Cinematical

Eric D. Snider tried his best to trick me into watching Beverly Hills Chihuahua this week. It didn't work on me, but it worked on millions of Snider acolytes all over North America, who joined forces to give the talking-animals kidflick a strong $29 million, first-place debut. I didn't see it, as I say, so it would be wrong for me to bemoan the decline of civilization that this surely (if unsurprisingly) represents. Feel free to do so in the comments.

Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist opened to $12 million and third place, which I'd have to say is okay for the low-profile, borderline-niche film. That number, though not terribly impressive, is actually a fair testament to Michael Cera's star power, since his presence was literally the only mass-marketable aspect of the movie. So the debut is at least a draw for Sony.

It was an interesting weekend in that there were several films opening in, or expanding into, semi-wide release. The biggest winner of that bunch has to be Religulous, Bill Maher's aggressively anti-faith documentary, which did $3.5 million on around 500 screens for $6,972 per screen. Given the preaching-to-the-relatively-small-choir quality of the film, I don't expect it to hold up too well in the weeks ahead, but this level of interest is a mild surprise. Facing off against Religulous ideologically was David Zucker's conservative spoof An American Carol which, according to the estimates, edged out Religulous with $3.8 million on over 1,600 screens.

Ed Harris's lightweight western Appaloosa expanded to roughly 1,000 screens and took in $5 million -- which is okay, but seems like a missed opportunity. Faring worse were Flash of Genius (1100 screens) and Blindness (1700), with $2.3 and $2 million respectively, both landing outside the top 10. The grim Blindness was a no-sale from the beginning, especially since the critics never got on board, but the unabashedly populist Flash of Genius underperformed. Maybe the ads emphasized windshield wipers too much.

A bit more plus the weekend's top 12 after the jump.

Somehow I missed this on Thursday, but apparently so did everyone else, since I didn't see it linked anywhere. Roger Ebert was hanging out at a post-production studio in Chicago, watching the restored new print of The Godfather, when he was unexpectedly joined by Larry and Andy Wachowski, the famously inaccessible duo behind The Matrix, Speed Racer, and (people forget) Bound. Afterward, he got a chance to chat with them -- not in a conventional interview setting, complete with a hovering publicist (the brothers don't do that, remember?), but over a beer.

Ebert was impressed with the "zillionaires": "Nice people. Friendly. No Hollywood attitude." He writes that "[t]he blogosphere paints them as mysterious recluses, which may add to the legend but doesn't match the reality." But their being nice and friendly doesn't make them any less mysterious and reclusive: I'd wager that Ebert only ran the piece because of their reputation for not giving interviews or talking to anyone in the press.

Anyway, it's really interesting to "hear" them speak, though they mostly talk about the difficulties of keeping a moving 35 mm shot in focus and the brilliance of Coppola's Godfather shot selection. It's funny how keeping silent for a while will make such brief, mundane snippets into objects of arcane fascination. (Though since I think the Wachowskis are pretty formidable visual artists themselves, I find their perspective on that sort of thing interesting in its own right.)

No photo, of course; all you get is that old shot of the two admiring a Matrix comic book.

I defended the Saw franchise long past the point where most self-respecting cinephiles and even genre geeks abandoned it. It was only after the moronic, baffling Saw IV that I got off the bandwagon. But as someone who thinks the franchise has (had?) something to offer beyond the admittedly questionable thrills of what smug know-nothings call "torture porn," I'm anticipating this month's annual installment with an ever-so-slight glimmer of hope. The first three films took a gimmicky serial killer concept and expanded it to something big and increasingly baroque, piling on twist after twist that, to me, consistently seemed bold rather than (merely) ludicrous. They were gruesome, yes, but they were also moody and visually exciting; Darren Lynn Bousman, in particular, seemed to take painstaking care in the second and third films to construct a cruel, self-contained universe around the crazy-ass story.

So here, briefly, are three things Saw V -- which sees the franchise's production designer David Hackl take over directing duties from Bousman -- could do to avoid the pitfalls of its immediate predecessor and restore my faith in the series.

Not a lot of people liked Eagle Eye (I thought it wasn't bad, myself), but at least it broke up the box office monotony a bit. Its $29.2 million finish is the highest weekend gross for any movie since the first weekend in August (The Dark Knight's third week at the top). A combination of strong marketing and Shia LaBeouf's draw probably did the trick for the film, which had a slew of bad reviews to overcome.

The Nicholas Sparks weeper Nights in Rodanthe took in $13.6 million for second place. That is actually almost precisely in line with Sparks' hit The Notebook, but that film hung around for weeks back in 2004, buoeyed by strong word-of-mouth. That seems unlikely for the more soap opera-ish Rodanthe.

Sneaking its way to fourth place on just over 800 screens is a movie called Fireproof, which you may not have run across unless you're a regular churchgoer. (We literally have not mentioned it here on Cinematical.) The Christian-themed movie starring Kirk Cameron had the second best per-screen average in the top 10, demonstrating the continued potency of marketing to religious audiences. Spike Lee's more obliquely religious Miracle at St. Anna, on the other hand, flopped with $3.5 million and 9th place.

A bit below the top 10, in semi-wide release, the Chuck Palahniuk adaptation Choke performed unspectacularly with $1.3 million on 435 screens. Still further down you'll find one of the year's most undignified crash-and-burns: Neil Burger's The Lucky Ones, about three soldiers returned from Iraq, which landed in 25th place with $208,000 on 425 screens, for $489 per screen. Ouch.

Find the full weekend estimates after the jump.

It would be nice to be able to say that the Coens are finally getting some drawing power, but I suspect the insane cast of Burn After Reading -- Pitt, Clooney, Malkovich, Swinton, McDormand -- had something to do with its exceptionally strong $19.4 million bow, the Coens' strongest ever. It barely beat out The Family That Preys, which opened to $18.02 -- slightly below par for Tyler Perry, though still nabbing the highest per-screen average in the top 10 on just over 2000 screens.

The third-place, $16.5 million take for Righteous Kill seems about right: a compromise between the draw of De Niro and Pacino, and the toxic buzz surrounding the film. As for The Women, $10 million isn't exactly gangbusters, but probably more than Picturehouse had any right to expect given that the movie came out of nowhere.

Anna Faris's The House Bunny has turned into a minor hit; it took a 22% drop from last weekend, and has passed the $40 million mark. Not bad for a late-August release with no real star power. Bangkok Dangerous is dead in the water, dropping from 4th to 8th place; it will top out at around $15 million.

And I can't resist noting what happened to Proud American, the patriotic half-doc that was dumped into 750 screens this weekend by Slowhand Cinema. It landed below the top 25, with $135,000 and a $180 per-screen average. That's for the whole weekend. If you take $6.50 as an average ticket price (a bit below the actual average, but probably reasonable given that the interest for this film was probably not in major metropolitan markets), that's comes out to an awesome 28 people per theater, and around 2 people per show. Whoo!

The full estimates after the jump.

I am pretty sure I saw at least two, and possibly three, future Oscar nominees in the new trailer for John Patrick Shanley's Doubt, now available over here. If nothing else, you'd be a fool to bet against 1) Meryl Streep, 2) playing a righteous nun, 3) in an adaptation of a Pulitzer-Prize winning play. There are few sure things in Hollywood, but come on. I'd almost say the same for Philip Seymour Hoffman as a (possible) child molester, and I think the oddly unrecognizable Amy Adams has a sporting chance as well.

Streep's role here -- a stern nun who accuses a priest of sexually abusing a young boy -- looks like a variation on Miranda Priestly from The Devil Wears Prada, if The Devil Wears Prada had been serious business instead of silliness. "I was not inviting a guessing game, Sister Raymond." Her response to Hoffman's hateful "I can fight you" is basically the greatest line delivery of all time. "The dragon is hungry," indeed.

I can't wait to see this; I really wanted to see the play on Broadway, but never got around to it. Watching Streep and Hoffman face off, with strong material backing them up, is a dream come true. Doubt is set for a December 12th release.

About a week ago, word spread that Robert De Niro had walked off the set of Martin Campbell's Edge of Darkness. A spokesman for De Niro explained it to us like idiots: "Sometimes things don't work out; it's called creative differences." De Niro would have co-starred with Mel Gibson as an agent tasked with cleaning up evidence of a murder Gibson's homicide detective is trying to investigate.

It seems that Campbell has found his replacement: the great Ray Winstone, who is currently in negotiations to step into the role. Winstone obviously doesn't have De Niro's profile, which is a loss for a film that's benefited from a considerable amount of hype before even starting principal photography (most of it having to do with Mel Gibson's return to acting after six years). But he certainly has the chops.

De Niro, meanwhile, faces a test of his drawing power this weekend with the release of Righteous Kill. The marketing campaign has concentrated exclusively on the presence of De Niro and Al Pacino, so the question will be how many people the two of them can get into the theaters. Not that De Niro has anything to prove, as evidenced by his walking off the set of a major film two days into shooting.

A highbrow festival like Toronto doesn't offer many opportunities to laugh, and I was grateful for this one. Easy Virtue, an adaptation of an early Noël Coward play, is a droll and witty delight, a superb showcase for its cast, and a return to fine form for The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert director Stephan Elliott, who last turned in the unsettling but incomprehensible Eye of the Beholder nearly 10 years ago. Where most TIFF films seemed to glower at me from the screen, this one winked and smiled.

Noël Coward may seem a strange choice for Elliott, whose films have favored the bizarre and the obscure. I don't know what attracted the filmmaker to this project, but I'm glad that something did. The material may seem almost purely verbal, all clever turns of phrase and sardonic interjections (what Americans think of as "Britishness"), but Elliott is constantly concerned with how the movie looks and sounds. Fittingly, he manages to give it a curious, otherworldly feel. This is most pronounced in the opening sequence, which marries choppy black-and-white footage, odd angles, and a jazzy soundtrack to introduce us to the characters and transport us to a universe that is ever so slightly off-kilter. It's a welcome recognition that these hyper-literate, impeccably constructed old comedies – Coward, Wilde, etc. – don't take place in a world quite like ours.

There's a familiarity to Pride and Glory that, depending on your perspective, could be either horrendously tiresome or part of the charm. By all accounts it's a middling film, an overwrought and occasionally laughable corrupt cop drama that you've seen countless times. But for me, going back to this world of divided loyalties, broken oaths, outraged good guys, and "we protect our own" machismo was like settling into a comfortable recliner. An extremely comfortable one, actually: Pride and Glory is moody, attractive and well-acted. I think director Gavin O'Connor intended it to be grim and upsetting, but at best it's pulpy entertainment, a highly watchable series of well-worn, well-executed clichés.

The closest recent analogue to Pride and Glory is probably James Gray's far superior We Own the Night. There, too, father and son cops wrestle with their commitments to each other, their families, themselves, and the often abstract notion of being policemen. In O'Connor's film, these themes play out along thoroughly conventional lines. Edward Norton and Noah Emmerich play brothers; Emmerich's Francis is a respected commanding officer, while Norton's Ray, despite his talent and promise, has relegated himself to Missing Persons after an initially-unspecified Traumatic Incident some years back. Their Dad, Francis Sr. (Jon Voight), is an experienced careerist who has worked his way up through the ranks. When a failed drug bust results in the shooting death of four officers, Ray brings himself out of self-imposed semi-retirement to investigate – but his sleuthing leads him to a corrupt cabal that may include his brother and longtime family friend Jimmy Egan (Colin Farrell).

Here's a movie that deals with death and grief without hysterics, dramatic speeches or showy, Oscar-grubbing performances. Michael Winterbottom's Genova has a logline that sounds maudlin and turgid – after she inadvertently causes a car accident that kills her mother, a young girl starts seeing mom's ghost – but the movie turns out to be understated, down-to-earth, quietly sad. This is Winterbottom's most intimate film since 9 Songs, and one of the highlights of his career.

Genova has the wherewithal to show its characters dealing with loss in ways that aren't inherently cinematic. It would have been very striking, for example, to have the newly motherless children – the teenage Kelly (Willa Holland) and the preteen Mary (Perla Haney-Jardine) – scream, rage at the world, and slam doors in the face of their well-intentioned father Joe (Colin Firth) before concluding that Family Sticks Together. And in a film like this, I would have guessed that Joe would spiral into an alcoholic depression, or perhaps start a tumultuous, guilt-ridden affair with the old college friend (Catherine Keener) who comes back into his life.

Those are the arcs I would have expected to see. But though a couple doors do get slammed, Winterbottom's characters aren't here to amuse us or push our buttons. Their reactions to the tragedy and their ways of adjusting to a new life in the titular city all paint a much more nuanced picture – and the effect is more heartbreaking than any number of manipulative stunts could have achieved.