Chief Warrant Officer Roy Miller (Matt Damon) is done following orders after faulty secret intelligence keeps putting him and his men in dangerous situation after dangerous situation with nothing to show for it. Miller is hunting down WMDs in Saddam Hussein's Iraq  but has come up with zilch. Before being led on another wild goose chase, Miller partners up with a CIA official on a quest for the truth. The reason we were led to Iraq was because we were led to believe in these WMD's, but 7 years later we all know there weren't any there.  What director Paul Greengass and Academy Award-winner Brian Helgeland have done with the book "Imperial Life in the Emerald City: Inside Iraq's Green Zone", is taken an equal mix of fact and grand conspiracy/fantastic wishful thinking and created a taut suspenseful action packed thinking man's movie.

Read more after the jump!

Damon is as versatile of a leading man as anyone could hope for. He has been soft spoken and creepy (Talented Mr. Ripley), fat and dumb (The Informant), and in the Green Zone he channels his inner Jason Bourne as a man wronged and on a mission to be righted. There are also solid performances from Greg Kinnear, Brendan Gleeson, and Amy Ryan. The standout supporter in the film has to be Khalid Abdalla as Freddie, whom you might remember from Greengrass's riveting 9/11 picture United 93.   Greengrass has recruited the Academy Award-nominated Hurt Locker  cinematographer Barry Ackroyd to unload a familiar but well-used bag of tricks. Like all Greengrass films, the camera work is uptight, shaky, and oftentimes disorienting. But this was used to the pictures benefit as we never lose sight of the action, and the intensity never lets up.  

Could you argue that the plot is overly complex, convoluted, or flat-out ridiculous? I suppose that all depends on your ability to follow the narrative and accept what ideas the film throws your way. But even if you don't enjoy the political agenda of the film, it's hard to deny that Greengrass isn't an excellent action director who can bring you to the edge of your seat with tension.  The Green Zone may not be the best movie of the year, but it certainly is one of the smartest and intense action films I've seen in a while.

--Greg MacLennan

Tim Burton and children’s story books. For me this combination hasn’t worked so well in the past (cough, Charlie Bucket). But, by the time the cute little Dormouse plunges his sword into a Bandersnatch's eyeball, rips the beast's eye meatout of its socket and carries the trophy around on his belt, it becomes more than apparent that Burton's creation is NOT the Disney Alice of the 1950s. And that makes this pairing of the whimsical tale and the dark, quirky director all the better.

DON'T WORRY THAT YOU JUST LEFT YOUR KIDS HOME ALONE WITH DRUGS--READ MORE AFTER THE JUMP!

This latest incarnation of Alice in Wonderland picks up 10 years after where the other Alices left off--only this time Wonderland isn’t a dream, it is a very real land that Alice has visited before. The now 19 years-old Alice (Mia Wasikowska) is being forced to attend a posh Victorian garden party where she is to become engaged to a sniveling Lord. While standing in the gazebo, her would-be fiancé waiting on her answer to his marriage proposal, Alice sees a white rabbit dart in and out of the perfectly manicured landscape. She follows it out of the party and--you guessed it--down a rabbit hole, where she is transported back to what she calls “Wonderland.”

Alice immediately encounters several of Lewis Carroll’s classic characters, who are loyal subjects of the White Queen (Anne Hathaway) who used to rule Wonderland before she was violently overthrown by her sister, the Red Queen (Helena Bonham Carter). After much speculation if she is even the "right Alice" by the feisty Dormouse, Alice learns that she has been to this magical land before, and it is foretold that she is to battle the Red Queen’s favorite beast, the Jabberwocky, to claim back the White Queen's kingdom.

The film treats us to a stunning 3-D visual display of Wonderland, complete with dragonflies and unicorn-flies, anthropomorphized flowers, and some truly terrifying beasts, such as the aforementioned Bandersnatch and Jabberwocky--all of which leap from the screen (literally) and some of which instilled ungodly fear in the under-10 crowd in the audience. These beasts help to snap the  Disney incarnation of the Alice story out of its groovy, psychedelic legacy and into a stunning visual storybook that is a desolate, post-apocalyptic landscape, which is more beautifully gruesome than the old "let's listen to Jefferson Airplane and take a hit every time the caterpillar does” cartoon of the past.

Burton has adapted Carroll's nonsense fiction into a compelling story that emphasizes the very real emotions, insecurities, and fears of its characters. The Mad Hatter (Johnny Depp) is no longer a frivolous tea party host but a man, who, while very mad indeed, longs to regain the life he once had before the Red Queen destroyed it. Depp's characterization is tinged with sorrow and anger--and it works. Wasikowska plays Alice with graceful poise, and Bonham Carter brings an insecure, needy edge to the bloodthirsty Red Queen. Her scenes with her “marital element,” The Knave of Hearts (Crispin Glover) are full of light comedic agility that prevents the “bad guys” from being too terribly evil. Only Hathaway disappoints as the White Queen in an underwritten and a poorly characterized mess that exists only to further the plot.

Overall, Burton and a fantastic cast bring together an enjoyable, and at times breathtaking, adventure for its audience. Yes, there are some cringe-worthy Disney-esque moments that remind you that we are watching a familiar story unfold. The final battle scene was all too overdone for me, and Alice's tale wraps up in such a saccharine sweet way that I got no less than six cavities just by watching. But the entire product was pretty damn inventive and so captivating that I was willing to overlook my painful tooth holes.

Dare I say it? Alice in Wonderland almost has me excited proper for Burton and Walt Disney Pictures' next endeavor, the Frankenweenie remake.... almost.

--Jessica Hixson

Normally I would try to be cute and witty with this opening sentence, but I’m not gonna pussyfoot around the subject at hand for this one: Valentine’s Day sucks. It sucks hard. It sucks so hard, I almost think Gary Marshall tried to make it suck so badly. Question: How do you make so many likable actors so terrible? Answer: Get them to star in Valentine’s Day.

Read why Valentine’s Day blows so much after the jump!

As you know, Movie Pressers, I have a soft spot for romantic comedies. Even though I know the ending, the journey I take through a rom-com and the chemistry of the leads can propel me through the most predictable of endings. I’m also a sucker for a big ensemble cast, like in Love Actually, which is an actual good movie (haters be damned!). But I can’t stand badly written movies, romantic comedies or no, and Valentine’s Day is a terribly written one. I get that there’s little time for character development when each character doesn’t grace the screen for too long, but there is just NO excuse to have so many characters I just don’t give a shit about.

Case in point: Topher Grace discovering his sexy new gf is an adult phone entertainer? Yawn. Ashton Kutcher being dumped by his boring fiancée? Double boring. Jessica Biel being so freaked out about being alone on Valentine’s Day (yeah, fucking, right) that she freaks her shit out and cries all over Jamie Foxx? Women are just not THAT sad, even the loneliest of sad sack cat ladies. Two virgins trying to get it on for the first time? Haven’t I seen that a million times? There are only maybe one or two story lines I even cared remotely about. Why couldn’t I have gotten a whole movie about Shirley MacLaine and Hector Elizondo as an old married couple discussing a long ago indiscretion? Why couldn't Marshall have given me more time with Bradley Cooper and Julia Roberts, who, while their “twist” endings should shock NO ONE, were adorable together?

While Marshall does his best to try to squash any ounce of chemistry and appeal his actors have, there ARE some shining stars. Jennifer Garner, who has probably the worst taste in picking films, is really adorable here as Kutcher’s best friend who may be dating an a-hole. And, while Foxx isn’t given much of a story, he still exudes his Foxxy charm. Even though MacLaine is given shit writing, she still can act her way out of a paper bag. I love that sassy lady. Even Queen Latifah pops up as a ball busting agent with little to do.

And while the movie itself is just so mediocre, there are some decidedly weak links that drag the movie even further down. Biel is grating. I hate George Lopez. Anne Hathaway’s adult entertainment accents are atrociously bad. Eric Dane and Patrick Dempsey could have been anyone in the world they were so boring. Jessica Alba is so stiff in her 2 minute screen time. But, all of them are infinitely better than the worst part of this flick: Taylor Swift. Yeah, I said it. America’s Newest Sweetheart is one of the worst actresses I’ve seen in a loooong time. She is just so over the top—even her facial expressions overdo it. I just wanted to strangle her by the end of it all. I feel like even Taylor Lautner, in all of his ab glory, is gritting his teeth every time she speaks.

Valentine’s Day isn’t one of those “bad” romantic comedies that you will enjoy in spite of the suckiness of it—hey, there are just some bad movies that you still like…just a little bit. It is an awful movie, and I pity every dude who gets dragged to see it because his girlfriend likes someone in it. (Sorry Greg.)

--Darcie Duttweiler

When directors go back and reboot a franchise, the most successful are always those who boil a movie down to its core, give it a firm base in reality, and then let the character take you from there. Christopher Nolan boiled a man who wears a suit that looks like a bat down to a man whose family was killed and seeks vigilante justice. Spider-Man was more than a kid who got bit by a radioactive spider; it was about a kid growing up in the world and learning for every one of his actions there is a reaction. What Joe Johnston has done with The Wolfman is boiled a film about a man dealing with his inner demons down to simply a film about a man who turns into a wolf.  And breaking a film down and missing the mark only serves to reveal the films inherent silliness.

Read more after the jump!

The film kicks off with a very abrupt killing of a mysterious man who is soon revealed to be the son of Sir Anthony Hopkins and brother to Benicio Del Toro (I know, right?). So Benicio's Lawrence Talbot is summoned from his acting troupe back to his estranged home to search for his brother's killer. Upon his search he is mortally wounded by a creature and soon finds himself growing hair where there was previously none while simultaneously howling at the moon. Enter the Wolfman... albeit too little too late. Lawrence transforms into this growling, unstoppable beast once a month (like a lady right?...nevermind) only to wake and find himself lost, confused, and covered in other peoples' blood. Once he is revealed as the he-beast, he is taken to an asylum he had frequented in his youth and the plot seems to thicken as his brother's killer and his transformer are revealed.

The transformation CG is impressive and the makeup effects are believable while still paying homage to the creature effects of the 1941 original. But the melding of the two feels off, particularly when Del Toro is galloping along like a man in makeup in front of a green screen on a treadmill. The action scenes are where the film shines, but, as I said, there are too few of these and they come too late. Even when they do occur it's as if the editor was in a hurry to get to the next scene as they seem to start and stop hastily.  Disappointingly a viewing of your Planet Earth Blu Ray is probably more satisfying than the grand finale, which boils down to the equivalent of watching two dogs fight it out in the living room.

So what's the problem? Well, for one the pacing. Anytime Johnston seems to be building any form of suspense or tension he prematurely shoots his wad all over your face. Next, could be the script that lumbers along at a snail's pace, leaving the audience to mentally go, "ya ya ya, I know this part, get on with it!" Or, maybe it's the acting--from Sir Anthony masticating on the scenery to Benicio focusing ever so intensely on making his accent sound as American as he can.

The Wolfman isn't a total failure of a film, Hugo Weaving delivers a pleasant turn as Abberline, as does Emily Blunt as the widowed before her time ex-fiance Gwen. The film does have some spectacle to behold, and, while it's very disjointed, it is functional. I just wish it could have re-focused itself on what the movie was really supposed to be about, and not simply on a man who turns into a wolf.

--Greg MacLennan

In Saint John of Las Vegas John Alighieri (Steve Buscemi) is a compulsive ex-gambler who had a bit of luck in Las Vegas once.Then his luck ran out, and he found himself driving as far away from Sin City as his last tank of gas would take him. Still wrestling with his addiction and searching for a new sense of purpose in Albuquerque, John instigates a romantic liaison with his coworker Jill (a surprisingly pleasant Sarah Silverman) the same day he finally gains the confidence to seek out a raise.

Instead of an increase in pay John's boss, Mr. Townsend (played by Peter Dinklage), promotes him to fraud investigator. This new job requires John to shadow seasoned fraud employee, Virgil (Romany Malco) on an investigation to disprove an insurance claim for $200,000 in lost wages filed by a now wheelchair-bound stripper, Tasti D Lite (Emmanuelle Chriqui). The plot follows John and Virgil on their journey in the desert outside of Las Vegas where John gains the strength he needs to continue on the path of his new life while the temptation of his former one looms in the distance.

CRIPPLED STRIPPERS AND FLAMING CARNIES AFTER THE JUMP. 

If first-time writer and director Hue Rhodes had had enough experience to execute a clear, strong story with this film, his effort could have been pretty charming.There are a few cinematic bright spots with regards to the minimal screen time reserved for John and Jill's burgeoning romantic relationship and a very bizarre scene involving a "carnie," a malfunctioning fire suit, and cigarettes. The script's inspiration from Dante's Divine Comedy makes for an interesting plot device, andBuscemi and Malco thrive together on screen. It's just a shame that an inherently flawed script is unable to provide its leads with more fodder for conflict and reconciliation--or even a few laughs along the way.

Rhodes just never gets comfortable in his direction. Instead he brushes and jumbles through the text in a race to a disappointing conclusion. When a film contains a moment when a stripper in a wheelchair attempts to give Steve Buscemi's goofy-looking ass a lap dance, and the director refuses to allow that scene the time it needs to either be hilarious, heart-warming, or even the least bit arousing, what chance do the film's less sensational sequences have of leaving an impression on its viewers? 

By the time John reaches his journey's end (or is it a beginning?), the audience is left with so many unanswered questions that (surprisingly) have nothing to do with what they witnessed in the strip club. They don't even have a reason to care that John has learned a very important lesson about what luck means in his life. The fairly random dream sequences interspersed throughout the film serve no purpose other than to drive home the point that John seems to be on a metaphysical journey as well (just like Dante Alighieri--get it?).

A great cast and a clever concept certainly set this project up for success. Unfortunately Rhodes is never able to decide what he wants his film to accomplish. Instead, the audience is dragged through hell along with John and Virgil in this detached, unfunny, and muddled journey.

--Jessica Hixson

District 13 Ultimatum is a French film with subtitles, but—as you may be able to gather from the terrible title—not the boring kind. This sequel to parkour cult classic District 13 is the kind of movie that needs no translation: good, dumb, high-octane fun with countless asses getting kicked, a few explosions and a pinch of sex appeal.

As with the Transporter series, Luc Besson (director of The Fifth Element, The Professional) serves as writer and producer here, and, like those films, the action is over-the-top. Cars rip through buildings like they're made of tissue paper, and countless hordes of goons are creatively overcome in ways that made me hope stuntmen are thoroughly compensated for their suffering.

More after the jump...

Since the actors are the stuntmen, there's no need for quick cuts and confusing camera work; we get a steady view of the action in every shot. From crime scene tape to priceless paintings, Damien and Leito—the parkour-practicing protagonists from the first film—use whatever surrounds them to deliver bone-breaking blows and cause their enemies exquisite agony.

There's also a story in D13U, a story better than most action flicks.

District 13 is a violent, crime-ridden Paris slum isolated behind concrete walls. Complete chaos breaks in the already lawless ghetto after the country's secret service concocts a controversy that leads to riots and civil unrest. This shady government group hopes to get approval to destroy the district entirely and cash in on its redevelopment, a not-so-subtle nod to Halliburton and Iraq.

While better than expected, the plot is still the weakest part of D13U, particularly the poorly thought out conclusion. But, of course, the story doesn't really matter here. The amount of pleasure you get from D13U will directly relate to how much you enjoy watching parkour and ass-kicking set to a soundtrack of French electro and hip hop.

District 13 Ultimatum is an entertaining, balls-to-the-wall, beat 'em up best observed with friends after a few beers.

--Eric Pulsifer

Now, don't get me wrong. I have a soft spot for rom-coms, as I explained in my The Proposal review. There's something really gratifying about already knowing how a movie is going to end but enjoying the process anyway. That's why it takes a lot for a rom-com to make me excited; because every fucking cliche and strained plot device has been done. So either the plot needs to make me go "hey....." in surprise every once and a while, or the two leads must be hella charming. When in Rome, starring every nerd boy's (and girl's) crush, Kristen Bell, did neither of those things. 

Read the full review after the jump!

Playing on the popular plot device of magic and old traditions, When in Rome is the story of Type-A, career woman Beth (Bell) who's unlucky in love (gee....that's unique) as she travels to Rome for her little sister's whirlwind wedding and ends up steals wishing coins out of the Fountain of Love. Apparently legend goes that if you swipe someone's coin out of the fountain, you claim their love, and they fall madly in love with you. Beth steals five coins out of the fountain, one that belongs to a street magician (Jon Heder), a sausage king (Danny DeVito), an artist (Will Arnett), a would-be male model (Bell's real life boyfriend Dax Shepard--gross), and one seemingly belonging to a sportswriter (Josh Duhamel), whom she felt a spark with at her sis' nuptials. 

The plot device calls for all would-be suitors to follow Beth back to NYC, where she's a curator at the Guggenheim (under Anjelica Houston's reign of terror) and wreck havoc amongst her loveless life. Of course, her whole career is riding on the next exhibit... While slapstick ensue, the laughs do not--not even from funnyman Will Arnett. One sight gag involving Flight of the Conchords' Kristen Schaal entices a handful of giggles, but shamefully so. The real problem with the movie is just the lack of spark and verve, which is a shame coming from the delightful Kristen Bell in her first starring film role. 

Not only is the writing terrible and the laughs nonexistent, but so is the chemistry. Duhamel is just so goshdarn boring, and he and Bell don't illicit any emotions between them. What made The Proposal different than your average, shitty romantic comedy is that the two lead actors were so likable and really created a passion you can sense. There is nothing here. Nothing. It's like cardboard. There is a decided lack of so-called magic. Plus, the slight plot twist at the end is blatant to anyone who has seen a single, solitary movie in the past decade or so--and even, maybe to my 7-year-old brother who has basically only seen The Incredibles. Fuck. I wish I rewatched that movie again instead of this snooze fest. 

Much like the recent outing of Leap Year, nothing could save this flick--not even an actress I liked once upon a time. 

--Darcie Duttweiler