Rock of Ages, this week’s hair metal spandex singalong, asks a basic question: what’s the point of a musical? More specifically, it asks a pair of underlying questions about musicals: is enjoyment a worthy artistic goal? Is sentimental simplification acceptable in the name of fantasy and fun? On one level Rock of Ages does to the metal years of the late eighties no more or less than what Singin' in the Rain did to the twenties or Grease to the

Wes Anderson’s "Moonrise Kingdom" is not only a story of the power of first love but also the way that children create the mythology of adulthood through the fabric of stories. The world approaches us first wrapped as tales, and we handle its mysteries with imagination. The largest part of reality, even as we age, remains a contradictory act of abstraction. This has been a quietly placed theme in the films of Terrence Malick, including

Could there be a better week for Sacha Baron Cohen to release a film called “The Dictator”? A few days ago, Cohen parked a camel in Cannes, in what seemed like the first act of a cult of personality. Pairing a touch of showmanship, a frisky film, and the spotlight of the festival, the star of “Borat” all but declared himself the worldwide ruler of comedy. Like many public rituals under totalitarians, “The Dictator” is long on stagecraft but a little

When Nicholas Stoller and Jason Segel introduced Forgetting Sarah Marshall in 2008, it represented the low point for the Apatow factory, during the phase when it produced any old comedy premise that could fit on the back of a bank receipt. The filmmakers probably didn’t go in thinking, “We’re going to make a stalker fantasy laughfest,” but that’s what came out the other side. That’s why it’s so encouraging to see the same group produce The

Have you ever been to Louisiana? It’s creepy. There are nine populated areas and a lot of dark waters with things that can eat you. The swamps probably stay dark in the daytime just to make it all creepier. And the thing is, I think they like it creepy. So I have a hard time imagining Louisiana swampland as a romantic setting for a movie. Nonetheless, The Lucky One gives it a try, featuring a lost photograph, adorable dogs, a lovely rose

There’s a famous Hollywood joke about how you can describe any action movie over the past twenty years as something like ”Die Hard in an orbital maximum-security prison.” That would be the one that applies to the very entertaining Lockout, a movie that is Die Hard by way of Star Wars by way of Blade Runner by way of La Femme Nikita by way of The Fifth Element by way of Escape from New York by way of Big Trouble in Little China.

The Hunger Games will sap up comparisons to science fiction. That’s what happens with stories about futuristic dystopias and freaky hovercraft. The better comparison is to Roman or Biblical epics of the fifties. Its story, of the youth of twelve outlying provinces exploited for the bloodsport of a wealthy and perverse capital, is reminiscent of Ben Hur. It even has a grand chariot parade, with crowds adoring Katniss Everdeen, a coal-haired