Steve Martin returns as the bumbling Inspector Clouseau in The Pink Panther 2, a sequel to the 2006 remake that itself probably never should have been made. Now, that’s nothing against Martin. You won’t find a much bigger Steve Martin fan than yours truly. Whenever I’m in a funk, he has always been my go-to guy to bring me out of it. But as much as I admire Martin and think he’s a comic geniu, he is completely wrong for this role. In fact, I don’t see how any actor other than Peter Sellers could be right for this role. Trying to walk in his footsteps is kin to another actor playing Richard Blaine or Don Corleone.

Watching Push, the latest real-people-have-superpowers thriller, I couldn’t help but wonder why they did not just call it Heroes: The Movie. It’s basically the same premise: a group of ordinary citizens try to cope with their extraordinary abilities and avoid the menacing corporation that wants to bring them all in to be studied. Still, it’s hard to blame the movie’s producers for staying away from the Heroes label, because they’ve probably seen the last two seasons of the once hit television show and want to stay as far away from that image as possible. Yet there’s a lot to recommend here.

Nathan Clark George’s music easily earns much more than a casual listen. There’s something instantly arresting about it; his string-and-percussion quartet arrangements seem grander, somehow, than ordinary folk music—and anyone with much knowledge of Scripture at all will soon recognize a good deal of George’s lyrics. “When something’s honest and common to real life,” George says about the obvious appeal of his music, “it connects.” Drawing on everything from The Psalms to everyday events like crying infants, George draws on an eclectic range of influences. The effect is charming and captivating, at the very least, and electric at its finest. George’s art is like bottled fireflies, and great for the whole family.

On the one hand, Rocknrolla exhibits everything that’s “interesting” about mainstream filmmaking. It’s high-energy, it’s edgy, it’s hip, it’s clever, and it’s stylish. On the other hand, the film typifies everything that’s wrong about mainstream filmmaking, too: it’s overly-efficient, values flash over substance, and is enamored of vulgarity. It’s a knowing reaction to over-saturated goody-two-shoes filmmaking; as one character says, “The streets are alive with the sound of pain.” It’s anti-Disney. Even though Lenny’s clearly wrong when he declares, “There’s no school like the Old School,” I have to say that when it comes to films, I prefer a more conservative skyline. That’s a sentiment I’m sure director Guy Ritchie would understand.

On the one hand, it’s easy to see why Peanuts enjoyed such popularity for decades. On the other hand, after screening the latest “Remastered Deluxe Edition” of the seminal programs produced by Charles Schulz for TV, it’s also getting harder. As with the old Rankin/Bass specials, enjoying 1975’s You’re A Good Sport is as much an exercise in nostalgia as anything else—and toddlers are notoriously short on nostalgia, last I checked. Those coming to Peanuts animation fresh in this age of VeggieTales, 3-2-1 Penguins!, and Little Dogs on the Prairie shouldn’t expect their kids to come back to this material time and again. But for fans, it’s a nice trip down memory lane.