Thanks to the fact that I have small children, I was able to see Legend of the Guardians this weekend. I really wanted to go, and luckily, I was able to convince my kids. I was worried that it might be too scary, but the only frightening thing was the amount of money I ended up spending, thanks to the premium 3D price and the obscene amount of theater food I bought. Ah, heck, it's not like I can do this every weekend, so no harm done. Plus, the movie was awesome. I'd heard some grumbling over story and being too simple and intense in parts, but all in all, it was a very worthwhile moviegoing experience. I think my wife liked it more than all of us. The 3D was good without being the major focus of the picture. Director Zack Snyder, who has proven in the past that his flair for visuals and knack for action styling more than make up for the holes in the scripts he shoots, handled the whole thing extremely well. He injected it with passion and put his stamp all over the thing. Not that my daughters cared. They just liked the owls and were genuinely concerned for their well-being. Mission accomplished for the filmmakers. They hooked us all and took us on their journey. And we were glad to go. This will be added to our movie collection when it comes out on DVD.

Terry Gilliam must actually think in psychedelic, surreal, nightmarish dreamscapes. Or maybe he's really good at recollecting his strangest, most nonsensical dreams. Either way, the images he manages to put on film have always been exciting to me, appealing to my chaotic, mischievous, whimsical side, starting with the animation he did back in his Monty Python days. He displayed an artistic style that seemed married to the British sensibility, and went hand in hand with the madcap lunacy I came to love. I felt ever-so-slightly let down when I learned he was actually an American. His visuals were so intertwined with the aesthetic of the group that it was hard to imagine what they would have been like without him.

Luckily, after Monty Python, Mr. Gilliam stayed in Europe and did some awesome stuff. One of my favorites is his film "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen". Based on a German folk hero, the story centers on John Neville as the Baron, a sophisticated and eccentric man who appears to age in reverse as his adventures are told on-screen. The more wild and invigorating the situation, the younger our hero becomes. As things grow bleak and hopeless, age overtakes our Baron, and the grisly Angel of Death literally lurks in the background, waiting to steal our hero's soul and end his stay on Earth.

The film is gorgeous and fantastic in its depictions of these events, and as the Baron takes off to stop an impending war, he travels to unusual places like the moon, the Underworld, and into the belly of a sea creature. He seeks the aid of his old companions; one with incredible eyesight, one with amazing hearing and breath, one of superior speed, and one of unmatched strength. The effects are incredible, even if some of them are low-tech and outdated, they fit the purpose of the film, and convey the story's fairy-tale world beautifully. The Baron is larger than life, constantly doing stupendous things, and he gets irritated by those around him who cannot see past logic, reason and the limitations of reality. For example, he says this while he's climbing to the tip of the sliver of the crescent moon to hang a braid of the Queen's hair: "This is precisely the sort of thing no one ever believes". And yet, there's the Baron, doing it, through Terry Gilliam, in a one-of-a-kind adventure. Personal highlights are Uma Thurman's live-action depiction of The Birth of Venus, Robin Williams as the King of the Moon (with or without his head) and Eric Idle madly chasing a musket ball.

The thrust of the adventure seems to be that nothing, no matter how reasonable or unreasonable, can stand in the way of the power of the imagination. Watching a film like this makes a pretty good case for believing in the fantastic.

This might just be the greatest film ever made. The only thing that slightly holds it back is its reliance on established device; film noir, Raymond Chandler novels, shaggy dog tales. However, what it does within those parameters makes it undeniably unique in its execution. It's an absurd, hilarious, highly quotable, intentionally confusing case of mistaken identity, with an unreliable narrator and less-than-upstanding protagonist.

It's easy to see how it became both a cultural touchstone and a commercial failure. The film is not for everyone. Even folks who went to see Fargo and couldn't wait for the next Coen adventure were probably pretty disappointed. Admittedly, I was in this category, although I saw and loved The Hudsucker Proxy, Barton Fink, and Miller's Crossing, I never knew what to expect from a Coen film. I understood to some degree what the brothers were getting at, even if I didn't always know what they were saying.

And ultimately, that's what made me a Lebowski fan (an Achiever, in the parlance of our times). I didn't quite get it at first. I remember thinking that the film was smarter than me. This was a little infuriating at the time. I felt as though I'd been put on, duped. So I went to see it again. Things started to fall into place. I bought it when it came out on video and showed it to my friends, who were underwhelmed. Then I started to watch it every Friday. And finally, the strands in the ol' Duder's head started to come together.

It's an amazing piece of film. Roger Deakins commits some indelible images to the screen in his work with color and light and shadow. It made me sit up and pay attention to the art of cinematography. The soundtrack and musical selections are perfectly suited to their intended purposes. But it's the Dude (and maybe his rug) that really ties the film together. Jeff Bridges has never been better. The surrounding cast almost steals the show, but Bridges as the Dude grounds the picture as the central figure, an easygoing stoner masking a very uptight persona that only gets more and more wound up as the film progresses. As the Dude is drawn out of his comfort zone, he repeatedly falls back on his drug regimen and lackadaisical world view to center himself, as well as the viewers. It's a wonderful balancing act that has a purpose, and as loose and sprightly as it feels, it's utterly timed to comic and dramatic perfection.

The Coen Brothers touch on so many elements of our culture; religion and race, war and peace, the battle of the sexes, the gap between the rich and poor, drugs and recreation, family, the circle of birth and death, all while commenting on who we are as people and how we fall down or rise to the occasion in the circumstances of our own lives. I used to tell people who couldn't understand why I loved the film so much that it was about the need for friends and how they help get you through this life. But that's only a small part. Yes, I can see The Dude and Walter as strange bedfellows, almost polar opposite parents, with Donnie as their innocent child, but I don't think that's entirely the point of the message. It's a part of the whole, just one piece of the whole. The world is round, man, like a bowling ball, and we just have to roll with it. Strikes and gutters, man. Like the Dude, we need to abide.

I enjoyed the heck out of this movie. I saw it on opening weekend at the drive-in. I was initially concerned that the drive-in experience might take away from the film experience since I hadn't been to one since I was a little kid. I hoped to be entertained by a movie and not distracted by bad audio or headlight glare or honking horns and all that. The overall experience was a little bit of both. I was carefully scrutinizing certain aspects of the movie since I was such a huge G.I. Joe fan as a kid, so I can't say I got the best overall impression at first.

However, on DVD, it was a different story. I stopped the scrutiny of the movie as a G.I. Joe property (because, let's face it, Marlon Wayans was doing his best Will Smith and Channing Tatum was just kinda standing there) and went along for the ride. I watched it one night and it put a huge smile on my face. Great action, fun characters, passable storyline. So I watched it the next night. Then the next night. I watched it four straight nights back to back, and have seen it many times since. And it keeps getting more and more fun.

Now I embrace it as a G.I. Joe flick. I like what they did with the team, making them uniform but diverse. Rachel Nichols was a fantastic Scarlett, bringing a combination of smarts, sweetness and sexiness to the role. I thought the bad guys were great, too, from Joseph Gordon-Levitt's over the top Cobra Commander, to Christopher Eccleston's moving-metal faced Destro (just like in the cartoon!) to the lovely Sienna Miller as the Baroness. And of course Storm Shadow vs. Snake Eyes could have been a movie unto itself. Maybe it will be, since the flashbacks left a lot to be desired, and apparently, Snake Eyes killed his long-time adversary. Yeah, right... if you believe he's gone, you believe Freddy is dead. You can't kill that ninja.

I'm looking forward to the sequel, for several reasons. One, as much as I enjoyed it, I see room for improvement. Two, the Zombieland writers ought to have a blast with the script, making for much better dialogue and character nuances. Now that the original has done a decent job of setting us up for the future, we have an idea of what to expect. As long as they fix what didn't work and emphasis what did, I think G.I. Joe could expand it's niche. I say niche because I know I'm in the minority of fans that give the movie any credit, but taken for what it is, it really serves its purpose.

I loved this film. I was swept along from the moment the opening credits began, taking us through a gorgeous pictorial of history, both actual and fictitious. The visuals are outstanding, the story is appropriately rambling, and the ambition, boundless.

My favorite element of the film, aside from the striking scenery, colors and pieces lifted directly from the graphic novel, is the way the characters are introduced. One at a time, really, unfolding to us as their importance to the story is revealed. My absolute favorite sequence is the creation of Dr. Manhattan. It's twenty or so minutes that I watch, sitting tensely, hardly blinking, the hair on my arms standing up briskly. It's the heart of the film, in my opinion.

Another important aspect of the film is the music. I've heard this take a hit in some reviews, but man, it couldn't have been more perfect. I've often described the experience of watching Watchmen as seeing Forrest Gump made for Generation X. This is even more true if you consider the soundtracks to both films.

If you grew up in the shadow of the potential looming mushroom cloud as Gen Xrs did, you can feel the palpable sense of doom and dread that is knowing your world could end at any second. The filter of the superhero genre makes for a terrific vehicle for this sense of power and loss, but I can't help but feel that unless you lived through that time when the world felt like it was dying or could die at any time, then you might not feel the emotional heft of the movie's overall theme. In a postmodern look at superheroes, the message ultimately gets somewhat convoluted, and I understand some of the complaints about the ending, but it really couldn't have gone down any other way. It's all heavy, and I can't help but dig it.