Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

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WALL-E

Starring: Fred Willard, Jeff Garlin, Sigourney Weaver, John Ratzenberger, Kathy Najimy

Directed by: Andrew Stanton

2008 Walt Disney Pictures

Movie Type:Cartoon,Adventure

First image: the Earth as a garbage dump, a future reduced to ruins. For the past 700 years, what's left of humanity has been cruising the skies in a spaceship. Only a tiny robot, WALL-E (for Waste Allocation Load Lifter: Earth class), scoots around on urban terra firma compacting trash into piles that grow into skyscrapers.
First sound: a voice lifted in song: "Out there/there's a world outside of Yonkers." The tune is "Put On Your Sunday Clothes," a merry ditty from the forgotten 1969 movie version of Hello, Dolly with Barbra Streisand. WALL-E, his eyes like binoculars (hell, they are binoculars!), watches an old, muddy video tape of Dolly with the same yearning we see in Michael Crawford, who plays a young store clerk at the turn of the 20th-century, warbling about finding adventure in a world out of reach, a world full of shine and full of sparkle: "Girls in white in a perfumed night/Where the lights are bright as the stars!"
First reaction: WALL-E, directed with a poet's eye by Andrew Stanton (Finding Nemo) from a whipsmart and shrewdly accessible script he wrote with Jim Reardon, is some kind of miracle, Talk about daring. It's Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot mixed with Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey and Terry Gilliam's Brazil, topped with the cherry of George Lucas' Star Wars and Steven Spielberg's E.T. , and wrapped up in a G-rated whipped- cream package. What could have been a mess of influences is instead unique and unforgettable. Tons of movies promise something for everyone WALL-E actually makes good on that promise. It's a landmark in modern moviemaking that lifts you up on waves of humor, heartbreak and ravishing romance. Want proof that animation can be an art form? It's all there in the groundbreaking WALL-E.
The first, virtually dialogue-free half hour is jaw-dropping perfection, as WALL-E (his eloquent beeps come courtesy of Ben Burtt, whose sound design for the film deserves an Oscar just for starters) watches a space probe land and discharge a sleek, robot named EVE (for Extra-Terrestrial Vegetation Evaluator). EVE (voiced by Elissa Knight) looks like an egg-shaped i-Pod with the power to vaporize any potential threat, a scary prospect. But it only takes a moment for WALL-E to fall hard for this cutie, who lets down her guard when he shares his treasures, including an eggbeater, a Rubik's cube, a Zippo lighter, a brassiere (don't ask), and bubble wrap that provides hours of popping fun. But it's a fragile sprout of plant, which WALL-E keeps in old shoe, that gets EVE jazzed. Before she heads off for the Axiom space station, with WALL-E in hot pursuit, the two strike up an odd-couple relationship that evokes, according to your generational reference points, Charlie Chaplin's Little Tramp and Virginia Cherrill's blind flower girl in City Lights, Woody Allen and Diane Keaton in Annie Hall, Leo and Kate in Titanic, and – for the kiddies – the green ogre and the Princess in Shrek. There's been much talk about how WALL-E will fly over the heads of the little ones. No doubt some of it will. But the film's essential sweetness transcends age and cultural barriers. To see WALL-E and EVE dance and later kiss is the essence of movie magic. You won't find a funnier, more touching love story anywhere these days.
I could go on about the rest of the movie, which is more traditional than what precedes it, but never fuddy-duddy and always filled visual wonders that take the breath away. Those viewers with a fear and loathing of "message" may flinch at the script's warning about fat, consumerist humans and the ignorance that landed the planet in such disarray. But it's thrilling to watch Stanton and his genius crew of Pixar artists discover new levels of creativity. No movie can be a downer that fills you with pure exhilaration. You leave WALL-E with a feeling of the rarest kind: that you've just enjoyed a close encounter with an enduring classic.

Movie Review Taken From:http://www.rollingstone.com/

Movie Trailer

Step Brothers

Starring: Will Ferrell, John C. Reilly, Mary Steenburgen, Richard Jenkins, Adam Scott

Directed by: Adam McKay

Starting at infantile and regressing hysterically from there, Step Brothers flies on the comic chemistry of Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly. They riffed on the baby Jesus in Talladega Nights. Now they're goofing on grown men who stay babies. Are you ready to see Ferrell rub his hairy nut sack on Reilly's drum set? You better be. Step Brothers, directed by Adam McKay from a story by McKay, Ferrell and Reilly (so you know who to hold responsible), pushes its R rating to the merry max. I'd better explain. Ferrell plays Brennan Huff, 39, a sleepwalker and chronic masturbator who lives with his divorced mom (Mary Steenburgen). Reilly plays Dale Doback — even more of a slacker, since he's a year older — who lives with his widowed dad (Richard Jenkins). When the parents marry, Brennan and Dale are forced to co-exist and, yikes, get jobs. Chaos follows, much of it funny-gut-busting, some of it funny not so much. Dale has major rage issues (kid bullies beat him up). Brennan blubbers when insulted as a "mangina" (his slow descent into tears at dinner is priceless). Steenburgen (the Oscar winner) and Jenkins (so good in The Visitor) add a touch of class. "What the fucking fuck" sounds like poetry when Steenburgen says it.
Producer Judd Apatow (does this guy ever sleep?) calls Step Brothers a "demented version of The Parent Trap — with dick jokes." Close enough. But the movie is too good-natured to drown in raunch. Says Dale, beating his drums as Brennan sings Josh Groban (don't ask), "I'm gonna make beautiful music for a sad world." In their own irresistibly idiotic way, Ferrell and Reilly do just that.

Movie Trailer

American Teen

Starring: Hannah Bailey, Colin Clemens, Megan Krizmanich, Jake Tusing

Directed by: Nanette Burstein

Reality tv, welcome to the multiplex. If The Hills went back to high school and developed wit, perception and a conscience, it might play something like Nanette Burstein's wallop of a doc. Burstein (The Kid Stays in the Picture) did total immersion with a handful of seniors at the only high school in Warsaw, Indiana, which we're told is "mostly white, mostly Christian and red state all the way." It's not all condescending; a church sign announces, "Get an Afterlife." Camera in hand for more than 10 months, Burstein waited patiently for character types out of a John Hughes movie to shake off their clichéd shells — the prom queen (Megan Krizmanich), the star athlete (Colin Clemens), the band geek (Jake Tusing), the arty rebel (Hannah Bailey). The fact that they do, sometimes by happy accident, sometimes by Burstein rigging the action (oh, don't tell me she doesn't), speaks volumes about our pop culture. Cameras are so much in the faces of cellphone-carrying, YouTube-MySpace-Facebook-obsessed teenagers that the kids soon stop lying and just let it be. It's eye-opening that American Teen is just as revealing when the kids are faking it and the pain seeps in between the cracks. "All we have to do is figure out who we are and where we're heading in life," says Hannah, adding succinctly, "Holy shit!" For pizazz, Burstein plugs in animation — acne-plagued Jake sees himself as a hero in his own video game. Secrets come out about depression, suicide and that all-ages killer, peer pressure. When superjock Mitch Reinholt breaks from his crowd to date Hannah, we so want him not to wimp out. It's trite but true: All life is like high school. These American teens really get under your skin. You'll be pissed. You'll be perplexed. You'll be totally riveted

Review Taken from:http://www.rollingstone.com/

Trailer:

Pineapple Express

Starring: James Franco, Seth Rogen, Gary Cole, Rosie Perez, Danny R. McBride

Directed by: David Gordon Green

Add about seven years to the ages of the kids in Superbad, toss in bullets, bongs and assassination squads, and you get some idea of the hot box of crazy that is Pineapple Express, a buddy movie stoned on its own shitfaced silliness. You'll go limp from laughing as process server Dale Denton (Seth Rogen) buys the wacky weed of the title from pot dealer Saul Silver (James Franco). "Smell it, smellll it," raves Saul, his eyes glazed with mellow joy. "It's like God's vagina." The plot kicks in when Dale eyeballs drug lord Ted Jones (Gary Cole, slime personified) and crooked cop Carol (Rosie Perez, totally butch) executing an Asian rival. Dale runs like hell, dropping a roach that Ted immediately IDs as pineapple express. That marks Dale for death, also Saul and his middleman Red, played by inspired lunatic Danny McBride. For you to grasp the true essence of Pineapple Express, let me paraphrase the immortal gibberish that issues from the mouth of Franco, who delivers a sidesplitting tour de force as the sweetly profane Saul: This is like if Superbad met Midnight Run and they had a baby and then meanwhile that freaky Quentin Tarantino talk from Pulp Fiction and True Romance met that freaky Judd Apatow TV stuff from Freaks and Geeks and Undeclared and they had a baby, and by some miracle those babies met — and fucked — this would be the funny shit that they birthed.
Exactly, kind of. The script by Rogen and his Superbad writing partner, Evan Goldberg, is a trippy wonder, if you don't get too attached to logic. Loaded with turbocharged action and nonstop giggles, Pineapple Express is what Saul might call "the apex of the vortex" of comedy joint engineering. It's up there with The Big Lebowski, Dazed and Confused and Fast Times at Ridgemont High, only a lot gorier. Bound to flabbergast anyone who just says no — expect howls of protest over the scene where Saul and Dale sell pot in a schoolyard — the movie has been rated R for "pervasive language, drug use, sexual references and violence." Got that, kids? You can't see it till you grow up. As Red comments philosophically while cocking his gun for a shootout, "Thug life."
About that gun. Blood spurts as our three losers get in way over their toasted heads. Producer Apatow, a one-man laugh industry from The 40-Year-Old Virgin to Forgetting Sarah Marshall, had the idea for a shoot-'em-up farce about stoners. Rogen and Goldberg complied with a hoot of a script. You might have expected Franco, best known as handsome Harry in the Spider-Man trilogy, to play Dale, the 25-year-old who's dating a schoolgirl (Amber Heard). But nooo. Franco has a ball wearing the shaggy wig and baggy pants of the dealer. And Rogen, the Knocked Up shlub who co-starred with Franco on Apatow's 1999 NBC series Freaks and Geeks, totally rocks it as the world's unlikeliest action hero. Dale serves subpoenas while wearing disguises and flees from the ire and the rifle of his teen queen's daddy (Ed Begley Jr. freaking out and a sight to see). Rogen and Franco are comedy dynamite, but they also make you believe there's a real bond between these lost boys. And don't forget Red. I'm mclovin' McBride. Only about a dozen of us believers saw him in The Foot Fist Way, which opened for five minutes in May, but he spins magic as the third member of these new-century doobie brothers.
The surprises don't stop there. Think of the last person you'd pick to direct this nonsense. It would have to be Texas-bred David Gordon Green, 33, acclaimed for microbudgeted indie films (George Washington, All the Real Girls, Undertow, Snow Angels) that probe the fragility of human relationships. Pineapple Express is about as frail as an anvil, especially when Saul steals a police car, Dale picks up a machine gun and Red takes two in the gut. For all the headbanging, Green and his actors — a shout-out to Kevin Corrigan and The Office's Craig Robinson as Ted's henchmen — make their characters count for something. The movie, shot beyond the call of kickass duty by Green's gifted cinematographer, Tim Orr, is rich in demented details, from the black-and-white prologue to the knockout fight in Red's house (watch that sink! damn that toilet seat!) and the final free-for-all at the cannabis plant. But this movie also has a heart as big as Saul's stash. Near the end, the three friends gather at a diner to lick their wounds and go emo on each other. It's hardcore hilarious. Pineapple Express slaps a big, fat, goofy smile on your face that lasts for days. I already have the munchies for more. Rogen, Franco and McBride are on the march into stoner legend

X-Files: I Want to Believe

Starring: David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson

Directed by: Chris Carter

2008,Movie Type:Thriller

Being suitably paranoid about the paranormal, I wanted to believe that X-Files creator Chris Carter, having had six years since the TV show went off the air to craft a humdinger of a plot, could conjure up something with more ding and less (ho) hum than The X-Files: I Want To Believe. What I believe, hell, what I know is that if I toss spoilers into this review, X-Philes will come to haunt me. So I'll say three things and no more.
1. David Duchovny is back as Fox Mulder and Gillian Anderson joins him as Dana Scully. That is the best news about this movie. No screen lovers have ever gotten more sizzle out of withholding. Forget carnality. Any Internet porn flick can show you penetration. Mulder and Scully get inside each other's heads. Now that's sexy. Duchovny, bless him, is also a master of deadpan wit. Let's not go into the activities room, he quips before visiting a pedophile priest.
2. If Seasons 1 to Season 6 of the TV show, represent the best of the series that ran from 1994 to 2002, then this second X-Files movie, following 1998's impenetrable The X-Files: Fight the Future, plays like an also-ran from Season 7 to Season 9. That's not good news. You may be excited that Mulder and Scully are back at the F.B.I, after being tossed for their beliefs. But the old spark is missing.
3. The true fans who love the show's mythology won¹t have much to chew on. Russian scientists with a thing for internal organs can't stand up against the complex network of government conspiracies on the TV series. The filmmakers insist this movie is a stand-alone, meaning you don't need to have watched a single episode of The X-Files to get it. Ha! Do the names Samantha, William and Skinner mean anything to do? If they don't ring a bell, expect a struggle. In not knowing who it needs to please, I Want to Believe pleases no one.

Review Taken From:http://www.rollingstone.com/

The Dark Knight

Movie Type:Action,Crime

Starring: Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Heath Ledger, Gary Oldman, Aaron Eckhart

Directed by: Christopher Nolan

Heads up: a thunderbolt is about to rip into the blanket of bland we call summer movies. The Dark Knight, director Christopher Nolan's absolute stunner of a follow-up to 2005's Batman Begins, is a potent provocation decked out as a comic-book movie. Feverish action? Check. Dazzling spectacle? Check. Devilish fun? Check. But Nolan is just warming up. There's something raw and elemental at work in this artfully imagined universe. Striking out from his Batman origin story, Nolan cuts through to a deeper dimension. Huh? Wha? How can a conflicted guy in a bat suit and a villain with a cracked, painted-on clown smile speak to the essentials of the human condition? Just hang on for a shock to the system. The Dark Knight creates a place where good and evil — expected to do battle — decide instead to get it on and dance. "I don't want to kill you," Heath Ledger's psycho Joker tells Christian Bale's stalwart Batman. "You complete me." Don't buy the tease. He means it.
The trouble is that Batman, a.k.a. playboy Bruce Wayne, has had it up to here with being the white knight. He's pissed that the public sees him as a vigilante. He'll leave the hero stuff to district attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart) and stop the DA from moving in on Rachel Dawes (feisty Maggie Gyllenhaal, in for sweetie Katie Holmes), the lady love who is Batman's only hope for a normal life.
Everything gleams like sin in Gotham City (cinematographer Wally Pfister shot on location in Chicago, bringing a gritty reality to a cartoon fantasy). And the bad guys seem jazzed by their evildoing. Take the Joker, who treats a stunningly staged bank robbery like his private video game with accomplices in Joker masks, blood spurting and only one winner. Nolan shot this sequence, and three others, for the IMAX screen and with a finesse for choreographing action that rivals Michael Mann's Heat. But it's what's going on inside the Bathead that pulls us in. Bale is electrifying as a fallibly human crusader at war with his own conscience.
I can only speak superlatives of Ledger, who is mad-crazy-blazing brilliant as the Joker. Miles from Jack Nicholson's broadly funny take on the role in Tim Burton's 1989 Batman, Ledger takes the role to the shadows, where even what's comic is hardly a relief. No plastic mask for Ledger; his face is caked with moldy makeup that highlights the red scar of a grin, the grungy hair and the yellowing teeth of a hound fresh out of hell. To the clown prince of crime, a knife is preferable to a gun, the better to "savor the moment."
The deft script, by Nolan and his brother Jonathan, taking note of Bob Kane's original Batman and Frank Miller's bleak rethink, refuses to explain the Joker with pop psychology. Forget Freudian hints about a dad who carved a smile into his son's face with a razor. As the Joker says, "What doesn't kill you makes you stranger."
The Joker represents the last completed role for Ledger, who died in January at 28 before finishing work on Terry Gilliam's The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. It's typical of Ledger's total commitment to films as diverse as Brokeback Mountain and I'm Not There that he does nothing out of vanity or the need to be liked. If there's a movement to get him the first posthumous Oscar since Peter Finch won for 1976's Network, sign me up. Ledger's Joker has no gray areas — he's all rampaging id. Watch him crash a party and circle Rachel, a woman torn between Bale's Bruce (she knows he's Batman) and Eckhart's DA, another lover she has to share with his civic duty. "Hello, beautiful," says the Joker, sniffing Rachel like a feral beast. He's right when he compares himself to a dog chasing a car: The chase is all. The Joker's sadism is limitless, and the masochistic delight he takes in being punched and bloodied to a pulp would shame the Marquis de Sade. "I choose chaos," says the Joker, and those words sum up what's at stake in The Dark Knight.
The Joker wants Batman to choose chaos as well. He knows humanity is what you lose while you're busy making plans to gain power. Every actor brings his A game to show the lure of the dark side. Michael Caine purrs with sarcastic wit as Bruce's butler, Alfred, who harbors a secret that could crush his boss's spirit. Morgan Freeman radiates tough wisdom as Lucius Fox, the scientist who designs those wonderful toys — wait till you get a load of the Batpod — but who finds his own standards being compromised. Gary Oldman is so skilled that he makes virtue exciting as Jim Gordon, the ultimate good cop and as such a prime target for the Joker. As Harvey tells the Caped Crusader, "You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become a villain." Eckhart earns major props for scarily and movingly portraying the DA's transformation into the dreaded Harvey Two-Face, an event sparked by the brutal murder of a major character.
No fair giving away the mysteries of The Dark Knight. It's enough to marvel at the way Nolan — a world-class filmmaker, be it Memento, Insomnia or The Prestige — brings pop escapism whisper-close to enduring art. It's enough to watch Bale chillingly render Batman as a lost warrior, evoking Al Pacino in The Godfather II in his delusion and desolation. It's enough to see Ledger conjure up the anarchy of the Sex Pistols and A Clockwork Orange as he creates a Joker for the ages. Go ahead, bitch about the movie being too long, at two and a half hours, for short attention spans (it is), too somber for the Hulk crowd (it is), too smart for its own good (it isn't). The haunting and visionary Dark Knight soars on the wings of untamed imagination. It's full of surprises you don't see coming. And just try to get it out of your dreams.

Review Taken By:http://www.rollingstone.com/