The camera stumbles upon a door, it bursts open, the hand of the dying woman drops, a guttural boom blasts from the sub, and that four-dollar bucket of flat Diet Coke resting patiently at your side becomes fizzy and fresh on your lap as you jump—hard. It’s these moments—when some random horrific element comes from nowhere—that make the first act of The Grudge, Hollywood’s latest attempt at remaking a foreign blockbuster, extremely enjoyable. Yet tension gives way to torpor as the first act crawls to a close: the slow reserved pace that initially generates bloodcurdling moments soon begins to retard the motion of the film. Even the supposed surprise ending becomes an “Oh, okay” moment instead of a “Wow, no way, that’s his father?” one. The movie, then, becomes a woeful drudge of cinematic excess: it’s cool for the sake of cool. (BJ)

I Heart Huckabees

Albert is unhappy and he isn’t sure why. Sadly, we never care. The root of Albert’s malaise, I think, is that he has sold out. He has entered into a partnership with Huckabees, a chain of K-Mart-like stores, to throw some muscle behind his coalition to save a local wetland. Russell’s sly appropriation of American corporate-speak provide the best moments in the Huckabees script: therapy would be unbecoming for a corporate executive, so Brad rationalizes his sessions with “existential therapists” by insisting they are “pro-active and action-oriented.” While all of the characters in Huckabees seem primed to arc from ironic distance to grand, tragic catharsis, Jude Law alone provides the emotional proximity the film coaxes you into longing for and then so cruelly denies. (DBR)

Ladder 49

Ladder 49 headlines Joaquin Phoenix as firefighter Jack Morrison and John Travolta as Mike Kennedy, captain of Ladder 49 in the Baltimore Fire Department. Despite the hero worship of firefighters post-Sept. 11, the film is in fact touching and sometimes gently funny, tracing one man’s trials and tribulations—as well as honors and accolades. Phoenix is fantastic, but Travolta has an airy nonchalance totally incongruous with the seriousness of some situations. Director Jay Russell creates an familial world of jovial camaraderie sweet and good-natured enough to overlook its implausibility. It may not be a movie about real fire fighters, but it is a movie about real people. (MH)

The Motorcycle Diaries

The Guevara characterized in Walter Salles’ seductive new film The Motorcycle Diaries is a far cry from the iconic figure, sporting beard and beret, found in so many dorm rooms and poetry lounges. This is Ernesto Guevara de la Serna (Gael García Bernal) in his mid-twenties, before he was Che. The film picks up Guevara’s life in 1951 as he embarks with his compatriot, Alberto Granado (Rodrigo de la Serna) on his travels—powered, initially, by the namesake motorcycle, of course—bound for the southern tip of South America. Here, Che is a far more accessible figure, and his journey radiates a certain lost-soul aura to which even a hardened capitalist could relate. (ZMS)

Primer

Primer, the directorial debut of Shane Carruth, lacks any narrative thread, but essentially is a story about four broke, thirtysomething engineers who create a mysterious box in their garage that defies scientific rationality and seems to give them inexplicable control over life. Two members of the group, Aaron (Shane Carruth) and Abe (David Sullivan), decide to probe what potential their creation might have: They explore the commercial possibilities of time-travel for a few hours each day, encounter dreadful mishaps in a Scooby Doo-esque fashion and finally, things end quite badly, with the audience, plot and characters in a state of sheer confusion. If Carruth proves anything with his film, it is that sci-fi movies dealing with the tenuous nature of the time-continuum need Christopher Lloyd. (KMM)

Ray

There is something like ashy molasses in Ray Charles’ voice: dripping syrupy sweet with southern charm yet charged with gritty, unhewn candor, it resonates with a sense of immediacy and emotional clarity that is nothing short of divine. And yet somehow, even after seventeen tedious years of development, Ray, based on Charles’ life, does not muster any semblance of the splendor within his music. The film lacks emotional attachment on any level and fails in every way as a meaningful addition to his life and legacy. With a mix of deceitful, manipulative Hollywood story telling techniques masquerading as artistic strokes and tacky, unfocused, pop-filmmaking, director Taylor Hackford, manages to turn an amazing story of sheer will triumphing over adversity into a two-and-a-half hour mess that will damage Charles’ memory, even with Jamie Foxx’s almost perfect portrayal of Ray Charles. (BJ)

Shall We Dance?

Director Peter Chelsom’s new movie, Shall We Dance?, has a dance card full of big-name actors but leaves its audience with little except bruised toes. A remake of Japanese director Masayuki Suo’s 1996 film of the same title—from which it imports most scenes and some dialogue—the movie ultimately seems as bungling on its feet as many of the characters it portrays. John Clark (Richard Gere) wants to ballroom dance. In Suo’s Japanese film this is understandably mortifying because, as a voiceover tells us at the outset, “In a country where married couples don’t go out arm in arm…the idea that a husband and wife should embrace and dance in front of others is beyond embarrassing.” Chelsom never explains what makes ballroom dance equally taboo in 21st-century Chicago. He tries to plug this plot hole subliminally instead by making Miss Mitzi’s look a lot like a brothel, but it’s hard to salvage a bungled plot with neon lighting and sweaty-palmed patrons. (NJH)

Sideways

Writer-director Alexander Payne and co-writer Jim Taylor seemed on a winning streak with Election and About Schmidt: both were inventive and quirky, two qualities their newest collaboration, Sideways, unfortunately lacks. The film follows Miles (Paul Giamatti), a burned-out teacher and struggling novelist, and his best friend Jack (Thomas Haden Church) on a road trip through California’s wine country organized to make the most of Jack’s last days of bachelorhood. The trip in Miles’ mind is about tasting great wines and in Jack’s is about getting laid as much as possible before marriage shuts him down. Despite their somewhat incredible friendship—they have completely opposing interests, outlooks and goals—the acting is exceptional and Giamatti and Church exude a chemistry that makes their friendship believable and oddly charming. But sadly, the movie is ultimately worthwhile only for its fine performances. Sideways’s structure is painfully episodic, never allowing audiences to become fully engrossed in its obnoxious characters.