Summer Mockbusters: Last Call.

You may have noticed that I watch a lot of movies. But you don't even know the half of it.

Usually I only bother to write about wide release movies that are accompanied by big marketing campaigns, but since theater-going is rather a compulsion for me, I'm prone to wander into anything with a cool-looking poster. Such as:

13 Assassins:

Takashi Miike releases, and I'm not kidding when I say this, four or five movies every year. Most of them are straight to DVD, and he has, well, let's call it a divisive style, which is to say that some people think he's brilliant, and other people think he's the anti-Christ and want to eat his children.

Critics.

Not being a fan myself, I almost passed up the chance to see this American release of his 2010 historical war drama about a dozen plus one guys plotting to off the Shogun's brother. But as it turns out, "13 Assassins" might be the best movie ever made in which a man is set on fire and then split in two with a sword. And that's saying a lot.

I admit, I didn't think Miike could make a movie this good. I feel like I should apologize, but according to this film that would mean ritually disemboweling myself while someone else cuts off my head. So we're going to pass on that.

"Yes, the line for the midnight screening starts here, and no, we will not save your place."

Midnight in Paris:

Really, how could I not see a movie with that title? And it's got Marion Cotillard too. I didn't stand a chance.

This Woody Allen-directed romantic comedy tells the story of a disaffected writer who is, somehow, sent back in time to Jazz Age era Paris, where he parties with Ernest Hemingway and Gertrude Stein and begins to question whether he really belongs in his own time.

The cast is full of startling look-alikes for period writers and artists (Tom Hiddleston looks so much like F. Scott Fitzgerald that it frankly scared the shit out of me), many of which are Oscar-worthy despite being all of five minutes long. As it turns out, Adrian Brody is even better at being Salvador Dali than he is at being Adrian Brody.

This is the first Allen movie in a long time that has the trademark dry wit and self-conscious craftsmanship of his stuff from the 70s. It's also the first movie in a long that has made me want to not kill Owen Wilson. That deserves an Oscar category in itself.

That shoulder never had it so good. I want to cut it off and preserve it so that her smell never fades. Is that weird?

The Tree of Life:

Oh man. This is gonna get rough.

The latest passion project from auteur's auteur Terrence Malick, a man I once referred to as a cross between James Lipton and the serial killer from "Seven", "The Tree of Life" might be the most contentious movie released in decades.

Most people lose patience with the movie when its primary plot, about a kid growing up under the harsh tutelage of his father, Brad Pitt, and the more holistic, nurturing guidance of his mother, Jessica Chastain, suddenly and inexplicably goes into a holding pattern so that we can instead watch asteroids and jellyfish float around to classical music.

Then there's some desert footage. Then a volcano. Then there's dinosaurs. Yes, fucking dinosaurs show up. This goes on for a while. Like, twenty minutes, at least. I actually have an opinion on what this all means and how it relates to the movie’s ostensible plot, but I think most people don’t care.

That “The Tree of Life” is a gorgeous movie goes without saying, and I ended up liking its gauzy, breathless cinematography and indirect storytelling style in spite of myself. That said, Malick might need a punch in the face, for his own good. But I’ll punch him with my thumb up in tribute to the quality of his work.

"Now son, place your arm so that you're restricting my carotid artery and I will pass out. Once your enemy is unconscious, show no mercy."

Hobo with a Shotgun:

I just like saying the title of this one, particularly after having to talk about "The Tree of Life." It's really not a good movie at all, but that's okay because, well, it's "Hobo with a Shotgun."

Trollhunter:

Oh my yes, this is a real thing.

This faux documentary centers on a man-shaped slab of cragginess and gallows humor named Hans who works for the Norwegian government, secretly policing the country's wild troll population. Yes.

What might not be apparent from the (truly awesome) trailer for "Trollhunter" is that the movie is a dark comedy. From this film we learn that you can add the word "troll" to ANY sentence and automatically make it hilarious. Have you ever wondered whether the phrase "I'm throwing out some Christian man's blood!" could possibly be funny in any context? Wonder no more.

"Midnight in Paris" is likely the best movie of the year to date, but "Trollhunter" is by far my favorite.

This is Norwegian for "badass."

Conan O'Brien Can't Stop:

A documentary covering the six months of Conan O'Brien's life after he left the Tonight Show and was legally barred from appearing on television. To my disappointment, he did not spend the time hunting wild trolls.

The movie ends up being a really, really, REALLY weird portrait of celebrity. On the one hand, Conan comes off as quite an ass sometimes, throwing prima donna fits and running down his staff (whose entire lives revolve around him) with hilarious abusive monologues at their expense.

On the other hand, he's constantly charming and funny even when he's being a dick, and he seems to be acutely aware of these personality defects even while, as the title suggests, he seems incapable of doing anything about it. The net result is that, as one critic put it, Conan comes off as “the world’s nicest narcissist.”

Oh, and it’s funny too. Case you wondered.

"Tensions run high on day four of the hostage crisis. O'Brien refuses to release his audience until they've heard all 3454 verse of his new song about cats. UN Peacekeepers have surrounded the auditorium."

Tabloid:

And now, a movie about a crazy ex model who kidnapped a Mormon missionary and chained him to a bed in a remote cottage for the weekend. And then shit got really weird.

Yeah, the 70s were fucking nuts.

This documentary about a particularly sordid tabloid sex scandal some decades ago lacks comprehensiveness; of all the dozens of reporters (I use the term loosely here) who made a killing writing about these sordid exploits, the filmmakers only seem to have interviewed one. Though the events of the film captivated and repulsed thousands, only half a dozen people are consulted by the documentarians.

But the more these men talk, the more it becomes clear why they were picked: they are all clearly still obsessed with the woman at the center of the whole mess. Even thirty years later, even all firmly aware that she is, in the words of the reporter, "barking mad", she still has a kind of magnetic allure that they clearly can't shake.

The subject of the film is less what she did to make headlines so much as the magic mojo she used to make it all possible. It’s also about cloned pit bulls. Yes, really, and no, I’m not sure why.

They had to fotoshop in the sweater.

Another Earth:

I was on the edge of my seat waiting for this movie because of it's awe-inspiring premise: scientists discover mirror planet, identical to ours in every way, including the population. It’s a second earth with a second you on it somewhere. A woman full of regret tries to win the chance to travel to "Earth 2" and meet her other self, in the hopes that this other woman will have made better decisions with her (their) life and, hopefully, give her closure.

Compelling stuff, isn't it? Too bad the movie itself is such a big, dull dud. It appears that someone, somewhere had a dull, depressing, unpleasant character drama all written out but then realized, in a flash of uncharacteristic lucidity, that no one would ever want to watch it.

To solve the conundrum, he married it to that really awesome low-fi sci-fi idea described above, and what we've got is a great premise held hostage by a story that's only slightly more pleasant to sit through than your average police interrogation. It seems that the filmmakers felt it was necessary for the audience to hate these characters as much as the characters hate themselves.

I'll say one thing for "Another Earth", it certainly communicates angst and quiet desperation. Namely, yours.

As it turns out, that's neither a moon nor a space station.

Point Blank:

I think when a lot of people imagine contemporary French cinema, they think of something like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-uQWNd540I

But most French movies I watch are like "Point Blank", a tense, engaging, competently-made, beautifully executed action thriller. A normal guy wakes up one day to find that his wife has been kidnapped and that her abductors have given him until noon to spring a suspect from police custody if he ever wants to see her again.

This is just the first of his many problems.

American movies of this type tend to cop out on the "normal guy" part. You can never really buy Harrison Ford or Liam Neeson as ordinary people, nor do their movies really try to sell them to you on those grounds, no matter what the plot summary says. They're not people, they're stars.

Gilles Lellouche on the other hand, he's the real deal. You can't help but accept that he's an ordinary man in an extraordinary situation. The film's tension comes from your very legitimate concern that he's just barely keeping his head above water and that the next wave might crush him.

There's not much tension, and consequently not much fun, in watching Jason Bourne trounce mooks who are clearly unqualified to be fighting him. The charm of "Point Blank" is that it's an underdog story. Lellouche has no great plan, no master strategy, he can only live minute to minute and pursue his goal with all of the tenacity that is not more immediately occupied with keeping himself alive; however much that may be at the time.

My only regret is that he didn’t take a minute to go put two rounds through the heads of the cast of “Another Earth.” C’est la vie.

"Yes, I realize this is an outstanding, once in a lifetime cellular service offer, but this really, really not a good time."

Grave Encounters:

As late August turns into early September, studios start unloading their horror movies on us. This piece of geist follows the crew of a cheesy, "Ghosthunters"-style show as they are locked into a haunted insane asylum for an all-night shoot. Because that sounds like a great idea, right?

"Grave Encounters" features some of the most unintentionally hilarious "scares" of any movie I've ever seen. I almost pissed myself laughing. I'm not usually cynical about horror movies, I'm not one of those people who think that they're too cool for movie scares, but there's just no way to take this seriously.

I feel bad shitting on the filmmakers, since they plainly did the best they could with their resources, but “Grave Encounters” only has two modes; boring and unintentionally funny. This style of horror movie has come a long way since “The Blair Witch Project”, but you wouldn’t know it from “Grave Encounters”, which repeats the mistakes of that decade-old film without apology.

"Yes, some pain is normal after wisdom tooth removal. Just take the antibiotics and call us if the swelling doesn't go down."

Yellowbrickroad:

Yes, that's "Yellow Brick Road", all as one word, and don't think that poor Google doesn't just have a damn breakdown over that one.

Once upon a time, indie horror flicks like this and "Grave Encounters" did the festival tour and, failing to scare up support for a wide release, defaulted to DVD and thus spared us all.

But "Paranormal Activity" (a much better film than either of these, for what it's worth) created a new model through which filmmakers basically just agitate for a release through viral marketing hoping to build up demand directly with an audience. If all else fails, nag your way into theaters.

Hence, "Yellowbrickroad", which offers a premise so tantalizing that it's almost impossible for the average person not to want to see it, which of course was the plan all along: In 1940, the residents of a small town pick up and leave en masse without a word, marching off along an obscure hiking trail into the wilderness, never to be heard from again.

Decades later, our plucky team of researchers follows their path in hopes of discovering the reason for their ghostly exodus, finding mystery, madness, and existential terror along the way.

Admit it, you want to know what happens. Who wouldn't? The problem? We never find out. The damn movie is just a cocktease.

What we get instead is quality time with annoying characters who become even more unpleasant as they go insane. And lord how I envied them. Had I gone crazy too, I might not have suddenly had enough sense to stop watching.

Cast or audience? Tough call.