The Matrix), angels can supposedly possess the “weak-willed” to do their bidding. This causes human eyes to become dark, their teeth to grow pointy, and allows them to climb the walls like some scuttling ghoul—yet bullets will still bring them down. Once again, given all their strength and power, why would angels (and God) go this route to carry out the death sentence?

Here’s the kicker: In defiance of God and his army of angels, Michael arrives with a car trunk full of machine guns to protect a young pregnant waitress named Charlie (Adrianne Palicki), who is on the verge of giving birth to … who? John Connor? Neo? Superman? Since the story takes place around Christmas, one would think the story is suggesting the Second Coming of Christ—except of course, God wants this child dead and Jesus is never mentioned in the movie (excluding profanity). All we know is that the baby’s survival is the only hope that mankind has.

Any further questions? Sorry, Legion never answers them. It’s all lazy spiritual mumbo jumbo between the characters holed up at the Paradise Falls diner (natch) in the middle of nowhere. Percy (Charles Dutton), the diner’s cook, tells Michael that none of this sounds like what he knows of God in the Bible; the archangel then more or less dismisses the Bible as a source of truth. That should give you an idea of how much this movie respects the source material.

However, the filmmakers’ depiction of God in Legion is quite inconsistent. Mankind is supposedly worthy of eradication because we’re so hate-filled. Yet in two different scenes, the angel-possessed lay traps that prey on the good intentions of characters willing to risk their lives to save others. Michael foreshadows this earlier in noting how the angel-possessed were initially testing the strength of characters, but will later test their weaknesses. Since when in God’s universe is selfless sacrifice a weakness, and why are these angels in the right with such evil tactics?

Actor Doug Jones (a Christian) has a 30-second cameo in the movie as a demonic, angel-possessed ice cream truck driver, and notes in an interview with CT that Stewart wanted to make a movie about God’s wrath and judgment, pretending the New Testament never happened. Yet we see at least a couple crucifixes in the movie: one through an explosion caused by Michael, the other used to kill a man in horrific fashion upside down. To me, this reveals a filmmaker too confused and inconsistent in his own beliefs to tell a coherent story—you simply can’t ignore two thousand years of Christianity in a movie with this subject.

For a film that boasts a lot of action in the trailers, Legion is surprisingly dull and talky, taking ten minutes to say what could be depicted in a minute or two. Characters state the obvious and repeat it without ever showing depth or brains. The story might have been partly salvageable if the script allowed people to meaningfully ponder their own mortality (and possible redemption) in preparation for the apocalypse. But all the characters are so thinly developed and unlikable, the dialogue so corny and tedious, it all amounts to junk best left to a Mystery Science Theater skewering.

Thus another movie that fails in every way. And talk about the cart leading the horse, Legion has the audacity to set itself up for sequels without ever giving the audience enough compelling reason to care about this first installment. Heaven help us if Legion 2 should ever come to pass.

http://www.christianitytoday.com

“The story of a life and everything that came after.”

Susie Salmon (an astounding Saoirse Ronan) is a typical fourteen year old. She loves taking pictures with her new camera, going to school, and silently watching her secret crush. All that changes when her neighbor lures her into seeing a new underground clubhouse he’s supposedly built for the neighborhood kids. After her rape and murder, Susie is stuck in an “in-between” of heaven and hell where she watches her family mourn her death and try to move on with their lives.

“The Lovely Bones” aims to cover too much in its over two-hour run, ultimately creating a disjointed, emotionless mess. While the primary plot should be Susie’s murder and afterlife, the film also deals with the depraved mind of the killer, marital issues, and Susie’s self-awakening and growth. While rape and murder are heavy and traumatic enough, the film also tries to illicit laughs from its audience with comedic one liners from the free-spirited grandma (a magnificent Susan Sarandon). It simply does not feel right to laugh when the evil killer and his perverse thoughts fill the subsequent scenes. It’s also rather odd and disturbing that Susie’s portrayed as better off dead, since she somehow found herself and grew as a person during her time in the “in-between.” Her killer’s evil deeds are not frowned upon enough and is placed on the back burner as she watches her family move on with their lives and even still observes her crush.

Some tighter editing would have benefited the film. The first forty-minute segment is rather well-paced and suspenseful. Director Peter Jackson did a phenomenal job in building the suspense from the slow revelation of the killer to his luring Susie into the death trap. I was at the edge of my seat as Susie slowly realizes she should not have taken his invitation. The murder occurs off screen, but still does not lessen the suspense. This film refreshingly demonstrates that movies do not have to have excessive amounts of gore or blood to build suspense; rather, having the imagination fill in the blanks can be just as effective.

“The Lovely Bones” loses its pace in the middle as massive amounts of time is spent showing the viewer CGI eye candy in Susie’s “in-between” world. While the CGI effects are great, they eventually became a waste of time since they never emotionally enhance or strengthen the film. While time is nonexistent in this realm, it certainly exists for the audience. The latter portion of the film creates teasing moments of suspense and quite a lackluster ending which should have been rewritten for the film to end with a stronger bang.

Objectionable Content

The film is relatively low on the offensive content. There are only about 2 uses of profanity, with one “f” word and 1 SOB. No sexual content is shown, but it is implied that young couples go off to the corn field to have sex, while the killer watches them. A sketch of breasts is shown; there are about three kissing scenes, but they are all tastefully done. The grandma is shown to excessively drink and smoke. While she does call alcohol her medicine, she is never shown drunk. In one scene, she asks Susie if she’s been kissed yet, and then tells her granddaughter that her first kiss was with a grown man.

The depicted violence is relatively mild. There is one rather graphic scene of a father getting beaten by a young man. While Susie’s murder does occur off screen, it’s heavily implied with bloody floors, clothes, and bags shown. Some dead bodies are shown floating in different bodies of water.

The film takes place in the 1970s when kidnapping wasn’t as publicized or common as it is today. In general, people were more trusting of their neighbors. While we should definitely teach our children to never go off with those whom they do not know and to use caution at all times; it’s also important to teach them to not be overly afraid of those who can do us harm (Luke 12:4).

Susie’s killer would often sit, fiddling with a charm of her bracelet while he stared at the chest which stored her body. In her narrative, Susie said that he had begun to feel safe and soon began getting the itch to kill again. There are similar killers and other criminals who believe their craftiness have created the perfect crime. This correlates with Isaiah 29:15:

“Woe to those who go to great depths to hide their plans from the Lord, who do their work in darkness and think, “Who sees us? Who will know?”

While their crimes might indeed go unsolved or undetected in this world, there will be absolutely no escaping the ultimate judgment when one dies. Hebrews 4:13 states:

“Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.”

I personally do not recommend “The Lovely Bones.” The film does not have any soul to it, and it sadly wasted the enormous talent of the cast with its poor script and lack of strong direction. While the CGI is well-made, audiences are well past the age where simply seeing it on the screen is rewarding. Along with technology, some heart or moral lesson is needed to give films a sense of purpose. Lacking any universal moral, “The Lovely Bones” is better skipped, since finding one’s self in some stage of an “in-between” is definitely not true.

Violence: Mild / Profanity: Mild / Sex/Nudity: Mild

http://www.christiananswers.net

When I walked out of the theatre after seeing To Save a Life, I was pretty positive about this teen flick. This outreach project of California’s New Song Community Church has the best production values I’ve seen from a church-made feature film, tells a good story, and captures both youth group culture and high school life pretty authentically. The movie is poignant, often funny and filled with memorable scenes. But in the weeks since I first saw it, I’ve been bothered by some weaknesses and unintended messages that have dampened my praise and recommendation.

Loosely based on the hit song “How To Save a Life” by The Fray, the movie opens after the public suicide of an outcast teen named Roger (Robert Bailey, Jr.). Stud basketball player Jake Taylor (Randy Wayne) was Roger’s best friend until Jake’s popularity accelerated and he began to see misfit Roger as a social speedbump. Broken, guilt-ridden, disillusioned, and confused, Jake begins to ask hard questions. This questioning and unhappiness leads Jake toward life change as he is pursued by a caring youth pastor, Chris (Joshua Weigel), evaluates his relationship with girlfriend Amy (Deja Kreutzberg), and makes a conscious effort to care for others more than self—to love on the unloved.

It’s easy to tell To Save a Life was written by a longtime youth pastor—in this case, New Song’s Jim Britts. Two reasons: 1) The film shows knowledge and understanding of teens, their world, pressures, and culture. 2) With noble aims, it tries to address and help almost every conceivable teen issue: suicide, bullying, cutting, drinking, drugs, parental pressure, premarital sex, fear of failure, dating, parents’ divorce, hypocrisy, teen pregnancy, bad-influence friends, loneliness, self-worth, peer pressure, school violence, pressure to succeed, abortion, college stress, rejection. By the halfway point, it feels like an after-school special on, well, everything.

In fact, with so many subplots and themes shoved in, I kept thinking that To Save a Life might have made a better TV series, comparable to the popular (but not as well produced) The Secret Life of an American Teenager. Spreading all of the film’s various themes (and Jake’s various problems) over a season could have lessened how overwhelming (and a bit cheesy) they feel in two hours. Or maybe the movie could have just focused more tightly on Jake’s personal trajectory of change and outreach after Roger’s death without the added obstacles—including a villainous pastor’s son, and an unneeded and weak climax involving a bomb scare. It is in showing Jake’s questioning, emptiness, and transformation that the movie best excels. My favorite scenes were of Jake walking through his popular, party-lifestyle life growing more and more unfulfilled, slowly realizing the truth of Ecclesiastes that life is meaningless without God.

Jake’s search for meaning leads him to grow more and more interested in what youth pastor Chris has to say. And that is when Jake’s changes begin. Jake challenges Chris’ hypocritical and apathetic youth group to be different than the world, to care and to reach out to the hurting. He starts a lunch group of Christians to sit together despite their different high school status levels. He seeks out hurting kids like Roger to give them the message that someone cares. And as Jake changes into this new creation, he realistically faces the temptations and trials of a new believer.

That’s all great stuff. But the more I thought about the film, the more I realized that while it talks a lot about living differently, living for God and being transformed, it never says why or how. I wish there had been more focus on showing what changed Jake. Was he just trying to be a better person? The youth group becomes a place of acceptance and caring for misfits and sinners, but it seems that their reason is to make sure others don’t feel lonely—not because of the gospel of Jesus Christ. In fact, the movie could be read as saying the church is a place where you can fit in, and saving a life is a matter of being nice to the nerds. And honesty, if that is all a viewer gets, it’s not that different of a message than from secular teen flicks like Mean Girls.

Kids in youth groups or with a Christian background will easily fill in the blanks and infer that this change comes from a life in Christ and that Jake’s reaching out to the hurting comes as a reaction to Christ’s love. They may glean much from the messages of living differently and not being judgmental. In fact, To Save a Life could be a good kick-in-the-pants for youth-group kids not consistently living out the truth of Christ. The problem, though, is that some youth pastors (like the one who attended the screening with me) will have concerns about showing this at a church event or endorsing it because of its realistic portrayal of how kids party, date, and dress (see The Family Corner).

On the flip side, being so comparable to Hollywood fare is perfect to attract non-Christians, but will the vague and ambiguous messages get across? Will they take anything out other than a missive to be kind and inclusive? Some certainly will. Some won’t. Still, I am sure the filmmakers agree that it’s a success if it changes one judgmental heart or saves even one life.