Christopher Plummer may be in line for another Oscar nomination for his portrayal in Beginners of a 75-year-old widower who comes out of the closet after his wife’s death determined to live his final years merely as “theoretically gay”. Hal (Plummer) learns to live the life he suppressed for three-quarters of a century. Coming out frees him to establish for the first time a relationship with his only child, Oliver, played by Ewan McGregor with a convincing sadness. The movie centers around Oliver as he deals with the Hal’s death four years after the death of his mother. It is through flashbacks that we see Hal’s journey of self-discovery, while Oliver, in the present, is left alone after having spent his childhood with parents who lived a lonely existence with each other.

Oliver, who works as a graphic artist, starts a series of drawings on the “The History of Sadness”. He doesn’t get many takers. But he does encounter a cheerful French actress, Anna (played by Mélanie Laurent who starred as Shosanna in Inglourious Basterds). The movie follows Oliver’s attempts to learn how to have a committed relationship when the model his parents gave him his entire life was dysfunctional. Flashbacks to Hal’s late-in-life romantic liberation show Oliver’s only true lesson in love. He and his father are both beginners.

Hanna is definitely one of the better movies of 2011. I can say this with more confidence now than when I saw it 3 months ago (I’m looking for the bright side to catching up on my backlog of reviews). In the thriller-adventure genre of movies, nothing else I’ve seen comes close. Saoirse Ronan is perfect as an ethereal but deadly teenage girl (Hanna), raised and educated in the arctic by her father Erik (Eric Bana). There’s a certain fun novelty in seeing the kick-ass action hero be a slender young woman, and thanks to a clever script by Seth Lochhead and David Farr, it is completely believable.

Hanna convinces her father that she has learned all his lessons and he puts in motion the plan that he and Hanna have worked on her whole life. Hanna is quickly taken in by the CIA while Erik flees, but she makes an impressive and exciting escape and a chase ensues across Europe for Hanna who looks to reunite with Erik. Leading the chase is Cate Blanchett as CIA agent Marissa, whose ties to both Erik and Hanna unfold gradually over the course of the movie. Director Joe Wright paces things expertly (and also provides one of his trademark long, uncut takes (see also Atonement) through a crowded city and subway system). The feel of the movie is decidedly not that of a Hollywood action flick, leaving the outcome in doubt to the end.

The latest (and I would imagine the last) installment of the Disney/Depp saga also known as Pirates of the Caribbean recaptures a lot of the light-hearted tone and pirate-y rollicking of the first movie. Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow is present in almost every scene of the movie, and it is the generally happy-go-lucky Sparrow of the first Pirates movie rather than the one embroiled in various bargains with the un-dead that made episodes 2 and 3 confusing downers. There are a number of set action pieces, but the first, in which Sparrow expertly extracts himself from an audience with the King of England (and his hundreds of armed guards), is the best. Seated before an obese King George across from a long and elegant table loaded with delicacies, Sparrow drops a napkin here, places a strawberry there, and makes a number of other unusual manipulations of things in the room which becomes a perfectly choreographed escape.

The hunt this time around concerns the fountain of youth, and Geoffrey Rush is back as Captain Barbossa, this time employed by King George to beat the Spaniards to the treasure. Along for the ride are Sparrow (as a prisoner, but it doesn’t really matter) and his one-time love Angelica (Penelope Cruz) who also happens to be Barbossa’s daughter. Awkward.

Sword fight here, sword fight there, and we arrive at the tropical location of the fountain hot on the heels of the Spanish. A mermaid’s tear is required for entry, so the beautiful mermaids (at least from the waist up) ironically provide this installment’s sea monster quota. I found myself subconsciously adopting Sparrow’s attitude to the whole thing, which is a certain lack of emotional investment in the outcome. This enables his character to provide the much-needed comic relief in silly adventures such as this, but it also means that, like him, the audience doesn’t actually care too much who gets to the fountain of youth. There is an interesting dynamic between the virtuous Angelica and her diabolical father, however. But what really irked me about this movie was not in the main plot or the climax or any of that stuff, but in the denouement. So: spoiler alert.

Can anyone explain to me why Sparrow takes Angelica off and strands her on a desert island? What was that all about? They have no beef with each other, and they are not after the same thing, and they have had a perfectly happy ending to their adventure (well, maybe not perfectly happy for Angelica, but all the more reason not to maroon her). I think Sparrow is a great character, but if I could do something with Penelope Cruz, marooning her on a desert island is last on the list.

Super 8 is about nerdy 15-year-old boys in 1979 with Star Wars and Space Shuttle posters on the wall who make home movies in their spare time and obsess over girls they have no chance with. In other words, Super 8 is about me. The only difference is that my movies were of the science fiction variety and theirs are about zombies. And also that I never had an adventure with a giant telepathic man-eating alien. J. J. Abrams, who wrote and directed the movie, borrows several pages from Executive Producer Steven Spielberg’s directing bag of tricks to give Super 8 a gripping and accelerating tempo while ultimately telling a fairly simple monster movie. One is tempted to call it a mash-up of E.T. and Jaws, but that is unfair to Super 8 which has its own unique nostalgic charm.

The movie is carried by a strong cast of teen actors who do an excellent job of acting just like nerdy teen kids. Riley Griffiths plays Charles, the lead moviemaker of the bunch, and Joel Courtney plays his best pal and make-up wizard Joe, whose father is a policeman in their small town. While filming a scene for Charles’ zombie movie late at night, they witness a train crash to end all train crashes. The train merely runs into a truck on the tracks, but Abrams makes it look like several high-yield explosives were positioned all along the train which, judging from the way the cars are catapulted through the sky, must have been rocket-propelled. The crash scene may have been a deliberate attempt to let us know we’re just going to have a popcorn-popping thrill-fest with little connection to reality, or maybe Abrams just loves going over the top (I think of the ridiculous giant orange monster in the ice fields of Delta Vega in Star Trek as another example, or Spock seeing his own planet Vulcan appearing in the sky of Delta Vega like an oversized moon even though it is orbiting a distant star, but I digress). But the film crew, including Elle Fanning as Alice, a cute girl whom they cannot believe has deigned to hang out with them, quickly discovers that the excess momentum of the train is not the only peculiar thing about that crash. The military swoops into the sleepy town just as strange things start happening: the engines disappear from all the cars in a car lot; the power grid becomes unstable; and people start disappearing as well (one is tempted to make a comparison to Poltergeist, but one will resist the temptation). It is clear a monster is on the loose.

Abrams reveals details just at the right pace to keep things suspenseful, and the interplay between the kids, who are also struggling with their own kid issues while the world is falling apart around them, inject a bit of humor without things devolving into a kids-against-the-grown-ups scenario (which, though I was a kid at the time (okay, barely), made me dislike E.T.). Stick around for the end credits so you can see Charles’ final masterpiece.

Midnight in Paris starts unassumingly with a series of shots of Paris showing familiar and less familiar landmarks, from the Eiffel Tower to quaint Parisian street corners. The dialogue doesn’t start until the screen goes black for Woody Allen‘s characteristic front-loaded credits. We hear Owen Wilson as Gil, a screenwriter working on his first novel, falling in love with the city while his fiancee, Rachel McAdams as Inez, is less enamored. By the end of the credits we are already very familiar with three of the movie’s main characters: Gil, Inez, and the city of Paris.

Gil and Inez are in Paris with Inez’s parents, political conservatives distrustful of Gil’s new Bohemian leanings, while Gil proclaims that although his future in-laws’ views could only be held by a lunatic, they share a mutual respect. Things get worse for Gil when Inez starts hanging on every word of an arrogant and pedantic friend Paul (Michael Sheen, perfectly unlikable) also visiting Paris with his wife. Gil, the character that would have been played by Allen 30 years ago, starts strolling the city alone, put off both by Paul and Inez’s behavior around. One evening at the stroke of midnight, the city takes Gil into its arms for a magical journey that I am loathe to describe lest it spoil the novelty for anyone who has not seen it. As the movie progressed, I could feel my smile getting wider and wider. Adjectives to describe Midnight in Paris should all be synonymous with delightful, adorable, and enchanting.

Wilson is a good fit for Allen’s dialogue as well as Gil’s wide-eyed incredulity and gradual acceptance of the world unfolding before him. The broad supporting cast, including Marion Cotillard and Kathy Bates, shines with some of Allen’s finest writing, not just of recent years, but of his entire career. The movie is charming and life-affirming, and that last is saying something considering it was made by a man who has a very clear and profound dislike of mortality. I look forward to seeing it again.

The Farrelly Brothers are back with another sex comedy complete with signature shock moment (think about Cameron Diaz’s hair or Ben Stiller’s “Frank and Beans” in There’s Something About Mary to get a feel for the wavelength). In Hall Pass, two men are given a week-long furlough from their marriages by wives who are fed up with their constant obsession with sex. The problem isn’t so much the obsession with sex, as that the wives are not necessarily the objects of their husbands’ desires. So the ladies head off for a weekend in the country (where, in equal opportunity mode, they face their own temptations), while the guys, Rick (Owen Wilson) and Fred (Jason Sudeikis) are left to their own sorry devices in the city.

Sudeikis is cast somewhat against type as the guy with the real raging hormone problem. Rick, on the other hand, though initially resistant to the Hall Pass forced on him by his wife, does set his sights on the sexy barrista, complete with Australian accent, at the local coffee shop. Their buddies tag along for the vicarious thrill of seeing them pick up chicks. There is only one problem, of course: they are a couple of homebody, nearing-middle-age married dudes without the slightest clue about one night stands. Enter Coakley, an older buddy hilariously played by Richard Jenkins (in another unusual casting choice) who knows all the ins and outs at the night clubs and with the ladies.

Not surprisingly, the reality of the Hall Pass does not necessarily live up to the guys’ fantasy version of it, and that is where the movie goes for its laughs. I enjoyed it more than the Farrelly Brothers’ other movies. It is not as outlandish as There’s Something About Mary, which is both why I liked it better and why it will not be as successful, and while it has its absurd moments, it is more rooted in reality than their earlier fare. For me, that is a plus and makes the jokes and gags work better. It is close in spirit to The 40 Year Old Virgin, a romantic comedy masquerading as a sex comedy, though oddly enough it is simultaneously less vulgar and less sweet.

This is not a historical drama about legal issues with our 16th President. Matthew McConaughey plays the Lincoln (Continental) Lawyer, Mick Haller, in the movie based on Michael Connelly’s novel. McConaughey, whom I have frequently found to be insufferable, carries the movie, suggesting my problem has been with his past roles rather than his acting (I am probably most influenced by his turn in Contact). Here, Mick is a bit of an operator, but not at all unscrupulous and not, as the title might imply, an ambulance chaser. He is a criminal lawyer who is hired by a wealthy young smug operator, Louis Roulet, (played by Ryan Phillippe) accused of attempted rape and murder.

The first mystery is why Roulet would hire a lawyer who works from his car rather than simply make use of the law firm that his family has on staff. The answer to that question turns out to be key to unravelling the events of the crime. Haller has a private investigator played by William H. Macy to help him, and a close relationship with his ex-wife, a prosecutor played by Marisa Tomei. Haller is, like perhaps all criminal defense attorneys, haunted by the potential innocence of his client. But as the movie and his investigation unfolds, a past case that he urged his client to plead out comes back to haunt him.

There is nothing particularly flashy or innovative here, just a very good story, expertly told. It is reassuring to see a movie like that with A-list actors can still get made in the era of the Transformers franchise.

In a snappy update and reimagining of the premise of the classic short story Flowers for Algernon, Limitless takes an aimless writer and gives him a serious IQ boost thanks to a sexy street drug called NZT. Bradley Cooper plays Eddie Morra, a disheveled mess in New York City who somehow has an advance to write a novel even though he is incapable of getting the book started. A chance encounter gives him a taste of NZT which instantly removes the fog from his mind, allowing him to recall virtually everything that has ever happened to him and more importantly to integrate it in a sensible way. His life and the world come into sharp focus. Not only does his writer’s block evaporate, but his prose is brilliant. He is the life of every party. He recognizes patterns enabling him to make a fortune in the stock market. As the title implies, not even the sky is the limit.

Neil Burger’s direction of Leslie Dixon‘s screenplay (adapted from the novel The Dark Fields by Alan Glynn) evokes the transformation in Eddie’s mind each time he takes the pill. Focus and aspect change. Colors deepen. Background items and events snap into view. The potential for power is seductive to Eddie, and who can blame him? Who has not felt that if only we could get rid of those pesky distractions and concentrate for a bit, that we too could achieve great things. We root for Eddie in part because the idea of NZT is so appealing. It turns him into a superhero, but only by unlocking what he already has inside his own ordinary head. Seeing his dazzling insights, we imagine that we too might be able to be such a star. After I left the theater I was fired up to start knocking things off my to-do list.

But NZT, like any drug, has some side effects. And the supply is not necessarily reliable. Eddie must navigate these obstacles to reach some goal, presumably along the lines of world peace. In his narration, and to his on-again off-again girlfriend (Abbie Cornish), he claims he has a plan to deal with the dwindling supply of pills and the growing number of dangerous people on his heals. But unfortunately we don’t see much of this plan, and whatever it is, it doesn’t seem to be particularly clever. And that is the shortcoming of the movie: as entertaining and engaging as it is, the story and screenplay were not written by someone as clever as Eddie is supposed to be, so at times Eddie doesn’t actually seem that clever.

A couple of months have passed since I saw Made in Dagenham, based on the true story of a group of women at a Ford plant in England who go on strike to demand equal pay with men. It was startling to see that not very long ago, the idea that women should be paid less than men for doing the same job was widely accepted as not only normal but good for society and good for the economy. Although, as with many working class English movies, I found myself occasionally wishing for subtitles, the movie was both enjoyable and an interesting history lesson for me.