'Your dragon tattoo cannot save you now'

All predictions seem to have The Artist's Jean Dujardin winning Best Actor at the Oscars Sunday night. And that wouldn't bother me too much, since I enjoyed that movie. Even though George Clooney should win for The Descendants.

It'll be interesting to see how Dujardin cashes in. Hopefully, it goes something like this.

Jean Dujardin's Villain Auditions from Jean Dujardin

I would go see "Larry Crowne 2" if Dujardin drowned Tom Hanks at the end. Especially if the sequel kept the Jeff Lynne and Tom Petty music, which is the one thing I enjoyed about Larry Crowne. 

Normally, I would do an Oscars predictions post, but there doesn't seem to be much suspense for this year's awards. Almost all of the categories seem to have heavy favorites. That could make for a really lame show, too. 

OK, I'll make one prediction: The show won't end until midnight. Billy Crystal won't be able to help himself, and from what I've read, he intends this to be kind of a celebration of all the previous Oscars he's hosted. I suppose the show is always self-indulgent, but this sounds even worse. 

Movie review: The Grey

If I was a filmmaker, I imagine it would drive me crazy if the marketing for one of my movies misled audiences, with trailers and TV ads giving people the impression they might be seeing something different from what was actually made.

So when The Grey was being sold as a man vs. animal, man vs. nature drama, I wonder if Joe Carnahan was grinding his teeth a bit. Maybe not, because this movie is indeed about those conflicts. (Plus, it finished No. 1 at the box office last weekend, so he's probably cool with it all.) The characters battle sub-zero temperatures, roaring winds and thigh-high snow. And then, there are those big, bad wolves, ready to tear up some people for meal and sport.

But maybe you've also been reading that The Grey goes a bit deeper than that. This gets downright existential.

Working on an oil pipeline in remote Alaska, marooned from family and friends, with getting drunk at the on-site bar the only means of recreation, would probably push anyone to the brink of insanity. But Liam Neeson's character, Ottway, is on the brink of something else when we first see him. He's deeply unhappy, presumably over missing his wife.

We don't know why the two are apart. Did she not like him leaving for Alaska and being gone for who knows how long? Did he go to Alaska because his life had fallen apart back home? Is he the detached, aloof sort of personality that's better suited to solitude? Just a man and his rifle, off in the distance, deriving some sense of purpose out of picking off the wolves that might attack the pipeline workers?

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Ottway seems to find another purpose after the plane carrying him and his colleagues crashes onto an isolated arctic tundra with nothing around but snow, more snow and at least half a dozen hungry wolves. He wants to survive, and help as many fellow castaways as he can.

That help doesn't always exclusively apply to survival, either. In one of the film's more memorable scenes, Ottway helps comfort someone who is near death, making sure he's not alone and thinks about what's meaningful to him in his final moments.

But what makes The Grey truly compelling is that it questions the very nature of survival.

What is it about your life that makes it worth living? Is it the people you love? Is it the sense that you haven't accomplished everything you've wanted to? Is it the fear of death? Is it simply ego? And just how hard are you willing to fight for those things when circumstances push you to your absolute limit? Faced with an uncertain outcome and seemingly insurmountable adversity, would you just give up? Or would you take the struggle head-on, even to the very end?

Even more intriguing to me was that the movie is willing to challenge the concept of faith. As one of the character says, why would God — if there is one — allow these people to survive the plane crash, only to then let them die in the wilderness? How important is faith? And does it have to be earned, rather than just accepted? 

Of course, you can't really sell any of that in a trailer or commercial. Action and suspense is what's going to bring the people to the theater. But The Grey provides plenty of those things, too. It's not entirely ponderous and philosophical.The characters don't sit around and talk about this stuff through the whole movie. It's actually more up to the viewer to ponder these questions as they're watching, leaving the theater, or writing blog posts.)

It's just gratifying to have those sorts of themes weaved in with the main narrative. And as strange as this might sound, I was happy for Carnahan for getting to make a movie like this. In someone else's hands, this might have been all about man vs. wolf or some kind of survivalist porn, especially as Neeson has developed into an unlikely action hero late in his career.

Carnahan looked like a very promising director after Narc, but maybe the system beat him down a bit as he tried to get movies like White Jazz and Killing Pablo made. Instead, he had to make overly stylish crime movies like Smokin' Aces or messy attempts at blockbusters like The A-Team just to stay afloat. 

Of course, it's entirely possible that those projects scratched a creative itch and made him a better director. Perhaps The Grey is the result of that. I hope so, because I'm eager to see what he does next. (Reports have him doing a remake of Death Wish.) Maybe he'll have to alternate films he wants to do with films he has to do. But it's becoming increasingly clear which of those movies are better.  

Movie review: The Artist

I doubt I'm going to see all nine Best Picture nominees before the Oscars broadcast on Feb. 26. But of the six I hadn't seen previously, The Artist was the one I wanted to see the most. 

Maybe it's buying into the hype, but there's been so much talk about this movie from film festivals (including Asheville's) and year-end best-of lists that I figured I'd see it at some point. Of course, the idea of a modern black-and-white silent film getting so much acclaim was also intriguing. But was this a gimmick meant to stoke feelings of nostalgia among moviemakers? Or is The Artist actually a really good film?

At the risk of a cop-out answer, I think it's both. 

It's impossible not to be charmed by this movie. Everyone on screen seems to be having a great time. No one more than John Goodman, who really seems to relish overacting with his facial expressions and pantomimes. You don't even need the title card to know what he's saying.

Jean Dujardin captures the smiling, preening, swashbuckling, high-wattage style of the old-style movie actors. It's not at all hard to buy that his George Valentin is the kind of matinee idol that women want to be with and men want to be. With a thin mustache and hair slicked back by pomade, he's dashing in romances and rugged in adventures. 

Berenice Bejo plays exactly the sort of spunky gal that typified stars of the era, beautiful enough to make anyone turn and look at her, but ready to shake off that coat so she can dance. She's no China doll, Mister! Even her name, Peppy Miller, has moxie. ("The name's Miller! Peppy Miller!") 

And then there's the dog, Uggie. You will love that dog. 

Perhaps you could say the movie is about the constantly changing nature of art. What was popular and successful in one era becomes obsolete as technology and cultural tastes move on. Adapt or die. I think The Artist wants to believe this is what it's really about. 

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Dujardin is a star in silent movies, but with the advent of sound, "talkies" are the new rage and he's quickly seen as a dinosaur. Yet he still has major film ambitions — Get it? He's an artist! — and funds a tragic war epic with his own money. There's really no reason why he couldn't still be a star in movies with sound, though perhaps we learn why eventually. 

What he seemingly needs to do, above all else, is get over himself and realize that the movie industry is bigger than him, that the newest star is a flashy audition and discovery away from taking over the marquee. Or maybe he just needs the nurturing love of a good woman.

By the time the credits roll, you just feel good having watched The Artist. And I think that's what people are responding to, more than anything else. Do you have the feeling that you saw something "great"? No, but you have a smile on your face and maybe you want to do a tap dance in the lobby afterwards. That's what the movies used to make us feel before they got so damn serious. Or stupid. 

The AV Club's Nathan Rabin also astutely points out that The Artist doesn't have anything that would automatically raise a red flag as to why it would never win Best Picture. There's no unlikable lead character. It doesn't play loose with the facts. Nor is it a genre film. There's nothing at all challenging about this movie. So that's probably exactly why it will win the big prize. 

And in a way, that will probably be unfair. The Artist is the kind of movie that will probably win Best Picture, yet we'll look back in five to 10 years and wonder why the more "important" film didn't win. The Oscars do this all the time.

Yet I don't think the filmmakers ever had Oscar ambitions with this. (That could be incredibly naive of me, given Harvey Weinstein's involvement.) It's not Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close or War Horse. It's just a film that was fun and utterly charming — while harkening back to a simpler, more innocent era — at the right time. 

In my opinion, The Descendants is a better movie and should win the Best Picture Oscar. But I wouldn't have a big problem with The Artist winning, either. There's nothing not to like about it. 

Thoughts on the 2012 Oscar nominations

As Crash Davis once said, a player on a streak has to respect the streak. Well, this isn't that kind of streak and I'm not a player. But as long as I've had a blog, I've written about the Academy Award nominations.

Usually, I try to get a post up as soon as the nominations are announced, but I was busy Tuesday morning. And it's not like I would've accomplished anything but trying to get the nominations up as fast as I could. 

But we're going on seven years with these Oscar posts, so I didn't want to let this year go by. Even if I was a bit underwhelmed by the nominations. And maybe about the movies in general. I enjoyed plenty of them, but there's only one that I could truly say I loved: The Descendants. (I should really write something about that.)

I usually list the nominations, but since we're four days after the fact, you can read them here. But here are some thoughts that jump to mind.

▪▪ The one glaring snub? Shailene Woodley absolutely, positively deserved a Best Supporting Actress nod for The Descendants. Yes, George Clooney does a great job, but in many ways, Woodley's character — as Clooney's daughter — drives the story. Without her, it's not as good of a movie — period. 

So which nominee should go in favor of Woodley? Well, I'd probably knock off Jessica Chastain in The Help. She's a great actress, but I don't think this was even her best movie this year. And as fun as Melissa McCarthy was in Bridesmaids, and as cool as it was that she was nominated, come on. 

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▪▪ A lock? Clooney looks like a strong bet for Best Actor. I'll say Aaron Sorkin and Steven Zaillian are a lock for Best Adapted Screenplay on Moneyball. Woody Allen for Best Original Screenplay on Midnight in Paris, too. And Viola Davis for Best Actress in The Help. Is that too many locks? 

▪▪ My favorite nomination? Christopher Plummer in Beginners. I wasn't embracing that movie as I watched it, but it's stayed with me and my appreciation has grown. (Another one I need to write about.) Plummer could've made bad choice and made his out-of-the-closet-at-75 character too flamboyant. But he doesn't.

You know, he's probably another lock. Should we even bother tuning in this year?

▪▪ I would've added Girl with the Dragon Tattoo to the Best Picture nominees. Or trimmed the list down to five films.

▪▪ However, I've only seen three of the nine nominated films, so I probably shouldn't say that. That is probably the fewest number of Best Picture candidates I've seen in years. I had a bad year at the movies. (Or should I say, not at the movies.) 

▪▪ Movies I still need to see: Hugo tops that list for me, while The Artist is a close second. I didn't see Midnight in Paris despite it playing in theaters all summer. And Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close looked compelling from its trailer, but it's been getting killed by critics. Maybe Albert Nobbs, but there has to be a promise of drinks or dinner to follow.

▪▪ I know it was never going to happen, but it would've been so cool if Andy Serkis was nominated for his motion-capture performance in Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Yes, the computers did a lot of the work, but Serkis gave them a base to work from. Best Supporting Actor, maybe? Knock Kenneth Branagh off for him. (Though to be fair, I didn't see My Week With Marilyn. Maybe he's really good.) 

Late review: Moneyball

I'm still trying to investigate the circumstances that brought this about, but for some reason, I did not see Moneyball when it was released in theaters last September.

For one thing, blogging about the Detroit Tigers' playoff run and baseball pennant chases, along with following Michigan football, soaked up a lot of time. And I was usually too wiped out, even to go to the movies, when I did have some free time. 

But by the time the movie actually came out, I think I was also suffering from Moneyball fatigue.

I love baseball. I love movies. A lot of my online time is spent reading blogs, reviews and features on both subjects. Moneyball crossed between both worlds, so there wasn't really an escape. The movie bloggers and film critics I enjoy wrote about it. All of the baseball scribes and sportswriters I follow chimed in with their recollections of actual events and reviews of the film. 

So as much as I wanted to see the movie (and sort of felt I had to, as a baseball blogger), and as much as I wanted to be part of the discussion at the time, I also wanted some distance from it. Maybe I'd go to the theater after the hype had died down a bit. 

Unfortunately, I waited too long. But thanks to a second-run theater in Asheville, I was able to see Moneyball just after Christmas. To me, the timing on this felt perfect. Baseball season had been done for two months, so the appetite was there. Seeing it in September might not have made a difference, but it was nice to have a baseball movie when the real thing was in hibernation. 

The question with Moneyball was how a book largely about exploiting market inefficiencies to compete with big-revenue baseball teams could be adapted into a cinematic story. But Michael Lewis' book centered on Oakland Athletics general manager Billy Beane to put a face on the story. Bennett Miller's movie (and the script by Steven Zallian and Aaron Sorkin) take that even further, making this Beane's story almost entirely, following a man fighting the establishment and an industry that's been calcified in conventional thought. 

Brad Pitt is well cast as Beane, someone who can make things happen with his charisma and the force of his personality. Yet he also has an edge to him that suggests he's not truly happy with how his job is going and yearns for a breakthrough that will help him gain a foothold in baseball.

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He finds that breakthrough in Peter Brand, who opens Beane's eyes to the deeper statistical side of baseball and is thrilled to have someone believe in him enough to put his theories into practice. Jonah Hill does a great job of portraying kind of a shy genius who gains confidence in himself as the story progresses. But what makes his story especially compelling is that Beane shows him that dealing with people is an important side of running a baseball team, as well. 

One of the frequent failures of sports movies is that they fail the eye test. Fans who watch the games can tell when an actor's swing looks slow and isn't smooth. When a throw from a quarterback to a receiver doesn't look authentic (and is obviously aided by cuts and camera tricks), it's hard to get past that. Well, at least for me.

Moneyball doesn't have that problem because most of the action (so to speak) takes place off the field. The story follows how Beane and Brand seek out undervalued players based on how much they get on base, how the two build their baseball team out of so-called scrap parts, and how they stick to their convictions in the face of everyone telling you them wrong because they're not doing it the way it's always been done. 

When on-field action comes into play, Miller uses actual game footage for most of the play, rather than have his actors try to simulate what actually happened. Which is a smart move. But when the drama needs to be amped up, he closes in on his actors, particularly Chris Pratt, who plays Scott Hatteberg, kind of the embodiment of the Beane-Brand philosophy.

Hatteberg was a washed-up catcher who appeared to be on his way out of baseball. But he could get on base. Signing him to play first base was a whole lot cheaper for a team like Oakland.

No, Hatteberg didn't have the power and flashy numbers that the departed Jason Giambi took with him to the New York Yankees. But with his talent for taking lots of pitches until he got the one he could hit hard, he could help replace that missing production — and at a far greater value. 

Much like Brand as portrayed by Hill, Pratt shows us someone on the player side who worries that he's being asked to do something that he might not be capable of, but finds his footing as the team shows confidence in him. Eventually, it all comes together and the affirmation that comes with that is sweet.

Some have criticized Moneyball for fudging and glossing over some details. For instance, "Peter Brand" is a fictionalized version of Paul DePodesta, who disagreed with his portrayal in the script. (And though he says otherwise, maybe he wasn't too thrilled about a pre-svelte Jonah Hill playing him.)

Additionally, the 2002 A's weren't entirely a rag-tag collection of cast-offs. They had a formidable pitching staff that included Barry Zito, who won 23 games and the American League Cy Young Award. Shortstop Miguel Tejada won the AL Most Valuable Player award after hitting 34 home runs and driving in 131 runs. Other players who made major contributions — such as Eric Chavez, Tim Hudson and Mark Mulder — are barely mentioned.

Young first baseman Carlos Pena wasn't traded to the Tigers as easily and for as little as is portrayed in the film. (My moviegoing companion demonstrated great patience in trying to watch the film while I often leaned over and whispered, "It didn't really happen that way.")

Yet the film sells it. The trade looks convincing, mostly because it's the culmination of the conflict between Beane and field manager Art Howe, who steadfastly refuses to indulge an experiment that will presumably cost the team wins and reflect poorly on him. 

The same goes for the overall movie. The small details may not be quite correct, but those have little to do with telling this story. And it's a story of affirmation and redemption that anyone — baseball fan or otherwise — will likely find compelling. 

One last thing: Moneyball had its own behind-the-scenes drama as Steven Soderbergh was originally set to shoot this movie, only to have Sony shut down production once they discovered that Soderbergh had made changes to the script and intended to make more of a documentary-style film with the real figures portraying themselves.. As a huge Soderbergh fan, part of me will always want to see that movie. Including the footage he shot on the Blu-Ray would've been one hell of a special feature.

I was ready to dislike this movie because the decision was made to go in a more conventional direction (canning one of my favorite directors in the process). But in the end, maybe the right decision was made. And maybe Miller ended up making a better movie, regardless of how closely it stuck to actual events.

Movie review: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

My friend A. has been on me for years to read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, along with the other two books in Stieg Larsson's "Millennium" trilogy. But in typical fashion for me, I never got around to them, despite owning the first two books. (This should be a entire blog entry on its own, but I've had trouble reading fiction over the last five years or so. It's a problem I'm working on.)

I've also never watched the Swedish film adaptations of the "Dragon Tattoo" books. Although I'm familiar enough with Noomi Rapace's portrayal of the title character to know why she's suddenly appearing in blockbuster American films. And I recognized the actor who played Mikael Blomkvist, the story's other protagonist, in the new "Mission: Impossible" movie. 

At various points throughout this year, I intended to read the books and/or watch the Swedish films before seeing David Fincher's American version. Adaptations are kind of a pet fascination of mine, and I'm very curious how the material is approached differently. But I continued to procrastinate (i.e., goof around online, watch TV and read other — nonfiction — books), leaving myself little time to check out the source material. 

All of this is a long way of telling you that I went into this movie fresh, as Frank Costanza would say. I had no idea if Fincher (and screenwriter Steve Zallian) were faithful to the book. I had no opinion on whether or not the Swedish movies were better. I couldn't tell you if Rapace is a better Lisbeth Salander than Rooney Mara. Is the tendency by Daniel Craig's Blomkvist to hang his glasses off his ear and dangle them below his jaw something from the book or a quirk Craig came up with himself? Dunno.

What I do know is that I love Fincher's movies. (Well, not all of them. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was a snoozer.) And this is such a great match of filmmaker and material that it's almost like it was meant to happen.

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The story and characters are very dark, and so is this movie with its sharp blue and slight greenish tones and inky black primary colors. (And nothing is more "inky black" than the rocking title sequence. I've read several people say it could be the opening to a Bond film. I just thought it was the best music video — for Trent Reznor and Karen O's cover of "Immigrant Song" — I'd seen in a long time.) Every frame of this thing might as well have a "FINCHER" watermark on it. 

I've heard the criticism that Fincher is almost cycling through his greatest hits here, and maybe there's something to that. Obviously, you have the serial killer storyline, which echoes Seven and Zodiac. And I got a distinct Seven vibe from the guest house Blomkvist stays in, along with the library where Salander does some research. But I think that's largely a coincidence. This stands on its own among Fincher's other films.

The story takes a while to get going, and though it's nice to see the characters and their arcs get established, I felt like Blomkvist and Salander needed to team up sooner. That might be a product of the source material.

Once the two get together, the action probably does throttle down a bit as we mostly watch research through documents and photos on computer screens. But Fincher doesn't let it drag out like he did with Zodiac and "Benjamin Button." The mystery picks up momentum as they get closer to finding the killer they've been hired to discover, so it doesn't feel boring at all. 

However, the pace feels a bit off, especially because the movie keeps going after the primary plot is resolved. When it seems like the credits should roll, the story continues to resolve a subplot involving Blomkvist and his fall from journalistic grace.

I assume this is meant to establish a bridge to the subsequent stories in the trilogy. Those seem much more fun in superhero movies when Batman is handed a Joker card or Samuel L. Jackson shows up at Robert Downey Jr's house to talk about "the Avengers initiative." 

I do have one big pet peeve with the film's casting, however. Not with anyone chosen to play a particular part. All the actors are cast wonderfully. But when one relatively well-known actor stands out among lesser known castmates in a collection of suspects, it's a safe guess that the more famous guy will turn out to be more important.

As Roger Ebert once wrote, casting is never accidental. Unfortunately, it tips off the mystery quite a bit, in this case. 

But the most important casting is Mara as Salander. Again, I have no point of comparison, but I thought she did an outstanding job. Salander is all hard edges with little social tact when we first meet her. It's her armor against a world and life that's treated her poorly. (She wears a hilarious t-shirt when first meeting Blomkvist that sums up her worldview nicely.) That's forged a capacity for fierce vengeance, but also a strong sense of right and wrong I can see why she's such a popular character.

As the story progresses, and Salander takes a liking to Blomkvist — perhaps realizing that people aren't so bad or that some have been shit on too — she softens. Not a lot, but enough to notice. And you see that subtle transition in Mara's face. 

I actually wanted more of Salander in the movie. It's far more interesting when she's on screen. And I look forward to seeing her in future sequels (though I've been told that she spends a lot of time in a hospital bed later on, which sounds like a major buzzkill). 

I just hope Fincher stays along for the ride. I can't imagine these movies would be as compelling without him. 

Reading stack: Cameron Crowe's slump, Fincher's Spidey, and Lord of the Beatles

• I love Cameron Crowe movies. Almost Famous was fantastic. I still like Jerry Maguire, even though so much of it has been overplayed in pop culture. And I have a big soft spot for Singles.

But man, Elizabethtown was a major letdown. (I think I was so disappointed because the trailer really got to me. My father had just died.) On the bright side, Kirsten Dunst's character inspired Nathan Rabin to coin the term "Manic Pixie Dream Girl."

It also kind of exposed Crowe as formulaic, with protagonists that always go for the big move, fail, then have to come back from that. So is Crowe's upcoming We Bought a Zoo more of the same? [Slate]

• While watching David Fincher and the cast of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo talk to Charlie Rose over the weekend, I recalled that Fincher was once interested in directing a Spider-Man movie. Except he didn't want to do the origin story.

As it turns out, Fincher was on the short list to direct the rebooted Spidey flick before Marc Webb was chosen. Should it be any surprise that the story he wanted to tell is probably the darkest, most tragic in the Spider-Man mythology? [Spinoff Online]

• This doesn't sound like it could be true, but apparently it is. It's certainly the first I've heard of it. In 1969, The Beatles contacted Stanley Kubrick to ask him if he'd be interested in directing them in an adaptation of Lord of the Rings. As the story goes, Kubrick decided against doing it because he thought J.R.R. Tolkien's novels were "unfilmable."

But where do you even begin with this? Would John Lennon have played Frodo? Paul McCartney as Samwise Gamgee? Ringo would've made a great Gollum, I bet. I like the idea of George Harrison as Gandalf, as one fan-made poster here suggests. Of course, this is all overlooking trying to imagine what Kubrick would've done with this material. That is, if this story is true.  [Movies.com]

• Last week would've been Bill Hicks' 50th birthday. It certainly would've been interesting to see how Hicks would've endured through the rise, fall and re-emergence of comedy in our culture. Would Hicks have done a comedy podcast? The form probably would've suited him wonderfully. Here, David Haglund looks at the six-minute set that was infamously cut from David Letterman's show in 1993. [Browbeat]

• Apparently, the ideal way to take a nap is in a hammock. I don't have a hammock. Also, the recommendation is for a 10-minute nap. I don't do 10-minute naps. Power naps have never worked that well for me. I just want to sleep more. But maybe I should string a hammock up in my garage and give it a try. [Men's Health]

Late review: Rise of the Planet of the Apes

I didn't take the time to review Rise of the Planet of the Apes when it came out in theaters, so with its DVD release on Tuesday, I didn't want to miss a second chance. 

First and foremost, this movie is worth your time. If you saw the trailers or heard about a new "Planet of the Apes" flick and thought, "Why are they bothering?" I was right there with you. If it was going to be another disappointing turd like the Tim Burton-Mark Wahlberg version was (although I think the make-up and effort to make more animalistic apes were spectacular), what was the point? 

But this Rupert Wyatt-James Franco version isn't a retelling of the 1970s films. (Though there are a couple of tributes shoehorned in.) Like all the good recent prequels (Batman Begins, Casino Royale, Star Trek, X-Men: First Class), this is telling a story which hasn't been told. Yes, we know the apes took over the earth at some point. But how did that happen? Most importantly, how did those apes become intelligent?

What sets this new version further apart is that the apes are no longer actors in masks and make-up. As impressive as the apes were in Burton's movie, especially in their variety, there's only so much expression possible from underneath latex and fur. But these new apes are CGI creations, allowing the full range of emotions to be portrayed. 

Completely CGI apes may raise an eyebrow. It did for me. Just because CGI characters can create fully articulated faces and depict complex emotions doesn't mean they can do it well. (For instance, the completely plastic-looking younger Jeff Bridges in Tron: Legacy.) But the people at Weta Digital clearly know what they're doing.

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It sounds like a cliché to say that a movie's special effects were so good that you thought they were real. But the effects used to create the story's main character, Caesar, were so good that they'll make you care about a completely computer-generated chimpanzee. As I watched the movie, I was continually surprised by how affected I was by this ape that didn't really exist. Was this thing really moving me? Yes, it was. 

A great deal of that has to do with the motion-capture performance of actor Andy Serkis, who practically owns this type of work (and has some people saying he should get Oscar consideration). It's not just the facial expressions, either. You see what Caesar is feeling and thinking through Serkis' body language too.

He slumps when he realizes he'll never be considered one with the humans, no matter how well Franco's character and his father raise him. He coils with anger when he thinks he's been abandoned. He stands up tall when finding his sense of purpose as a reluctant revolutionary. 

CGI also helps Wyatt move his camera to places that would surely be physically impossible. This is especially evident during the climax at the Golden Gate Bridge. The camera moves over, under and along the bridge, following the action. Looking over the edge of the bridge is harrowing, as well, though I don't know how that will come across watching on TV instead of a theater's big screen. 

Is it a little hard to believe that Franco is this brilliant scientist who's created a drug that restores brain tissue and may cure Alzheimer's Disease? Yes, probably. I mean, he's got all those MFA degrees to finish! But Franco actually plays driven characters pretty well, as shown in 127 Hours. So the premise that this scientist is pushing to develop this drug in time to cure his rapidly deteriorating father (John Lithgow) is rather compelling. 

But most of the human characters are set dressing or plot devices. Franco's nosy, ill-tempered neighbor may as well be wearing a sign that says "Eventual ape attack victim" around his neck. Same goes for the bully who works at the animal shelter where Caesar is eventually taken. His sign should read "The apes are gonna fuck me up bad." (Spoiler alert? If so, my apologies.)

Ultimately, this is Caesar's story. From abandoned baby chimp to science experiment to animal brain whiz to abandoned adult chimp to leader of the primate uprising. No wonder the decision was made to make Caesar a CGI/motion-capture creation. An actor in a suit, underneath a mask couldn't have carried the story and majority of screen time. 

And like all good prequels, Rise of the Planet of the Apes sets up the mythology many of us know and love. (It's too bad the studio decided to go with that clunky title, though. "Caesar" or "Rise of the Apes" would've been fine. Maybe that first one would've been too vague. But the brand must be protected.) It's easy to envision a sequel developing from this. And best of all, the filmmakers didn't wedge in a bunch of vague clues or references toward what was to come. (Iron Man 2, anyone?)

Well, maybe that's not entirely true. Make sure you watch through the credits. One last scene explains how the "planet" part of the whole mythology occurs.