New in Town feels very much like a storyboarded film where the director gets lost in making sure all the appropriate romantic comedy scenes are present, but forgetting that what the audience really wants is to fall in love with the characters.  Whether we admit it or not, most of us can live with a subpar plotline if we care about and are invested in the characters.  This film never invites us to care.  For me at least, it’s the small things that help me connect with a film’s characters.  You know, the little idiosyncrasies we all have from the way we brush our teeth to how we prepare our coffee.  These tiny moments are completely missing in this film and their absence spells doom.  Well, that and its terrible acting, uninspired cinematography, lame soundtrack, and limp script.

You must be wondering why exactly I continued watching this film beyond its first ten minutes.  Fair question.  I could lie and say it’s because I believe in seeing a film through to its end credits before I review it, but truthfully it’s because I’m a romantic at heart and wanted to believe that it would get better and redeem itself.  It does not.  I implore you not to see this film, ever.  A friend of mine noted that Renee Zellweger’s name above the title should have be warning enough, and while that may be true, I was sucked in by good cover art and the promise of more.  Don’t be a fool like me.  New in Town is a 100% certified, 90-minute mistake.  Run.

Not I, however. In fact, near the end of the summer, I went to the kitchen to watch the creation of these true delicacies and there I discovered the painstaking labor required to bring about the balance of temperature and flavor that is the Baked Alaska. Like a precision clock, the bakers moved the warm cakes from the oven, applied the ice cream, and blow-torched the meringue to perfection.

I’ve Loved You So Long is cinematic Baked Alaska. A piece of film-making assembled with precision; slowly crafted to bring about a climax of rich goodness that demands savoring. Kristin Scott Thomas gives a tour de force performance as Juliette Fontaine, a woman recently released from prison for murder who moves in with her sister and her family. Every glance from Scott Thomas, every facial movement, speaks volumes more than her painstakingly extracted words. Like watching the creation of those exquisite desserts is this story of a woman beginning again to breath . . . and love.

Don’t expect a fast turning plot line with this film, but do anticipate the gradual creation of a masterpiece. The story itself may lose points for originality, but it more than makes up for it with its ability to couch scenes in the stuff of ordinary life. Never once did I catch myself saying, “Oh, please, that would never happen!” Change occurs over time and in the daily activities of life. We may not see it at first, but with each new smile, touch, or word spoken a gradual turning is revealed. And in I’ve Loved You So Long, that turning is mainly toward life and not death. A character in the film does choose the way of death and it stands in stark contrast to each decision Juliette makes toward life.

I have never hidden my love for films with a happy ending. Life is hard enough without having to maintain a steady diet of stories of suffering. Sure we may have to go down to go up, but by Jove what a pleasure to receive a Baked Alaska at the summit and not a shove down the next hill. I’ve Loved You So Long may require some descending, but the ascent will seem like all joy when you finally reach its rich conclusion.

And I think I was. This made me wonder if critical thinking skills are over-rated and films, and perhaps life, would be a bit more enjoyable if I just let things like second-rate CG and mediocre acting wash over me. You know, just go with the flow and have fun. Everyone else around me seemed to be doing just that and having a perfectly pleasant afternoon at the movies.

Perhaps I’m just rehashing that age old question of “What is the purpose of art — to elevate or to entertain?” Certainly, when you’re a kid all you seem to care about is whether something magical is happening on screen or if a furry creature has just caused a person to drop a hammer on his toe. And you smile and laugh. Or, at least that’s the way it seems. What changed me?

For one, Avatar has ruined me. Watch a spellbinding film like that one and then watch Percy Jackson and you come to recognize that Chris Columbus hasn’t grown as a director. Percy Jackson and the Olympians is Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. The first Harry Potter was released almost ten years ago and here I was watching the identical film all over again. Everyone complains that Avatar has a formulaic script, and while that may be true, Percy Jackson is far worse because it also has formulaic directing and a seeming lack of heart.

And there it is. That is the real burr under my skin. Percy Jackson may have beautiful actors, loads of special effects, gods, demigods, and some punchy lines of dialogue, but there is nothing behind it all — a seeming lack of passion or interest in exploring the depths of these parentless characters. Instead, we are forced to suffer some soggy road trip tale on our way to all the Greek-inspired hot spots in North America chasing after glow-in-the-dark marbles.

I take nothing away from those kids in the theater who relished the spectacle of it all. Truthfully, how different is that than adults loving the film 300? Yet, as I’ve probably said all too often, shouldn’t we desire more for our children and ourselves? Yes, perhaps it’s “just the movies” and doesn’t matter very much; but if story matters (and I think it does), wouldn’t we do better to feed our kids deeper tales — myths that have some meat to them and that will stick to the bones? Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief will not only steal 120 minutes of your life, it may just rob your children of their appetites for richer stories.

After months of anticipation, I saw Up in the Air on Christmas Eve; and alas, there was very little merry about it. First off, no happy ending (no real ending at all, now that I reflect on it). Second, literally (and I’m not exaggerating here) every humorous line in the film made it into the trailer. Sure, I found some smart dialogue, but I could have saved my money and watched the trailer ad infinitum to the same effect. Yes, George Clooney was as winsome as ever and the supporting cast (namely Anna Kendrick and J.K. Simmons) gave compelling performances, but the film is a flat line. Clooney’s character, Ryan Bingham, may live his life up in the air (both literally and metaphorically), but his story arc fails to get off the ground. Don’t get me wrong, Bingham is pleasant enough and has a decent heart, but by story’s end we recognize that real life change has not occurred.

Of course, you may argue that the film’s ending leaves matters open to interpretation and I have obviously selected a more negative viewpoint of what Bingham will do next. Fair enough, but remember I went looking for a happy ending and the fact that someone with my propensity couldn’t see it makes me all the more suspicious of anyone else who does. Bingham may have allowed a small rekindling of hope with Alex (Vera Farmiga), but when she closes the door to return to her married life, we are shown little else to stay the belief that so too the entry to Bingham’s heart closed. I appreciate Reitman’s attempt to empower the viewer to “choose your own adventure” and to take the next step in life, but Bingham’s flat storyline does not have enough substance to bear-up such an elevated undertaking.

My fellow film critics want to make this a film about “moving on” in an age of recession-era joblessness. I appreciate their attempts to add some depth to a film filled with far more ideological departures than arrivals. Certainly, Up in the Air is filled with more than hot air, but it fails to hit the heights claimed by some. In Good Company covers similar ground as this film, but does so with far more humor and grace. I recommend grounding Up in the Air and picking up In Good Company instead.

Striking an appropriate harmony between humor and honor, the story infuses death (and life) with a meaning and significance often missing in Western films. Moreover, we find ourselves engrossed in this story not simply because it is so different from our own, but because in it we inherently recognize that here too is our story. We all are certainly more than mere mortals; yet, death shall come. Departures helps us find peace with our mortality and get about the business of living.

Along with its compelling story, this film has an amazing musical score by the John Williams of the east, Joe Hisaishi (who also composed the music for Spirited Away). The cello theme throughout strikes a beautiful accord with the movements of the protagonist on screen. In addition to the stellar soundtrack, the lensing is phenomenal especially during the burial preparation scenes (of course, it doesn’t hurt that the ceremony itself is beautiful). I admire the director’s choice of shooting most of the action in homely spaces because, as we find, the beauty of death is that it’s not separate from normal life but another natural part of that reality.

My only gripe with the film, and it’s a minor one, is the decision to shoot Diago playing the cello out in middle of nature . . . while it makes for great DVD cover art, it seemed out of place. Of course, the fact that he is playing on a narrow raised plain might represent that he, through his art (be that music or Nokanshi), is ushering the dead from one land to the next. Still, I think the symbolism too far afield from the story at hand.

If you have a propensity to avoid foreign films due to subtitles, or because they are so, um, foreign, I implore you not to miss Departures. Rare cinematic gems like this come along so infrequently. I guarantee you that even at 130 minutes, you will watch this film to the very end and you will be richer for having done so.

Take the character of Kristoffer (played wonderfully by Nicolai Cleve Broch) who is in many ways a self-centered, self-absorbed prat. Yet, with a surprise birthday party for buddy Stig Inge or a slight nudge of his best friend Geir toward embracing fatherhood, we see someone who has a sincere heart even if he gets it wrong now and then. We can forgive the slip-ups because in the savings of the cats, we see someone who at least wants to want to be a great friend.

While Buddy is a Norwegian film, this story about three friends learning to be just that has universal appeal. Certainly, the film has its predictable moments, the cinematography bores, the soundtrack limps along, and the set decoration does little to inspire. A cinematic masterwork it is not; yet, Buddy does engage. I desired nothing more than to watch it to the very end and nowadays that’s saying a lot.

Truthfully, I think we love TV sitcoms, reality shows, vampire novels, and books about teenage wizards because we like characters. We would watch people dig up worms in the mud pits of Maine, if we liked the folks doing the digging. Of course, most of us like our villains and bad guys too, but ask us who’d we prefer to hang out with next weekend and 99.9% of us would pick the Buddy saving the cat.

I say all of this in preface to my review of Trucker to highlight why I think it a unique film. Certainly, the storyline itself isn’t particularly revelatory (i.e., purposefully distant parent is forced to reexamine her heart and attitudes when long-lost child is thrust back into her life); yet screenwriter James Mottern has crafted his story in such a way that the characters (especially reluctant mother Diane Ford played by Michelle Monaghan) do, say, and exist as real people do, say, and exist. Mr. Mottern gives his characters space and freedom to make choices, stumble about, and find (or lose) their way.

Does this mean that, finally, here is a film that lacked predictability? Yes, I think it did as far as the individual choices the characters made from one point to the next are concerned. I found myself continually intrigued by decisions or statements made by the characters (likely because they were, at least outwardly, quite the opposite of what I would do or say). Yet, I always knew where the story was headed. At first this frustrated me because I felt I had “seen it all before.” And while it’s true that the plot covers well-traveled cinematic ground, I couldn’t shake my curiosity over the small moments in the journey. I give much credit to Michelle Monaghan who embodies an amazing blend of confidence, brokenness, and desperate need. This film succeeds because she bears her soul scene after scene, but covers it brilliantly with a thin coat of truck grease attitude.

Trucker may have adequate lensing, an uninspired soundtrack, and a predictable over-arching plot, but if you enjoy character studies or simply real people being, um . . . real, then you may want to hitch a ride with this film. At the very least, Michelle Monaghan’s performance deserves to be seen. I also suspect that along the way you’ll find a bit of yourself in the corners of these characters’ lives and you may just be touched.

Why then develop such a list?  Truthfully, because I was flabbergasted by a similar list produced by John Serba, film critic for The Grand Rapids Press.   You can read his top ten choices here.  For someone who reports seeing thousands of films throughout the course of the decade, Mr. Serba’s list is surprisingly narrow.  Clearly he has a bent toward fantasy films and Pixar movies.  He has been bedazzled by visuals equating the unique and quirky with the best.  With the films selected below, I attempt to balance Mr. Serba’s leanings with character-driven stories.

Of course, the films any reviewer selects for such a list will say much more about that person than he or she would likely care to admit.  I’m not sure this is a bad thing.  The wonderful thing about film, and the arts in general, is that our taste for certain images and stories is a reflection of our souls and thereby immeasurably helpful in raising our self-awareness and in revealing ourselves to those around us.  That said, I wonder what the following best films of the decade say about me?

#1
Film: Slumdog Millionaire
Director: Danny Boyle
Year: 2008
Country: United Kingdom

#2
Film: The Departed
Director: Martin Scorsese
Year: 2006
Country: United States of America

#3
Film: Brokeback Mountain
Director: Ang Lee
Year: 2005
Country: United States of America

#4
Film: Amelie (Le Fabuleux destin d’Amélie Poulain)
Director: Jean-Pierre Jeunet
Year: 2001
Country: France

#5
Film: Wall-E
Director: Andrew Stanton
Year: 2008
Country: United States of America

#6
Film: The Lives of Others (Das Leben der Anderen)
Director: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck
Year: 2006
Country: Germany

#7
Film: The Pianist
Director: Roman Polanski
Year: 2002
Country: Poland, France, Germany, and the the United Kingdom

#8
Film: The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
Director: Peter Jackson
Year: 2001
Country: United States of America

#9
Film: Tsotsi
Director: Gavin Hood
Year: 2005
Country: South Africa

#10
Film: Lars and the Real Girl
Director: Craig Gillespie
Year: 2007
Country: United States of America

Honorable Mention (In alphabetical order)

Film: Billy Elliot (2000)
Director: Stephen Daldry

Film: The Chorus [Les Choristes] (2004)
Director: Christophe Barratier

Film: Cinderella Man (2005)
Director: Ron Howard

Film: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
Director: Michel Gondry

Film: Finding Neverland (2004)
Director: Marc Forster

Film: In the Bedroom (2001)
Director: Todd Field

Film: Joyeux Noël (2005)
Director: Christian Carion

Film: Ratatouille (2007)
Director: Brad Bird

Film: Seabiscuit (2003)
Director: Gary Ross

Film: Stranger than Fiction (2006)
Director: Marc Forster

I didn’t hate it either. I found it mediocre at best. Part of the problem was I knew too much of the story going in. Combine this with predictable lensing, an uninspired soundtrack, and uninteresting scene decoration and the result: boredom.

Now, I do have one and a half praises for the film. My one praise goes to the thespians who made canned dialogue and significant pauses work to their favor. While Sandra Bullock still pretty much plays herself in this film, she has taken her “funny, but kind” character to a new level by adding a layer of no-nonsense attitude that may just be the closest thing we ever see to a break-out from her. True, we also saw it in The Proposal, but perhaps 2009 is her year to display a new “comical, but tough as nails, kindness.”

As for the rest of the cast, I did laugh along with Jae Head who provides comic relief as young S.J. Tuohy. He is clearly a first-rate child actor who does the best he can with cookie-cutter scenes that leave little opportunity for any real spontaneity. The actor most worthy of mention, however, is Quinton Aaron who portrays Michael Oher. He works silences, smiles, and a well-placed piece of dialogue like a seasoned veteran. I look forward to seeing him in future roles.

I offer my half praise for the film’s strong family values. While it is certainly refreshing to see a family-friendly film that tackles a challenging subject, I couldn’t shake my frustration that such fare always seems artistically bland. Are families settling for mediocre art for the sake of some higher moral? Pixar has proven that quality film-making and strong family stories can play nice together, so one must wonder why producers of live-action cinema haven’t quite mastered a weave of these two realities?

Should you see The Blind Side? Certainly. It stands as another worthy addition to the string of recently released “hopeful” films, which I, for one, look forward to seeing more of. Significant cinema, however, it is not.

Yes, I recognize that most films have a message of one sort or another. Perhaps my concern with Bella is not so much that it has a message, but that this message seems paramount instead of secondary to what is happening with the characters. I guess I find it easier to give grace to those films which give their characters a bit longer leash. The result of not doing so is that we end up with performances like those in Bella. Clearly, the two main actors (Eduardo Verastegui as Jose and Tammy Blanchard as Nina) show strong acting capabilities, but Ms. Blanchard is perpetually stuck on the verge of tears throughout the film and poor Eduardo must hid himself behind a ridiculous beard as if showing his face would make any less obvious his ulterior motives.

While far better than other message movies like Facing the Giants or Fireproof, Bella never soars beyond its narrow plot. I give the producers credit for hiring strong and likable actors, and for making an attempt to break out of the message mode. The film’s predominant use of natural light may have been its greatest asset in freeing itself from a lack of genuineness. Still, try as it might, Bella never escapes its contrived script.