Buried

Say this for "Buried": it's bold. The film is basically 90 minutes of star Ryan Reynolds trapped in a coffin.

It's a daring experiment. Unfortunately, I've seen the results, and they're disappointing.

Reynolds plays Paul Conroy, a truck driver working as a contractor in Iraq. He's been taken hostage and buried alive by his captors, who demand "5 million dollars money." At his disposal are a cell phone, a lighter, and a few other items--but naturally, nothing that can get him out of the box. Conroy frantically tries to make phone calls for help while fending off threats that include a snake and sand seeping into the box.

Director Rodrigo Cortes manages to make the movie visually exciting despite the claustrophobic setting. In fact, sometimes he cuts the camera so quickly that it can be hard to tell what's going on.

The bigger problem, though, is that it rarely feels like Paul's captors are the ones in charge. Instead, we're made acutely aware that he's at the mercy of the filmmakers. They throw in far too many convenient twists and turns to amp up the excitement. Just one example: Paul is unable to contact his wife until near the end of the film because, naturally, she left her cell phone at home.

"Buried" also addresses the political subtext of the plot, but in a completely uninteresting way. The main message seems to be, "Boy, we sure screwed up in Iraq, huh?"

It's a shame for Reynolds, who gives an impressive performance. Getting 90 minutes of nearly uninterrupted screen time would be a dream for most actors, but it requires immense energy. Reynolds has to swing quickly from anger to sadness to excitement, and he does it with aplomb.

He has to be even more nimble as the film hurtles towards its finale and the twists come even faster. "Buried" reaches a point where any conclusion would feel arbitrary. It ends just like this.

Young Adult

Most antiheroes indulge our taste for the illicit. Almost no one would actually rob banks like Clyde Barrow in "Bonnie and Clyde," or rule the mob with an iron fist like Michael Corleone in "The Godfather Part II," or booze at work like Don Draper in "Mad Men." But there's some part of us that wishes we could be like these irresponsible characters.

No one would want to be like Mavis Gary, the subject of "Young Adult." She's just a flat-out bitch.

Sure, she's beautiful and writes a hit young adult book series. But she's so insecure that she wears falsies. And she's merely a ghostwriter of a series long past its peak.

Moreover, she's a lazy, alcoholic slob. And did I mention she's a home wrecker?

Or at least, she'd like to be one. Trouble is, the object of her desire, Buddy Slade, is happily married with a newborn.

"Young Adult" is an experiment in seeing how unlikable it can make its main character. It ups the ante even further by setting the action in a pleasant small town where everyone is friendly, further playing up the contrast.

"Young Adult" represents a major step forward for screenwriter Diablo Cody. Sometimes Cody can overdo her concept a bit here: Does Buddy's wife really have to be a special education teacher? But Cody has put a new spin on her favorite concept, kids in high school, by writing about a character who effectively stopped maturing at graduation.

She's also moved on from the quips that got so much attention in "Juno" and "Jennifer's Body." There's nothing necessarily wrong with writing clever phrases like "honest to blog," but it would have worn thin over time. In "Young Adult" Cody gets big laughs elsewhere, largely through revealing the sheer awfulness of Mavis.

"Young Adult" feels like a classic film from the 1970s. It doesn't care much about giving the audience a compelling plot or an emotional investment in the material. It just takes an interesting subject and puts her under a microscope. The resulting slides aren't pretty.

Take Shelter

Most romantic movies are fundamentally "how we met" stories. Two people fall for each other, some obstacle arises to keep them apart, then they overcome said obstacle. They kiss, the picture fades to black, and we're to assume that they lived happily ever after.

In reality, falling in love is the easy part. Staying in love is the challenge. Romantic comedies should have a disclaimer at the end: "We're not sure how things end up for these two, but half of marriages end in divorce, and many more are loveless, so it doesn't look great for them."

"Take Shelter" is a movie about a man named Curtis who begins having apocalyptic visions and responds by behaving in increasingly destructive ways. But it's really a movie about marriage. Curtis knows he might be going crazy--his mother is a paranoid schizophrenic--but can he trust his wife when she says things will be fine? Can he seek treatment to preserve their marriage? And can his wife trust that he is doing all he can to keep them together? This movie reaches emotional depths that few can approach. I can't remember the last time a film made me well up like this one.

The ending to "Take Shelter" is deliberately ambiguous. Some have complained about it. But I love the attitude of director Jeff Nichols, who said in an interview, "Some people get it, some people don't. But by God, we're the ones making independent films here. We're the only ones that get to do this." Go see the latest Jennifer Aniston or Reese Witherspoon rom-com if you want another fairy tale. If you want a movie that actually says something about love, see "Take Shelter."

Trainspotting

Conveying a vibe, an atmosphere, an experience in film is not an easy thing to do. Plenty of movies fail at it. But it's usually not enough to just place the viewer in a convincing world. You have to take them somewhere once they're in it.

"Trainspotting" does a great job of demonstrating what it's like to be a young junkie. The film gets at one of the main reasons people become an addicts. It doesn't have to be about poor role models, lousy economic prospects, or peer pressure. It can simply be because there's nothing better to do.

The film's antihero, Renton, sums it up nicely at one point when he's in withdrawal. "Once you get past the pain, that's when the battle really starts. Depression, boredom. It's enough to make you want to top yourself." Your twenties are when you realize that life is never going to be as good as you dreamed it when you were a kid. Drugs are a way to cope with this crushing disappointment.

Director Danny Boyle does a nice job of putting us in Renton's headspace. Boyle's energetic style meshes well with young characters. (Particularly here, where his approach has not yet evolved to the hyper-caffeinated state that made much of "127 Hours" feel like a music video.) He assists himself greatly with the soundtrack, which includes many '70s classics from the likes of Iggy Popp and Lou Reed. (Although it is disorienting to hear these songs in a film that takes place in the late '80s. It's a bit like when Cameron Crowe used lots of classic rock in "Singles," a movie about grunge-era Seattle.)

But Boyle is let down by his script. "Trainspotting" is based on a book of the same name with seven unconnected chapters. It's simply a bad candidate for an adaptation. Screenwriter John Hodge said that his goal was to "produce a screenplay which would seem to have a beginning , a middle and an end, would last 90 minutes and would convey at least some of the spirit and content of the book." When you're struggling to meet those bare-bones goals--as opposed to, say, crafting a compelling plot or overarching theme--it's a bad sign.

The result is a movie that feels very arbitrary. Renton goes on and off his habit. He's nice to his friends, he betrays his friends. British miserabilism mixes uncomfortably with attempts at broad humor.

Nonetheless, Boyle shows a lot of promise here. Any film that opens with a young punk running from the cops while "Lust for Life" blares can't be all bad.

Hugo

As the Oscars demonstrate every year, probably the worst way to get people interested in movies is to yammer on about how important and magical they are. Unfortunately, that's precisely the trap into which "Hugo" falls.

The first half of the film is an ambling, somewhat charming kids' movie. Hugo is a young orphan living in a train station in Paris. He struggles to make sense of his father's recent death and his place in the world. Helping him is Isabelle (Chloe Grace Moretz), a cute young bookworm. Meanwhile, the Station Inspector, Gustave (played with wonderful subtlety by Sacha Baron Cohen), seeks to catch Hugo and send him to an orphanage.

Then, in the middle of the movie, the children decide to go to the library to learn about the history of film. There's no real reason for this, other than the fact that Hugo keeps going on about how the movies are magical, the movies are where dreams come to life, the movies helped him bond with his father, yadda yadda.

They learn that Isabelle's godfather, Georges Melies, was a great filmmaker in the early days of the medium. They spend most of the rest of the movie trying to learn why Georges no longer makes films, or even acknowledges his past.

This shift in emphasis has a couple of major problems. One, we've grown attached to Hugo; now we have to watch him become second banana to a grumpy old man. Two, the film devolves into a rather dull history lesson.

It's great that Scorcese is educating children about cinematic history. He even shows some of Melies' old films. But good intentions don't make a good movie. (As Oliver Stone could attest, if he ever got his head out of his own ass.)

You can't understand the power of film by hearing someone talk about it. You have to experience it for yourself. In other words, skip "Hugo" and go watch "Raging Bull" again instead.

Senna

"Senna" is part of a new trend of documentaries which have the excitement of Hollywood thrillers. These movies, which include "Project Nim" and "The King of Kong," work like so many Hollywood films: by setting up a battle between hero and villain.

In "Senna" the protagonist is Ayrton Senna, a brilliant Brazilian Formula One driver. The antagonist is Alain Prost, Senna's main rival. Prost frequently beat Senna by using his political connections with the sport's governing body to obtain favorable rule interpretations and better technology.

"Senna" is composed entirely of archival footage. Much of it comes from races, which provide the film's main source of excitement: Will Senna triumph, lose, or meet a fiery end?

Critics hailed "Senna"--it has a 92 percent "fresh" rating on Rotten Tomatoes--and with good reason. But I wonder how it would have been received if it were a traditional biopic. Everything depends on execution, of course. But a "based on a true story" version probably would have been derided as corny by some, even if it advanced exactly the same argument: that Senna was a great driver and a great man frequently thwarted by the conniving Prost.

Documentaries are more "real," in other words. But a documentary, just like a biopic, can leave out important details to create a better narrative. At the end of "Senna," we don't really know the two main characters. We have only seen what the director has chosen to show us.