Sloppy, sentimental indie-sitcom pap; Happy, Texas for neurasthenics. Abigail Breslin's one overrated trick is that she can apparently sob convincingly on command; she has a bright future as a trained seal. The script is late-period Douglas Coupland bad. Grade: D
A soporific college thesis masquerading as summer entertainment. Shyamalan's idiosyncrasies have degenerated into a sort of creative torpor overrun with wooden characters and, in this instance, topiary monsters. The entire movie is a spoiler. Grade: F
Artist: The Real Tuesday Weld. Album: I, Lucifer.
Artist: Death Cab for Cutie. Album: Plans.
Me and you and everyone we know.
Artist: The Ark. Album: State of the Ark.
Richard Linklater's wannabe techno mind-fuck is more of a mind-numb-er, unfolding in a series of the director's typically meandering, talky scenes with little regard for storytelling or logic. If you're in the mood for wanky pseudo-fi, you're far better off renting Vanilla Sky. Grade: C
So long as the swashes buckle and Johnny Depp swishes, this Pirates sequel keeps its head well above water. Unfortunately a second act steeped in murky metaphysics and festooned with hideous, if impressively rendered, Cronenbergian villains strands our main characters along divergent arcs—to be reunited, and the film salvaged, only in the final rundown. That great sagging middle is a waterlogged slog. More Monkey Island whimsy next time, less benthic boogaloo. Grade: B-
Artist: KT Tunstall. Album: Eye to the Telescope.
Bitingly funny comedy of manners is buoyed by ingratiating performances and confident direction. The story gallops at such an agreeable clip that you almost don't notice the general absence of character development. Almost. Grade: B
If The Incredibles, Batman Begins, Spider-Man and X2 have proved that dated superhero concepts can receive thrilling generational makeovers, Bryan Singer's Superman retread proves that no matter how sincere your nostalgia, serving up a self-indulgently paced state-of-the-art facsimile of late-Seventies kitsch is a one-way ticket to camp. (Not that Supes, that most schizoid-gay-stalkerish of superheroes, from his mile-high red platform boots to his all-rubber-external-undergarment aesthetic, needs much help in that area.) Throw in an unsettling absence of internal conflict and a not-ready-for-vaudeville super-villain subplot and you've got Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow minus the kickin' deco production design—i.e., not much to write home about. Grade: C+