Expelled, which argues that “Darwinian thinking” is exercising a stranglehold in our schools and scientific institutions, certainly provides proof of bias—in both intentional and unintentional ways. And the vituperative response from detractors who haven’t even seen the film proves that, yes, there is a much larger war going on out there. On the entertainment level—the one that probably counts the most to audiences (and should, to critics)—the film comes in at about a B level. When it comes to its subject matter, though, Expelled fumbles the ball quite a bit. At the end of the day, I don’t find that the film makes a compelling case. Yes, I am inclined to believe that the opposition fights pretty dirty; I simply don’t think those folks are really the same cabal that Expelled wishes us to believe that they are. But if they are—and I stress, if they are; and they might be—Expelled simply plays too nice to catch them red-handed.

The problem with 88 Minutes is not with the story itself, but with the screenwriting and directing. The dialogue is juvenile and pedantic; in directing, Avnet is very lax with little details that really bug observant moviegoers. Finally, the storyline is kept fairly muddy by an unconvincing progression meant to eliminate each character as Jack’s potential killer. If 88 Minutes makes a killing at the box office, it will be solely based upon the drawing power of Pacino’s name. Maybe it’s worth the price to see a 67-year-old man looking 47 and still able to run up several flights of stairs. Or, maybe I’ve missed the point entirely. I spent the whole 108-minute runtime trying to figure out what on earth they had done to Pacino’s hair!

I wouldn’t quite say that Segel is a revelation here, but the fact that this movie succeeds so well owes a lot to him as an actor. Segel is in nearly every scene of this two-hour film; and despite his rather lackadaisical acting style, the audience never tires of seeing him and actually buys into his plight. I can’t speak for everyone, but this is probably the most I’ve laughed at the cinema since Grindhouse last year. Whether the gag involves a sex joke—as many do—or a simple pun, they are all on the mark and delivered brilliantly by this terrific cast. Succeeding where Walk Hard failed, Sarah Marshall even mines some humor from full frontal male nudity.

The strongest recommendation I have regarding Spurlock’s latest film is: beware the bait-and-switch. If you come into this film expecting to learn a dang thing about the actual living-and-breathing man named “Osama Bin Laden,” you’re going to the wrong movie… and you might leave pretty ticked at how you’ve been fleeced of your ten or twelve bucks (plus refreshments). If, however, you go in properly prepared to witness a goofily gentle travelogue—think, maybe, of something like Michael Palin crossed with Michael Moore, or Rick Steves crossed with Mike Rowe—that only pays lip service to searching for the Big Baddie, then you might do all right with this lighter-than-cheese-puffs com-e-doc.

I would recommend this topical documentary to anyone interested in further understanding what is going on with this issue. Of course, it goes without saying that you have to understand going in that this film only shows one side. From an entertainment standpoint, the film is very well done. The 87-minute film runs along at a decent pace and there are plenty of tension-relieving moments of humor accompanied by some touching scenes that nearly brought me to tears. And most importantly, I walked out of the theater feeling I had learned something. Just be careful which crowd you end up seeing this film with. I’ve seen a few Iraq war docs in the theaters, but this one had the strongest reaction by far. There may be a riot.

Wong is known for his unique and personal visual style with shooting films, and he brings that vision to play here. The problem, however, is that with a script that is only almost good and almost poignant, the story winds up seeming like an excuse to practice his cinematographic inventions. His visual tricks wind up detracting from the film, distancing the viewer from the story instead of engaging the audience to interact and understand the characters or atmosphere. The close-ups of pie à la mode, once I figured out what they were, just made me hungry for pie, while the stuttering, slow motion “action” feels more like a school film project. My Blueberry Nights is a worthy effort put forth by a promising director and a hard-working cast; unfortunately, it ultimately falls well short of greatness.

While touted as a comedy, Backseat is really an enigma. It seems rude and judgmental to laugh at people so flawed that they cannot even decide who they want to be at 32. I found myself unable to laugh at people who I am so culturally far away from even though I am as close as the generation just before theirs. I felt like a burst of laughter would be like throwing rocks at a disabled person. This is not a film that you love, or maybe even like. It is, however, a film that makes you think and stop to look outside of your own narrow universe, one that pays homage to the underserved demographic of Generation X—those born in the wake of the Baby Boomers who grew up in a time of drugs, divorce, and economic strain.

What a dark, dark film is Street Kings… and, for its type, pretty entertaining too. Yes, this is yet another tale of police corruption—one that finds a certain loveliness in the battle between evil and less evil. So when an argument arises between “good can come from bad” and “bad breeds more bad,” the latter can’t help but win. Even when it seems that director David Ayer’s imagery is telling us that an innocent man’s death will somehow result in the betterment of the country, we’re still left with an abiding conviction at film’s end that one character’s assessment is ultimately accurate: “You hate me, but you need me.” Surely someone out there is protecting and serving without being dirty. Surely.

Bob Cilman, musical director of the Young @ Heart chorus, is pleased that the film named after his group is bringing the talents of these post-retirement-age singers to a new audience. While the singers are in their 70s, 80s, and 90s, Cilman has observed that the audiences tend to be on the “younger” side. Courtesy of a local publicist, I had the chance to talk with Cilman over the phone about the group, the film, and his own background. Neither a musical documentary nor a film about music itself, Young @ Heart, is about the people making the music, about the sacrifices they make, about living and dying with pride and hope, and about connecting with others. Says Cilman, “It’s all about uniting people.”

I found the most interesting material to be the training the students went through to prepare them for the adventure. So many things I take for granted are different for the students. How do you pack your gear so you can find what you need? How do you locate your sunglasses when you take them off? How do you find foot- and hand-holds when rock climbing? Blindsight proves to be a rare gem among documentaries. It entertains without glossing over the struggles, and educates without preaching. It’s a timely and effective reminder that life can be a worthy adventure regardless of our abilities.