Review of "The Future"

Miranda July may be a bit too weird for her own good. On the other hand, it is a glorious weird.

In "The Future," July's second film (following 2005's superb "Me and You and Everyone We Know"), July does a dance in an upside-down T-shirt; she voices a damaged cat who serves as the film's narrator; she has the moon in a speaking part; and she has a little girl digging her own apparent grave in a backyard.

With all these odd images and characters you might think "The Future" would be outsized and loud; instead it is small, contained and subtle. It's oddball, yes, but it is everyday oddball.

And it's a whole lot like genius.

July plays Sophie, girlfriend of Jason (Hamish Linklater). They live in a funky Los Angeles apartment; he works in tech support, she teaches dance to kids, they're both shooting toward 40 and worried about it.

As the film begins, they're adopting a cat with renal failure. They figure it may live six months, but then they're told it could hang on for five years. Suddenly, the commitment-phobes are cementing their future.

But the cat can't come home for 30 days. They have that much time left before they're tied down by a pet's life. What will they do?

July is dealing with the precarious balance between responsibility and desire, between standing strong and running wild, while throwing in all sorts of related and unrelated musings and images about beauty, sex, need, primal fear and love.

A well-known performance artist, July turns the film itself into a sort of performance art series as she moves far beyond standard narrative and into powerful impressionistic moments.

"The Future" is more cerebral and challenging than the lovely "Me and You;" its fear factor is palpable, its ending unsure, its spirit uneasy. Does that sound like any future you know?

Review of "Myth of the American Sleepover"

There's something so Detroit, and so American, about "The Myth of the American Sleepover."

The Detroit part is easy to explain — it was shot here on a minuscule budget by first-time feature writer-director David Robert Mitchell, who grew up in Clawson; and its suburban mix is just right: brick ranches, sunburned lawns, a lake party, an abandoned factory, a drive to U-M. All on a long, warm summer night.

But it's the American naturalism that's striking: Kids walking along suburban streets, pillows and sleeping bags in hand, on the way to sleepovers. Girls crowded into living rooms, giggling and gossiping; guys slouched in chairs watching porn-tinged horror flicks.

Partiers daring one another to go skinny dipping — which nobody does. Drinking cheap vodka straight from the bottle. Adolescents pressing toward the mysteries of high school life. Older boys hitting on younger girls.

The structure to "Myth" is recognizable as a younger, tougher updating of "American Graffiti." Mitchell follows four kids as their paths crisscross on the last night of summer.

There's pierced and spirited Maggie (Claire Sloma), partying with older kids; new-to-town toughie Claudia (Amanda Bauer); and Rob (Marlon Morton), searching for a blonde beauty (Madi Ortiz) he spied in a grocery store.

They're all about to enter high school. And then there's college guy Scott (Brett Jacobsen), nursing a broken heart and dreaming of twins (Jade and Nikita Ramsey).

Most of these kids are new to film, and there's a sweet purity, almost like body memory, to the way they take on characters who probably aren't all that foreign.

Combine that with Mitchell's well-grounded overlapping stories — none of which spin out of control, all eminently recognizable and believable — and "Myth" manages to feel both uncommonly sincere and strikingly human.

A disclosure here: Madi Ortiz, the elusive blonde beauty, is the daughter of Detroit News photographer (and longtime friend) Max Ortiz.

Perhaps even more compromising, the houses and streets in this film look pretty much like the houses and streets in my neighborhood.

But most importantly, the kids in this film remind me of my kids. Heck, they remind me of me.

It's somewhat ironic that this most real-feeling film has the word "Myth" in its title. And it's downright amazing that Mitchell manages to incorporate a breezy dance number into the movie.

"The Myth of the American Sleepover" is an indie movie-lover's dream, one of those rare instances where a lack of budget and experience is trumped by heartfelt vision, natural talent and amateur enthusiasm.

Review of "Rise of the Planet of the Apes"

Mess with Mother Nature and things could get a little hairy.

That's the none-too-subtle but still effective message at the heart of "Rise of the Planet of the Apes," a prequel that doesn't monkey around.

The problem with prequels, of course, is you know where they're going; the intrigue is you can't be sure how they're going to get there.

"Rise" offers some fairly credible background to the notion that Earth will one day be ruled by hairy simians that keep humans as slaves, topped off by a shrieking-crazy apes-gone-wild in San Francisco climax. Mayhem lovers should be pleased.

As is so common in today's techno freaked-out world, the bad results here come from good scientific intentions. James Franco stars as Will Rodman, a Bay Area scientist hoping to find a cure for the dementia his father (John Lithgow) suffers from.

To this end, Will has been injecting chimpanzees with a serum intended to generate cell growth in their brains. Of course, Will works for a chrome-and-glass corporation that hopes to make zillions off the new drug some day.

Will thinks he's struck gold with one chimp, Bright Eyes, who exhibits an extraordinary leap in intelligence. But then Bright Eyes goes wild, attacking her keepers, and has to be put down.

Initially, Will thinks the drug is tainted, but then a baby chimp is discovered in Bright Eyes' cage. The mother was just protecting her newborn.

With nobody around to protect the baby chimp, Will ends up taking him home and naming him Caesar — and darned if the little Dickens doesn't turn out to be brilliant, just like his mother.

Logic falters here a bit as Will sets to work on an improved serum even though Bright Eyes' rage was not drug-fueled. But this gives Caesar time to grow and strut his stuff.

Will too conveniently meets and falls in love with a beautiful veterinarian named Caroline (Freida Pinto), and Caesar sort of becomes their surrogate son. Meanwhile, Will is secretly administering his new formula to his father and the man's dementia not only goes away, he actually becomes smarter than ever.

But then it all falls apart, as it must.

It turns out keeping a full-grown super-intelligent chimpanzee in a neighborhood Victorian isn't a great idea, and Caesar runs afoul of the law. He's taken to a shelter for abandoned apes where he learns all about both survival of the fittest and human cruelty.

At which point, Caesar decides he's had enough of this monkey business. And the Evolution Revolution begins.

"Rise of the Planet of the Apes" doesn't have much use for humans. From the corporate ruler to the shelter workers (specifically Tom Felton, Harry Potter's blonde nemesis) to the neighbor next door, most of the people Caesar encounters are jerks or worse. And even the good guys are made of cardboard. Caroline is a pretty cipher, Lithgow is your classic doddering Dad, and Franco's Will is a simple ball of earnestness.

But really, it's all about the apes, wondrous (and scary) computer creations, and waiting for their rampage, which director Rupert Wyatt turns into an absolute blast of primate rage.

In the end, we humans lose, but then we humans should. Please pass the bananas.

Review of "Crazy Stupid Love"

If a better comedy about love than "Crazy Stupid Love" comes out this year, then it will be a crazy stupid good year.

Featuring an astoundingly strong ensemble of actors, a pingponging smart script from Dan Fogelman and perfect-rhythm direction from "Bad Santa" writers Glenn Ficarra and John Requa, this is surely one of the funniest and best films of the year, right up there with "Bridesmaids" and "Midnight in Paris."

It will surely be referred to as a romantic comedy, but it follows few rom-com norms. Instead of focusing on one couple, it spreads the love — and the jokes, and the insights, and the pain — every which way.

There's the babysitter (Analeigh Tipton), who's in love with the dad (Steve Carell). There's the son (Jonah Bobo), who's in love with the babysitter.

There's the mom (Julianne Moore), who has an affair with a co-worker (Kevin Bacon), and then dumps the dad.

And there's the smooth-talking lounge lizard (Ryan Gosling), who takes home a different woman every night, except the one who got away (Emma Stone).

But don't forget the woman (Marisa Tomei) who becomes the first of Dad's post-marital conquests. Dad sure won't, although he'll wish he could.

The story begins with Dad Cal and Mom Emily, teen sweethearts now in their 40s, out at dinner. Trying to decide what to have for dessert, Emily opts for divorce.

On the ride home, she confesses her infidelity to a stunned, silent Cal. He opens his door and drops out of the moving car.

After Cal moves out, he begins frequenting an upscale singles bar, loudly bemoaning his romantic woes, even though no one wants to hear them. After a few nights, the smoothest dude in the bar, Jacob, pulls Cal aside and offers to teach him how to be an operator if he'll shut up and stop drinking vodka and cranberry juice through a straw.

Meanwhile — and though there's no hard center to this movie, it never seems out of control — Cal's 13-year-old son, Robbie, is loudly proclaiming his love for 17-year-old babysitter Jessica; Jessica herself is trying to figure out a way to seduce an unwitting Cal; and Emily begins dating co-worker David.

At the same time, Hannah (Stone), the only girl to ever laugh off Jacob's advances, is studying to take the bar exam and hanging on to her dullard beau, Richard (Josh Groban). Hannah's relevance will become clear and crucial.

This is clearly the best ensemble cast, comedy or drama, of the year, especially when you add the great character actor John Carroll Lynch to the mix as Jessica's father.

Carell and Gosling have the most central roles, as age-reversed mentor and teacher; as the film progresses, Cal realizes who he really is by playing who he's not, and the empty Jacob realizes who he should be.

The famously funny Carell finds sincerity in Cal. And Gosling, probably the best dramatic actor of his generation, moves out of his indie comfort-zone into the mainstream, looking every bit as comfortable while sporting a heartthrob bod that, as one woman exclaims, looks Photoshopped.

Still, this film is the total of all its parts, from the string-bean beauty Tipton to the sly adolescent Bobo and all the veterans. It's notable that no one — not even Bacon's character — is a villain in this film. They're all just people looking for, wrestling with and falling in love.

This is the sort of film that Oscar generally ignores come awards season. It shouldn't. "Crazy Stupid Love" is a crazy smart film.

Review of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows Part 2"

The end is here and it rocks. There are a number of reasons "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2" is the most satisfying of the Harry Potter films. First off, the story finally comes to its long-awaited conclusion. After a decade of wishing for some sort of resolution, that's no small thing.

But the sheer velocity of the film also helps. While prior Potter films had to deal with intricate puzzle pieces, adolescent angst and large helpings of mumbo jumbo, "Deathly Hallows Part 2" pretty much gets to galloping within a few minutes and then never really slows down. This is a film that seems to literally charge at the viewer, and after seven movies necessarily weighed down by waiting for a big ending, the charge is exhilarating.

That charge does leave some blurs in its wake, however. Cherished characters who've been central to earlier films — Professor Horace Slughorn (Jim Broadbent), Professor Sybil Trelawney (Emma Thompson), even Rubeus Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane) — stream by with little more than a glance. But then if director David Yates had done a farewell tour of charming characters, it would have added an hour to the film's running time.

Instead Yates and screenwriter Steve Kloves wisely opt to focus on heroes Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe), Hermione (Emma Watson) and Ron (Rupert Grint), Big Bad Lord Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes) and the forever pending story of evil-or-is-he? Professor Severus Snape (Alan Rickman, born to the part). The time for details and enjoyable quirks is past; in "Deathly Hallows Part 2" it's High Noon at Hogwarts and peripheral characters best stand back.

The story itself is fairly straightforward. Harry's search for the magic objects that hold much of Voldemort's power has brought him back to his beloved school, Hogwarts. Voldemort knows Harry is hiding out in the halls and surrounds the school with a horde of evil minions. Both sides draw their wands and go at it.

That going at it is a joy to watch as Yates unleashes the best fantasy battle scenes since "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy, with stone warriors facing off against bloodthirsty giants, deformed-looking goblins feasting on dead students and enough wand-wielding to blind the meek.

But of course it all eventually comes down to Harry versus Voldemort. And in the midst of all the chaos, the big questions that have hung over Harry throughout his life are resolved in a generally winning way, thanks to series author J.K. Rowling. It's doubtful anybody will be asking for a refund.

There is, though, a chance some parents may wonder what the film's images are doing to their offspring. If the Potter books and movies grew progressively darker as Harry aged, well, that darkness reaches a midnight shade here. The violence quotient and scare index may be too much for some kids to handle.

On the other hand, fans of physical chaos will likely be ecstatic. The janitors at Hogwarts are going to be busy for a long, long while.

Ever since the third Potter film, "Prisoner of Azkaban," the Potter movies have been helmed by a succession of directors who've been able to balance the fantastic and the personal with more than a touch of class.

At the same time the Potter movies have featured a parade of possibly the finest British thespians ever assembled, a parade that's capped off by the addition here of Kelly McDonald as the ghostly Helena Ravenclaw.

And yet this gargantuan undertaking inevitably rested on the young shoulders of its unknown (a decade ago) leads. Whoever cast Radcliffe, Watson and Grint deserves major credit for the success of the series; all three actors grew into their roles near-perfectly.

As film undertakings go, the only thing comparable to the Potter series is "Star Wars," and everyone knows how poorly that played out. "Deathly Hallows Part 2" sends Harry off into the pop culture pantheon on a thrilling high note. Well played. Well played indeed.

Review of "Super 8"

Super indeed.

There's so much that's right about "Super 8," the riveting, coming-of-age, sci-fi, adventure, buddy, young love, conspiracy-driven, innocence-in-America action film from director J.J. Abrams and producer Steven Spielberg that it's hard to find anything bad to say about the movie.

Then again, it's hard to say anything at all, since most of the film's storylines and major conflicts have been kept under tight wraps for months. Trailers for the film tell next to nothing about it, and that's as it should be.

Better to trot out the movie's obvious influences, which include about every decent thing Spielberg himself presided over in the '70s and '80s — "E.T.," "Close Encounters," even "Poltergeist" and "Goonies."

Toss in a healthy measure of Rob Reiner's bonding classic "Stand by Me" and passing winks at "WarGames," "Independence Day," "Gremlins" and even "Duel," and you've got one grand mash of a movie that's trying to capture the innocence and energy of an earlier time while bringing it into the right here and now.

Not that the here and now is actually here and now. In keeping with the suburban nostalgia theme, "Super 8" takes place in the late, pre-video camera '70s and follows a bunch of dorks — not unlike the young Spielberg and later Abrams — who like to make amateur movies on Super 8 film cameras.

The auteur is Charles (Riley Griffiths), who's directing (what else?) a romantic zombie story, using adolescent kids from around his small town. But the film's star is Joe (Joel Courtney), son of the town's recently widowed deputy sheriff (Kyle Chandler) and in charge of make-up and models.

Joe is struck dumb when a 14-year-old beauty, Alice (Elle Fanning, making a strong case for a long career), joins the cast. Not only is she a bit older than the rest, she's also the daughter of a town troublemaker, and brazen enough to steal his car to drive to a shooting location.

That location would be the town train station, where Alice blows her pre-adolescent peers away with a line reading that shows she can actually act (it's a much cleaner version of Naomi Watts' mind-boggling audition in "Mulholland Drive").

But just as the guys are bathing in Alice's talent, a train begins approaching the station, and the gang scrambles to try to get some real train footage in their low-budget movie.

They get a lot more than they're looking for when the train runs into a pickup waiting on the tracks and the resulting disaster sees screaming kids running everywhere as train cars go flying and exploding.

The camera, of course, keeps recording. And that turns out to be very important. Because something escapes from the wrecked train. And as hordes of soldiers and government officials begin flocking to the scene, it becomes clear that something is very important.

If the film does have a weakness, it's that those accustomed to Spielberg will quickly get an idea in what directions things are heading; although Abrams skillfully keeps questions looming overhead for a good long time.

Bodies are whisked out of shots; all the dogs leave town; interment camps are set up: What's going on here?

What's going on here is an old-fashioned, good-feeling summer movie spectacle that doesn't rely on comic tie-ins, familiar superheroes or even movie stars.

What's going on here is a great story, well-told, with humor, thrills and — most importantly — a sense of wonder that quashes all cynicism.

Remember the good old days? This is the movie you went to see on a Saturday afternoon in the good old days.

And if you weren't around for the good old days, well, you are now. "Super 8" is summer at its best.

Review of "Midnight in Paris"

Every few years Woody Allen makes a great movie, and people talk about how Woody's back.

Well, since he does this regularly, he's never really away. With "Match Point" (2005), "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" (2008) and now "Midnight in Paris," it's pretty clear that New York City's favorite neurotic nerd is still one of America's greatest and most prolific filmmakers.

"Midnight in Paris" opens as a loving postcard to all things Eiffel and then turns into a fairy tale balancing the timelessness of dissatisfaction with the beauty of human aspiration.

Along the way, Allen trots out a troupe of classic literary characters played by actors who seem to be having a lot of fun, and the high is contagious.

Owen Wilson plays Gil, a present-day hack Hollywood screenwriter trying to work on a serious novel as he visits Paris with his uptight fiance Inez (Rachel McAdams) and her even more uptight parents. Inez is hanging out a lot with a pretentious British professor (Michael Sheen, wonderfully obnoxious) so Gil finds himself wandering the streets one night when the clock strikes 12.

Just then, a car from the 1920s pulls up and offers Gil a ride to a party where, to his astonishment, he meets Scott (Tom Hiddleston) and Zelda (Alison Pill) Fitzgerald, who in turn introduce him to Ernest Hemingway (Corey Stoll), Gertrude Stein (Kathy Bates) and numerous other literati and artists (Adrien Brody is particularly ripe as Salvador Dali).

Soon Gil finds himself transported nightly to his favorite artistic period and enthralled with a lovely woman named Adriana (Marion Cotillard). Is it a dream come true, or just a dream?

The fantasy is sweet, but there's also real tension here, with Gil both a prisoner and traveler in time. Ultimately, though, and happily, "Midnight in Paris" is a loving embrace of the city, of art and of life itself.