The Minecraft Movie (2025), directed by Jared Hess, attempts to bring the beloved sandbox game to life on the big screen, blending action, family-friendly humor, and a nostalgic dose of pixelated aesthetics. While it delivers on some fronts, the film ultimately struggles to balance its ambitious scope with a cohesive narrative, leaving audiences with a sense of familiar yet underwhelming entertainment.

　　Visual Spectacle: A Faithful Adaptation with Limitations

　　The film’s greatest strength lies in its visual fidelity to the game. The blocky, pixelated world of Minecraft is meticulously rendered, from the rolling green hills to the ominous Nether realms. The use of 3D modeling alongside traditional pixel art creates a unique aesthetic that feels both retro and modern. Fans will delight in spotting iconic elements like diamond swords, TNT, and creepers, which serve as delightful Easter eggs. However, the visuals occasionally feel constrained by the game’s inherent simplicity, lacking the depth and fluidity of live-action films in similar genres.

　　Plot: A Generic Adventure with Shallow Characters

　　The story follows a group of misfits—Garrett (Jason Momoa), Natalie (Emma Myers), Henry (Sebastian Hansen), and Dawn (Danielle Brooks)—who are transported into the Minecraft universe. There, they team up with Steve (Jack Black) to defeat a villain bent on destroying creativity. The plot follows a predictable hero’s journey, with little deviation from standard Hollywood adventure tropes. While the premise is fun, the characters lack depth, often reduced to exaggerated stereotypes. Steve’s over-the-top antics, for instance, feel more like a series of gags than a fully realized arc

　　Humor and Tone: A Double-Edged Sword

　　The film leans heavily on humor, with Jack Black’s Steve stealing scenes as a chaotic yet endearing guide. The jokes, often rooted in meme culture, hit the mark for younger audiences and Minecraft enthusiasts. Yet, the tone wavers between goofy and forced, especially in moments where the script attempts to infuse deeper themes about creativity. The result is a uneven experience—some sequences are genuinely hilarious, while others drag under the weight of generic dialogue

　　Cultural Impact: A Niche Appeal with Broad Limitations

　　A notable aspect of the film’s reception is its polarizing effect. While it has garnered a dedicated fanbase, particularly among children and gamers, critics have criticized its lack of originality. The movie’s reliance on game mechanics (like crafting and combat) over narrative depth mirrors the struggles of early video game adaptations. Yet, it’s this very simplicity that makes it accessible to its target audience

　　4

　　.

　　Conclusion: A Fun Ride, But Lacking Depth

　　The Minecraft Movie is a visually pleasing, action-packed romp that will entertain fans of the game. However, its shallow characters and formulaic plot prevent it from being a standout in the adventure genre. If you’re seeking a lighthearted, nostalgia-driven experience, it delivers—but don’t expect a cinematic masterpiece. For now, it’s a solid addition to the Minecraft universe, best enjoyed as a shared family outing rather than a critical darling.

　　‌Final Verdict‌: 6/10 – A colorful, crowd-pleasing adaptation that’s more about fun than substance.

What do you do for a third act?

If he were told the world were ending tomorrow, Martin Luther once said, he would plant a tree. Werner Herzog would start a film. In "Seeking a Friend for the End of the World," Steve Carell plays an insurance salesman but finds little point in selling a whole-life policy. An asteroid 70 miles wide is on a collision path with Earth, and governments have announced it will slam into its target in three weeks' time.

To me, even worse than this catastrophe would be foreknowledge of it. To die is one thing. How much worse to know that all the life that ever existed on this planet, and all it ever achieved, was to be obliterated? Dodge (Carell) looks a little gloomy at the best of times. Now life is really piling on. A space-shuttle mission to destroy the asteroid has failed, and to make things worse, Dodge's wife has walked out on him and joined the man she really loves.

The end of the world is hardly a rare subject for movies; recently we've had "Melancholia" and "Another Earth," and who could forget Don McKellar's bittersweet "Last Night" (1998)? Lorene Scafaria, the writer-director of this film, approaches the subject as an opportunity for melancholy satire and some gentle romance. It amounts to sort of a romanic comedy, although it makes no promises of providing a happy ending. www.130q.com

Some people riot in the streets. There are looters, determined to have a new big-screen TV, no matter how few days are left to watch it. There are orgies and mass baptisms. Cable news inevitably attaches a catchphrase and some theme music to the apocalypse. Radio stations have countdowns. Dodge, alone and lonely in his apartment, unexpectedly finds himself caring for a dog. That's when I realized what I would do if I knew the world was ending. I would find a homeless mother dog with puppies and be calmed by her optimism.

Dodge meets Penny (Keira Knightley), a woman who lives in the next building. They begin to talk and become kindred spirits. She talks him into a road trip that would bring together two of their desires. He can look for the girl he's always thought he should have married, and she can seek her family.

The destination of this trip isn't really the point. Road trips are about who you meet along the way. They meet a man (William Petersen) who has hired a contract killer to shoot him and a survivalist (Derek Luke) who unreasonably believes all of his preparations will help him, and they come across a chain restaurant named Chipper's. The shtick at this place is that the staff are all your best friends. The approaching Armageddon has cranked this routine into high gear, and everybody in the place is so desperately friendly, it borders on madness.

How do you end a movie like this? I mean, before the inevitable end, which logically must be a blank screen? How does Scafaria as a filmmaker create a third act? She produces a couple of unexpected characters who inspire some moments of truth, and there is a Hemingwayesque flight in a small aircraft that is supposed, I guess, to indicate that we face the worst with stoic endurance. These scenes are good enough in themselves, but aren't really adequate to bring a sense of closure.

The best parts of this sweet film involve the middle stretches, when time, however limited, reaches ahead, and the characters do what they can to prevail in the face of calamity. How can I complain that they don't entirely succeed? Isn't the dilemma of the plot the essential dilemma of life?

The story of a plucky honorary boy

"Brave" is the latest animated film from Pixar, and therefore becomes the film the parents of the world will be dragged to by their kids. The good news is that the kids will probably love it, and the bad news is that parents will be disappointed if they're hoping for another Pixar groundbreaker. Unlike such brightly original films as "Toy Story," "Finding Nemo," "WALL-E" and "Up," this one finds Pixar poaching on traditional territory of Disney, its corporate partner. We get a spunky princess; her mum, the queen; her dad, the gruff king, an old witch who lives in the woods, and so on.

The princess is Merida (voice of Kelly Macdonald), seen in an action-packed prologue as a flame-haired Scottish tomboy whose life is changed by an early birthday gift of a bow, which quickly inspires her to become the best archer in the kingdom. Then we flash forward to Merida as a young lady of marriageable age, who is startled by request from Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson) to choose among three possible husbands chosen by her clan.

Nothing doing, especially since all three candidates are doofuses. Merida leaps upon her trusty steed and flees into the forest, where her friends the will-o-the-wisps lead her to the cottage of a gnarled old witch (Julie Walters). She begs for a magic spell that will change Queen Elinor's mind, but it changes more than that: It turns Elinor into a bear. Witches never know how to stop when they're ahead.

Luckily, the magic spell comes with an escape clause. Merida has exactly two days to reverse the charm. After she and her mother absorb what has happened, they begin to work together and grow closer than ever, even though the queen cannot speak. There is a tricky complication. King Fergus (Billy Connolly) had his leg bitten off by a bear (in the prologue), and has been indisposed toward them ever since. Unsurprisingly, when he sees his wife as a bear, he fails to recognize her.

And so on. This is a great-looking movie, much enlivened by the inspiration of giving Merida three small brothers, little redheaded triplets. The Scottish Highlands are thrillingly painted in astonishing detail, and some action shows Merida's archery more than equal in assorted emergencies. www.130q.com

"Brave" has an uplifting message about improving communication between mothers and daughters, although transforming your mom into a bear is a rather extreme first step. Elinor is a good sport, under the circumstances. But Merida is far from being a typical fairy-tale princess. Having flatly rejected the three suitors proposed by her family, she is apparently prepared to go through life quite happily without a husband, and we can imagine her in later years, a weathered and indomitable Amazon queen, sort of a Boudica for the Scots. "Brave" seems at a loss to deal with her as a girl and makes her a sort of honorary boy.

"Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter" is without a doubt the best film we are ever likely to see on the subject — unless there is a sequel, which is unlikely, because at the end, the Lincolns are on their way to the theater. (You know what happens then.) It's also a more entertaining movie than I remotely expected. Yes, Reader, I went expecting to sneer.

The story opens with young Abe witnessing the murder of his mother by a vampire. He swears vengeance, and some years later is lucky to be getting drunk while standing at a bar next to Henry Sturgess (Dominic Cooper), who coaches him on vampire-killing and explains that it is a high calling, requiring great dedication and avoiding distractions like marriage.

There's an early scene in which Lincoln tries to shoot a vampire, but that won't work because they're already dead. Then whatever can he do? "Well," he tells Henry, "I used to be pretty good at rail-splitting…" This line drew only a few chuckles from the audience, because the movie cautiously avoids any attempt to seem funny.
Lincoln's weapon of choice becomes an axe with a silver blade, which he learns to spin like a drum major's baton. That he carries this ax with him much of the time may strike some as peculiar. I was reminded uncannily of Buford Pusser, walking tall and carrying a big stick.

Against Henry's advice, Lincoln (Benjamin Walker) marries Mary Todd (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), and the story moves quickly to his days in the White House, where he discovers that the vampires are fighting on the side of the South. This seems odd, since they should be equal opportunity bloodsuckers, but there you have it. Still with him from is childhood friend Will Johnson (Anthony Mackie), a free black man whose mistreatment helped form Lincoln's hatred of slavery. Also still at his side is Joshua Speed (Jimmi Simpson), who hired him in his Springfield general store; Johnson and Speed join Lincoln in Civil War strategy sessions and are his principal advisers, roles overlooked by history.

The film, directed by Timur Bekmambetov and written by Seth Grahame-Smith, based on his novel, handles all these matters with an admirable seriousness, which may be the only way they could possibly work. The performances are earnest and sincere, and even villains like Adam (Rufus Sewell), the American leader of the Vampire Nation, doesn't spit or snarl overmuch. It regrettably introduces but does not explain Vadoma (Erin Wasson), a statuesque woman who is several decades ahead of time in her taste for leather fetish wear. Are vampires kinky? I didn't know.

Although we do not attend "Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter" in search of a history lesson, there's one glitch I cannot overlook. In the first day of fighting at Gettysburg, the Union sustains a defeat so crushing that Lincoln is tempted to surrender. This is because the Confederate troops, all vampires, are invulnerable to lead bullets, cannon fire and steel blades, and have an alarming way of disappearing and rematerializing. Over breakfast, Lincoln confides his despair to his wife and says conventional weapons are of no more use against them than — why — than this fork! As he stares at it, he realizes it is silver, and vampires can be killed by silver weapons, as he has proved with his axe-twirling.

Now try not to focus too much on the timeline. After his realization, Lincoln mobilizes all resources to gather wagonloads of silver in Washington, smelt it, and manufacture silver bayonets, bullets and cannon balls. Then we see him, Johnson and Speed on board a weapons train en route to Gettysburg. It is night again, so apparently all of this took less than a day.

Never mind. What comes now is a genuinely thrilling action sequence in which the vampires battle with Lincoln and his friends on top of the speeding train, which hurtles toward a high wooden bridge that has been set alight by the sinister Vadoma (pronounced "Vadooma," I think). This sequence is preposterous and yet exciting, using skillful editing and special effects. Somehow Benjamin Walker and his co-stars here are even convincing — well, as convincing as such goofiness could possibly be.

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"Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter" has nothing useful to observe about Abraham Lincoln, slavery, the Civil War or much of anything else. Blink and you may miss the detail that Harriet Tubman's Underground Railway essentially won the war for the North. But the film doesn't promise insights on such subjects. What it achieves is a surprisingly good job of doing justice to its title, and treating Lincoln with as much gravity as we can expect, under the circumstances.

"The Girl From the Naked Eye" opens with a lurid cover from an old pulp detective magazine, and that's the look it achieves. Here's a film noir crossed with a martial-arts movie, taking place in the dark shadows of mean streets. And that's about all you need to know about the plot, which serves simply as a device to keep us moving right along from one bloody action sequence to the next.

It isn't a great movie, but it looks terrific and makes me look forward to the next film by its director, David Ren. He has a good eye. I like his vertiginous high-angle shots looking down into the gray, forbidding caverns between skyscrapers. I like the way he uses the reds and greens on neon signs, isolated in dark settings. I like the offices of nightclubs and mob bosses, where cigars are smoked and threats are made. I like the smoking in general: Some of the characters seem to be smoking at each other as an act of aggression. The dialogue sometimes seems to be deliberately trying for satire, as when two guys go nose to nose and seem to be seeing who can shout the f-word the most.

It sounds, in fact, as if I like the movie. It was a pleasure to watch, but it never deserved its visuals. The story (which actually could come from one of those old pulps) is narrated in a hard-boiled voiceover by the hero, Jake (Jason Yee), who drives call girls for an escort agency and vows vengeance when his favorite girl, Sandy (Samantha Streets), is gruesomely murdered. His search for the killer leads him into one dangerous situation after another, especially since he seems to have stumbled into a situation where powerful men are not especially thrilled about finding the killer.

The movie is populated with don't-blink cameos, including one by Dominique Swain, Adrian Lyne's "Lolita" (1997) and another by porn star Sasha Grey. The rest of the cast is filled with hard-looking tough guys, more than half of them Asian-American, although no reference to ethnicity is ever made. The movie seems destined for DVD, but it makes a stop this week at three theaters, and would benefit by being seen on a big screen.

Greta Gerwig is Lola, the woman we're expected to feel sorry for in "Lola Versus," and that would be easier if she had more to complain about. She's 29, working on her doctorate, engaged to be married and apparently the heir to a fortune. How do I guess that? Her only job is waiting on tables in her mother's restaurant, and yet she and her boyfriend live in one of those Manhattan lofts that you don't even want to know how much it costs.

As the movie opens, Lola is radiant at a fitting for her wedding dress. Brimming with joy, she hurries home to her fiance, Luke (Joel Kinnaman), takes one look at him and intuits something is wrong. "Have a stroke?" she asks. He's calling off the wedding. He can't go through with it.

I think I'd feel worse about that if I knew Luke and had maybe lived through some of Lola's history with him. When I'm given only one piece of information — he's abandoning her virtually at the altar — all I can conclude is that Luke is a jerk, and Lola's better off without him.

Lola seems to be a nice enough person, which goes without saying, because Greta Gerwig is an actress you like just by looking at her. Unfortunately, Lola lives in a sitcom that deprives her of any intrinsic interest. Her entire life consists of being jilted, being consoled and advised by her BFF, Alice (Zoe Lister Jones), and then rather carelessly sleeping around in an attempt to accumulate rebound sex.

One of her partners is a nice guy, Henry (Hamish Linklater), who is her best friend — and Alice's. In fact, Alice and Henry seem to be in the early stages of their own romance, but sweet Lola plows right through that and keeps on smiling. Among her other partners is a guy whose penis is apparently somehow strangely shaped. "I was a preemie," he explains, having stripped before her. (We're looking from behind, thank God.) "I was in an incubator." How the incubator caused his problem is left unexplained, but never mind: The entire purpose of this scene is to show us Gerwig's face as she regards the penile carnage. She looks … thoughtful. That's the punchline, see? And later she'll have a story to share with Alice.

"Lola Versus" is basically constructed like that all the way through. It sets up a situation, pays it off with a gag and hurries on its way. The setups are usually clever enough to deserve better. Let's circle back to her waitress job. A rude customer demands sangria, even though it's an Italian restaurant. She tries to explain this, fails and tells the bartender to just dump a can of fruit cocktail in a pitcher of red wine. Wouldn't you agree that's a solution that could support more than the customer's reaction shot?

Alice has many of the film's best lines, and indeed the screenplay was co-written by Lister Jones and director Daryl Wein. Her girlfriend role is nevertheless handled in a standard way: She consoles, she advises and empathizes, while Lola eats lots of junk food and bathes in self-pity. A sitcom, as I said. There's not enough here to support 87 minutes. The best reason to go is that Gerwig is lovable, and she's on the screen a lot.

Few descriptions of "Safety Not Guaranteed" will do it justice. It's a more ambitious and touching movie than seems possible, given its starting point, which is this classified ad in an alternative newspaper:

WANTED: Someone to go back in time with me. This is not a joke. You'll get paid after we get back. Must bring your own weapons. I have only done this once before. SAFETY NOT GUARANTEED.

That sounds like a set-up for a comedy, maybe like "Hot Tub Time Machine." It is a comedy in many ways, but there's a serious undertow, kindhearted attention to the characters, and a treatment of time travel that (a) takes it seriously, and (b) sidesteps all of the well-known paradoxes by which time travel is impossible.

That's not to say time travel takes place in "Safety Not Guaranteed." Or that it doesn't. A rather brilliant ending is completely satisfying while proving nothing. What it means is that the story takes place entirely at this time, and time travel provides the subject and not the gimmick.

The classified ad comes up at a story conference for Seattle magazine. A writer named Jeff (Jake Johnson) volunteers to try to track down whoever placed the ad. He demands two interns to help him and is assigned Darius (Aubrey Plaza) and Arnau (Karan Soni). She's an intense, quirky loner. He's a virginal nerd with big glasses. Jeff is a slacker who actually wants to cover the story because it will help him hook up with a high-school girlfriend.

The reporting team goes to Ocean View, Wash., and fairly easily finds the guy who placed the ad: a mid-30s grocery clerk named Kenneth (Mark Duplass). Jeff quickly alienates him, but Darius has a better approach: She's sarcastic, aggressive and challenging. The more she discovers about Kenneth, the more intriguing he becomes. He lives in a shabby home in the woods, unchanged since his parents died and focuses with tunnel vision on his method for time travel. His ad is completely realistic, as far as he's concerned.

Here's where the movie, directed by Colin Trevorrow and written by Derek Connolly, takes a decisive turn for the good. In reviewing a lot of movies, I complain that the characters speak in short bursts of basic English, to make them easier to subtitle. They never really say anything. There's no reason for us to care about them. Their dialogue is used only as a function of the plot.

"Safety Not Guaranteed" not only has dialogue that's about something, but characters who have some depth and dimension. Kenneth is goofy and paranoid, but also smart, sincere and vulnerable. Darius is more than a wise-ass fresh college grad on her first job. When the two of them reveal their reasons for wanting to travel back through time, they're reasons we can understand. Jeff, the senior writer, essentially blows off the assignment while he goes searching for Liz (Jenica Bergere), who made an impression 20 years ago he hasn't been able to forget. When they meet, the movie avoids the many cliches we can easily imagine. Arnau does resemble the stereotyped Indian-American sidekick, but even he has life-changing experiences.

Mark Duplass has all of a sudden emerged as an engaging actor with real presence. This is really his movie, the role is borderline impossible, and he carries it. He and his brother Jay emerged from the mists of mumblecore ("The Puffy Chair," 2005), and now he's a leading man in three other 2012 movies: "Your Sister's Sister," "Darling Companion" and "People Like Us." Both brothers are emerging as gifted directors ("Cyrus," "Jeff, Who Lives at Home").

In this film, Kenneth walks a fine line between paranoia and caricature, and yet when he tells Darius he's being followed by government agents, it turns out he's telling the truth. There are a couple of "Men in Black" types who follow him around, but the movie wisely suggests they don't take this assignment entirely seriously. How wrapped up would you be in an investigation about some goofball in the woods who advertises for time-travel partners?

As I said, the movie doesn't make it absolutely clear whether time travel actually takes place. Or whether it doesn't. You'll see what I mean, and that the filmmakers have found an ingenious solution for their challenge.

"Rock of Ages," a rags-to-riches rock 'n' roll musical set in mostly in a music club on Sunset Strip, wins no prizes for originality. A lot of it is zesty entertainment, with some energetic musical numbers; several big names (Tom Cruise, Russell Brand, Alec Baldwin) prove they can sing well enough to play the Strip if they lose the day job. The two leads are Diego Boneta, as a bartender in the Strip's hottest club, and Julianne Hough, as a naive kid just off the bus from the Midwest. They're both gifted singers and join the others in doing covers of 1980s rock classics.

Of course they also fall in love. Of course they have heartfelt conversations while standing behind the "Hollywood" sign. Of course they break up because of a tragic misunderstanding. Of course their mistake is repaired and (spoiler!) they're back together at the end. Has ever a romance in a musical been otherwise?

They're sweet and likable, but for me, the better story involves the fate of the club, the Bourbon Room. Dennis Dupree (Alec Baldwin), its owner, is desperate because he owes back taxes and will have to close the doors at any moment. His only confidante is a weathered rocker named Lonny (Russell Brand), whose primary function is to lean over him during phone calls and frantically tell him what to say. The person on the other end of the line is usually a venal music manager named Paul Gill (Paul Giamatti), who claims he will save the club by supplying his legendary client Stacee Jaxx (Tom Cruise) for a one-night farewell concert.

If you're tracking those names, you're perhaps impressed. Adam Shankman's "Rock of Ages" not only has a high-profile cast, but they never seem to be slumming; they play their roles with great intensity and earnestness, which is really the only way to do satire.

A subplot is recycled directly out of old "Beach Party" musicals. If you are of a certain age, you may remember them. Frankie, Annette and the gang were always having a great time down at the beach when some stuffy local politician decided to run them out of town as a campaign tactic. In this case, the politician is Mayor Whitman (Bryan Cranston), who gets all of his instructions from his domineering wife, Patricia (Catherine Zeta-Jones). She leads a group of protesters across the street from the Bourbon Room, while Dennis and Lonny look grimly out the window.

There isn't an original idea in the screenplay by Justin Theroux and Chris D'Arienzo, based on an Off-Broadway hit. Even the songs are oldies. And that's OK, because the actors are having a lot of fun, and the production values of the musical numbers are slick and high-spirited. The only problem is that the plot meanders when nobody is singing. If you're making the kind of movie where everybody in the audience knows for sure what's going to happen, it's best not to linger on the recycled bits. If Drew misunderstands something he sees and thinks Sherrie was cheating on him with Stacee Jaxx, then let them clear that up without a lugubrious return visit to the Hollywood sign.

In a movie where all the stars except the leads are essentially satirizing themselves, Tom Cruise is the most merciless on himself. Stacee Jaxx, his muscular body a quiltwork of tattoos, travels with a couple of grim bodyguards (Kevin Nash, of all people, and Jeff Chase, a giant 6'7" bodybuilder). Stacee has such a big ego that when he's interviewed by a Rolling Stone reporter (Malin Akerman), he's so narcissistically seductive he almost seduces himself. Meanwhile, Alec Baldwin and Russell Brand have a big scene I'll bet neither one saw in his future.

She begins to envy prostitutes
BY ROGER EBERT / June 6, 2012

"Elles" has a surprisingly deep performance in a disappointingly shallow movie. The performance, acute and brave, is by Juliette Binoche as a Parisian writer researching a magazine article about young prostitutes in the city. What's disappointing is the way it attempts to equate her life as a married woman with prostitution. Yes, her husband is an unemotional louse, and her two sons are a trial, but isn't it insulting to imply that her bright and independent character is simply selling out? Nobody said marriage was easy.

Binoche is Anne, who has placed ads in order to contact part-time call girls. The movie backs into this scenario via her interviews with Charlotte (Anais Demoustier) and Alicja (Joanna Kulig). Both girls are frank about their motivations: Charlotte wants a nicer apartment, and Alicja, from Poland, likes the more expensive clothes she can now afford. Neither seems traumatized by her experience; indeed, to Anne, they seem happier than she is.

Anne's sessions with them eventually lead to confidences and friendship; one ends with a hug. The director and co-writer, Malgoska Szumowska, intercuts these interviews with scenes of the two women servicing clients, which can look ever so much more pleasant than shots of Anne masturbating on her bathroom floor and then breaking into tears. The sex scenes are explicit enough to earn an NC-17 rating from the MPAA, a rating so rare I can't recall the last time I encountered one; films like "Elles" are usually released these days as "unrated."

Prostitution is an occupation both young women went into willingly, and their upscale clients and prices distinguish them from more desperate hookers. Still, "Elles" includes a particularly unpleasant scene involving one sadistic client; it is after Anne hears this described that she masturbates, suggesting — what? That's she's a masochist and was turned on? I don't think so, but the film doesn't provide a better explanation.

Anne's home life centers around her distant and demanding husband and their sons, Florent and Stephane. The film begins on a day when Anne is racing to meet her magazine deadline and yet is expected to prepare and serve a gourmet meal to her husband's boss and some business associates. Florent, an older teenager openly contemptuous of his parents and their marriage, drifts in a cloud of marijuana. Stephane, around 12, is addicted to his generation's drug of choice, video games.

Anne can't seem to speak to any of the men in her family. Indeed, her only good relationships are with the prostitutes. Binoche brings to these scenes an intimacy and ability to confide that transforms them from what could have been a more exploitative tone. There are moments of truth, including a bleak closing scene with her husband.

Binoche makes a strong impression, but "Elles" seems inadequate to her character and forces simplistic conclusions when more complex ones are needed.

In Woodstock, they party on

"Peace, Love & Misunderstanding" is one of Jane Fonda's rare leading roles in recent years, and it provides a wink at what we probably imagine she's been up to in her spare time. She plays Grace, a hippie grandmother with untamed, graying hair, who is known as the freest spirit in town — and since she lives in Woodstock, that's saying something.

On her farm with its pond and purebred chickens roaming inside the house, she seems to throw a party every night for the local wild spirits. On the night of the full moon, she gathers a circle of women to worship the Goddess and smoke amazing quantities of pot. If there's a local music festival, it's taken for granted that Grace will be the emcee and that she's probably slept with most of the musicians.

Into this hedonistic world, her daughter Diane (Catherine Keener) arrives unannounced one day with her children, Zoe (Elizabeth Olsen), 20ish, and Jake (Nat Wolff), around 15. Grace has not seen Diane in 20 years, after she broke off relations in reaction to her mother's flamboyant lifestyle. But now, having decided to divorce her stolid husband, Mark (Kyle MacLachlan), she has piled her kids into the SUV and headed upstate. All she asks is that Grace somewhat curtail her wildness around the kids. It is not to be.

"Peace, Love & Misunderstanding" is an undemanding formula picture that's a lot of superficial fun and not much more. Would it surprise you that within 24 hours Diane and both of her children have commenced romances with locals, and that many truths will be exchanged between Diane and Grace? Woodstock is presented as a place where the 1969 festival still more or less continues, many of the flower children apparently having never left. It's very upscale in a laid-back way, like Aspen or Telluride, and Grace, for example, seems to have unlimited funds, although there's a reason for that.

Because Fonda is (very capably) playing a send-up of her image, the character I found most interesting is Catherine Keener's Diane. She's a Manhattan lawyer, nursing anger with her mother after all these years and making it a point not to drink or smoke — as a rebuke, perhaps. She quickly falls under the spell of Jude (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), a local furniture maker and guitarist, age-appropriate, handsome, understanding. Meanwhile, daughter Zoe locks hearts with Cole (Chace Crawford), even though she is a vegetarian and he is a butcher. Young Jake is smitten with Tara (Marissa O'Donnell), a coffeeshop waitress who wins him with a shy smile and superb latte.

These three interlocking romances mesh with Grace's non-stop adventures and assorted heart-to-heart talks, and that's about the size of it. Director Bruce Beresford seems content to deliver a charming comedy and sidestep the deeper family issues that the film could have addressed.

So, all right, on that level, the film works for me. It essentially focuses on the three women, and Fonda, Keener and the fast-rising Elizabeth Olsen look plausibly like three generations from the same genes. Olsen, indeed, looks a great deal like Keener, and that is a sincere compliment. It's the cheekbones when they smile.

Will meeting our Makers be Man's unmaking?

Ridley Scott's "Prometheus" is a magnificent science-fiction film, all the more intriguing because it raises questions about the origin of human life and doesn't have the answers. It's in the classic tradition of golden age sci-fi, echoing Scott's "Alien" (1979), but creating a world of its own. I'm a pushover for material like this; it's a seamless blend of story, special effects and pitch-perfect casting, filmed in sane, effective 3-D that doesn't distract.

A scene at the outset shows a world with apparently only one animal being, a pale humanoid who stalks a high ridge surrounded by spectacular scenery. This person eats something that causes painful vomiting and rapid body decay. The vomit is followed into flowing water, where it seems to morph into living cellular structures. Where is this place? Is it Earth? Who is the being, and why is it alone and naked? Is the scene a visualization of the theory that life first arrived on Earth from outer space?

Cut to a human spaceship in the year 2093, qualifying "Prometheus" for a flash-forward spanning more years than the opening of "2001." The trillion-dollar ship Prometheus is en route to a distant world, which seems pointed to in prehistoric cave paintings. There's reason to believe human life may have originated there. It's an Earth-sized moon orbiting a giant planet, and at first it seems a disappointment: no growing things, unbreathable atmosphere. But the crew notices straight lines on the surface, and as we all know, nature makes no straight lines.

The lines lead to a vast dome or pyramid, and the film will mostly take place inside the dome and the Prometheus. But let's put the plot on hold and introduce two of the crew members: Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace) wears a cross around her neck and believes life ultimately had a divine origin. Her boyfriend, Charlie Holloway (Logan Marshall-Green), accuses her, a scientist, of dismissing centuries of Darwinism. What they find in the pyramid leaves the question open. Alien humanoids, in suspended animation, incredibly have DNA that's a perfect match for our own. So they could somehow have brought life to Earth — but why? And from this moon where they slumber inside their pyramid, or from another planet around a distant star? Why did they stop here? What are they waiting for?

The film then develops horror scenes comparable to "Alien," although it depends more on action and weaponry than that film's use of shadows and silence. For me, the most spellbinding scenes involve the crew members exploring the passages and caverns inside the pyramid, obviously unvisited in aeons, and their experiences with some of the hibernating alien beings. One of the key members of this crew is David (Michael Fassbender), an android, who knows or can figure out more or less everything, even alien languages, and is sort of a walking, talking, utterly fearless HAL 9000.

The alien race in "Prometheus" shares a body characteristic that reminds me of "Alien" and countless films since: Elements can detach from them and enter into other bodies as hostile parasites. This leads to an astonishing sequence in which Elizabeth, alone on the ship, discovers she is pregnant with an alien Something and somehow finds the will to control a robot surgery device that removes it. Her later showdown with a waning oxygen supply shows equal resourcefulness; Noomi Rapace ("The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo," 2009) continues here the tradition of awesome feminine strength begun by Sigourney Weaver in "Alien."

Another strong woman is on board, Meredith Vickers (Charlize Theron), a representative of the corporation that privately financed the Prometheus. She treats the others like her employees, which they are, and believes she always speaks for the company's wishes. The ship's captain, Janek (Idris Elba), makes no pretensions of scientific expertise like the others but is a no-nonsense working pilot. Janek has the most interesting evolution, from the irreverent hipster in his first scenes into a man with the ability to intuit the truth about what he's seeing.

The most tantalizing element is how it plays with the role of these DNA twins. Did they create life on Earth? The possibility of two identical DNAs as a coincidence is unthinkable. Charlie digs at Elizabeth, suggesting their existence disproves her beliefs. Her obvious response: Where did they come from? This puzzle is embedded in an adventure film that has staggering visuals, expert horror, mind-challenging ideas and enough unanswered questions to prime the inevitable sequel.

Sam and Suzy's excellent adventure
BY ROGER EBERT

Wes Anderson's mind must be an exciting place for a story idea to be born. It immediately becomes more than a series of events and is transformed into a world with its own rules, in which everything is driven by emotions and desires as convincing as they are magical. "Moonrise Kingdom" creates such a world and takes place on an island that might as well be ruled by Prospero. It's set in 1965, though it might as well be set at any time.

On this island no one seems to live except for those involved in the story. There is a lighthouse in which the heroine, Suzy, lives with her family, and a Scout camp where the hero, Sam, stirs restlessly under what seem to him childish restrictions. Sam and Suzy met the previous summer and have been pen pals ever since, plotting a sort of jailbreak from their lives during which they could have an adventure out from under the thumbs of adults, if only for a week.

Sam (Jared Gilman) is an orphan, solemn behind oversized eyeglasses, an expert in scouting. Suzy (Kara Hayward) is bookish, a dreamer. When they have their long-planned secret rendezvous in a meadow on the island, Sam is burdened with all the camping and survival gear they will possibly need, and Suzy has provided for herself some books to read, her kitten and a portable 45 rpm record player with extra batteries.

Because this is a Wes Anderson film, you know Bill Murray will appear in it. He has worked in the last five of Anderson's six films. In "Moonrise Kingdom," he plays Walt Bishop, Suzy's father, and Frances McDormand is her mother. Murray is always right for a role in an Anderson film, and I wonder if it's because they share a bemused sadness. You can't easily imagine Murray playing a manic or a cut-up; his eyes, which have always been old eyes, look upon the world and waver between concern and disappointment. In Anderson's films, there is a sort of resignation to the underlying melancholy of the world; he is the only American director I can think of whose work reflects the Japanese concept mono no aware, which describes a wistfulness about the transience of things. Even Sam and Suzy, sharing the experience of a lifetime, seem aware that this will be their last summer for such an adventure. Next year they will be too old for such irresponsibility.

It is not a large island, but they think it must have a place where they can hide out. Sam has come prepared with maps for their trek, and they follow an old Indian trail to a secluded cove which they name Moonrise Kingdom. Here they make their camp, which a Scout leader is later to tell Sam is "the best-pitched camp I have ever seen." And here, as they sit side by side and look out over the water, in a sense they regard the passage of innocence and the disturbing possibility of maturity.

Meanwhile, the adult world has launched a worried search for them. Suzy's parents call in the police, led by Capt. Sharp (Bruce Willis). Scoutmaster Ward (Edward Norton) leads Sam's fellow Scouts, who were not terrifically fond of the way he seemed to take the troop with less than utter dedication. A character known only as Social Services (Tilda Swinton) gets involved, because as an orphan, Sam is of special interest.

Anderson always fills his films with colors, never garish but usually definite and active. In "Moonrise Kingdom," the palette tends toward the green of new grass, and the Scout's khaki brown. Also the right amount of red. It is a comfortable canvas to look at, so pretty that it helps establish the feeling of magical realism.

The approaching turmoil of adolescence is foretold, however, by an approaching hurricane that places the lives of the young explorers in danger. Their trek, their camp and the search for them under the mounting danger reminds me of the sort of serials I used to follow in Boy's Life magazine, although those regrettably were not co-ed.

The success of "Moonrise Kingdom" depends on its understated gravity. None of the actors ever play for laughs or put sardonic spins on their material. We don't feel they're kidding. Yes, we know these events are less than likely, and the film's entire world is fantastical. But what happens in a fantasy can be more involving than what happens in life, and thank goodness for that.

Don't mess with this Snow White
BY ROGER EBERT

"Snow White and the Huntsman" reinvents the legendary story in a film of astonishing beauty and imagination. It's the last thing you would expect from a picture with this title. It falters in its storytelling, because Snow White must be entirely good, the Queen must be entirely bad, and there's no room for nuance. The end is therefore predetermined. But, oh, what a ride.

This is an older Snow White than we usually think of. Played for most of the film by Kristen Stewart, capable and plucky, she has spent long years locked in a room of her late father's castle, imprisoned by his cruel second wife (Charlize Theron). When she escapes and sets about righting wrongs, she is a mature young woman, of interest to the two young men who join in her mission. But the movie sidesteps scenes of romance, and in a way, I suppose that's wise.

The Huntsman (Chris Hemsworth) is a heroic, mead-guzzling hunter assigned by the Queen to track down Snow White and bring her back to the castle. After encountering her, however, he is so impressed he changes sides. There is also Prince William (Sam Claflin), smitten since childhood, and the two men join in an unstated alliance.

The Queen lives in terror of losing the beauty of her youth and constantly tops up with the blood of virgins to restore it. She tests her success with the proverbial mirror on the wall, which melts into molten metal and assumes a spectral form, not unlike Death in "The Seventh Seal," although its metallic transformation process reminds us of "The Terminator."

The castle, which sits in eerie splendor on an island joined to the mainland only at low tide, is a gothic fantasy that reminds me of the Ghormenghast series. The Queen is joined there by her brother, somewhat diminished by his blond page-boy haircut, who does her bidding but seems rather out to lunch. Extras appear when needed, then disappear. The Queen commands extraordinary supernatural powers, including the ability to materialize countless black birds that can morph into fighting demons or shards of cutting metal.

All of this is rendered appropriately by the special effects, but the treasure of this film is in two of its locations: a harsh, forbidding Dark Forest, and an enchanted fairyland. Both of these realms exist near the castle, and the Huntsman is enlisted in the first place because he knows the Dark Forest, where Snow White has taken refuge.

In this forbidding realm, nothing lives, and it is thick with the blackened bones of dead trees, as if a forest fire had burned only the greenery. There is no cheer here and a monstrous troll confronts Snow White in a dramatic stare-down. After the Huntsman frees her from the Dark Forest, they are delighted to find, or be found by, the Eight Dwarves.

Yes, eight, although one doesn't survive, reducing their number to the proverbial seven. These characters look strangely familiar, and no wonder: The magic of CGI has provided the faces of familiar British actors such as Ian McShane, Bob Hoskins, Ray Winstone, Nick Frost, Eddie Marsan and Toby Jones. While this technique is effective, it nevertheless deprives eight working (real) dwarves with jobs, which isn't really fair.

The dwarves lead them to my favorite realm in the film, an enchanting fairyland, which is a triumph of art direction and CGI. Mushrooms open their eyes and regard the visitors. Cute forest animals scamper and gambol in tribute to a forest scene in Disney's 1937 animated film. The fairies themselves are naked, pale-skinned sprites with old, wise faces. The spirit of this forest is embodied by a great white stag with expressive eyes and horns that spread in awesome complexity. This is a wonderful scene. The director, Rupert Sanders, who began in TV commercials, is clearly familiar with establishing memorable places.

As for the rest, there is a sufficiency of medieval battle scenes, too many for my taste, and a fairly exciting siege of the castle, aided by the intervention of the dwarves, and featuring catapults that hurl globes of burning tar — always enjoyable.

There is a great film here somewhere, perhaps one that allowed greater complexity for the characters. But considering that I walked in expecting no complexity at all, let alone the visual wonderments, "Snow White and the Huntsman" is a considerable experience.

Don't mess with this Snow White

"Snow White and the Huntsman" reinvents the legendary story in a film of astonishing beauty and imagination. It's the last thing you would expect from a picture with this title. It falters in its storytelling, because Snow White must be entirely good, the Queen must be entirely bad, and there's no room for nuance. The end is therefore predetermined. But, oh, what a ride.

This is an older Snow White than we usually think of. Played for most of the film by Kristen Stewart, capable and plucky, she has spent long years locked in a room of her late father's castle, imprisoned by his cruel second wife (Charlize Theron). When she escapes and sets about righting wrongs, she is a mature young woman, of interest to the two young men who join in her mission. But the movie sidesteps scenes of romance, and in a way, I suppose that's wise.

The Huntsman (Chris Hemsworth) is a heroic, mead-guzzling hunter assigned by the Queen to track down Snow White and bring her back to the castle. After encountering her, however, he is so impressed he changes sides. There is also Prince William (Sam Claflin), smitten since childhood, and the two men join in an unstated alliance.

The Queen lives in terror of losing the beauty of her youth and constantly tops up with the blood of virgins to restore it. She tests her success with the proverbial mirror on the wall, which melts into molten metal and assumes a spectral form, not unlike Death in "The Seventh Seal," although its metallic transformation process reminds us of "The Terminator."

The castle, which sits in eerie splendor on an island joined to the mainland only by an low tide, is a gothic fantasy that reminds me of the Ghormenghast series. The Queen is joined there by her brother, somewhat diminished by his blond page-boy haircut, who does her bidding but seems rather out to lunch. Extras appear when needed, then disappear. The Queen commands extraordinary supernatural powers, including the ability to materialize countless black birds that can morph into fighting demons or shards of cutting metal.

All of this is rendered appropriately by the special effects, but the treasure of this film is in two of its locations: a harsh, forbidding Dark Forest, and an enchanted fairyland. Both of these realms exist near the castle, and the Huntsman is enlisted in the first place because he knows the Dark Forest, where Snow White has taken refuge.

In this forbidding realm, nothing lives, and it is thick with the blackened bones of dead trees, as if a forest fire had burned only the greenery. There is no cheer here and a monstrous troll confronts Snow White in a dramatic stare-down. After the Huntsman frees her from the Dark Forest, they are delighted to find, or be found by, the Eight Dwarves.

Yes, eight, although one doesn't survive, reducing their number to the proverbial seven. These characters look strangely familiar, and no wonder: The magic of CGI has provided the faces of familiar British actors such as Ian McShane, Bob Hoskins, Ray Winstone, Nick Frost, Eddie Marsan and Toby Jones. While this technique is effective, it nevertheless deprives eight working (real) dwarves with jobs, which isn't really fair.

The dwarves lead them to my favorite realm in the film, an enchanting fairyland, which is a triumph of art direction and CGI. Mushrooms open their eyes and regard the visitors. Cute forest animals scamper and gambol in tribute to a forest scene in Disney's 1937 animated film. The fairies themselves are naked, pale-skinned sprites with old, wise faces. The spirit of this forest is embodied by a great white stag with expressive eyes and horns that spread in awesome complexity. This is a wonderful scene. The director, Rupert Sanders, who began in TV commercials, is clearly familiar with establishing memorable places.

As for the rest, there is a sufficiency of medieval battle scenes, too many for my taste, and a fairly exciting siege of the castle, aided by the intervention of the dwarves, and featuring catapults that hurl globes of burning tar — always enjoyable.

There is a great film here somewhere, perhaps one that allowed greater complexity for the characters. But considering that I walked in expecting no complexity at all, let alone the visual wonderments, "Snow White and the Huntsman" is a considerable experience.

Sam and Suzy's excellent adventure

Wes Anderson's mind must be an exciting place for a story idea to be born. It immediately becomes more than a series of events and is transformed into a world with its own rules, in which everything is driven by emotions and desires as convincing as they are magical. "Moonrise Kingdom" creates such a world and takes place on an island that might as well be ruled by Prospero. It's set in 1965, though it might as well be set at any time.

On this island no one seems to live except for those involved in the story. There is a lighthouse in which the heroine, Suzy, lives with her family, and a Scout camp where the hero, Sam, stirs restlessly under what seem to him childish restrictions. Sam and Suzy met the previous summer and have been pen pals ever since, plotting a sort of jailbreak from their lives during which they could have an adventure out from under the thumbs of adults, if only for a week.

Sam (Jared Gilman) is an orphan, solemn behind oversized eyeglasses, an expert in scouting. Suzy (Kara Hayward) is bookish, a dreamer. When they have their long-planned secret rendezvous in a meadow on the island, Sam is burdened with all the camping and survival gear they will possibly need, and Suzy has provided for herself some books to read, her kitten and a portable 45 rpm record player with extra batteries.

Because this is a Wes Anderson film, you know Bill Murray will appear in it. He has worked in the last five of Anderson's six films. In "Moonrise Kingdom," he plays Walt Bishop, Suzy's father, and Frances McDormand is her mother. Murray is always right for a role in an Anderson film, and I wonder if it's because they share a bemused sadness. You can't easily imagine Murray playing a manic or a cut-up; his eyes, which have always been old eyes, look upon the world and waver between concern and disappointment. In Anderson's films, there is a sort of resignation to the underlying melancholy of the world; he is the only American director I can think of whose work reflects the Japanese concept mono no aware, which describes a wistfulness about the transience of things. Even Sam and Suzy, sharing the experience of a lifetime, seem aware that this will be their last summer for such an adventure. Next year they will be too old for such irresponsibility.

It is not a large island, but they think it must have a place where they can hide out. Sam has come prepared with maps for their trek, and they follow an old Indian trail to a secluded cove which they name Moonrise Kingdom. Here they make their camp, which a Scout leader is later to tell Sam is "the best-pitched camp I have ever seen." And here, as they sit side by side and look out over the water, in a sense they regard the passage of innocence and the disturbing possibility of maturity.

Meanwhile, the adult world has launched a worried search for them. Suzy's parents call in the police, led by Capt. Sharp (Bruce Willis). Scoutmaster Ward (Edward Norton) leads Sam's fellow Scouts, who were not terrifically fond of the way he seemed to take the troop with less than utter dedication. A character known only as Social Services (Tilda Swinton) gets involved, because as an orphan, Sam is of special interest.

Anderson always fills his films with colors, never garish but usually definite and active. In "Moonrise Kingdom," the palette tends toward the green of new grass, and the Scout's khaki brown. Also the right amount of red. It is a comfortable canvas to look at, so pretty that it helps establish the feeling of magical realism.

The approaching turmoil of adolescence is foretold, however, by an approaching hurricane that places the lives of the young explorers in danger. Their trek, their camp and the search for them under the mounting danger reminds me of the sort of serials I used to follow in Boy's Life magazine, although those regrettably were not co-ed.

The success of "Moonrise Kingdom" depends on its understated gravity. None of the actors ever play for laughs or put sardonic spins on their material. We don't feel they're kidding. Yes, we know these events are less than likely, and the film's entire world is fantastical. But what happens in a fantasy can be more involving than what happens in life, and thank goodness for that.