All that being said, are any of these films remotely memorable? In 20 years will we look back and say, “It was a glorious time for cinema — Rampage Jackson resurrected the A-Team, Jackie Chan brought back karate kid, and that pale whiny bitch picked Cedric Diggory over that Native American kid who looked awesome with his shirt off”? For those of you who don’t understand the concept of a rhetorical question, the answer is “No.”

Then along comes Inception. The early reviews surrounding superstar director Christopher Nolan’s latest film were overwhelmingly positive, which of course was followed by the inevitable backlash to the frontlash (which will soon be followed by the backlash to the backlash of the frontlash). The buzz around the film has been incredible (every other tweet or Facebook status seems to be Inception related). I went into the film with incredibly high expectations — in fact, my expectations were so high I couldn’t imagine the film being as good as everyone was saying. To be honest, it wasn’t. It was better. Exponentially better.

Visually, the film is stunning. Nolan again has demonstrated a mastery of cinematography, creating a look that is distinctive yet familiar to fans of his earlier works. The film boasts one of the most impressive action sequences I have ever seen. It is unique and breathtaking; I literally heard myself and the audience exhale as it finished and an immediate murmur ripple through the crowd. It may prove to be an iconic and groundbreaking piece of action choreography, just as The Matrix was over a decade ago.

I don’t want to ruin the films twisting plot, but it suffices me to say that from an hour into the film until the credits rolled, I had no idea what was about to happen next. It kept me absolutely on the ropes, trying to guess which twisting path it would lead me down next.

Inception is also startlingly original. While the twisting  plot is not as incomprehensible as some would lead you to believe, it is based around an incredibly complex concept. It is here that director/writer Nolan really shines as a storyteller — seamlessly intertwining the explanation of important concepts into the plot, so that at no point was I distracted by its logic or taken out of the reality in which I had been immersed.

Perhaps even more impressive is the way Nolan is able to weave the emotional core of the film into its convoluted plot. Inception is a film about dreams, reality, and our perception of both. At its core, however, Inception is a story about loss, guilt and grief, how we handle them, and how we move on. It is (as every epic since The Odyssey has been) a tale of someone lost, trying to find his way home. Don’t let the brilliant visuals, the mind-bending plot or pulse-pounding action sequences fool you. Inception is not your typical summer blockbuster — it is a film with a heart.

I can only hope that Nolan’s efforts with The Dark Knight and now Inception have a positive impact on American cinema over the years to come. For too long we have had to deal with summers filled with sexually frustrated vampires, computer-generated talking animals and giant peeing robots. Nolan has challenged us — and all of Hollywood — to strive for something better, for something that is a level beyond that. Something that is both entertaining and challenging. Something like Inception.

Inception’s brilliance exists because it forces us to think, ponder and process difficult questions and concepts, while at the same time being ferociously entertained and delighted with its twists, turns, and brilliant action. It is, in short, everything that film can and should aspire to be. It is the savior of this blockbuster season — and hopefully many more to come.

In 20 years, when film historians look back on this decade and ponder upon what films were truly influential, changing cinema for the better, don’t bet against Inception’s inclusion in the argument. However, when those same people ponder upon who was influential and who changed cinema for the better, there won’t even be an argument. Their response will be Christopher Nolan.

I’ve never heard the question asked with such sincerity so often. People know I love movies more than almost anything. Also, I’ve been talking about this one for almost a full year. My anticipation for this film has been higher than it has since Peter Jackson’s adaptation of The Return of the King.

The reason is Christopher Nolan. His record is perfect and inhumanly impressive: Memento, Insomnia, The Prestige, Batman Begins, The Dark Knight. That lineup of films is an impressive life’s work, and he’s 40. It’s absurd. It’s also the only reason Inception had a chance.

This is the kind of movie that almost never gets made. Nolan worked on the script for 10 years and honed it into something that no studio would ever dream of adequately funding. It’s cerebral, complex and dauntingly unique. It’s not part of a franchise, or a remake, or anything else comfortingly familiar or easy to sell. And to produce it properly required hundreds of millions of dollars.

The only thing the distributors could sell was Christopher Nolan’s name, a name which The Dark Knight helpfully carved into cinema history. We have that film’s fantastic success to thank for the miracle of his next project. Like it or not, Inception is a rare gift to the world.

Before I answer the opening question, I must explain that it had to be great. My expectations were so without restraint in their ascent that it seemed a natural law for this film to be, not only good, but great. Of course, there was a possibility that it would fall flat, but that seemed about equivalent to the possibility of a stone falling up.

That I loved the film was almost a foregone conclusion; a prophecy fulfilled; a certainty that lacked only the triviality of observational proof. I didn’t care about whether or not I would enjoy it, because I was much more interested to find out how, specifically, it would end up being one of my favorite films ever.

If that doesn’t make much sense, it’s because it’s hard for me to talk intelligibly about this masterpiece. It was ten films rolled into one, which could have been terrible but was instead awe-inspiring. Watching it was like climbing a metaphorical mountain. It was sublimely difficult, a meaningful psychological exertion.

Nolan put together a film about dreams that is more resonant to me than any other cinematic illustration of dreaming. Movies, in a sense, are dreams — our stories, which are our interpretations of the world and our experiences in it. When we engage a film, or when it engages us, we are sharing dreams. Inception is remarkable because it is (perhaps unintentionally) fundamentally and universally meaningful. It explores the subconscious, as so many films do, but then pushes the ethereal subject of dreaming into the immediacy of pertinence. Dreams matter, as so many of us believe but find nearly impossible to express.

I won’t give one thing about this film away. I won’t tell you what it’s about, because it wouldn’t make any difference even if I tried, and I won’t tell you how it begins or ends. But I will tell you that the last shot suggests so much about the nature of reality that people will be talking about it far into the foreseeable future.

Don’t be afraid to go watch this movie. I’ve talked about it’s complexity and the mental exertion it demands of its audience, but it’s still crazy entertaining. I think almost everyone will enjoy this film. The cinematography is, quite literally, breathtaking; the action is intense and spectacular; and the cast is brilliant. Leonardo DiCaprio has stepped up and finally proven that he is one of film’s greatest living actors. Ellen Page has finally made it into a role as a real adult, and she’s lovely.

This is a pinnacle of filmmaking. It isn’t the pinnacle, as there are so many different kinds of movie, but it is filmmaking operating at its highest capacity. Inception is not the best film of all time, because such a film does not exist. It is also not perfect, because no film is. But it’s close enough.

Now, what do you think?

This week, the magazine’s editor Steve Pierce and resident armchair economist Daniel Anderson contemplate the reigning hot topics of the day — including the most recent (and totally unexpected!) Bachelorette trainwreck, Eclipse’s total dominance at the box office, local favorite Isaac Russell’s new major-label EP, and the greatest (and worst) American presidents. Enjoy!

You can stream the podcast by simply clicking on the link below, or you can download it to your computer by right-clicking the link and selecting “Save Link As” from the menu.

Listen to: Rhombus Podcast 019 — Rhombus Roundtable (2010.07.12)

Now, six months later and with the film’s distributor ramping up a massive ad blitz, we thought it would be as good a time as any to post their initial reactions to that original cut. For those of you planning to see the film, Kristin Clift’s spoiler-free version is directly below. For those of you who couldn’t care less, scroll down for Jon Schwarzmann’s spoiler-heavy review.

Unspoiled Splice Review
By Kristin Clift

I’m no film student. But it’s not every day you get to discuss a movie with the creator himself. I guess that’s what makes the Sundance Film Festival so rad.

Needless to say, there’s always a risk when you screen a movie at Sundance. Splice was messed up Evil Dead I-style, but astronomically not as cool. (If you’ve seen Evil Dead I, you know what I’m talking about.) I recommend seeing the Evil Dead movies — Bruce Campbell is awesome, but in no way do I recommend seeing Splice.

Splice is about two hipsters/lovers/genetic engineers who combine a bunch of animal DNA to find a special protein that will help cure several typical human maladies. However, under the radar of their superiors, they illegally and unethically throw human DNA into the mix.

It could have potentially been a great film. They managed to get Adrian Brody, so it had to be at least semi-tolerable, right? Wrong. Director and screenwriter Vincenzo Natali crossed the proverbial line — and then turned around and ravaged it. I can’t be too revealing because, if you are curious (or sick) enough to go see this film, I don’t want to ruin anything.

Natali states that “Splice is very much about our genetic future and the way science is catching up with much of the fiction out there.” The film touches on the issues of the unstoppable forward motion of science and the implications on society and humanity. It was sci-fi, horror, and soap opera, all rolled into one. As with most sci-fi movies, there was a huge scientific blunder — but after all, it is fiction and you have to suspend the fact that everyone knows that Mules and Ligers can’t reproduce. (I’ll say no more.)

Some scenes were so laughable they were just absurdly uncomfortable. The entire audience busted into guilty laughter because we all knew we weren’t supposed to be laughing — but the awkward melodrama was just too much.

Splice was supposed to be a horror film, but it wasn’t scary — it was just icky. It wasn’t gruesome in a fun-happy slaughtering zombies and/or Nazis kind of way. No, it was just sick and wrong. If Freud were alive today, he would have a heyday on Natali’s psyche. Serious mommy issues.

The last (and extremely cliché) line of the movie was, “What’s the worst that could happen?” Someone in the audience called out, “A sequel!” Everyone hates those obnoxious people in the audience, but I couldn’t agree with him more. I never would’ve thought Splice would get picked up by a distributor. I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard it did. Gross. Don’t go see it, okay?

Natali showed up after the screening to do a question-and-answer session. He clarified that in horror films the people are the real monsters. He played that notion up all the way. Keep that theme in mind if you go see the movie, and pay attention to what Natali says about human nature. The “people are the real monsters” motif was the one redeemable aspect of the film.

Ultimately, I think Natali has some extremely deep unsettling issues of his own. If the goal of Splice was only to mentally disturb people then it was successful at accomplishing that task. You’ll never be able to look at Adrian Brody the same way ever again. If reading this has made you only curious to see it, I repeat, just don’t. Here are some words of warning that might change your mind: Oedipal bestiality.

I’m going to try to scrub those images from my eyelids now.

————–Stop reading here if you don’t want Splice spoiled!!————-

Spoiled Splice Review
By Jon Schwarzmann

I saw this movie after a 20-hour day at the Sundance Film Festival, and Splice was actually a really great way to end it.  If you’ve heard what people are saying about it, well, I’m going to say things a little differently.

First off, don’t ever go see this movie. After reading this post, hopefully you’ll have no reason to — I will discuss key plot points that will ruin it for you anyway. Initially I thought this was supposed to be a dramatic sci-fi, which it was for the first little while. They used some pretty common clichés that I rolled my eyes at or sighed heavily for.

To catch you up to speed on the story: two married scientists, who happen to be absolutely brilliant, are working for a pharmacuetical company. First, they splice a bunch of animal DNA together to make a pair of organisms capable of producing all sorts of proteins that would be beneficial to livestock and such. But this isn’t enough for Elsa — she wants to use human DNA in their splicing program. So she does! Her doormat of a husband, Clive (Adrien Brody, what happened, this was bad!), goes along for the ride. This results in a new life form that Elsa basically adopts as a child. It develops fast and reaches “puberty” pretty quick.

At this point, Splice truly shines. Through some pretty weird and unbelievable turn of events, Clive has sex with it. Okay! I can deal with two blue CG aliens doing it, but a weird human/made-up-creature-monster sex scene is way too out there. But this is actually where the movie moves from the dramatic into the comedic. Yes, most of the 400 audience members, along with my cousin and I, were laughing pretty hard — not just at this point, but for the rest of the film.

Of course, Elsa walks in on Clive and Dren (the “monster’s” name) as they are in the act, she storms off, he chases after her and they get into an argument. This wasn’t any old argument, this was the argument. There was no real flow to it, because whoever wrote the script just started writing every known couple-arguing cliché in and called it good. Adrien Brody acted well, but Sarah Polley (Elsa) is a terrible actress! I know it wasn’t just the actors faults though. The script was bad and the direction could have been good, if only in any other setting.

If that wasn’t too much for you, wait till Dren switches gender (one of their earlier creations did this too) after “dying” and being buried to then come back and start killing. Still not enough? This part is legen-waitforit-DARY! Dren is now a male, right? Well, after killing Clive’s brother, their boss, and knocking Clive out, this creature attacks Elsa and pins her down. Through sobs and tears Elsa asks what it wants and — in the first real words this creature speaks — it says, “Inside you.”

Another roar of laughter from the crowd. Rape is nothing funny, but in the context of an impossible genetic bastard child and a crummy performance built on the rest of this movie, it was completely ridiculous.

But guess what, kids? We’re still not done! As was quite easily predicted, the last scene of the movie reveals Elsa is pregnant with Dren’s baby.

This movie was something beyond just good or bad. It reached that level of so bad, terrible, disgusting and poor, it went so far down it actually came back to the realm of awesomeness. Yet, in the realm of cinema, a question has to be asked to the filmmakers and everyone involved with Splice: How could you ever think that making this movie was a good idea?

My hopes and dreams were that this movie would not get picked up, but (for some unknowable reason) Warner Brothers decided to give it a wide release on June 4th. According to rumors and Internet buzz, WB forced director Vincenzo Natali to surrender the rights so the studio could take it back to the editors.

Despite thinking this was one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen, I’m still going to see it opening weekend to find out if a big studio could save such a flawed, piling steam of… you get the idea.

This weekend, you have no excuse not to go see a movie in theaters. I’m not saying all of them are winners, but… anyway, just read.

Killers (PG-13) — Katherine Heigl falls for Ashton Kutcher, who turns out to be a spy (or whatever), a fact she discovers after their hookup and move to suburbia. I’ve seen the previews, and I’ll be honest, it looks like entertainment. I like both of the leads, and one of the primary writers was responsible for Matchstick Men, which is a truly wonderful film. The director’s last effort was The Ugly Truth, which I didn’t see, but was a financial and critical flop last year. However, the same man also helmed such films as Legally Blonde and 21 – both very popcorn and very generic, but also honestly enjoyable.

The only hesitancy I have in recommending this film (aside from not having seen it myself) is that no one has seen it. Lionsgate decided to withhold it from critics until opening day. This means the studio is either afraid it’s not any good or that they’re smug idiots who don’t understand the role of critics (like me). Either way, it’s a stupid choice.

Get Him to the Greek (R) – I really hate Russell Brand. Here’s my impression of him: “If I say outrageously filthy things with wide eyes, you’ll think I’m a riot because I’m from England and have an accent.” Pretty good, huh? Yeah. Been workin’ on it. Anyway, the concept is that one of Judd Apatow’s favorite actors, Jonah Hill, is tasked with getting a famous, wild rock star to a certain place at a certain time. Hysterical antics ensue. It’s an R-rated comedy — you’re either into that kind of thing or you are not. You can probably tell which side of the line I’m standing on. And anyway, the best thing critics have been able to say so far is that it’s like a knock-off Judd Apatow film. Well I guess that’s kind of funny.

Marmaduke (PG) — It’s a movie about a giant dog that talks, which makes me want to cry. While vomiting. And will it surprise you to find out that this is another one the studio won’t release to the critics until opening day? What were you thinking Owen Wilson? I realize this isn’t the first time (or second, or third, or…) you’ve signed your soul away to a trashbag full of clichés, but, well, please stop.

Splice (R) – This was a Sundance darling. Don’t ask me why. I have a few friends (and fellow Rhombus writers) who went to see it when it was up in Park City and wrote about it here. I should note that after it got picked up, I’m pretty sure it got a total overhaul re-cut, which means that it might be a very different film from what it was at Sundance. Regardless, I’ll leave you to it if you have any interest. I’ll go ahead and pass.

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time (PG-13) — People say it’s entertaining. They also say it’s silly and forgettable. I don’t think I need to say a lot more; with Disney holding the keys to the empire of advertising, there’s a greater likelihood that you missed how the last presidential election panned out than there is that you haven’t heard about this movie.

Sex and the City 2 (R) — I would tell you about this movie, except that I don’t want to. Just watch this instead. (Start at 2:27, or watch the whole thing.) Also, I have to acknowledge that this piece of carmelized toxic slime actually inspired Richard Roeper to finally say something almost clever: “Bad puns, fashion porn, domestic hand-wringing, contrived plot points, idiotic dialogue and offensive stereotypes. What’s not to loathe?” So that’s good.

Shrek…  Again, and in 3D (PG) — I think this is number… what? Eight? Kidding, it’s just the fourth. But doesn’t it seem like there have been more? Anyway, I liked the second one, I think. I remember laughing. It’s hard to care a lot about these films though. The first installment was extremely clever, but can anyone honestly digest four volumes of this stuff? I guess so -  the franchise has pulled in almost $2.5 billion from ticket sales alone. However, according to the numbers, not too many people seem enthused about the “last chapter.” My guess is they all thought the third film would be the last. Stuff happens in trilogies, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s a joke: “Shrek, the Four-Part Trilogy.”

MacGruber (R) — Saturday Night Live has this thing where, every few years, they forget how stupid it is to turn a sketch into a 90-minute (or longer) movie. Hopefully, after spending $10 million and only making $8 million of it back in its first three weekends, they’ll finally get the point and stop.

Iron Man 2 and Robin Hood are also still in theaters, and after having seen them, I can tell you that they’re both worth the ticket price. And my full reviews are forthcoming. No, really, I mean it.

This year, Iron Man 2 rolled in with even higher anticipation because people had been left with sort of absurdly high expectations. The first one was just so darn good and the second, after all, had all the same people on board (except for our poor friend Terrence Howard, but… oh well) — same director, same actors and everything.

Even the critics seemed to like it quite a bit. Not as much as the first, but still quite a lot. And guess what? It was awesome. You forget, after a while, what it’s like to have a blast-and-a-half in the comfortable confines of a theater bucket seat, but man, did that film remind me. It was everything an Iron Man movie should be — exciting, hilarious, and generally awesome. I left the theater feeling like I’d gotten exactly what I hoped for: more of what I loved so much the first time around. Plus Scarlett Johansson. (Ahem.) ALSO Sam Rockwell, Mickey Rourke, and Don Cheadle (sorry, Terrence) — all with efficient, clever dialogue.

I actually left declaring that the second might have been better than the first. Those were the words escaping my smiling face, and I kept saying it for days.

And then I saw it again, as I’d been planning since about half an hour into it the first time through. I’m glad I waited to review it, because my opinion changed just slightly. Problem is, I got a little bored. Still a terribly fun movie, still worth every cent of both the first and second ticket, but I’m no longer so sure it has the staying power of the first one.

It’s hard to say. The trouble might be with the story, and how certain things aren’t revealed about certain characters until it’s a little too late to care very much. Or it might be that the writers brought our collective adoration of Stark’s character down a few too many notches. Who knows? I also had a couple of minor problems with the first one, but….

Also, who cares? They’re both phenomenally entertaining movies, and I say that you should absolutely go see the new Iron Man in as big a theater as you can find. The action and effects are basically unbeatable, and the ensemble cast was nothing if not roundly delightful. You won’t find better bad-guy banter than what happens between Rockwell’s Justin Hammer and Rourke’s Whiplash. And did I mention Scarlett? Yes, I did, sorry.

Unfortunately, my sharing these thoughts with you at this point is vaguely pitiful, now that it’s, um, June. Regardless, this film receives my official stamp of awesomeness. (Officially figurative, that is.)

My review is now concluded, and you can stop reading if you’d like. However, if you’re still going, will you tell me if I should start some sort of rating system? Like some number of something out of some number of something? Like stars or rhombuses or severed fingers? I’ve been a bit morally opposed, but I realize there could be value to the less patient readers of this humble publication. Also, I do very much like stars. Please leave me with your thoughts below.

My personal journey with LOST began 5 years ago. I was not sufficiently intrigued by the show’s previews to bother watching the series premier. A few episodes into the first season the buzz was undeniable, and many of my friends began telling me how great the show was. I was too late to get on board with the first season (remember these were the pre-Hulu days, or pre-YouTube for that matter), so I patiently waited for the first season to end and the DVD to come out.

When it finally did, I spent about three days in front of the television absorbing the show. What I discovered was something that I had never found before in a television show — depth. The show was layered with philosophy, literary references, drama, action, mystery and, most importantly, questions. Not only questions about the mysterious monster, or would Kate choose Sawyer or Jack, but questions about life, love, free will, destiny, and the very nature of human existence.

I was eventually able to get my family hooked on the show as well, mostly as they passed through the living room and became intrigued with what I was watching. Watching LOST became a family event. Every week we would watch the show on our DVR, pausing often to offer our theories and discuss what was going on. Watching LOST became my favorite part of the week. I began listening to LOST podcasts and following LOST blogs (my geekery knows no bounds) — and the community, the discussion, became as fun and as essential as the show itself.

For five years, that was how I experienced LOST — not on an individual basis, but on a communal one. Sure there were weeks when I watched the show alone, but more often than not I was watching it with people. When I watched it alone, discussion with fellow fans of the show would surely follow. To truly enjoy LOST, to truly experience it, the discussion was needed, the community was needed, interaction was needed, the people were needed.

At the end of the night, did LOST answer all of our burning questions, like why was Walt special, who built the four-toed statue, and what was up with Libby? No. The answers to these questions will surely be discussed for years to come amongst fans of the show. As a narrative, however, the show finished what it had started and offered resolution to the characters. However, at the end of the day, the show’s greatest accomplishment is in the communal experience it created.

From its premier, LOST had delved into many themes — death, love, good and evil, and redemption. But since the very beginning, the show’s unofficial mantra has been “Live together or die alone.” Throughout the show, we have been shown that individually the collective cast of characters were a group of failures, murderers, and generally maladjusted people. Yet when working together, when in unison, the characters were able to overcome their pasts and become better people.

In the ultimate moments of the finale, we find that the alternate reality depicted in the final season was, in fact, a place created so that the characters could find each other after death. We are told that the most important moments of the characters’ lives were spent together, and that they needed each other in order to move on to the next life. Throughout the episode, we see the characters find each other — and find true happiness.

On Sunday, I gathered with some of my good friends to watch the last two-and-a-half hours of LOST. The last few hours of the show passed much as the previous 120 hours had — there was laughter, some tears, and a lot of discussion. As much as we tried to be silent and take in the finale, we couldn’t help but pause the DVR every so often to throw out predictions, theories, and questions. As the episode finished we all sat around discussing the finale, our reactions, theories, and impressions.

I sat listening to the conversation and realized that, while there were questions left unanswered, LOST, by both its narrative and its very nature, had indeed answered the most important question of all — What was the show really about? The answer was there all along — in our weekly LOST nights, long discussions, message boards, and podcasts. The answer was that people need people. We were just too busy talking to each other about the smoke monster to see it.

Never the rabid fanatic, I sometimes took a season-long hiatus and then caught up in a week online. (Hulu is one of man’s sublimest inventions.) During those days when I’d watch four to five episodes at a time, LOST was my world. I cared more about what was happening to those characters than I did about pretty much anything. And I would frequently proclaim, as often as the subject arose, that LOST was the best drama on television, possibly the best ever created.

Admittedly, there were some problems. When Abrams and his buddies started the show, they intended it to be about four or five seasons long. But during the second season, ABC decided the show was too popular to let end. Adios, five-season cap. What happens to a show with a pre-determined story arc that loses its set length? Stuff starts to unravel. Storylines and ideas pop up that don’t fit into the grand scheme. Why not, if the show will never end? Thus began the dark age of LOST, when it no longer really knew where it was going. The third and fourth seasons made a lot of people very angry, which ultimately motivated the network to rethink and give it a new, six-season limit.

Anyway, blah blah blah. The point is, LOST has had some difficulty with cohesion, which, for a show like that, is nothing short of torturous for its viewership. The possibility that all those mysteries won’t ever get tied up or explained is a frightful contemplation. I’ve talked to a staggering number of people who sourly admit they gave up on the show halfway through.

But fans like me held fast with hope. The writers were too good to fail. The way I saw it, the show had proven its genius enough times to leave me with the confidence that its writers would wrap it up in a manner both unexpected and satisfying.

Well, was it?

Sunday night was the series finale. The final episode ever of a show that ran for over half the decade and made television history. I watched it in real-time (for the first time since last season’s incredible finale) on an HD projector, with a bunch of enthusiastic fans who were just as dedicated to respectful silence as I was, and snacks converted into DHARMA food supplies. It was an event.

The sixth season had been very good. Each episode had that precipitous momentum that suggests a desperately longed-for culmination, and a lot of questions were answered. But not enough. The finale, I hoped, would finally bring everything together. But in retrospect, even the last episode’s two-and-a-half hour length could never be enough time to answer all of my questions. My hope was unreasonable. At the conclusion of the final, apocalyptic episode of one of the most incredible television shows ever created, I was left cerebrally unsatisfied.

But I was emotionally satisfied. The finale (and indeed the entire sixth season) honed in on the most important elements of the show — the biggest story arcs and all of the most important characters — and worked out resolutions for them. And it did so beautifully. All of the emotional investment we had in these profound characters finally paid off.

Nothing in this accursed world is perfect. Under that disclaimer, LOST is still, even with all of its frustrating problems, one of the most impressive and powerful shows ever produced. The writing was nearly always brilliant, and the acting was superb; it was lushly designed, beautifully shot, and expertly edited. But above all, the characters gave the show its incredible strength. Their consistency, depth, and dimension were perhaps unprecedented. Their actions and choices were at once surprising and fitting. Their relationships were just as rough and wonderful as real human relationships always are. I cared about them deeply, which is the true mark of only the best fiction.

In short, I imagine I’ll go back to this show often. Because, even with its numerous flaws and frustrations, it earned my love and respect. It may not have answered enough questions, or adequately resolved its many complicated mysteries, but it was still worth every hour I put into it. Because ultimately, the point of the show wasn’t plot twists and mysteries, it was the exploration of love and hate, community and isolation, strength and weakness, corruption and redemption. It was about the depth of human need, suffering, and joy. It was about the stuff that matters.

And it was wonderful. Every bit as wonderful as everyone seemed to be promising. Everyone, FYI, connotes Rotten Tomatoes and many of my close film-student friends. I went into the film with a lot of confidence and was solidly rewarded for my financial offering. (By the way, I didn’t see it in 3D, because I hate 3D — but I’ve heard that this one does it well.)

I don’t know if you’ve heard my Pixar diatribe, but I’ll spare you. Summed up, Pixar is the best. No one else usually comes close. But this time Dreamworks came really, really close. This is shocking. They made a film that cared about story at least as much as it cared about the “wow, cool!” special effects and the-kids’ll-love-this components. And it didn’t treat its audience as though none of them possessed an IQ greater than that of a doughnut.

The result was an honestly exciting movie with deeply sympathetic characters and dialogue that managed to be very, very funny. I haven’t been this impressed with a non-Pixar animated film since Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, which was mercilessly hysterical. But the difference between the two films is that Cloudy was working toward goofball absurdism (and succeeded fantastically), while Dragon wanted to be epic and meaningful. Do you know how hard that is? It’s hard because you run the risk of turning out a story with too many protagonists, or obstacles that aren’t dire or threatening enough.

Villains are common because they’re easy. They are most often false caricatures of human weakness. The destruction of a despicable villain is the quickest and least responsible road to the audience’s satisfaction. Think of Disney’s Gaston (from Beauty and the Beast) — a character who is present for the sole purpose of providing the audience with satisfaction at his destruction.

But this one takes the higher road, and pulls it off. The writers didn’t go for cheap tricks, suffocating cliches, or safely simplistic moral ideals. There was a monster, but no villain. And the monster isn’t necessarily what you expect. I won’t say more about that because I have a morbid fear of spoilers, but I will say that the community in the film is eventually faced with a problem. The older generation — represented by an enormous, wonderful Viking with a thick Scottish accent (thank you, Gerard Butler) — believes with fair justification that the problem ought to be solved one way, while our protagonist, the champion of a new school of thought, feels quite differently.

But not once did I get the feeling that the filmmakers were ridiculing the older generation for what they did. The misguided nature of their actions was unfortunate, almost tragic, rather than condemnable. So, sure, the kids saved the day. You have to expect that. But they didn’t do so at the older generation’s expense. In fact, they had to work together. It is a film full of well-intentioned people. No one is demonized, and everyone ends up better for their experiences.

And did I mention that the film was exciting and hilarious? And cool? And way fun? Seriously. Go see this movie. It’ll be in theaters at least for this week and next, so finish up whatever you’ve been doing that’s been keeping you away from the theaters, and Go. See. This. Movie.

Here’s the list:

Date Night (PG-13) — I’m going to talk about this film now because I failed to do so last week, and it might be the most worthwhile film in the theaters. I can’t say that definitively because I haven’t seen it, but I do know it has a 71% on RT, and that it stars Tina Fey and Steve Carell as a married couple caught up in some action-comedy scheme à la The Man Who Knew Too Little (starring Bill Murray back when he was still funny.) It was directed by the same guy who helmed those awful Museum movies with Ben Stiller, but that’s not necessarily the kiss of death. One can hope nye unto expectation that Fey and Carell are smart enough to go for a smart script.

Kick Ass (R) – If you’re a fanboy (aka boy or girl devoted obsessively or at least embarrassingly familiar with the world of comic books), you have heard about this film, and nothing I say can possibly better inform you. However, fanboys represent a relatively minor cross section of humanity, so I’ll assume that the majority of Rhombus’ readers haven’t ferreted out every possible shred of information about this film. It’s based on a graphic novel by the same name by Mark Millar, who is also responsible for such texts as Wanted. A lot of people have been going nuts about this latest adaptation of his work.

The simple rundown of KA is that a young teenage boy decides to don a costume and become a hero. He gets the snot beat out of him while also doing some of his own butt-kicking. Videos of him end up on YouTube, inspiring others and… you get the idea. It’s running at 75% on RT, which is impressive, and Matthew Vaughn (of Stardust fame) directed it. This one is going to have to get my recommendation, but with the disclaimer that with an R-rating on this subject matter, it’s bound to be bloody and at least moderately vulgar. But hey, you’re going to see a movie called “Kick Ass.” What do you expect?

Death at a Funeral (R) — There’s black comedy (think Dr. Strangelove), and then there’s Black comedy. Think Chris Rock, Tracy Morgan, Martin Lawrence, Danny Glover, Zoe Saldana, and token white dudes James Marsden, Luke Wilson and Peter Dinklage, who I swear is the best short actor ever. That’s actually a pretty wonderful line-up, and while some people I’ve talked to think the preview looks dumb, I think it looks promising — and RT is backing me up. So there, dumb people those of you who disagree with me. Who knows if I’ll ever actually see this movie, but I’ll tell you one thing: I adore Tracy Morgan.

How to Train Your Dragon (PG) – But not in 3D. At least, that would be my personal recommendation, because 3D is gimmicky and annoying. People have been finding transcendence, entertainment, and inspiration in films for over a hundred years without having stupid pointy things jabbing at their faces or going involuntarily cross-eyed. So disregard the 3D and listen up when I say that this film has been getting better buzz than any of the others out right now. People love it. Like, all people. If you want to go see something that’s truly entertaining and would be safe to watch with children and the elderly, this is probably your best bet. It’s a couple weeks old, but if I can carve out time for a movie this weekend, I’ll go see this one.