In 1960, legendary film maker Ingmar Bergman shocked audiences with "The Virgin Spring". In 1972, Wes Craven would amp up the carnage with his nihilistic updating, "The Last House on the Left". Countless ripoffs (i.e. "I Spit on Your Grave", last year's "Chaos") would eventually follow. This updated version of "The Last House on the Left" is more in tune with Craven's take. Gone is the strong moral message that was at the very heart of the Bergman film. What all adaptations of this source material do have in common, is their pro capitol punishment sentiment. Not that the majority of audiences will take this particular message away with them after watching this film.

In this version of The Last House on the Left, the parents (Tony Goldwyn and Monica Potter) of a teenage girl (Sara Paxton) take matters into their own hands after their daughter is brutally attacked by a murderous escaped convict (Garret Dillahunt) and his equally deranged band of cohorts (Joshua Cox and Riki Lindhome).

Where this version of The Last House on the Left really differs from Craven's take is in the production values. Director Dennis Lliadis has certain luxuries Craven and crew didn't have. Namely, a budget. As was the case with Alexandre Aja's The Hills Have Eyes reboot, The Last House on the Left benefits from a bigger budget and a more seasoned cast.

How is the movie? Well, it is competently made from a technical standpoint, but your enjoyment of it will depend on your personal definition of entertainment. The Last House on the Left is no picnic. It's a movie about bad things happening to good people. There are portions of the film that are horrific and incredibly uncomfortable to sit through. As was the case with past versions, there is a rape scene here and it's unpleasant to say the least.

Once the horrific act at the center of the film is committed and the vengeful plot is set into motion, The Last House on the Left degenerates into a pretty boring movie to be completely honest. As hard as the earlier portions of the film are to stomach, they still evoke an emotional reaction. As the parents exact a little revenge on their daughter's evil tormentors, I didn't feel much of anything. While some audiences will feel compelled to stand up and cheer as the wrong doers in this picture meet their maker, I just wanted the movie to end. Not because I didn't feel that these individuals didn't have it coming (God knows Dennis Lliadis and screenwriters Adam Alleca and Carl Ellsworth go out of their way to make these thugs as despicable as possible), but because the whole movie turns into a by the numbers snooze fest. There's nothing remotely realistic about the parents' vengeful actions in this film. The Last House on the Left attempts to show this couple as animalistic in their methods, but as individuals acting in the name of vengeance and self preservation, I didn't buy into any of it. Everything just felt completely mechanical.

I don't mind over the top violence in movies, but the fashion in which this couple dispatch these nasty individuals undercuts any sort of realism the film might have to offer. The final grandiose execution in The Last House on the Left is perversely creative, but it belongs in a completely different movie.

The Last House on the Left is surprisingly well acted for a genre picture. Sara Paxton is convincing as a teenager who must endure the unthinkable while Garret Dillahunt is positively terrifying as a monster who'd loving nothing more than to pass down his violent legacy to a frightened son who wants nothing to do with him. As the vengeful parents, Tony Goldwyn and Monica Potter are hit and miss. I could feel t their heartbreak at the site of their own flesh and blood lying there, bleeding on a table, but I had a hard time buying into everything that followed.

This Last House on the Left is more skillfully made than Craven's version, but aside from the film's brutal center piece, I wasn't particularly affected by it.

Grade: C

Summit Entertainment has become the key film distributor for the youthful set. Late last year, they made a killing with "Twilight", and now they're back with "Push", an action thriller starring Chris Evans and Dakota Fanning.

In "Push", Evans and Fanning play individuals with special abilities who soon find themselves involved in a conspiracy while in Hong Kong. A clairvoyant Fanning is convinced that this particular conspiracy will ultimately take their lives. Soon, their on the run and find themselves battling Asian siblings with similar powers and a government official (Djimon Hounsou) with a hidden agenda.

Push was written and directed by Paul McGuigan, the film maker behind the stylized crime thriller Lucky Number Slevin. His latest actioneer plays like a low rent version of David Cronenberg's brilliant film " Scanners", only without the edge. It certainly has visual flair, but that's about it.

While "Push" isn't necessarily slow, it is surprisingly dull and stretched out well beyond reason. Strange considering it has enough characters, twists, and turns to fill five movies. Maybe that's part of the problem. The film is simply overstuffed, and it really got to a point where I didn't care what was going on.

Chris Evans brings the same sort of lose, swagger filled persona he brought to the "Fantastic Four" films. Dakota Fanning has this whole goth thing going here. Perhaps she's out to prove that those rumors about her being cast in "New Moon" are true. Camilla Belle overplays her role as a young woman at the heart of the conspiracy. Hounsou hams it up as the bad guy and while he is a physically intimidating presence, I never entirely bought him as the villain.

There are a few cool sequences to speak of in "Push". The skyscraper climax is pretty well executed, but in the end, this obvious attempt at a hip new franchise fizzles out well before it's sequel ready conclusion.

How do you know if he's just not that into you? Well, there's no easy answer to that question but I can tell you that if you drag his ass to this ridiculous movie and cop to liking it, there's a damn good chance he won't be that into you.

Essentially, "He's Just Not That Into You" is an intertwined series of love stories. It's a movie about falling in love, falling out of love, and looking for love as told through the eyes of an eclectic and eccentric group of twenty and thirty somethings.

Most of "He's Just Not That Into You" feels as if it were written by a woman who was scorned by one too many guys. At the surface, the film plays like a half ass therapy session and a petty way of lashing out at all the evil men in the world. That would be fine I suppose, but even the women in this picture aren't particularly well drawn.

"Love, Actually" is a far superior tale of intertwined love stories while "The Break Up" was much more honest in its depiction of...well...break ups. While "He's Just Not That Into You" boasts an impressive ensemble cast, many of these characters come across as more annoying than engaging. The bubbly Ginnifer Goodwin (of Big Love fame) is cute as the unlucky in love Gigi, but her complete and utter stupidity kept me from really feeling bad for her. Bradley Cooper appears as Ben, and for a brief time, it appears as if Ben might be a surprisingly complex character, but then the screenplay chickens out and opts to turn him into a one dimensional dumb ass. The usually dependable Jennifer Connelly appears as Ben's neurotic, stressed out wife Janine, and she simply feels out of place. Seriously! I'm convinced that Janine accidentally wandered into this picture from an entirely different movie. Scarlett Johansson is drop dead gorgeous, but her free spirit Anna is nothing but a home wrecker. Justin Long actually plays against type here appearing as Alex, a cocky know- it-all, convinced he has all the right answers. The problem is, Alex is so seemingly egomaniacal that I never once wished him any sort of happiness. Drew Barrymore is halfway decent as sweet Mary, a gal who spends most of her time trying to hook up with guys via the internet. Of the entire cast, it is Ben Affleck and Jennifer Aniston who shine brightest, but perhaps that's because their sub plot is the only one that has any sort of warmth, depth, or truth to it. Ironically, Affleck and Aniston only share about fifteen minutes of collective screen time in a film that runs an overly long two hours and five minutes.

Generally, I don't like my romantic comedies this offensive and mean spirited. Sure, there's the occasional funny moment and every now again, the movie has a clever line to throw at the audience, but in the end, it seems like the harder "He's Just Not That Into You" struggles to find truth and sincerity, the more it fails.

Then in a last ditch effort to persuade the audience just how cute and clever it is, "He's Just Not That Into You" pays homage to the John Hughes scripted "Some Kind of Wonderful" by suggesting that perhaps Gigi will meet the same romantic fate as Eric Stoltz's Keith Nelson. But then, the film has the sheer audacity to suggest that this can't happen because this is real life. Real life? Are you kidding me? What a crock! "Some Kind of Wonderful" has more heart, charm, and sincerity in it's opening credits than this film does in its entire running time.

I suppose I'm making "He's Just Not That Into You" sound like a worthless pile. The truth is, I have seen far worse romantic comedies (i.e. "Fool's Gold"), and I'm willing to bet this one is better than "Bride Wars". Still, with this cast, I expected something far better. I didn't mind so much that "He's Just Not That Into You" attempted to go into edgy directions, but it should have done so with a little more honesty, and a lot more finesse. In the end, the majority of "He's Just Not That Into You" plays like a cartoon. An unnecessarily long cartoon.

I won't bore you with all the gory details because it's the same old drill. A bunch of attractive twenty somethings make their way to a cabin in the woods. Ultimately, they get trashed, have sex, and eventually, get picked off by a psycho with a machete (played by a physically imposing Derek Mears).

This redo comes courtesy of producer Michael Bay and the folks at Platinum Dunes. This very same team also hatched The Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake a few years ago. That film's director, Marcus Nispel, also directed this picture and while he appears to have a clear understanding of what this series is all about (it wouldn't take a rocket scientist), Friday the 13th still comes up a little short.

Firstly, this Friday the 13th is just too damn slick. Part of the charm of the older pictures came from their low budget nature. Nispel goes for a sharper, more stylized look and at times, it sort of takes the fun out of the proceedings.

Secondly, this Jason just doesn't feel like the Jason I grew up on. He's still that merciless boogeyman, but in this take, he moves too fast. The old Jason's slower approach actually made him a little more terrifying, sort of in the same way that slow zombies are creepier than fast moving zombies. Furthermore, this Jason has one character attribute (I can't believe I used Jason and character attribute in the same sentence) that is a complete betrayal of who and what this killing machine really is. In a completely uncharacteristic move, this Jason actually takes a hostage. There's a reason for this seemingly ridiculous action, but to protect what little plot this film has to offer, I'll avoid going into detail. In the end, it is a lame conceit, even by Friday the 13th standards. By comparison, even Jason traveling to outer space seemed more sensible.

If you're a fan of nudity, Friday the 13th will not disappoint you. There's plenty of gratuitous skin in this picture. If you're a fan of gore, you'll also get your money's worth. Sadly, though, I wanted a little bit more creativity in the carnage department. There are a few memorable kills. One involves a sleeping bag and another features a helpless victim hiding under a boating dock. The effects team even pay homage to the legendary Tom Savini by incorporating a couple of nifty old school effects shots. Ultimately though, this movie doesn't go quite far enough. In fact, Nispel commits the cardinal sin of introducing a wood chipper to the proceedings and not offering up a sufficient payoff. Seriously, if the wood chipper in Fargo hadn't been put to good use, I would have walked out of that movie irritated. If you're going to have an instrument capable of such massive bodily harm just sitting there, why not use the damn thing in grand fashion? Its what fans come to expect in a movie like this. Why disappoint them?

I suppose this Friday the 13th isn't a total misfire. There are a few noteworthy moments, none bigger than star Travis Van Winkle's priceless bitch scream in the final act of the movie. But there are just too many missed opportunities here. Aside from the aforementioned wood chipper, Jason's discovery of the famed hockey mask is completely uninspired and the sequel ready ending is a complete let down. If you're a fan of the slasher genre, you'll probably have a good time at Friday the 13th, but if you ask me, My Bloody Valentine 3-D was much more entertaining.

In The International Clive Owen plays Lois Salinger, an agent committed to taking down a financial institution he believes to be involved in murder and an international arms dealing ring. Those closest to Salinger, including fellow agent Eleanor Whitman (played by Naomi Watts), aren't entirely sure if the stressed out individual's claims are true or if the agent is greatly suffering from some paranoid delusion. Of course, we all know the answer to that question. If the bank wasn't crooked, we wouldn't have much of a movie.

Clive Owen is terrific here taking what could have been a standard, action guy role, and breathing complexity into him. Owen's Salinger is worn down to be sure, but he's also hard nosed, hard boiled, and instinctively driven by a fierce hunger for the truth. Salinger is an idealist in every sense of the word, and Owen does a great job bringing this obsessed character to life. I wish the same could be said for Naomi Watts. The lovely Watts is unable to bring any sense of purpose to her thankless role as agent Whitman. For most of the film, she looks as if she has no idea what the hell she's doing there. In her defense, this is a wholly unnecessary character. She's there to deliver lines that sort of clue the audience in on what's going on, lines that Salinger could have given himself. She serves no real purpose until the later portions of the movie, but even then, her involvement has more to do with a choice Salinger makes. A shame, because Watts can be quite engaging when given the right material.

Tom Tykwer, who directed 1998's relentless Run Lola Run, does a great job with The International's brilliantly executed action sequences. In particular, there's a spectacular shoot out at New York's Guggenheim Museum. It's a taut, breathtaking piece that rivals any of the action sequences in Quantum of Solace. In fact, Tykwer's directing style is perfectly suited for this material. I love the way he and cinematographer Frank Griebe frame their shots. Everything is big and open, allowing the film's vast locations to play like characters in the piece. Furthermore, while this is more of a thinking man's action movie, there's plenty of physical tension here and I actually liked the film's multiple endings. There were at least two or three moments when I thought the film would end, but then it continued on, making its way towards an abrupt but perfectly fitting conclusion.

The International is a flawed film and most of those flaws lie in the screenplay. In addition to an unnecessary Eleanor Whitman, I tired of the fashion in which these characters deliver never ending exposition through boring, talkie dialogue. It would have been nice had this stuff been dialed down or showcased in a different way. I'm all for a thinking person's action movie, but seriously, some of the dialogue here was downright terrible.

Ultimately, I was won over by The International. Clive Owen is terrific, and I absolutely love the look of the picture. Add to this a spectacular action sequence and you have a thriller well worth checking out.

Taken stars Liam Neeson as Bryan Mills, a divorced father who must endure the unthinkable after his seventeen year old daughter is kidnapped while vacationing with a girlfriend in Paris. Unbeknownst to the kidnappers, it just so happens that Mills has a particular set of skills. A set of skills that just might make life a living hell for them. As fate would have it, Mills used to be a glorified bodyguard, and as he frantically maneuvers through a seedy European underworld, he'll need to use every trick he knows in order to save his daughter.

The first half of Taken is pretty damn fun. It jumps into the action almost immediately and unfolds at a brisk pace. Within the first five minutes of the film, we know whose in danger and why and it's clear that Mills has everything figured out. At times, Taken plays like an amped up "Father Knows Best." Mills' overly cautious mentality rubs his ex-wife and daughter the wrong way, but ultimately, his instincts turn out to be well warranted. Mom (played by Famke Janssen) however, appears to make one bad decision after another. Taken are either helpless, dumb, or endlessly naive. Feminists will have a field day ripping on this picture.

Taken does offer up the fun factor, but it certainly loses it's luster in the second half. It's not that it necessarily loses it's sense of pacing. It's just that the film becomes increasingly dull as it chugs towards the finish line. The descent into the dark underground of the city should make for a compelling ride, but in the end, it doesn't really go far enough. Perhaps that's because films like Hostel and Irreversible have taken similar journeys but with a bigger visceral punch.

The action sequences in Taken become more and more muddled as the film moves along, resulting in a climax that feels like a missing reel from the inane Transporter 3. Mills' big hand on hand combat altercation in Taken's final act has no rhythm to it at all. It's just a chaotic collection of shaky camera close ups and annoying quick cuts. It's a shame too because the action sequences in the early portions of the film are pretty well executed.

Taken aspires to be nothing more than a thrill ride. A cut to the chase movie. And truth be told, there's some good stuff in there. Take for instance Mills' old school bodyguard buddies (one of whom is played by John Gries of Napoleon Dynamite fame). Their onscreen camaraderie is actually quite appealing. Unfortunately, these characters only make an appearance early on in the film. They're nowhere to be found in the second half. Screenwriters Luc Besson (The Fifth Element) and Robert Mark Kamen (The Karate Kid) write them out completely. Taken would have been more fun had these guys showed up in the final act and helped Mills save the day.

Some folks are comparing this film to the Jason Bourne series and recent entries in the James Bond franchise. If you ask me, Taken doesn't aim nearly as high. This flick has more in common with those silly but entertaining Steven Seagal vehicles of the late 80's and early 90's (see Out For Justice and Marked For Death). Of course, Liam Neeson is considerably more talented than Seagal, and it's fun to see this guy–now in his mid 50's-- kick ass and take names. That alone makes Taken worth checking out.

On a final note, a warning about the PG-13 rating. Taken features a considerable amount of mayhem and other adult situations. As a kidnapping thriller, it's far more violent than Ron Howard's Ransom (which was R rated). Be sure to leave the little ones at home.

Grade: C+

The Unborn is the worst kind of a horror movie. The kind that starts off fairly promising then quickly degenerates into a steaming pile of dog crap.

In The Unborn, the lovely Odette Yustman plays Casey Beldon, a woman haunted by horrific visions. Many of these visions revolve around a creepy young boy. (At last a BOY not a girl - this much originality you have to grant it). Could there be a connection between a terrified Casey and this strange child? Take a wild guess.

The Unborn was directed by David S. Goyer. The same David S. Goyer who co-developed screenplays for Batman Begins and The Dark Knight with Christopher and Jonathan Nolan. If Goyer's awful directorial efforts (Blade: Trinity, The Invisible) prove anything it's that he's much better suited writing screenplays with really talented co-writers. I know that sounds harsh, and the truth is, I take no pleasure in making such a comment. I actually met Mr. Goyer at Comic-Con a couple of years back, and it was an absolute delight. Not only is he a gracious individual, but it's perfectly clear that he has a true passion for film (and comic books). Unfortunately, The Unborn further suggests that directing is probably not his calling.

The Unborn certainly features a few moments worth mentioning. There's a dog with an upside down face, a freaky sequence in which an immobile senior citizen arches his back and does a strange spider walk through the corridors of a sinister looking hospital, and a creepy scene in which Casey has an out of body experience, literally. But unfortunately, these moments don't add up to anything, because the glue holding the rest of the picture together doesn't stick. The Unborn shows no patience whatsoever and as it makes it's way to a ridiculous climax, I found myself giggling more than anything else. I generally don't like my supernatural thrillers this funny.

With obvious winks at the Asian horror craze and a demonic tinge that screams The Exorcist, The Unborn goes for unbridled terror and misses the mark badly. Even classy veteran stars like Gary Oldman and Jane Alexander are unable to stop this baby from going belly up.

Grade: C

In Bedtime Stories, Sandler plays Skeeter Bronson, a hotel handy man who entertains his niece and nephew by telling them fantastical stories that feature elements inspired by his own underappreciated existence. As the children become more and more enamored by his tales of fancy, they begin adding their own little twists to the stories. To Skeeter's great amazement, many of these odd twists – including a massive gum-ball storm - become a reality. Is there a higher power at work, or are these strange happenings merely bizarre coincidences?

Bedtime Stories is harmless enough. In fact, it is by far the least crude of Sandler's infantile catalog, and this is coming from a fan. Infantile and Sandler go together like chocolate and peanut butter. If you're like me and worship his earlier roles in dopey but laugh-out-loud slacker efforts like Billy Madison and Happy Gilmore, than you know exactly what I'm talking about. Then there's the other Sandler. The one who appeared in Punch Drunk Love, Spanglish, and Reign Over Me. The one with a true thespian waiting to be exposed. Bedtime Stories leans more towards the former, although Sandler does dial it down a notch in a noble effort to appease the kiddies in the audience.

Bedtime Stories actually benefits from some surprisingly noteworthy supporting players including health nut Courtney Cox, sweet Keri Russell (Felicity), goofy Russell Brand (Forgetting Sarah Marshall), and a smarmy Guy Pearce (L.A. Confidential).

Bedtime Stories was directed by Adam Shankman and while this is a far cry from his single best film (the infectiously entertaining Hairspray), it is far more tolerable than The Pacifier and Bringing Down the House. I wish Shankman would have been more creative in his showcasing of the Bedtime Stories themselves. Sadly, they are rather short-lived. As for Sandler, he has a few cute moments, but more often than not, he's upstaged by his more engaging co-stars. This isn't a bad movie, but it is a fairly forgettable one.

In this offbeat lyrical tale, Brad Pitt plays Benjamin Button, an individual born with a most unique condition. It seems that Button is aging in reverse which presents a strange set of challenges for him, particularly when it comes to romance. He meets his soul mate in the form of dancer Daisy (played by Cate Blanchett), but the catch is, he's never really in physical sync with the love of his life until they're both in their 40's. Beyond that, Button‘s life is rather ordinary, but in a way, that‘s the whole point.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is based on a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Forrest Gump scribe Eric Roth has turned it in to a long story (the movie pushes three hours), but I was always intrigued by it. Thematically, this film does have a bit in common with Forrest Gump, but whereas that picture pulled at the heartstrings and had simpleton Forrest meeting famed historical icons, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is more interested in depicting it's main character as a man with a seemingly normal life, only under abnormal conditions.

Roth's screenplay doesn't always engage on a human level. It is a bit cold and dreary, but somehow, I remained transfixed by the movie. There's just something magical about it, and I attribute that to David Fincher, a brilliant director and a master of tone. As was the case in Darren Aronofsky's The Wrester, Fincher avoids the overly sentimental traps you might be expecting. It's low key, restrained, and almost morose in nature, but it isn't without it's charms and poignant moments. The final act of the film in particular, really moved me.

The special effects in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button are positively astonishing. The various technical processes used to age Brad Pitt are mind boggling and I can say without hesitation that I've never seen anything quite like it. It's been reported that Pitt was involved in every facet of this performance. Through make-up, motion capture, and other visual wizardry, you will believe that his Benjamin Button is aging in reverse.

As terrific as Pitt is in the picture, it is Cate Blanchett and Taraji P. Henson I was thinking about after the film ended. As free spirit Daisy, Blanchett is simply luminous. She has so many memorable moments here that it would be near impossible to point them all out, but it's her act of love and kindness towards an elderly Button that broke my heart. Another great performance from one of our very best actresses. Henson is feisty and sweet as Queenie, the gentle soul who takes care of Button from birth. As Button's mother figure, Henson brings a lot of warmth to the film. Filling out a stellar supporting cast are Julia Ormond, Jason Flemying, Elias Koteas, and Jared Harris.

The title of this film says it all. This is a curious (and haunting) movie about life, death, and love as told through the eyes of a man with a most unusual condition. It's a flawed film to be sure, but there's no denying that it's a technical marvel filled with passion, poignancy, and outstanding performances.

In The Wrestler, a stellar Mickey Rourke plays Randy "The Ram" Robinson, a shining star from the 80's wrestling scene who shows no signs of slowing down in the new millenium. After a health scare however, The Ram has to decide whether or not retiring is the right thing to do.

The Wrestler certainly has shades of Rocky, but this film has a little more edge to it. And even though there are moments when this movie appears as if it might go soft, Aronofsky and screenwriter Robert D. Siegel pull back. They never allow The Wrestler to wallow in a sea of schmaltzy sentimentality. The Ram is a likable personality to be sure, but he's also a flawed man as is evident when we're witness to the strained relationship between he and his estranged daughter (played by Evan Rachel Wood).

As a film about relationships, The Wrestler is bittersweet. Be it the previously mentioned father/daughter dynamic or the tender bond that develops between The Ram and carefree stripper Cassidy (wonderfully played by Marisa Tomei), these relationships go in unexpected directions.

As a film about wrestling, The Wrestler is grueling in it's depiction of a sport that, while mostly an elaborate act, is still a physically exhausting venture for all those involved. These guys are performers, but they get hurt. They're like glorified stuntmen. What's really special about the wrestling insight is we see the true camaraderie amongst these men. They have the utmost respect and admiration for one another even though their "in the ring" personas would have you believe otherwise.

Finally, we can't do a write up about The Wrestler without talking about the incomparable Mickey Rourke. His Randy "The Ram" Robinson feels like the character he's been working towards playing his whole career. His worn down, beat up face says it all. This is a vulnerable, fierce, physical, and surprisingly funny turn. In fact, it is the much welcome humor that keeps The Wrestler from sinking in a pool of depression. The Ram is a sad, lonely man, but when he‘s doing what he loves, he comes alive. Watching him bring that same sort of liveliness to a 9-5 gig at a grocery store is an absolute hoot. In fact, it's one of the most charming moments in the picture because it is in this moment that The Ram realizes that life in the real world isn't all bad. Life is what you make it. As for the wrestling scenes, Rourke has worked hard to bring a bone crunching authenticity to the proceedings and he pulls it off with flying colors. This really is an astonishing performance. It's every bit as worthy as the buzz suggests.

The Wrestler is a rousing film about a man who actually feels safer in the ring than he does in the real world, and the movie gets this simplistic point across in a surprisingly restrained fashion. With Rourke's tour de force performance and Darren Aronofsky's deft touch behind the camera, The Wrestler emerges as one of the best pictures of the year. I can't wait to see it again.