A photo taken from "Cowboys and Aliens" in which cowboys and, unpredictably, aliens square off.

The script for “Cowboys and Aliens” was written by six very talented individuals, which both answers some questions and poses others. It explains why the final film feels so messy and haphazard, yet poses the thought — with people whose screen credits include intelligent yet thrilling blockbuster fare as the first “Iron Man”, “Star Trek”, “Children of Men” and the television show “Lost” — why is there a complete lack of originality or memorability to the proceedings?

The fact that “Cowboys and Aliens” sports such a ridiculous title yet lacks any personality is perplexing. But then again, so is a lot about the Jon Favreau-directed genre hybrid. Such as why there’s a near-total lack of action with said aliens until the last 20 minutes, and why with such a strong cast, the characters we spend the other 100 minutes with are such a bore.

Headliners include Daniel Craig, known to most as the James Bond of late. He leads along with Harrison Ford, who really should be getting better scripts of late than he has. Talented supporting players vary from the incredibly talented Paul Dano to the incredibly attractive Olivia Wilde. All of them have varying strengths and qualities as actors, a common trait of which that none are displayed here.

Craig is Jake, a criminal who wakes up in the middle of New Mexico desert with an oddly modern bracelet and no recollection of who he is. See, it’s 1875, and when Jake stumbles into a nearby town, he’s promptly beaten and jailed. But that changes when – try and predict this – aliens descend on the town, snatching up half the population and inspiring the other half to fight them back.

Reading that summary, you’d think it to be a straight-up action spectacle, a summary both false and a nagging reminder of what could have been. Instead, the movie is an extended road movie in which the group of characters follow the trail of their alien invaders.

Director Favreau spends the middle 45 minutes focusing on interplay between characters, an idea not bad considering a common trope of the Western genre is developing an eclectic bunch of people and letting them all hang loose and banter. Problem is, there is not a single character in this film that stands out or gives any significant semblance of personality or life. This renders their dialogue together almost completely redundant, meaning that at least 45 minutes of this film will bore you terribly. These are the same writers that fed Robert Downey, Jr. such biting, witty dialogue three years ago in “Iron Man”?

If there’s an element Favreau truly did nail, it’s the look that a Western carries. Producer Steven Spielberg sat Favreau down prior the film and showed him vintage Westerns to try and evoke — “Stagecoach” and “My Darling Clementine” included — and even if the soul of films such as those is gone, the classical yet rustic visuals are extremely well replicated. Cinematographer Matthew Libatique, hot off the intense, voyeuristic camerawork of “Black Swan”, deserves major props come awards season.

Given the monster budget “Cowboys and Aliens” carries, the sets and costumes are, predictably, all very impressive. I did dig a lot of the turns the plot took, such as the darker side of Jake’s past, and the inclusion of Indian tribes. One wonders why, given the ridiculousness of the title “Cowboys and Aliens”, they didn’t just make it “Cowboys and Aliens and Indians”. Then again, it’s not exactly like they did anything worthwhile with the original title. So often, I criticize or object to films because they’re too stupid. Here, I criticize “Cowboys and Aliens” because it never cuts loose. In other words, it’s not stupid enough. D+

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS sports a completely original premise: Two good-looking white people fall in love. (Justin Timberlake & Mila Kunis pictured above)

If you’re gonna go skinny-dipping, don’t just dip a toe in the water. This nudity-centric aphorism is appropriate when discussing “Friends With Benefits”, but not because the leads Justin Timberlake & Mila Kunis are nude for the majority of the film’s running time.

No, it’s because director Will Gluck tries skinny-dipping — he opens “Friends With Benefits” as a cynical, jaded response to every cookie-cutter, common-place romantic comedy you’ve ever seen.

But in not following through with this tone and in fact becoming exactly what it condemned, Gluck ends up merely dipping a toe. Damn shame. But despite the disconnect between Will Gluck’s vision and what he eventually executed, there’s more than enough entertainment to be had here.

Most of it can be attributed to the interplay, both verbal and physical, between Timberlake and Kunis. Timberlake continues to prove himself as a truly gifted actor, with sharp comedic timing and, as displayed in last year’s “Social Network”, an impressive ability to handle heavy moments of emotional gravitas.

Kunis, whose comedic side most people watch every week on “Family Guy”, offers a capable performance in the realm of both drama and comedy. She plays a strong, capable woman, which may not seem like much, but considering the unrealistic, uptight way in which romantic comedies so frequently portray women, it’s certainly a step up.

But the dynamic between the two leads is all that it should be – vibrant, flirty, rapid-fire, and quite sensual. Timberlake and Kunis share a moment that all romantic comedies should sport yet almost none do – there’s a singular moment where you can see the two look at one another and truly click. Blink and you’ll miss it, but it makes the movie.

Given the predictability of the genre, it’s often the quality of the journey rather than the surprise of the destination that separates the good from the bad. And the ensemble cast “Friends With Benefits” sports ensures that the film never loses its comedic momentum.

The opening scene is no doubt the strongest – a rapid-cut montage in which Timberlake and Kunis break up with Emma Stone and Andy Samberg. In the space of about four, five minutes, the film establishes a biting tone, the characters’ personalities, and deploys some of the funniest lines I’ve heard so far this year. Emma Stone in particular gets the film’s best quip, at the expense of one John Mayer and his loyal fans.

Further supporting players of note include Woody Harrelson as Timberlake’s flamboyantly gay co-worker. As far as I’m concerned, Harrelson’s one of the most steadily engaging supporting actors in Hollywood, bringing the same zest and watchability no matter what he’s acting in. Another is Richard Jenkins, who, continuing in a streak of roles as leading-roles’-fathers (“Step Brothers”, “Dear John”), plays Timberlake’s Alzheimer’s-afflicted father. Jenkins, as he tends to, brings a truly warm, human quality to his part.

It’s both the versatility of the script and charm of the actors bringing it to the screen that gives “Friends With Benefits” its charm and momentum. But it’s the disturbing quickness with which writer-director Will Gluck abandons his original vision to make a more commercial, digestible product that prevents “Friends With Benefits” from ever being something truly special. B-

Chris Evans' title character storms into action in CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER.

Recent movies set in the Marvel comic-book universe have had something of an awkward balance to maintain. On one hand, they must serve as build-up for next year’s “Avengers” movie, in which the superheroes Iron Man, Thor, Hulk and Captain America all team up and kick ass as a team. But at the same time, they have to serve as individual films, complete with their own arcs and qualities of their own.

Not all the films have succeeded at this, and I’m not entirely sure the final “Avengers” precursor, “Captain America: The First Avenger”, does. Set during WWII, it follows the frail, meek Steve Rogers as the government chemically transforms him into the shield-toting super-soldier, Captain America. His enemy is the appropriately-named Red Skull, Hitler’s weaponry mastermind whose skin is literally ruby-colored-red. Red-Skull intends on doing what all superhero villains intend on doing — destroy the world, claim it all for himself, et cetera. Played by eternal villain Hugo Weaving, Red Skull is repulsive, despicable — in other words, great fun to watch.

“The First Avenger” is certainly serviceable entertainment, a rollicking 2-hour tribute to the pulpy, gritty likes of “Raiders of the Lost Ark”. But like most serviceable entertainment, it feels less driven by genuine inspiration than by a commercial decision. There’s some original, cool concepts at work here, but the general superhero origin story has been done many, many times before….in the wake of “Green Lantern”, “Thor” and “X-Men”, I believe this marks the fourth one this year?

I suppose some of this criticism stems from my fatigue at the genre at large, but that’s precisely my point — when it comes to the narrative, it just doesn’t do much to distinguish itself from all the rest. Even the title character, Captain America himself, isn’t particularly lively. But then again, I suppose that’s some of the point. He’s a classic, brave, selfless action hero. Not much else to it, although there’s a particular twist at the end that will definitely add an interesting element to his character in future follow-ups.

Chris Evans as Captain certainly gives his all — he beefed up considerably for the role, something I always admire. Though his character isn’t particularly interesting, that’s more a result of the script than Evans himself. He’s not at fault, and certainly looks pretty cool when in Nazi-killing action. Where Evans really wowed me were the scenes before his transformation into the Captain, where he’s a 90-pound weakling who just wants to do his part to serve his country. Via digital transformation, Evans really looks the part, making his muscular physique later in the film all the more impressive. He’s a solid actor who deserves all the success I imagine this movie will reap him.

“October Sky” director Joe Johnston plays up the period angle, with all kinds of ’40′s tropes being thrown on-screen — tommy gun battles, wartime patriotism, the tough yet beautiful love interest. But the production design particularly stood out — the lavish sets given an old-school glossy feel, the visual style employing shadow in a way recalling old German silent films, and the fluid camerawork all signal a really conscious effort on Johnston’s part to replicate a very old-school style. It works tremendously.

The merits of Johnston’s past filmography are debatable, (“Jurassic Park III” and last year’s “Wolfman” remake being examples) but he has always delivered on a visceral front. “Captain” is no exception — the action here is friggin’ awesome. Admirably, it takes its time to deliver it, but once a momentum builds up, it’s essentially Captain America doing his thing for the last 45 or so minutes.

One particular action sequence set aboard a train racing through mountains feels like a successful version of a failed “Sucker Punch” scene. Thrilling in duration and emotional in conclusion, it’s probably the centerpiece of the film.

The dialogue is as one would expect. You’ve got the standard exposition, the occasional one-liner, (supplied with zest by a lively Tommy Lee Jones) the moments of weakness or self-doubt. It’s done competently, certainly not poor enough to greatly hamper the film.

“Captain America” ends on an unexpectedly somber note, a cliffhanger whose impact can be quite devastating if mulled over long enough. It’s the best moment of the film. Ironically, perhaps even sadly enough, it was not directed by Johnston, rather, by “Avengers” helmer Joss Whedon. This both deepens my disappointment that more wasn’t done with this character, and piques my hopes for a more emotionally driven follow-up. B-

“Horrible Bosses” taps into a certain wish-fullfillment-fantasy that I’ve never had to experience — offing one’s boss to make one’s life better. For obvious reasons, my experience in a professional workplace is somewhat limited. But what I can appreciate, is encountering total ineptitude when trying to accomplish a goal. “Bosses” is really about both; dealing with three nice-enough guys whose various psycho bosses have pushed them a little too far, into the realm of plotting murders against them.

The guys are Charlie Day and two Jasons – Bateman and Sudeikis. Their respective bosses are Jennifer Aniston, Kevin Spacey, and Colin Farrell. The various conflicts between the six of them drive “Horrible Bosses” – and this is precisely why it’s so damn funny. Because the humor stems from genuine chemistry between human beings, some crazier than others. It’s not wrought from a dog defecating into a stew or a guy hitting a wall — the humor here comes from the simplest of things, like facial expressions, even pauses.

Mind you, the dialogue in this film is absolutely on-point. The one-liners the characters are given in this film are killer — in particular, the “bosses” where the film gets its name. Jennifer Aniston’s sex-crazy dentist, Kevin Spacey’s calculating murderer, and Colin Farrell’s balding, coked-out maniac all chew their respective scenes to pieces, and when the “bosses” begin interacting amongst each other, some absolutely hilarious stuff goes down.

What makes “Horrible Bosses” work, and what prevents it from veering into totally ridiculous, implausible camp, is the fact that these three bosses are truly loathsome, mean-spirited people. Director Seth Gordon never does the disservice of trying to give them any sort of depth or characterization. Why should they need it? Their function is cruelty.

What’s remarkable is that even when the bosses aren’t on-screen, the film’s comedic momentum keeps going. The inter-play between the three lovable shmucks looking to take out their office superiors is part of it. You buy that they’re all average, genuine guys with lives, hopes, dreams. And twisted as their plots are, one truly wishes the best for them.

As far as studio comedies go, this is fairly edgy stuff. When’s the last time a movie killed off someone as respected as Donald Sutherland within 10 seconds of their entrance? It never gets into morally-questionable along the lines of, say, a “Hangover: Part II”, but its humor remains just as dark and twisted. Jamie Foxx as the guys’ shady “murder consultant” is hysterical. One particular gag involving why his character ended up in jail pays off brilliantly.

The best comedy often taps into a darker, shadier side. “Horrible Bosses” accomplishes precisely that with a quick pace, sharp script, and eye for actors and letting them all play off one another. Explain to me why this feels like a far better follow-up to “The Hangover” than that film’s own sequel ever did? B+

(Note: I am reviewing the final “Harry Potter” installment as a combined adaptation of the last book. Meaning, this is a critique of “Deathly Hallows”‘ whole run-time, parts one & two.)

I walked into the 2001 children’s-fantasy-film “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” one way, and walked out another. Not just in the sense that I got my hands on everything Harry you can imagine — books, wands, Halloween costumes, “potion”-making kits, puzzles, et cetera. But also in the sense that it may have been the first film that truly showed me just how vast the potential of movies were; how completely one can be transported to a different world not just by way of special effects, but by an eclectic, memorable group of characters. The highest compliment I feel I can give it, is that it pulled off the miraculous feat of keeping me totally entertained for 152 minutes — as a five-year-old.

Years went by. The films progressively matured, though I argue that the artistic pinnacle of the series was Alfonso Cuaron’s eclectic third installment, “Prisoner of Azkaban”. A lot of my fondest elementary-school memories stem from “Potter” — like my sixth-birthday party revolving around “Chamber of Secrets”, my three consecutive trick-or-treat sessions as Harry (I’ve got the Polaroid to prove it), and the morning I got “Half-Blood Prince” and read it, cover-to-cover, in one day.

I only feel the need to share all this with you, because in order to tell the story of Harry Potter, it’s almost like I have to tell the story of me, and how much this particular franchise has meant to me over the course of my development, both as a film-buff and as a person.

And now that it’s all said and done, now that the thousands of pages are published and the thousands of minutes of film cut, we’re left with one of the greatest pop-culture phenomenons; one that raked in billions of dollars, yet never sacrificed artistic integrity or character development just for the sake of making money or pleasing the fans.

We’re left with an epic story with hundreds of different characters and subplots, each as memorable and fulfilling as the next.

But most simply, we’re left with a poignant, sweet coming-of-age story, where we watched three people mature over the course of a near-decade. The best moments in the series were often the subtler ones, the ones that dealt with the yearnings and heartbreak of teenage years  It just so happens that these three people are wizards whose responsibility it is to prevent the end of the world.

This final installment finds Harry pitted against his arch-nemesis, the evil lord Voldemort, at last. Some movies would have a set-up for this confrontation that lasts ten minutes. The set-up for this has lasted six movies. Expectations are high. Stakes are precarious. The pay-off is immense.

“Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows”, taken as a grand, 276-minute epic, is an absolute masterpiece. It’s underpinned with a profound sense of loss and suffering, given the absolute chaos that the wizarding world has fallen into. The dead seriousness long suggested in past “Potter”s is fully realized here, making for a film bleak, mature, even adult.

Despite this, “Deathly Hallows” at times adapts an almost nostalgic feel for characters and events past. I submit as evidence the last 5 minutes, a sequence that brings us exactly where, 10 years ago, the journey began.

Given the $300 million budget for the two-part film, production values hit an all-time high for the series. “Potter” has always been unique in the sense that it blends superbly both physical, tangible sets and computer-generated action. “Hallows” sports the most impressive variety and craftsmanship out of all the series.

Just as the production craftsmanship hits its peak, so does that of the actors in the film. The three principal actors – Radcliffe, Grint, and Watson, all hit their absolute peak in “Hallows”. They certainly have the most heavy-lifting to do that they’ve ever had, both emotionally and with regards to stunt-work and action.

As always, the endless supporting actors gobble up their scenery – the series is essentially a who’s who of British thespians, all competing to bring their most eclectic, watchable characters to the screen. It’s always been a delight to watch, never more so than here.

All this talk is truly befitting to such an epic, expansive conclusion. But the feeling one gets from the series finale can be summed up into a single word: Satisfaction.

After all these years, “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” ties together all the loose ends in a stirring, rousing, emotional conclusion. Never before has Hollywood, on such a large scale with eight movies and billions invested, struck such a great balance between spectacle and character. A

No single filmmaker better encapsulates the excesses of Hollywood filmmaking than Michael Benjamin Bay. With his quick edits, substantial explosions and minimal attention to the things many filmmakers slave over (character, theme, subtlety, cohesive plot). It gets him in trouble with critics and makes his audience-driven box-office returns massive. Being something of an awkward balance between the two, I myself am quite mixed on Bay’s techniques and overall filmography — I realize there’s a place for films such as his, that are very much spectacle over substance, yet the sheer lack of regard Bay has for the intelligence or integrity of his audience make them hard to enjoy sometimes.

My inner war regarding this fascinating figure continues with his allegedly (though not likely) last installment of the “Transformers” franchise, subtitled “Dark of the Moon”. Take all of the mistakes that were made in the second film; all of the elements that made it one of the most grinding, soulless films I’ve ever had the displeasure of watching. They’re all still here.

All of the racial stereotypes, cringe-inducing attempts at “comic relief”, inconclusive finale, Shia LaBeouf screaming his ass off, Michael Bay’s penchant for objectifying women, frenetic editing, nearly three-hour-length, and disjointed storytelling remain.

But when you buy a ticket to “Dark of the Moon”, you’re essentially watching a double-feature with one title. On the first hour, Bay does just about everything in the above paragraph, to a mind-numbing extreme. There’s so much unnecessary exposition; so much contrived emoting, and yes, endless shots subjecting the main female star, lingerie model Rosie Whiteley, to all sorts of ogling in the, shall we say, curved regions.

And then, something miraculous happens. When the drama shifts to Chicago for the last hour of this movie, it’s almost as if the director of the first half switched to a somewhat mature if not altogether sophisticated one. Bay certainly adapts to a more fluid, less jagged flow, as his camera-work is no longer jittery and his cuts actually forming a cohesive, structured scene, as opposed to the messy, distorted mishmash his films have been prone to.

Making out clear plot-lines and motivations has always been a challenge for the “Transformers” films, seeing as the screenwriters feel the need to pile on subplot upon subplot. But succinctly put, the robot-alien races of Autobots and Decepticons continue to duke it out in grand fashion on the planet Earth. Caught in the middle of this is, once again, Shia LaBeouf as the jittery Sam Witwicky, his model-girlfriend Carly, (whose role only exists for the sake of replacing the absent Megan Fox) a small military squad, and dozens of different characters of varying degrees of depth and self-humiliation.

The prolonged sequence in which Chicago is under siege by robots, occupying the last hour of the film, is in every imaginable way, what summer blockbusters are made for. Bay sets here a golden standard for masterfully coordinated, incredibly engaging chaos. Characters slide down windows of toppling buildings, then shoot the windows below their feet to prevent certain doom. Robots engage in sword-fights and Mexican-standoffs, heaving cars and decimating buildings. It’s complete nirvana for anyone searching for the kind of grandiose, large-scale action that this summer has oddly been lacking thus far.

The entirety of this movie is executed with, very simply, the finest technical finesse you can find in cinema today. The sound design for this movie is as intricate and, well, loud as you’d expect. Need I even bring up the fact that the visual effects in this movie are fantastic beyond the point of cohesive articulation? Filmed in 3D as opposed to converted in post-production, (there’s a difference and a massive one) “Transformers” tinkers with visual depth in a manner not seen since 2009′s “Avatar”. Bay literally pulls out all the tricks to wow us with the 3-D — buildings topple towards us, robot heads fly towards us. He even throws in a shot of thong-clad buttocks, a clear attempt at audience appeasement that earned rowdy applause at my screening. This is, without any fragment of a doubt, a film to be appreciated on an IMAX 3D screen.

For 75 minutes, “Dark of the Moon” left me cold; irritated at the utter lack of cohesion and endless back-story. For another 75 minutes, this movie had me ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing, giggling and gurgling in a manner normally expected of someone half my age.That’s what this movie did to me, a concept that both enraptures and mildly terrifies me. Everything that’s wrong with American filmmaking is in this movie. And yet there I sat, swallowing the popcorn and having a blast. (First half: D+ Second half: A. That’s an average of, what, C+? Never before has pure enjoyment been so frustrating.)

“The Tree of Life” is the first film in my reviewing career where when people asked me the simplest of questions about it; like ‘What’s it about?’ or ‘Is it any good?’, I have actually found myself stammering for words each and every time. When a film is not meant to present a linear narrative but instead delve into thematic exploration, how do you summarize that?

It’s directed by Terrence Malick, a man who in his 40 years of directing experience arrives here only at his fifth feature film. He’s a director notorious for his perfectionism and visual beauty; in fact, the footage for “Tree” was shot well over three years ago, but has been in the editing room ever since. This reflects not that the film is a poor one, simply that Malick finds his message and rhythm when piecing the footage together, as opposed to from the script.

Malick carries a famously slow, contemplative pace. It’s not just this that often infuriates the majority of moviegoers, but the fact that Malick has never once just given a straight-up, plain-and-simple story. He uses film in different ways and for different ends — to communicate some kind of sentiment about life, war, nature, et cetera. It varies from film to film, and here in “Tree of Life”, Malick turns his attention to two very differing concepts.

One is the American Dream of the ’50s; an idyllic, subdued family life. Brad Pitt is the stern head of the O’Brien family, ruling over his wife and three kids with a loving if overtly disciplinary eye. So intent is Mr. O’Brien on “making a man” out of his three boys, in fact, that it causes really heavy psychological issues for his eldest son, Jack, forty years down the line. Sean Penn plays Jack in the modern-day, who wanders aimlessly through desolate terrain, questioning himself, the events that made him who he is, and the universe at large.

This is balanced and intercut with, of all things, the creation of the universe, and the gradual expansion of life. In a 25-minute sequence, the centerpiece of the film in all regards, (emotional, thematic, and most especially technical!) the pieces that form our planet converge, the organisms that become life begin to come alive, and it culminates with, of all things, a scene in which dinosaurs spring into existence. This sequence as a whole is composed almost like a symphony; complete with its own rhythm, sense of motion, tone. It’s some of the most assured, awe-inspiring filmmaking I think that I’ve ever seen.

Performances are of the subdued type. Sean Penn’s role as the adult Jack is unexpectedly minor. Mind you, he rivets whenever he’s on-screen; so convincing is the heartbreak contorted on his face. Jessica Chastain as his mother 40 years prior carries a level of wisdom and grace unseen for actresses her age.

But I don’t believe anyone will contest the claim that Brad Pitt’s work in the film is the greatest performance. He’s come a long way since playing a goofy stoner in 1993’s “True Romance”, and no clearer is this than seeing him effortlessly adapting to the role of a 1950’s alpha-male-type. He manages the look of the era impeccably. Has Brad Pitt ever really had a problem in the looks department? Yet as the film progresses and his character’s failures come more into light, he becomes quite a tragic figure. As far as his body of work goes, it’s on-par with his “Benjamin Button” character.

But what exactly is “The Tree of Life” trying to convey, what’s the purpose Malick’s trying to send? “Tree of Life” is a total Rorschach test in the sense that no two people will look at it and get the same thing out of it. Personally, I think Malick cutting between two vastly different portions of the film is him trying to give a good deal of perspective to the importance that humanity holds to itself. Kind of like him telling us to take a step back and try and assess how large our problems really are when juxtaposed against the massive scale of the universe. Malick believes that we, as a planet, can only be really in touch with ourselves once we’re in touch with nature. If not, he suggests we may live an aimless existence; providing Brad Pitt and Sean Penn’s characters as examples of people who lose their way because of their lack of perspective and lack of action.

These words of mine may make the film seem daunting. Believe me. It is. But for all of the intellectual heavy-lifting that might be required to appreciate the film, it’s a pure sensory overload. The images in this film will made me audibly gasp in sheer amazement. The music will stir you, but the silence will haunt you. Malick, if nothing else, has crafted a stunning series of images; gorgeous to rival the likes of professionally-filmed nature documentaries.

But that’s what’s all the more remarkable about “Tree of Life”. All his long, sporadically productive career, Malick’s married the stimulation of the senses with that of the mind. And in his true masterpieces, ’78’s “Days of Heaven” and ’98’s “The Thin Red Line”, even the heart. That’s exactly what he’s accomplished with “The Tree of Life”, a film so massive in its scope and broad in its execution. Time no doubt will regard this as Malick’s finest technical accomplishment, but speaking for myself, it just may be his most emotionally devastating, accessible, and ultimately rewarding work. The dinosaur doesn’t hurt, either. A

It took 12 movies, 16 years, $1.24 billion spent and $6.6 billion earned. But alas, Pixar Animation Studios has finally produced a misfire. It was only a matter of time, given the hyperbolic critical reaction each and every time they drop a film. But as long as they’ve been cranking out feature-length films, they’ve always displayed a meticulous, workmanlike technical skill yet paid deep attention to character depth, compelling dialogue and a strong, beating heart. They were stories for every filmgoer, from every walk of life and every persuasion or taste.

The spectacle of every Pixar remains here, to be sure. “Cars 2″ is their most action-packed effort this side of “The Incredibles”, with a near-endless barrage of races, chases, and shoot-outs. (It was only when I was walking out of the theater that the ludicrousness of cars shooting each other dawned upon me.) The animation remains as polished as ever, with a wide array of locales such as the neon-lit Tokyo and the rustic Radiator Springs providing lots of eye candy. If you come to Pixar movies for the pretty pictures you’ll emerge from this one satisfied.

But “Cars 2″ is the first product of theirs that feels more narrow in its goals and short-minded in ambition. It’s less bent on depth and more bent on…..well, I’m not entirely sure. Selling merchandise?

They certainly didn’t revisit the franchise for the sake of the characters, seeing as they’re developed as essentially caricatures or running jokes. Pixar even makes the egregious mistake of making hillbilly truck Tow Mater the central figure in the film — probably the most grating, repetitive major character in their entire canon. And they certainly didn’t revisit the franchise to create a universal, all-ages story, as “Cars 2″ is watered-down for consumption by little tykes and few others.

The characters are around to forward the plot, not to have any kind of moving arc of their own. This is what’s so jarring about watching “Cars 2″, in that Pixar essentially discards what’s long been the most important element of their films – emotion, dynamics between characters, depth. What have you. They go hand in hand, and they’re gone.

In a world populated by living, talking cars, Lightning McQueen is a celebrity; a hot-shot race-car whose detour into small-town Americana was the subject of the first “Cars”, a charming if admittedly minor work. Here, he’s competing in the World Grand Prix, a world-wide race to determine whether or not he remains on top as a racer.

Accompanying McQueen is his polar-opposite and best-friend, the Larry the Cable Guy-voiced Tow Mater. Mater, however, accidentally stumbles into a gig as a secret agent, working with slick British spy car Finn (voiced by [who else?] Michael Caine) to topple a conspiracy to rig the race and sabotage a prominent clean fuel. It’s a pretty fun set-up, that leads to an admittedly hilarious riff off of old spy movies; think “James Bond”.

I sat in “Cars 2″ and never felt anything particularly negative, but that’s not what disturbed me. What disturbed me is that I sat in “Cars 2″ never really feeling anything at all; no attachment to the characters, no real awe or excitement, no sadness. Just faint amusement at parts, and a pervading sadness that one of the titans of American filmmaking has lost its way. 11 for 12, Pixar. Your move. C-

Ryan Reynolds deserves a good superhero movie. I mean, take a good look at the guy. His broad physique, square jaw, good looks and ample charisma suggest someone who, given the right material, could be on the path to action-star legend….think Steve McQueen or Bruce Willis.

“Green Lantern” is not that movie. It’s a premise that offers near-endless creative possibilities — a talented pilot encounters a ring that turns thought into reality. But with this power comes membership of the Green Lanterns – an intergalactic peace-keeping force, with hundreds of members from various galaxies. That pilot-turned-Lantern is Reynolds as Hal Jordan, who despite his boundless ego isn’t quite sure he’s up to snuff as a Lantern (being the first human member and all). He’s up against the threat of Parallax – essentially a big, evil cloud that swallows all in its path, growing stronger as it goes.

Director Martin Campbell does solidly what was probably the biggest challenge of the film — condensing a massive mythology into a short yet fulfilling runtime, all the while preventing the admittedly goofy material from devolving into laughable camp. That said, it all feels far too mechanical, too contrived; a film that feels more like it’s moving down a checklist of necessary occurrences (action here, character development and romantic beat there, et cetera) than organically expanding and occurring.

Because of this, I couldn’t ever get fully caught up in “Green Lantern”. It’s sad, given the degree of talent that’s employed here. But when one feels like they’re watching a product motivated more by contracts and merchandising opportunity than a real desire to make a great film, a degree of distance and rejection is only natural.

I could admire from a distance some of the better aspects of the film. Ryan Reynolds is as Ryan Reynolds does – which is to say, as charismatic and enjoyable to watch as ever. He’s what keeps this film chugging along — or perhaps more appropriately, dragging along. Peter Sarsgaard as a mad-scientist type reaches lofty heights of creepiness, and is the only true wild-card of the film. Also, the visual effects are quite impressive. This film carries a greater task than most of its genre; where most superhero movies need only digitally create some characters and action sequences, “Green Lantern” must create a full-fledged universe. It does this believably and admirably enough, though never to the point of awe that it was clearly shooting for.

Another thing preventing me from ever getting into “Lantern” was the weak dialogue. Scripted by four different writers, watching it feels like a bunch of different guys fighting to get their ideas on the screen; all of them making it but never quite as fleshed out as was no doubt desired.

Reynolds and Sarsgaard aside, that dialogue is delivered flatly and without much panache. I point you to Blake Lively, playing a rival pilot and romantic pursuit of Jordan’s. I also point to you Mark Strong – playing probably his seventh consecutive villain in a film, as well as Tim Robbins’ blank turn as a senator that’s the father of Sarsgaard’s character.

It’s a mostly blank, thankless cast, appropriate for a blank, listless film. C-

Some filmmakers never quite venture out of their comfort zone; always operating within similar thematic and technical parameters. Not to say this is a bad thing, in fact, a near-perfect example to the contrary is the writer-comic-actor-director-intellectual Woody Allen. Ever since the early 1970s, he has steadily cranked out features on an annual basis; principally dealing with neurosis, contemporary romance and society, and the endless, comedic, endlessly comedic ways in which these things can clash.

Allen’s features have been rather taken with Europe these past several years (“Match Point”, “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”), but with “Midnight in Paris”, his new film, Allen crafts a love letter to Paris; depicting the bizarre ways in which a city can profoundly impact and inspire one’s artistry. That one guy is Owen Wilson playing Gil Pender, a self-described Hollywood hack screenwriter, whose trip to the City of Lights has driven him to take many a midnight stroll to both get creative inspiration for his work-in-progress novel, and to get away from his uptight fiancee and her hostile parents.

There is a secret that “Midnight in Paris” holds; a certain concept that’s key to both Pender’s creative inspiration, and where Woody Allen himself was inspired to make this film. Let it be known that it’s what sets “Midnight in Paris” considerably apart from standard cineplex fare, even standard Woody Allen fare.

Regardless of who is in the lead role, Allen tends to model the lead closely to his personality, and Owen Wilson’s Gil could easily have been played by a younger Allen. Wilson kills it here though, putting a very friendly, charming stamp on the various neuroses of the Allen archetype.

But where “Midnight in Paris” really shines is its supporting cast, an eclectic blend of character actors, Oscar-winners, and others. Rachel McAdams as Wilson’s fiancee has a solid rapport with both Wilson and Michael Sheen, in a hilarious bit role as a family friend whose snobbish, pedantic mannerisms serve as a recurring joke in the film. Other actors whose roles greatly stand out, but whose exact parts I must hold back for spoilers’ purposes include Tom Hiddleston (fresh off a villainous stint in “Thor”), Alison Pill, Adrien Brody, whose final line is one of the funniest things all year, and the exquisite Marion Cotillard as something of a love interest.

The surprises “Midnight in Paris” has to offer are a great many, making it a film that you’re never once positive what’s coming next but you’re constantly anxious to find out. Allen’s writing is in top form here, being one of his stronger and certainly most fanciful scripts in a decade or two.

“Paris” achieves a certain poignancy, an evocation of an era whose byproducts are worshipped to this day. It’s a film whose problems are few — perhaps some characters serve more as caricatures, although a good deal of that is probably intentional on Allen’s part. It’s thoroughly charming, stirring work. A-