By Kam Williams

Been Rich All My Life
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Sentimental Memoir Recounts the Glory Days of Harlem’s Chorus Girls

When the Apollo opened in 1934 at the height of the Big Band Era, one of the famed theater’s most popular features was its chorus line of chocolate cuties. Comprised of 16 shapely showgirls, these enchanting tap dancers managed to upstage some headlining jazz groups led by the likes of Duke Ellington, Cab Calloway and Count Basie.
Originally, forced to work a half-dozen shows during grueling, 15-hour days which generally kept them on stage well past midnight, the women eventually unionized and went on strike. Their efforts paid off, leading to better employment conditions not only for all of Harlem’s hoofers, but also for the then lily-white Rockettes, who were high-kicking downtown at Radio City Music Hall.
After World War II erupted, out of a sense of patriotism this African American troupe decided to join the USO tour in order to entertain the troops, only to be disillusioned about the United States as their caravan crisscrossed the country. For they experienced the sting of segregation whenever they were denied access to facilities or accommodations because of the color of their skin, hypocritical mistreatment which apparently even transpired on military bases in the “land of the free.”
Although the dancers’ popularity waned in the wake of the end of the War, five of them reunited to resume their careers in 1985. Now calling themselves the Silver Belles, and ranging in age from 84 to 96, their life stories are the subject of Been Rich All My Life, a labor of love directed, produced, filmed and edited by Heather Lyn MacDonald.
Each of the Silver Belles is a joy to behold. There’s 89 year-old Cleo Hayes who matter-of-factly explains her interest in show business with, “I’m from Greenville, Mississippi. I don’t have to tell you why I left.” Similarly, Fay Ray, 84, explains that she was only 11 or 12 and already picking cotton when she impulsively left Louisiana by rail for the North by stowing away aboard a freight train.
This enchanting, if bittersweet memoir seamlessly interweaves such wistful, tenderhearted reflections with archival film footage and the readily observable harsh realities associated with advanced age to yield a splendid slice of African American history. These hardy survivors are nothing short of inspiring to observe as they shuffle out on stage, never embittered either by racism or by the host of aches, pains and diseases which presently beset them, ranging from arthritis to broken hips to heart disease to colon, breast and ovarian cancers.
Elaine Ellis, 86, maintains her cheery demeanor and grace under pressure in the face of asthma, high blood pressure, cancer and strokes, taking two buses and two subway trains to rehearsals right after her radiation treatments. Just as uplifting are the efforts of Marion Coles, an energetic 88 year-old who teaches tap to youngsters in order that the cultural tradition not be lost.  
Senior spokesperson Bertye Lou Wood, 96, seen in the full bloom of youth here dancing astride Bill “Bojangles” Robinson in a clip from the Hollywood classic Stormy Weather, sums up the Silver Belles perseverance and overall optimistic attitude best when she announces resolutely with determination, “I’m going to dance, dance, dance, ‘til I can’t dance no more, and I’m going to live, live, live, ‘til I die.”

Unrated
Running time: 81 minutes
Studio: First Run Features

Little Man
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Wayans Brothers Collaborate on Another Outrageous Comedy

For White Chicks, Shawn and Marlon Wayans dressed in drag and donned whiteface to play FBI Agents undercover as dumb-blonde debutantes. In Little Man, another freaky farce directed by their big brother Keenen, only Marlon appears in an elaborate disguise. This slap-happy misadventure features him as a foul-mouthed midget masquerading as a baby in order to retrieve a pilfered diamond from a childless couple.
The picture’s plotline is a slight variation of Free Eats (1932), the Little Rascals classic about a pair of “fidget” conmen who decide to relieve some compassionate society women of their jewelry by posing as adoptable infants. Free Eats, by the way, marked the introduction of the character Spanky, though it starred an exasperated Stymie, supposedly an inveterate liar, telling the truth for the first time as his dire warnings about the dudes in diapers fell on deaf ears.
Little Man is also suspiciously similar to Baby Buggy Bunny (1954), a Bugs Bunny cartoon which relied on essentially the same theme. Here, as the movie opens, we find pint-sized Calvin (Marlon Wayans) partnered with Percy (Tracy Morgan) and about to steal the priceless jewel. But the robbery goes wrong and the two part company in a convenience store. As he is about to be caught by the cops, Calvin surreptitiously slips the stone into the pocketbook of Vanessa Edwards (Kerry Washington) a customer shopping with her husband, Darryl (Shawn Wayans).
As luck would have it, the Edwards have been trying to have a child, which makes them open to the idea of caring for Calvin when Percy leaves him on their doorstep in swaddling clothes with a note pinned to his diaper. Darryl talks his hesitant wife into taking the tot in, thus enabling this over-the-top shock comedy to embark into uncharted comedy waters where we find some unseemly sexual and bodily-function humor.
For instance, under the guise of being a baby, Calvin proceeds to feel up one of Vanessa’s friend’s mammaries, to suckle another’s breasts, and to have sex with his adoptive Momma herself. While Darryl remains clueless about the true nature of the impersonator, his father-in-law (John Witherspoon), ala Stymie, figures out the ruse, but, alas, his complaints are conveniently ignored.
While this is admittedly a gross-out flick, there’s something about a dwarf tongue kissing, molesting and mating with unsuspecting women that struck me as just a little too gross. So, although the audience at my screening apparently appreciated all the venereal, homophobic, fart, feces, urination, and swift kick to the crotch sequences, this critic couldn’t find anything about this creepy retread to recommend to my readers besides Kerry Washington and some seamless special effects.

Rated PG-13 for profanity, drug and alcohol abuse, slapstick violence, crude humor, and pervasive sexual references.
Running time: 97 minutes
Studio: Columbia Pictures

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest
●●● ½
Another Swashbuckling, Supernatural Spectacular with Captain Jack & Company

If you liked Pirates of the Caribbean, you’re likely to enjoy the latest installment just about as much as the original. After all, Johnny Depp and the rest of the principal cast has returned, as has director Gore Verbinski, scriptwriters Ted Elliott, Terry Rossio, Stuart Beattie and Jay Wolpert, cinematographer Darius Wolski, costume designer Penny Rose, editors Craig Wood and Stephen Rivkin, visual effects supervisor John Knoll, stunt coordinator George Marshall Ruge, makeup artist Ve Neill, hair stylist Martin Samuel and the bulk of the rest of the original off-screen team.
Not surprisingly, then, Pirates 2 is a seamless sequel, a scary seafaring adventure that’s virtually indistinguishable, visually, from the first. Sure, sashaying Captain Jack Sparrow may have added a few new tics to his eccentric assortment of already-exaggerated facial mannerisms, and the production appears to have upped the ante in terms of special effects. But this movie is essentially another spine-tingling, tangled web of intrigue, romance and horror designed with pre-pubescent crowd in mind.
That being said, the fright fest suffers slightly from a malady common to the ‘tweener in many a trilogy, namely, serving as setting the table for the franchise’s finale. Here, the two and a half hour investment ultimately feels a tad frustrating because the flick ends on an obvious cliffhanger, necessitating that one invest in Pirates 3 to see how this story turns out.
But, to be honest, I had no complaints prior to that frustrating development, as I found myself fully-engaged by the multi-layered mystery which picks up where the last left off. At the point of departure, we find lovebirds Will Turner (Orlando Bloom) and Elizabeth Swann (Keira Knightley) putting their wedding plans on hold after being arrested and facing execution for aiding and abetting Captain Jack’s escape.
The couple is granted a reprieve conditioned on Will’s tracking down Jack and returning with the elusive Captain’s magical compass. What ensues is a special effects-extravaganza during which our heroes encounter wave after wave of grotesque, mostly computer-generated creatures, including cannibals, zombies, slaves, ghosts, a headless hermit crab man, squid-faced Davy Jones (Bill Nighy), and a hammerheaded shark man.
But don’t kid yourself, despite all the eye-popping distractions, Pirates 2 remains, at heart, a Johnny Depp vehicle, where the ever-prancing pirate can be relied upon to steal every scene in his own inimitable fashion.

Rated PG-13 for frightening images and intense adventure violence.
Running time: 150 minutes
Studio: Walt Disney

Black Hair
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Documentary Reveals Korean Domination of Black Hair Care Industry

African Americans spend billions of dollars every year on their hair, whether on wigs and extensions, moisturizers and relaxers, curling irons and hot combs, sheens and gels, scalp and follicle conditioners, shampoos and lotions, or cocoa butter and other oils. In fact, although blacks comprise only 10 percent of the U.S. population, it is estimated that they consume over three-quarters of the country’s hair care products.
Apparently, the untapped potential of this lucrative market was not lost on Koreans who, as far back as 1965, began petitioning both the United States and Korean governments for economic incentives to help them enter the lucrative hair care business. Over the intervening years, while most folks thought of these industrious immigrants as only operating fruit stands, they methodically set up shop right in virtually every ‘hood from coast to coast, gradually gaining control not only of the retail market, but the manufacturing and wholesale distribution as well. Who knew?
As a consequence, the Black-Owned Beauty Supply Association (BOBSA) finds itself at the mercy of the Asian entrepreneurs, who now outnumber Blacks in the business by about 10 to 1. For, once the Koreans developed a monopoly, they reportedly began refusing to ship merchandise to any African American stores, bankrupting most in the process.
And when no church, political, or grassroots movement was organized to challenge the ethics of the Koreans’ exclusionary and predatory practices, the situation deteriorated to the point where today 90% of the hair care stores are owned by outsiders who don’t live in, invest in or give back to the black community. This development is a tragedy, given the high unemployment rate in the ghetto which keeps the bulk of African Americans in dire financial straits.
All of the above, plus plenty of additional equally informative and fascinating background material, is the subject of Black Hair, a disturbing documentary by Aron Ranen. To his credit, the peripatetic director did his homework, crisscrossing the country to interview both merchants and customers, and Koreans and Blacks in such cities as Oakland, Dallas, San Francisco, Chicago, Atlanta, Houston, and Los Angeles. Invariably, he found the same sorry state of affairs everywhere he went, disgruntled and displaced African American merchants, with well-to-do Koreans currently catering to their former clientele.
A riveting, 21st Century microeconomics lesson in supply and demand, namely, Koreans control the supply, so they feel free to demand that blacks find another line of work.

Excellent (4 stars)
Unrated
Running time: 60 minutes, plus a 13 minute update.
Studio: Third Wave Media

America: From Freedom to Fascism
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Documentary Indicts America as a Police State

Aaron Russo enjoyed a successful career as a movie producer (Trading Places and The Rose) before taking a serious interest in politics about 10 years ago. He ran for governor of Nevada in 1998, garnering almost 30 percent of the vote in a hotly contested election.
With America: From Freedom to Fascism, Russo directs his attention to the question of whether or not the U.S. is turning into a police state. He serves as narrator of this intriguing expose’ and makes his case by interviewing a variety of experts and ordinary citizens who provide a combination of anecdotal, historical and statistical evidence of the steady erosion of civil liberties.
Aaron appears angriest at the IRS which he indicts as an agency illegally created as a means of redistributing wealth. He adroitly points out its long legacy of abuse of power, such as how it unfairly destroyed the life of Joe Louis, after the heavyweight boxing champ enlisted in the then-segregated Army and donated all his winnings to Uncle Sam while in the service during World War II.
And how did his racist country reward this act of selfless patriotism? By taxing him for the full amount of his prize fight purses, even though he had never enjoyed a penny of it.
Other eye-opening ground covered here includes discussions of the Federal Reserve Bank, which some might be surprise to learn is actually a private, not a federal, institution. The movie also touches on issues involving rigged elections, the upcoming national ID card and the impending implementation of radio frequency identification technology to keep track of citizens.
In the end, Russo concludes that America, instead of being by the people and for the people is, in truth, an oppressive, exploitative Big Brother where government and corporations reign supreme. A thought-provoking clarion call for the masses to wake up before it’s too late.
 
Unrated
Running time: 95 minutes
Studio: Cinema Libre

Excellent Cadavers
●●●1/2
Gruesome Documentary Replays Mafia’s Greatest Hits

If you happen to be one of those people who considers Godfather 1 and 2 the best movies ever made, then you’re likely also to deem Excellent Cadavers, the best documentary ever made. This very informative flick, set primarily around the Sicilian city of Palermo in the ‘70s and ‘80s, carefully chronicles the history of the Cosa Nostra, revealing it to have been a savage crime syndicate which had infected the Italian political infrastructure.
The film focuses on the ill-fated efforts of a couple of prosecutors, Giovanni Falcone and Paolo Borsellino, to end the mob’s stranglehold by bringing hundreds of mobsters to justice. For since being installed in power by the allies in the wake of the Second World War, the Mafia had resorted to intimidating and assassinating its rivals.
At the time that Falcone and Borsellino began their highly-publicized trials, hits for hire were transpiring about once every three days. And the deadly attacks continued apace during the court proceedings, because many a defendant had an interest in eliminating any judges, attorneys and witnesses who stood in opposition to them.
Nonetheless, 344 crooks were eventually convicted of crimes, including 19 who were handed life sentences. This development did not sit well with mob bosses who were determined to get even with the two attorneys who were decimating their ranks. Sadly, despite a round-the-clock escort of armed bodyguards, the clearing of streets plus a police helicopter overhead wherever they traveled, and living 16 hours a day in a steel bunker reinforced with concrete capable of withstanding a missile attack, the Mafia finally figured out how to get to these national heroes.
Based on the Alexander Stille best-seller of the same name, Excellent Cadavers features actual crime scene photos shot by Letizia Battaglia, a journalist assigned to cover the killings by her newspaper. Though not a feelgood flick by any means, this encyclopedic recounting/bittersweet biopic does pay tribute to two dudes crazy enough not only to take on the mob, but to win for a while, at least till they were finally taken out in 1992.

Unrated
In English and Italian with subtitles
Running time: 92 minutes
Studio: First Run/Icarus Films

Shadowboxer
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Lee Daniels Makes Directorial Debut with Sadistic, Incestuous Snuff Film

Shadowboxer marks the eagerly-anticipated directorial debut of Lee Daniels who was previously best known as the producer of Monster’s Ball, the Jungle Fever flick for which Halle Berry won an Academy Awarded. Here, Lee takes a page out of that steamy sex romp while tossing in tons of sadistic gore to create a sordid crime drama that combines cruelty with carnality.
Where Monster’s Ball most memorable moments involved the nubile and nude Halle rolling around in arms of the relatively-unappetizing Billy Bob Thornton, this time it’s Oscar-winner Cuba Gooding, Jr. cavorting in his birthday suit with the decidedly-geriatric Helen Mirren. The problem is not just that sixty-something Mirren is old enough to be Cuba’s mother, but that she also happens to be playing his step-mother.
And on top of the Oedipal aspect of their liaison, her character is also wracked with pain due to inoperable cancer. So, those open-minded enough to get past the incest issue still might find themselves a bit bothered by the sight of virile, muscular Cuba mating with a sickly senior citizen who looks like death sucking on a Lifesaver.
Their ill-fated love story aside, Shadowboxer is otherwise a kinky, killer-for-hire crime saga. Rose (Mirren) is a heartless assassin who has raised Mikey (Gooding) to follow in her footsteps. As the movie opens, we find Rose in failing health and agreeing to participate in one last rubout before retirement.
But when the mother-son hit team discovers that Vickie (Vanessa Ferlito), the woman they’re supposed to murder is nine-months pregnant, they have an instant change of heart and choose to save her instead. This development doesn’t sit well with her husband (Stephen Dorff), the sadistic crime boss who wanted his wife wasted.
Thus begins a cat-and-mouse game where Rose, Mikey, Vanessa and the baby attempt to hide under the radar by renting a home in suburban Philadelphia, hoping the heartless hood never catches wind of their whereabouts. Meanwhile, to pay the rent, Mikey continues to take assignments from a wheelchair-bound angel of death(Tom Pasch).
While I won’t spoil any of the imaginative ways in which victims are tortured before being eliminated, suffice to say it is certain to satisfy the blood lust of those given to gruesome fare. That being said, Shadowboxer‘s Swiss cheese plotline is riddled with too many holes to consider this flick as much more than a snuff film.  
The cast of this high body-count affair includes comedienne Mo’Nique and gravel-throated songstress Macy Gray, both of whom do a decent job, despite being abandoned by a bizarre script. Strictly for devotees of eroticized-violence or anyone who’s been fantasizing about Cuba Gooding’s bod.

Rated R for expletives, nudity, graphic sexuality, gratuitous gore, eroticized violence, sadism and drug use.
Running time: 93 minutes
Studio: Lee Daniels Entertainment

Heading South
(Vers le Sud)
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White Women Descend on Haiti for Jungle Fever Cure in Steamy Romance Drama

55-year-old Ellen (Charlotte Rampling) teaches French Literature at Wellesley College in Massachusetts, while Sue (Louise Portal) is a successful businesswoman who manages a warehouse in Canada. And 48-year-old Brenda (Karen Young), a recently-divorced housewife from Savannah, Georgia, is just trying to forget an ex-husband who had never been able to satisfy her.
The only reason these formerly-frustrated females’ paths cross is because they happen to be staying at the same hotel in Haiti, a spinster’s sexual utopia where post-menopausal white women vacation in order to indulge their every carnal fantasy with young black men less than a third their age. In fact, Brenda, who now describes herself as a “bitch in heat,” openly admits to having her first orgasm ever on the beach there with a 15-year-old boy-toy.
Never pausing to question the ethics of exploiting black skin in this fashion, these hedonists approach the country’s impoverished inhabitants as if a commodity available on a quid pro quo basis. Invariably, the relationships sprouting up all around the spa are between wealthy white women offering money, maternalism and a temporary upper-class status, and handsome, eager-to-please natives who, in return, deferentially answer every booty call during their period of purchased companionship.
This is the premise underpinning Heading South, a most thought-provoking film directed by Laurent Cantet (Time Out), a historical drama set in the late Seventies against the backdrop of the instability of the regime of Baby Doc Duvalier. Based on the novel La chair du maître by Danny LaFerriere, the film is far more sophisticated than your typical Jungle Fever flick.
What makes this movie fascinating is how it manages to use physical desire as a metaphor, placing intimate relationships under an emotional magnifying glass to somehow examine the prevailing political and social problems then plaguing Haiti. In addition, the picture represents a rare exploration of pleasure purely from an older woman’s point-of-view.
When, for instance, our spoiled, horny heroines’ snobbish sense of entitlement has them competing with each other for the affections of Legba (Menothy Cesar), the most prized of the gigolos, it is easy to observe that their possessiveness has nothing to do with love, but rather reflects their own racism and a contempt for the lover they profess to adore.
Meanwhile, as they remain oblivious to the civil unrest simmering just on the other side of their gated resort, it is only a matter of time before the fallout of colonialism finally comes to contaminate even their erotically-charged oasis. An island paradise morphs into a frightening nightmare, but not before Ellen, Brenda and Sue get their grooves back.
 
Excellent (4 stars)
Unrated
In French and English with subtitles.
Running time: 105 minutes
Studio: Shadow Distribution

Mad Cowgirl
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Meat Inspector Develops Mad Cow Disease and Morphs into Nymphomaniacal Man-Hating Serial Killer in Freaky Female Empowerment Flick

Therese (Sarah Lassez), a meat inspector in a sloppy slaughter house, is mourning her failed marriage while carrying on an affair with a creepy televangelist (Walter Koenig). When she can’t have Pastor Dylan in her arms, she is happy to satisfy herself in her darkened bedroom while watching him proselytize on TV.  
A chain smoker who also has a weakness for booze and a mother with failing health, Therese’s troubled life is further complicated by her incestuous relationship with a solicitous sibling (James Duval). The disturbed divorcee’s plight goes from bad to worse after her beef importer brother secretly allows her to eat some flesh he knows to be infected with Mad Cow Disease.
As the plague gradually infects her brain, Therese is mysteriously driven to venture down an even more self-destructive path, mating indiscriminately with more than 30 mostly abusive men, a motley collection of jerks she gives nicknames like “Thundering Sword,” “The Bastard,” “Who’s Your Daddy,” “Marco Polo,” “The Imposter,” “Dirty Ho,” “Weird Man,” and “The Rover.” When her doctor diagnoses her as suffering from a fatal, pseudo brain tumor, Therese finally at least has an explanation for her recent sexually-bizarre behavior.
At this juncture, the nymphomaniac turns into more of a maniac than a nympho, and with nothing to lose starts slaying her lovers in a sadistic killing spree. So unfolds Mad Cowgirl, a practically impossible to pigeonhole picture written and directed by Gregory Hatanaka (Bar Paradise). Winner of the Best Experimental Film Award at the L.A. Film Festival, the movie is a convincingly-conveyed mix of many genres, including horror, pornography, revenge, action-adventure, slasher, comedy, kung fu, dysfunctional family, fantasy and psychological drama.
Above all, it might be seen as a freaky female empowerment flick, since this is a film which features a butt-kicking woman who would prefer to take matters into her own hands, rather than wait around for some knight in shining honor to rescue her and restore her virtue. Consider this fair warning: while Mad Cowgirl is engaging and endlessly entertaining, it is not recommended for audiences at all uncomfortable with soft porn, eroticized violence or graphically-depicted slaughter by buzz saw and the other gruesome methods of murder dreamed up by Therese.
An ultra avant-garde adventure into the surreal.
           
Excellent (4 stars)
Unrated
Running time: 89 minutes
Studio: Two Boots Pioneer

The Motel
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Asian-American Adolescent Searches for Identity in Coming-of-Age Adventure

Ernest Chin (Jeffrey Chyau) is a typical, heterosexual 13-year-old with raging hormones who finds himself suddenly fascinated by the female form. But despite the onset of puberty, it doesn’t look like he’s about to find an outlet for release anytime soon.
First of all, he’s overweight and Asian-American and living in a small town in upstate New York where most of the girls are white and won’t give him the time of day. Worse, he’s being bothered by bullies who refer to him by ethnic and sexual-preference slurs, even though he isn’t gay.
To top it off, he has very little free time after school anyway, between all his homework and having to help out with the family business. For Ernest is fatherless, and it is his job to clean rooms and make beds in the seedy motel run with an iron fist by his no-nonsense mother (Jade Wu).
Feeling his oats, the ever-obedient boy is about to assert a little
independence from his mom and attempt an assortment of adult behaviors for the first time. And it is the resulting strain on the mother-son relationship which sits at the center of The Motel. The movie marks a most impressive feature film debut by writer/director Michael Kang. Mr. Kang has crafted a compelling tale by examining rites of passage from a fresh perspective, namely that of a Chinese-American adolescent. There is no stereotyping here, except for the bigoted behavior on the part of a few of the aforementioned white teenagers.
Otherwise, the motley ensemble comprising Kang’s cast of characters are fairly complicated individuals. Principal among them are Sam, a well-meaning guest (Sung Kang) who takes a liking to Ernest and offers to serve as a father figure. But as a guy who smokes, drinks and brings hookers back to his room, he might not be the best of role models. And there’s Christine (Samantha Futerman), a patient 15-year-old friend who sees Ernest as a little brother and encourages him to develop his writing ability. Unfortunately, he’s blinded by lust, and just wants her for her body.
Most of the action takes place on the grounds of the sleazy motel, a dive frequented by a neverending parade of adulterous cheaters, whores, johns, and po’ folks on public assistance. Imperious Mrs. Chin has a trusty baseball bat at the ready for any unruly clients, but she never considered that her own offspring might turn out to be her toughest challenge.
A bittersweet meditation on manhood deeply-rooted in Amer-Asian culture.

Unrated
In English and Chinese with subtitles.
Running time: 76 minutes
Studio: Palm Pictures

               
The OH in Ohio
●●●1/2
Unsatisfied Wife Seeks First Climax in Bawdy, Off-Color Comedy

Advertising executive Priscilla Chase (Parker Posey) appears to have achieved the American Dream. After all, besides being recently promoted to vice president, she has a beautiful home in suburban Cleveland which she shares with her handsome husband, Jack (Paul Rudd). The childless couple’s only problem is that he’s never managed to satisfy her in bed, and frustration has begun to set in for them both.
While Jack, a high school biology teacher, embarks on a clandestine affair with a particularly precocious student (Mischa Barton) at a local motel, Priscilla confides in her shrink, before consulting a masturbation specialist (Liza Minelli) and an adult toy store owner (Heather Graham) in search of her first orgasm. Not only does our ever-horny heroine find an answer in onanism, but she goes so overboard enjoying her new collection of vibrators and dildos that she ends up joining Vibanon, a 12-Step program devoted to the overstimulated.
So, sexual satisfaction is the prevailing theme of The OH in Ohio, an off-color romp written and directed by Billy Kent, a veteran of television who has made over 180 commercials. Here, Kent has crafted a praiseworthy full-length feature debut, aimed at an audience comprised of open-minded adults not offended by erotically-charged material.
 For the suddenly-salacious Priscilla transforms before our eyes into a hedonistic hussy, bedding down a series of strangers to indulge her re-energized libido. The talented supporting cast includes Keith David and Danny DeVito, the latter landing his best role in years as a hot-to-trot widower in heat.
Tongue-in-cheek humor that’s kinda kinky around the edges.

Unrated
Running time: 91 minutes
Studio: Cyan Pictures

Superman Returns
●
Possible Paternity Overshadows Superman’s Earth-Saving Heroics

Superman, a Deadbeat Dad in denial? Say it ain’t so, Jimmy Olsen. For some reason, recent screen adaptations of comic book adventures have taken to imbuing many of our beloved superheroes with a variety of decidedly-human frailties. Thus, in recent days, we’ve witnessed a Spider-man depressed enough to consider hanging up his mask and jumpsuit, learned that Batman was emotionally traumatized by the murder of his parents, heard Fantastic Four’s Thing moan about how hard it is being a rock, and seen just about each of the X-Men wrestle with some sort of neurosis.
So, it comes as no surprise that the first extension of the Superman franchise in almost 20 years might suddenly feature The Man of Steel as a somewhat flawed individual. What is remarkable, however, is that the subplot adopted here suggests that his nerdy, unassuming alter ego, Clark Kent (Brandon Routh), might have knocked-up none other than Lois Lane (Kate Bosworth), his comely colleague who had previously been presented as a virginal paragon of virtue.
Unfortunately, the possibility that the pair enjoyed a liaison leading to a love child is such an intriguing and distracting development that it easily overshadows the film’s familiar front story which involves Superman taking a stand for “truth and justice” in protecting the planet from the latest diabolical plot hatched by his perennial arch enemy, Lex Luthor (Kevin Spacey). Notice that “the American way” has been dropped from Superman’s trademark slogan, ostensibly to placate theater audiences overseas where the U.S. image is at an all-time low, at least according to public opinion polls.
Anyhow, at the point of departure, we find Superman rocketing back to Earth after an unexplained absence of five years. He crash-lands on the farm of   his adoptive mom, Martha (Eva Marie Saint) who welcomes with open arms before informing him that Pa Kent has passed on. But this news is not nearly as shocking as what awaits him when he arrives at the offices of the Daily Planet in downtown Metropolis, whose skyline looks an awful lot like Sydney, Australia.
For not only does Lois have a son, Jason (Tristan Leabu) who’s almost five, but a doting life-partner in Richard (James “Cyclops” Marsden), nephew of the newspaper’s irascible editor, Perry White (Frank Langella). Richard is eager to make her an honest woman, but Lois has some secret reason for her stubborn refusal to tie the knot. Could it possibly have anything to do with Clark? A very big clue comes later when young Jason picks up a piano to crush a creep about to harm his mommy.
Given this apparent cross-fertilization of human and alien species, it’s terribly disappointing that director Bryan Singer (X-Men 1 & 2) opted to devote so much time to setting up the Lex Luthor-Superman showdown, especially when that interminable, apocalyptic scenario comes at the expense of exploring pressing questions raised by the birth of an historic genetic mutation.
In fact, after dropping the obvious hint via the killing by keyboard, the movie subsequently ignores the paternity theme entirely till the very end of the picture. This approach might have worked, had the action sequences been at all visually-engaging. But jostling the lens appears to be Singer’s favorite cinematic special effect, as every fight scene suffers from a bad case of shaken camera syndrome. Memo to the easily nauseated: Pack a tablet of Dramamine to ward off motion sickness.
 Clocking in at a tedious two and one-half hours, Superman Returns is likely to be too long for the tykes, too predictable for the ‘tweeners, and simply too frustrating for any adult. The Man of Steel as a morally-compromised and ethically-challenged figure has the potential to be quite compelling, but if and only if he is portrayed as confronting his demons in a meaningful way, not as an irresponsible “baby-daddy” who has no excuse for being absent during his son’s formative years.

Rated PG-13 for profanity and intense action violence.
Running time: 154 minutes
Studio: Warner Brothers