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This revenge fantasy—missing a hyphen in the title—is mostly exciting, although it suffers from a less than inspired perf from its top-billed star, and has a few too many plot holes. Several scenes are so over-the-top that they are clearly being played for laughs, even if several critics didn’t seem to notice.

Clyde Shelton (Gerard Butler) is a normal family man, at home with his wife and young daughter, awaiting a pizza delivery. When he answers the door, though, he lets in a pair of vicious home invasion robbers, who end up knocking him out and killing his wife and child. All this happens before the opening credits.

Nick Rice (Jamie Foxx) is an ambitious prosecutor, trying to protect his near perfect conviction rate, and thus cuts a deal with one of the perps to testify against the other. Only the audience knows that Rice cut a deal with the wrong guy. Even though this gives one of the offenders a death sentence, the other gets off with third degree murder, and will be out of prison in a few years. Not surprisingly, this does not go over well with Shelton.

We are now placed “ten years later.” The unlucky perp is about to be executed via lethal injection, and this is witnessed by Rice, his assistant, and the somewhat sleazy defense attorney who represented Darby, the lucky perp. When what was supposed to be a painless experience proves to be anything but—much to the horror of those present—and Darby’s body is found in numerous pieces a short while later, the trail leads to Clyde Shelton.

Shelton mocks the judge during his trial (the same one who presided over the home invasion crew), and gets put in jail pronto. However, that does not stop him from killing more people connected with the crime and its inept prosecution.

Shelton is then identified as a clever tech wizard, who specialized in killing people remotely. As the informant tells Rice, “If Clyde wants you dead, you’re dead.” How he is able to handle all this while in prison is revealed toward the end, and may disappoint.

In the hands of a better director, writer, and a better Nick Rice, this could have been a far superior film. Still, some themes are presented, and are worthy of further thought…

What does happen to justice, when it is in the hands of ambitious careerists? Many on the government side are all for civil rights until their own ox is gored; then their attitude changes considerably. No doubt, the civil rights theme is why the lead had to be a black prosecutor. Interestingly, Rice is saddled with a shrewish wife, who can’t quite seem to understand that when one is working on a capital murder case, he may not be able to attend his daughter’s cello recital.

Nick’s assistant (Leslie Bibb) wonders aloud whether all the long hours and sacrifices are worth it. The movie would indicate that they are not worth it.

As the body count rises, and fear supposedly grips the city (although everyone killed is connected with the original crime and prosecution), the mayor (Viola Davis) channels Star Trek’s Captain Kirk by making impossible demands and expecting a highly volatile situation to be eliminated, just because she says so. This is cartoon leadership, and is clearly being ridiculed.

While no masterpiece, Law Abiding is faring worse than it should at the hands of the critics, who are taking it all way too seriously, and venting their liberal consciences against such vigilantism and mayhem. I guess they think the system works, except when it convicts one of their favorites, or catches a predator fugitive after many years.

One more vision of a dysotpian future, but presented as if the setting could be today. Foolishly marketed as an action pic, and then mostly hidden from critics, the movie garnered a PG-13 rating to bring in the teens, but do the teens care about any of its stars?

As the opening credits roll, we are introduced to the concept of surrogates (or “surries”), robotic devices that let an owner stay at home in his stim-chair, while his idealized cyber version of himself interacts with the world. As it happens, most of the world’s population now uses these machines (no explanation how this could happen in countries too poor to feed themselves), so this is really a big deal.

Crime is down 99%, and life is great. What could possibly go wrong, even if there are some folks who aren’t particularly enamored of the concept?

Well, for starters, the unthinkable happens. An attack on a surrogate somehow causes the death of its owner. This is supposed to be impossible, given that numerous surries have been destroyed in the field, with no injury to the owner.

Called in to investigate are FBI agent Tom Greer (Bruce Willis) and his partner Jennifer Peters (Radha Mitchell). With some high-tech help, Greer figures out that the assassin is Miles Strickland (Jack Noseworthy), a non surrogate user, and resident of a nearby segregated community set up for these outcasts.

Greer (via his surrie) pursues Strickland into this community—against specific government policy, but his surrogate is destroyed (although not with the magic weapon that would kill him), and he watches as his backup team is killed in this manner. Strangely, his superior is not overly concerned about all of this.

Meanwhile, Greer is becoming disaffected with this virtual way of life, while his wife Maggie (Rosamund Pike) is getting more and more addicted to it, and refuses to interact with him as her real self. Indeed, she says that her surrie IS her real self.

At that, and with his surrogate destroyed anyway, Greer opts to continue the investigation as his human self, and will soon run afoul of rejectionist leader The Prophet (Ving Rhames), a military tie-in, and the elusive Dr. Lionel Canter (James Cromwell), inventor of the surrogate process.

Given its trim 88 minute running time, numerous matters of daily life are left out, such as how human reproduction occurs, and what kind of services can safely be contracted out to surrogates. Shouldn’t an airline pilot or physician actually be on site while he is working, for example? These sorts of questions cast a pall over the film’s ending.

Based on a graphic novel that is in some ways darker than this movie, Surrogates simply extends our current virtual ID phenomenon, and the legion of couch potatoes. No doubt, many of us are living far too vicariously now, even if we still have to venture out into the world.

Ironically, so-called “reality” shows are anything but, and truth—without a spin—is pretty hard to come by these days. Perhaps, we are already living in the sort of dystopian world featured in much science fiction. Will Surrogates be a wake-up call?

There are elements of a good story here, but the plot takes too many obvious turns, opting for clichés every time. Most viewers will be less than pleased with this pic, and one of the big reasons is that it is marketed as a romantic comedy, even though it is hardly romantic, and it is certainly not much of a comedy. Grotesque product placement mars the proceedings, which alone could account for the near universal negative critical reaction.

Burke Ryan (Aaron Eckhart) is a successful self-help guru, who got to where he is by writing a book on how he overcame the grief in losing his wife. In Seattle for a one-week (!) seminar—delivered to adoring fans who also want to get over their grief—Burke is soon revealed to be hiding some nasty secrets. For one thing, he is not the teetotaler he claims to be (as we are treated to numerous shots of Grey Goose vodka bottles). For another, and way more importantly, he HASN’T gotten over his grief one little bit.

Walking through his hotel, he literally bumps into Eloise (Jennifer Aniston), a quirky florist with her own shop, who comes in to tidy up the hotel’s floral arrangements. As he pursues her a bit later that day, she blows him off in a manner far too cruel for its context. Never fear though, since Eloise soon gets her comeuppance as she discovers that her current boyfriend is cheating on her.

Thus, the character profiles are clearly drawn: A self-help hypocrite and a woman who keeps getting into bad relationships. (Maybe Jen Aniston is most comfortable playing her real-life self onscreen.)

The movie spends a whole lot of time—as it should—developing Burke’s character, and maybe five minutes on Eloise’s. This is but one of the deficiencies in the screenplay. Another would be how pivotal character Walter (John Carroll Lynch)—who lost his son in a tragic accident, totally beyond his control—is fleshed out. Writer (and director) Brandon Camp would have us believe the this former contractor, who stopped doing construction because the accident occurred on a jobsite, would drive all the way to Seattle from Montana, only to try to get out of attending the seminar once he has arrived.

Of course, Walter does stay for the seminar, and gets over his grief during one of the longest continuous product/brand placement orgies in movie history.

Goofy scenes thrown in to mostly extend the film’s running time include a bizarre sequence involving freeing a pet bird, and the therapy group’s trek through Seattle, with a stop at the graves of Bruce Lee and his son. Story logic lapses include the fact that big media companies, eager to sign Burke, would happen to come to Seattle to make their pitch and why overcoming grief would be such a hot property to begin with.

Shouldn’t he be occupied with his seminar, and wouldn’t that preclude business negotiations? Inasmuch as mankind has been dealing with grief since the dawn of time, and the usual self-help juggernauts promise economic success rather than peace of mind, the viability of this franchise is questionable.

Finally, Eloise’s motivation in helping Burke with his problems is difficult to understand. If she loves him, she does a great job of hiding it. More problems with the script.

But, what do you expect from such a lazy title as “Love Happens,” which would barely pass muster as a working title, for heaven’s sake? My condolences to the actors.

Think of World War II as a film on DVD, with this picture being the alternate ending. As in all Tarantino flicks, when he’s good, he’s good, and when he’s not…

Quite far removed from the action/adventure pic implied by the trailers, Basterds goes in much more for extended dialog, and the building up of tension. Told in five chapters, the first segment introduces us to the real main character, Colonel Landa (Christoph Waltz) arch-villain and Jew hunter extraordinaire, who matches wits with a French farmer he believes to be harboring some Jews. He’s right, of course, and his squad brutally murders all of them except Shoshanna Dreyfus, who barely escapes—and then only because Landa simply does not shoot her, although he clearly has the chance.

The following chapter introduces the Basterds, a group of assassins targeting Nazis headed up by Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt), displaying a few too many irritating tics throughout the film.

Next up is the chapter where Shoshanna somehow re-emerges in Paris as Emanuelle Mimieux, owner of a small movie theater. She gets plenty of unwanted attention from newly minted German war hero Fredrick Zoller (Daniel Brühl), who is able to arrange that the premiere of a new propaganda film, featuring his story, be held at her theater. Of course, it is ridiculous in the extreme that such a film would even be shown in occupied France, let alone be premiered there, but bear in mind that Tarantino’s vision is for a kind of alternate universe version of World War II, so some of this must be allowed.

When Shoshanna discovers that the entire German high command, including Hitler himself will be at this function (never mind that all this takes place AFTER D-Day), she goes to work planning her sweet revenge. She really gets into it once she finds out that Landa will be handling security. As it happens, though, the Brits have their own ideas. Operation Kino will involve sabotaging the same event, unknown to Shoshanna.

This brings us to a talky sequence set in a French bar, where some of the Basterds are supposed to meet up with British film critic turned commando Lt. Archie Hicox (Michael Fassbender) and a German double agent who will get them into the premiere. From here, things—including the action at the theater on premiere night—do not exactly go as planned, with Col. Landa pulling his own surprise toward the end.

Further elucidation of the plot will reveal too much. Suffice to say that the pic is uneven, and would have benefited from more judicious editing, even if the 2½ hours does not drag.

A few things gave me some pause: Are the clownish portrayals of Hitler and Goebbels meant to diminish the evil of these men, or simply mock them? In a film this long, why are there no character arcs, and why are great character actors like Til Schweiger barely used, while Mike Myers and Rod Taylor should arguably not even be in the movie? Is Tarantino ever going to get beyond the penchant for homage, or what critic Ann Hornady called making “a movie about other movies”?

Diane Kruger does impress as German actress Bridget von Hammersmark. Tarantino buddy and torture porn helmer Eli Roth should probably stick to directing, and is given a mercifully small role.

Best perf without question is turned in by Waltz, who brings Landa to life as a true craftsman and Renaissance man, whose job just happens to be Jew hunter and Nazi thug.

Basterds in enjoyable as a fantasy, but just don’t think about anything too hard.

A quirky comedy, praised by nearly all reviewers, who seem to ignore or even miss its many flaws. Pleasant at times, it has been described as a chick flick for guys. A better take would be Debbie Schlussel’s, who notes that the chick part is played by a guy, and the guy part is played by a chick.

Some have accused the film of being a higher budget version of “mumblecore.”

“The tiny/arty film movement known as ‘mumblecore’  has built an entire bemused worldview out of the perspective of overeducated, undermotivated twentysomething guys who can’t commit to a declarative statement, let alone a career or girlfriend.”

The “mumble” part seems to derive from the tendency to include low volume chatter about trivialities between the actors.

We are told by a narrator at the outset that “This is NOT a love story. It’s a story about love.” The story is not presented chronologically, and this provides certain artistic advantages to underscore the ups and downs of the relationship between the two leads. As such, it is hardly a spoiler to reveal that the relationship does not endure.

Tom Hansen (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) works as a copywriter for an Los Angeles-based greeting card company. For reasons not explained, he abandoned his career goal to be an architect. Tom becomes infatuated with his boss’s new assistant Summer Finn (Zooey Deschanel). They begin a relationship, but Summer warns him she does not want to get serious, even as the relationship—by all rational indication—is becoming serious.

On the other hand, Summer will heat up and cool down on a dime, but Tom thinks he can still build something here. Most guys would think otherwise. In fact, beyond her sitcom cuteness, there is not a whole lot to like, but true to the mumblecore credo, it creates plenty of screen angst.

An irritating device is the use of Tom’s much-younger sister, who dispenses advice sounding like a middle-aged voice of experience. This is just more sitcom stuff, along with his cardboard character friends. I could have also done with fewer scenes at IKEA. And what’s up with the weird notion that downtown LA is some sort of paradise, or that a greeting card company would even be located there?

This is helmer Marc Webb’s first feature, coming off much experience with music videos. That’s probably why there is such an emphasis on music (mostly older music) in the story. Much is made, for example, of Tom and Summer’s love of The Smiths, a group that disbanded when they would have been about seven. Similarly, Summer is fixated on Ringo Starr, hardly likely for a current twentysomething.

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Particularly grating, though, is the denouement. From out of nowhere, Summer breaks up the relationship, and Tom becomes quite depressed. Some time passes, and he has occasion to see her again. They spend a romantic evening together, and she invites him to a party at her apartment. Thinking they are going to get back together, he has great expectations for the party, only to see her showing off her engagement ring (her fiancé is someone else, of course).

Needless to say, this does not go down well with Tom, who becomes way more depressed than before. He skips work for a few days, then shows up and quits, berating the company for filling its customers with false hopes and dreams. We notice that Summer no longer works at the company. In movie script style, this experience inspires him to get back into architecture, and he puts together a portfolio (of what?). With this, he makes the rounds of various architect firms, with little success. With this plot turn, it is clear that he was already academically qualified, so why he went into greeting cards is a complete mystery.

While sitting on his favorite park bench, he sees Summer, who tries to explain how the woman who never wanted anything serious has become someone’s wife, but the writing here wouldn’t pass muster for a junior high talent contest.

The film ends with Tom waiting for his interview at the famous Bradbury Building (natch). A woman is also waiting to be interviewed, and she has noticed him sitting on that park bench—even if he did not notice her. They agree to have coffee after the interviews, and she seems more simpatico than Summer at her best. Her name is Autumn.

Thus, the best part of the story occurs after the story is over.

So why the critical acclaim? Annie Hall (1977) did this sort of thing (failed relationships) much better, and it is ground that has already been covered far too often. I can only conclude that the critics actually live in a mumblecore world, and like seeing themselves onscreen.