Taken (Dir: Pierre Morel)

Efficient and soulless. Borrowing a page from the Jack Bauer and Jason Bourne playbooks, Liam Neeson exacts cool revenge throughout the Paris underworld. Neeson plays former US secret agent Bryan Mills who is on a mission to track down and punish the men responsible for his daughter's kidnapping. His mission is equal parts payback and extraction. One suspects that retired agent Mills went on his mission as much for the opportunity to torture thugs as to get back his daughter Kim (played by Maggie Grace better known as Shannon on "Lost.")

Bryan Mills is always one step ahead of the bad guys, much stronger, faster, and more knowledgeable than his competition. He barely breaks a sweat. He dispatches whole rooms of thugs with bloody economy. Given Mills superiority and the frequent boss battles, "Taken" plays like a video game. Between bouts of fast mayhem, we see cut scenes of PG-13 torture and minimal exposition. This is a Jason Statham vehicle starring Liam Neeson.

Given the minimal sense of peril, the film's kicks are found mostly in the dispatching of bad guys. If you enjoy vicious headbutts, stabbings, and expert grappling, you'll find much to like. Bryan Mills is a great deal like Jason Voorhes--unstoppable and efficacious. "Taken" is an exercise in the current action style and this is disappointing coming from director Pierre Morel who gave us the off-the-wall, alive, ridiculous, and outstanding action film "District B13." "Taken" possesses little of the joy and verve of "B13." The palette of "Taken" is also dull and straightforward. Morel does this one by the numbers.

The best moment in "Taken" occurs early on as Mills wraps his daughter's birthday gift with OCD-like attention to detail. He carefully smooths down the paper and makes each fold sharp and distinct. It's a charming character moment, quiet and human.

Underworld: Rise of the Lycans (Dir: Patrick Tatopolous)

(This review will no doubt generate a comment such as "Did you get paid to see this?" I would ask readers to go easy on me and remind them that when your options are "Hotel for Dogs," "Paul Blart: Mall Cop," "Bride Wars," or "Underworld," you pick the one with vampires fighting werewolves.)

I went into this film with more than a little anxiety worried because I had never watched one blue-hued second of Len Wiseman's mighty "Underworld" saga. Would I be confused as to why werewolves and vampires hate one another? (After the film, I'm still a little unclear on this matter.) Would I learn why Kate Beckinsale, after a string of indies and respectable period paces, became the go to girl for b-fantasy? And would I learn what the socially appropriate term for a wolfman is? If you're with one of them at a party or workplace do they prefer Lycan or Werewolf? I'd rather not anger a wolf-person and I abhor species-ism.

None of these questions would be answered, but I was able to follow the film. The first two "Underworld" films--as far as I can gather--tell the story of the ongoing battle between werewolf and vampire. The latest installment is a prequel and tells the story of Vampire Lord Viktor and the beginning of his feud with his foster lycan Lucian. Set in the middle ages, it is a murky tale--the better to hide CGI flaws with--that purports to tell a tragic tale about an interspecies feud of which we are still feeling the impact to this day. Like Stephen King's "Wizards and Glass" entry in the Dark Tower series or the ill-advised Episodes 1-3, this film wants to be a tragic aside in an attempt to give added depth to an ongoing series. Unlike King and Lucas, "Rise of the Lycans" is mercifully brief.

The film clips along at a brisk pace never pausing long enough for you to try and suss out the story details. We're essentially dealing with vampires versus werewolves. The direction is adequate and the creature effects--what you can see of them--are interesting. Character actor Bill Nighy, playing the evil vampire lord Viktor, chews scenery, wears blue contacts, and scowls through much of the proceedings. The vampires are ill-defined, seem kind of weak, and are nowhere near as fearsome as the Lycan. The storytelling, setting, and characters are all thin. These are stock characters in stock situations. The action is, as the ongoing trend, impressionistic rather than schematic. Displaying cool flips and decapitations is more important to the filmmakers than letting you follow the action at hand.

You will certainly see worse movies this year. This one has the advantage of being blessedly short.

Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father (Dir: Kurt Kuenne)

The story at the center of this documentary is devastating. The Bagby family undergoes a horrific tragedy that was certainly hell to live through and to continue to live with. So while my deepest sympathies extend to the long-suffering Bagbys, I find the film based on their story to be seriously deficient and tone deaf. Part of the problem lies in director Kuenne's closeness to his subject. A personal friend of the Bagby family, he doesn't approach the story as a journalist, but as a man with an axe to grind. And while we understand the source of his anger by film's end, it overshadows his objectivity. He is frequently snide and dismissive. The tragedy at the film's center is done a disservice by Kuenne's frequent caricatures.

Stepping onscreen in your own documentary is problematic as it quickly discounts your objectivity. It telegraphs to the audience that you may be too close to your subjects to treat their story fairly. Unless the film is about you--and Dear Zachary is not as much about Kuenne as he seems to think it is--it's also distracting. The film presents a very narrow picture of its subject Andrew Bagby--a man who did no wrong and was loved by everyone--that it is hard to not suspect Kuenne of hagiography. The director's greatest success is in letting the parents of Andrew vent, get angry, and weep on camera. These are the film's most unvarnished and believable moments.

The film's central conceit, as well, is dreadfully misguided. The film is ostensibly a video keepsake for Andrew's son showing the boy how much his father is loved and cherished by friends and family. So the film's divergence into repeatedly telling the boy what a she-devil his mom was comes off as unnecessarily cruel. This view of the mother begins to gain traction as the film progresses--and its inclusion slightly more justified--but it's glaringly out of place in the letter to the boy. The film morphs from letter to a son to angry director with an axe to grind making its central conceit seem unnecessary and manipulative.

Decidedly tragic, but tone deaf. An unpleasant experience.

Surfwise (Dir: Doug Pray)

The tight knit Paskowitz family lived a dreamlike existence packing their nine kids into a camper, living beachside in cities across the US and Mexico, surfing everyday, never sending the kids to school and working only when they had to. By 2006, many of the family members weren't speaking to one another. The story of how the family fell apart is at the center of this intriguing documentary.

Dorian "Doc" Paskowitz, the patriarch of the family, is a Stanford graduate and one-time head of the American Medical Association for the State of Hawaii. Though he achieved significant professional success at a young age, he was miserable and dropped out of his work and marriage. While on a worldwide research tour--bedding numerous women--he meets Juliett who scores high on his "1-100" scale that he uses to quantify each conquest. She joins him in the tiny camper and together they go off to live Dorian's dream. He feeds the kids an all natural diet, keeps them out of school, teaches them how to surf, and conducts all marital activities in front of his nine children.

The film uses a mix of news footage, still photography, and modern day interviews. At first the tone of the film is kind of wacky and fun, but the tone grows darker and more bizarre as the children age. Is Dorian a tyrant? Is he forcing the family to live a dream that is fundamentally unwise, unhealthy? The film lets Dorian and the children pass judgment on their own experience. (Ordeal?) Some of the now grown childrens' interviews are particularly painful including a pained, angry song from son David which he wrote for his father and sings to the camera. This is one of the rawest, most uncomfortable film moments I have seen in recent years.

Surfwise wisely lets each family member speak for themselves and in doing so creates an even-handed, fascinating look at a family in crisis.

Gran Torino (Dir: Clint Eastwood)

Here is a film sure to stymie many a viewer. Gran Torino contains more racist slurs than any film I have ever seen and they are spoken by the film's reluctant hero. And yet the movie isn't really about racism. It is, however, about a racist living in a neighborhood that has changed. Walt Kowalski who was once surrounded by Polish neighbors is now living among Laotian, Aftrican-American, and Hispanic neighbors. One gets the impression that Walt built an insular world with his wife who, when the film opens, has passed away. Now alone, he ventures out in to his neighborhood to find it radically changed.

Racist language is wielded in films to either a)signal a character is evil or b)elicit uneasy laughter. It is also tends to define the character who uses it, making them one-dimensional. Walt will not be so easily pigeonholed. After defending his prized 1972 Gran Torino from thieves, Mr. Kowalski becomes embroiled in the lives and conflicts of his neighbors. At first his involvement with them is begrudging.

Gran Torino is a little clunky with its uneasy mix of comedy and drama. Kowalski's boiling anger is frequently played broadly and the film's final dramatic confrontation too pat to satisfy. I was never bored by Gran Torino and it's an oddball of a film that shifts tones from broad comedy to violent melodrama to gentle observational humor. Clint Eastwood is as always a commanding screen presence and in Walt Kowalski, he plays one of the year's most interesting screen heroes.

Paranoid Park (Dir: Gus Van Sant)

Alex (Gabe Nevins) in the span of about a week is going to mature exponentially. As the film opens, Alex presents as an indifferent, callow teen guy. He is a skateboarder and in the way of teens, he has fully inhabited this role, let it define him. He hangs out with skaters, wear skater clothing, and hangs with the skating tribe. He appears to be passing through life trying not to get in anyone's way, content to just be.

But after a trip to Paranoid Park--a local skating hangout--Alex's life becomes more complicated. Paranoid Park is a work of folk art. Adjacent to a railroad track, it has been designed by drifters and the under-employed as a skating refuge. Skaters aren't welcome often beyond their own driveways and Paranoid Park is a haven full of half-pipes, ramps, and swooping curves. Many of its regulars are also dangerous.

Told in a non-linear fashion, Paranoid Park is about being haunted by secret knowledge that eats away at you. Alex is forced out of callowness into deep reflection and maturity. Park is not a plot-driven film. Director Van Sant spends much of the film meditating on the faces of his characters. He also cultivates a steadily deepening dread that we begin to experience alongside Alex. Anyone who has ever lived with guilt will ultimately find the film both personal and cathartic. This is a film that rewards your patience and willingness to wait and observe.

American Teen (Dir: Nanette Burstein)

Though not as artificial as MTV pseudo-reality staple The Hills, this Paramount produced documentary about several teens from Warsaw, IN, eschews versimilitude in order to create as dramatic a film as possible. Some scenes ring true particularly those featuring the not-raised-on reality TV parents. (All except for the Elvis-impersonator father who clearly loves the attention.) The film consistently gives off an air of artificiality. Several teens date outside of their normal cliques and one can assume this in part has to do with a chance to get some time on camera. As anyone who has sat through The Bachelor or the odious A Shot at Love, amour can be faked for the camera quite easily.

And in its artificiality, the film inadvertently allows the viewer to contemplate the veracity of reality television and ask the question of whether or not anyone born in the late 20th century can ever be genuine for the camera. In effect, we're dealing with two barriers to capturing an accurate picture of today's teen, a promise made by the title. Teens are inundated by reality programming. They have internalized the rhythms of the reality show and the behavior of its stars. So its inevitable that teens will be "playing a part" in the drama. As mentioned above, there are several odd romantic choices made by the film's characters, as well, that reveal either a desire for stardom by the teens or meddling by producers/director. Likely a little bit of both. We are not really seeing a documentary about today's teen, but an observation of how teens will act while filmed.

With all that understood, the film is entertaining. Director Nanette Burstein has crafted a slick production that plays like an above average teen flick. Even with the cameras on and several unbelievable dramatic contrivances, we do get glimpses of reality. Iconoclast Hannah's conversations with her manic depressive mother and the film's basketball games contain real drama. This is a highly flawed production that is nonetheless entertaining.

The Visitor (Dir: Tom McCarthy)

In the movies when strangers enter your home, it is often played up for horror. But in The Visitor, Prof. Walter Vale enters his New York apartment and finds a husband and wife living in his home, happily. This is a more benign, humanist tale of strangers invading. Walter befriends the invaders and even learns from them. This setup, though, is really a means to examine xenophobia and current U.S. immigration policy. When Walter welcomes Tarek into his home his life is enriched. So should the U.S. welcome its visitors and have our nation similarly enriched.

This message took me out of the story somewhat as the film feels a bit like a didactic exercise, a fable. Director Tom McCarthy stacked the deck thoroughly in his favor. He wants to demonstrate the injustice of current immigration practices specifically deportation. Tarek (Haaz Sleiman), the illegal immigrant in danger of deportation, is extremely kind and brings unhappy recluse Walter out of his shell. I don't doubt that the U.S. is full of noble, kind illegal visitors like Tarek, but I also believe the McCarthy intends Tarek to be a stand in for all immigrants. If one so noble as Tarek could be turned away, isn't the process inherently flawed?

I should state, however, that I enjoyed The Visitor very much. It is a humane film that demonstrates the virtue of opening our lives to others. Like the director's other film The Station Agent, it tells the story of a man who is enriched when he chooses to get to know and fellowship with his neighbors. The performances are calm and subtle. McCarthy directs with a steady hand and allows room for silence and, in turn, reflection for his audience. Richard Jenkins gives a performance so assured that one cannot imagine another actor in the role.

The Visitor succeeds as a character study, but as an allegory it comes up a little short.

The Strangers (Dir: Bryan Bertino)

We are living in a time of dread. The economy is highly unstable. We are fighting two wars. Pensions are disappearing, new housing developments sit empty, and our jobs are cutting back hours, benefits. We are aware that our institutions, homes, and places of business are are vulnerable to collapse. The Strangers taps into this existential dread and channels it into an effective, disturbing, and very sad tale of home invasion. It also gave me nightmares for weeks.

You may have had the feeling while watching horror films that they are not exactly scary. Freddy Krueger has not scared anyone since he left Elm Street. Jason and Michael Myers are such indestructible super men as to render them only scary to the very young. The films these bogeymen occupy are gore delivery devices. A true horror film takes the mundane and adds real evil. A true horror film plays like a nightmare and makes you believe that "yeah, this could happen. And it could happen to me." The Strangers is a true horror film.

The film, similar in execution and premise to the recent French import Them, tells the story of two young lovers (Liv Tyler and Scott Speedman) who have their vacation home invaded by three anonymous souls who seemingly have no motive other than to terrorize. The Strangers is calculated and careful. It's a sleekly crafted, but sad story. The final scenes are so brutal and uncompromising, though not especially gory, that you are more likely to be left in despair than frightened.

I admire The Strangers for its execution, but it is a horrific tale without hope. This film stares into the abyss and sees weeping and gnashing of teeth. Hell is not somewhere else. It's right here.

4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (Dir: Christian Mungiu)

Two women, Otilia and Gabita, smoking cigarettes. Pensive, no unnecessary words between them. Silence. Otilia finally breaks the silence. "Okay," she says and the movie begins. Otilia moves throughout the dorm they share, collecting some belongings and giving Gabita last minute instructions. Then Otilia leaves her Bucharest university campus and begins her harrowing journey.

Set in the Communist Romania of 1987, 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, is a story about oppression and about how living in a state of fear can create a sterling bond between the oppressed. Is it hard to imagine Otilia putting herself at such personal risk and sacrificing so much if she lived in relative freedom and safety. Otilia's mission will prove repellent to some of the viewing audience and director Mungiu wisely stays out of the way. He keeps an unflinching eye on the whole affair and lets you decide for yourself.

Director Mungiu's style is not flashy. He uses long takes and tracking shots to try to achieve veracity. This proves successful. With his choices, Mungiu gives the impression more of video diarist than manipulator. He tricks you into believing he is just a passive observer and this allows him more easily to avoid passing judgment on any particular character or action. Mungiu disappears into the film.

4 Months is not a pleasurable film. The director sustains tension throughout the movie and never provides catharsis, even in conclusion. This is a sad story well told and unrelentingly tense. One of the year's best, but you leave the film ill at ease, angered. But art should provoke and unsettle. By this measure, Mungiu is a master.

Seven Pounds (Dir: Gabriele Muccino)

Is Ben Thomas's story a tale of redemption or tragedy? The film has its opinion and I my own. Seven Pounds gets it wrong.

Ben Thomas (Will Smith) is an IRS agent investigating those who owe back taxes. He appears to be very unstable, assaulting unscrupulous nursing home proprietors, abusing telemarketers, and stalking hospital patients. Is there a method to his madness? The film wants to tell the story of a man steadfast in his quest, but it is actually the story of a man in desperate need of help.

Had director Muccino, who also helmed the taut Pursuit of Happyness, taken a less sentimental tone in the film's denouement, the audience might be left with an interesting moral question with which to wrestle. Instead Thomas's quest is ultimately viewed as noble and life affirming. It's a disturbing message passed along too haphazardly. Somewhere in this morally confused morass there are interesting questions about pragmatism and the value of life, but the movie is myopic when it needs to be panoramic.

The film also has some more mundane problems such as sluggish pacing. As we wait for Ben's quest to be made more clear, he moves from one seemingly disconnected encounter to the next. There is mystery in these encounters and the attentive viewer will begin to put all the pieces together, but you may also find yourself getting antsy as you wait for a pattern to emerge. The film sacrifices some needed dramatic urgency in order to preserve its mystery.

And in the end you may find yourself compelled to tears and desire to reflect on the nobility of Ben Thomas. This is as the filmmaker intended. But when you step further away from the theater, you may also find yourself deeply disturbed. I know I was.