Paging 1987! Due Date, Todd Philips' follow up to last year's surprise smash The Hangover, seems to borrow from an old favorite's formula--cough, Planes, Trains and Automobiles: Take two mismatched strangers, strand them far away from the familiar and force them to band together to find their way home. Of course, it helps when your odd couple is Robert Downey Jr. (playing the uptight and high-strung one) and Zach Galifianakis (who, um, plays the other one), two of the hardest-working and most likable guys in Hollywood. The moviegoing public certainly seems ready to sign up to this bromantic comedy; the trailer--which features a dizzying array of physical comedy hijinks (ashes in coffee cans, trucks going over potholes, Mr. Galifianakis' little dog) and just the right kind of deadpan dialogue that should allow the two men to play off each other like shadowboxers--has already been viewed over half a million times on YouTube. Somehow, somewhere, Jamie Foxx, RZA and Danny McBride show up to further sweeten the deal, and, well, you may as well hand your money over now.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Nov. 19, Warner Bros.

We've been watching the movie versions of the Harry Potter franchise for nearly a decade, which really should give at least one moment's pause. 'Cause you know what? While we've been watching these adorable moppets fight evil with wondrous magic, they've been growing up into adults (is that a hint of a gingery fuzz on Ron Weasley's upper lip? Ack!). The latest trailer points to the David Yates-directed production going into even darker waters than before, somewhat hard to believe since the previous installment, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, involved the death of one of the most beloved characters. Of course, this is just one half of the big shebang; the second part of Hallows and the end of the Harry Potter series as we know it will arrive in theaters next year. Prepare for some Lost-like hysteria.

Burlesque, Nov. 24, Sony

So let's imagine that it's Thanksgiving weekend, and the combined sound of your darling family's voice is driving you out of the house and to the multiplex, where you'll go watch the awesome insanity that will surely be part of Burlesque. Is it the next Showgirls? The next Glitter? Chicago mixed with Moulin Rogue? Who knows! But here's what we've sussed out: Christina Aguilera plays Alice, a small-town girl with big ambitions who comes to Los Angeles with the unquenchable desire to be a ... burlesque dancer. Sadly, the powers that be--in this case Stanley Tucci (!) and Cher (!!)--don't agree, until they are shocked by the powerful singing voice coming out of petite little Alice, and then it's all fishnets, fame, McSteamy and lord knows what else. God, we just can't wait!

127 Hours, Nov. 5, Fox Searchlight

If people faint during your movie's screening, you know you got something special. And that's what has happened a few times now during viewings of Danny Boyle's 127 Hours. The film is based on the real-life story of Aron Ralston, a hiker who brought all sorts of unfortunate meaning to the phrase "rock and a hard place" in 2003 after he amputated his own arm after being trapped by a boulder in Utah for almost five days. The casting of James Franco is a good choice (hard to imagine Cillian Murphy playing a laid-back hiker dude, as was previously rumored), as we like him best when he's playing sloppily silly and effortlessly charismatic characters. And remember: It's the same team-up with Mr. Boyle as director and co-writer Simon Beaufoy that got these guys the big win for Slumdog Millionaire.

Let Me In, Oct. 1, Overture

People--quite understandably!--bristled at the news that there was to be an American remake of 2008's Let the Right One In. And yet there's been nothing but excellent buzz over Let Me In (why they changed the title we cannot say). Directed by Cloverfield's Matt Reeves (who must be delighted not to have to employ the shaky cam), this one moves the action away from the snowy banks of Sweden to New Mexico in the early '80s. There, things seem to follow the same premise as the original: Adorable little boy (played by The Road's Kodi Smit-McPhee) gets bullied until he meets the rather strange girl next door (Kick Ass's Chloe Moretz) and learns why she's able to, um, do stuff. The best news of all? Two words: Richard Jenkins. We can't wait to know the answer to our main question about this remake: Will there be cats?

Hereafter, Oct. 22, Warner Bros.

What's an autumnal season without a Clint Eastwood movie? Matt Damon suits up again (sans South African accent, praise be, after last year's Invictus), for this dark psychological thriller about a guy who can speak with ghosts. Yes, you read that correctly! Other people who show up include Richard Kind, Bryce Dallas Howard, Jay Mohr (hooray!), Cécile De France and Frankie and George McLearen, playing the token spookily precocious kid. We just don't know what to think after seeing the trailer! It's either going to be, like, Oscar amazing, or it could take a left turn and be Knowing amazing. That said, the great Peter Morgan wrote the script; Steven Spielberg executive-produced; and you gotta trust in the Damon and the Eastwood.

The King's Speech, Nov. 26, the Weinstein Company

If we were the betting kind, the smart money for early Oscar picks would go squarely toward The King's Speech. This thing just seems designed for award-show glory: Directed by Tom Hooper (John Adams), it stars the great Colin Firth as King George VI, who had a rather debilitating stutter that was holding him back just as England was headed to war. Geoffrey Rush (Shine) is the man hired to help him through it; Helena Bonham Carter plays his wife; and good lord, Guy Pearce in this, too! So we got an inspirational tale, Oscar-caliber actors, English accents, period costumes and royals overcoming adversity. The King's Speech took top prize earlier this month at the Toronto Film Festival--watch for it to take home a lot more statuettes in the months to come.

Morning Glory, Nov. 12, Paramount Pictures

Casting Harrison Ford to play a crotchety anchorman who gets put on a morning GMA-like show with Diane Keaton? Consider us sold. Rachel McAdams (who should be working more than she is) stars as a hotshot television producer who is charged with reviving a flailing morning-show program with two anchors who hate each other. Morning Glory was written by Aline Brosh McKenna (The Devil Wears Prada) and directed by Roger Michell (Notting Hill), and so we're guessing that this won't be a hoity-toity Oscar pick, but will surely be good fun--at one point in the trailer, Mr. Ford says solemnly, "I won't say the word 'fluffy.' Or will he?

Welcome to the Rileys, Oct. 29, Sony

It's going to be interesting to see what will happen with Welcome to the Riley's, a small movie starring two people of great interest to very different audiences. Kristen Stewart, patron saint of the skinny and faux-awkward riding the L train, plays an underage stripper/prostitute (who will also surely be skinny and awkward) who becomes the personal project of a businessman, played by James Gandolfini. It's a toss-up which is harder for audiences to divorce themselves from, Gandolfini's Tony Soprano or Stewart's Twilight heroine. The good news is that this film also stars the magnificent Melissa Leo (Frozen River), and was written by Ken Hixon (Inventing the Abbots); it was directed by Jake Scott (son of Ridley). We're a little concerned to hear what we think might be a Southern accent coming out of Mr. Gandolfini (who last did this in the disastrous remake of All the King's Men), but we're holding out hope.

Company Men, Oct. 22, The Weinstein Company

Hooray, it's another film about the craptastic state of the economy! Ben Affleck, fresh off the giant lovefest that happened in the wake of The Town, stars in this rather depressing-looking affair from E.R.'s John Wells. Company Men (a title we are apparently unable to remember) follows three men trying to get through a year in the wake of the dreaded corporate downsizing, and how it affects their lives and families. Honestly, after watching the trailer, you might think that's the movie's whole damn plot, but considering the roster of talent involved--in addition to Mr. Affleck, there's the awesome Chris Cooper, Tommy Lee Jones, Kevin Costner (!), Maria Bello and Rosemarie DeWitt--and the general swooning that took place at Sundance, we're thinking good thoughts.

svilkomerson@observer.com

Last April, producers Tony Ponturo and Fran Kirmser announced plans for Lombardi, about inspirational football coach Vince Lombardi, with The National Football League as a producing and marketing partner--the first time the NFL or any major sports organization has ever paired with Broadway for a live theatrical event.

A bio-drama based on David Maraniss' book When Pride Still Mattered, the play stars TV's Dan Lauria (The Wonder Years) as gridiron legend Lombardi, whose hard-nosed coaching tactics and mythic leadership skills transformed the Green Bay Packers into one of the NFL's most formidable championship franchises and Lombardi into the archetype for the all-American football coach. Judith Light (Ugly Betty) also leads the show's cast of seven, costarring as Lombardi's ever-supportive, if frequently frustrated, wife Marie.

So, how'd the NFL end up playing ball on a niche field like Broadway? To the show's producers, the relationship between the production and its partnering organization is symbiotic by necessity.

"When you're doing a show about Vince Lombardi, whose name is on the Super Bowl trophy itself, you want the NFL's endorsement. It gives the whole project credibility," said Mr. Ponturo, formerly a sports sponsorship guru with Anheuser-Busch. (Mr. Ponturo's five-year relationship with the NFL during his tenure with that company was the reason Lombardi landed on the desk of NFL commissioner Roger Goodell, who approved the venture.) Similarly, the NFL's immediate interest in endorsing the project seems to have laid less in what it says by being involved than what it would have said to not be.

"The name of the play is Lombardi," said Tracy Perlman, the NFL's Vice President of Entertainment Marketing and Promotion. "[That name] is the basis of everything our players believe in and the embodiment of everything our fans want to see every week. Anybody who goes to see [this play] will really, truly understand how our game evolved. From that point of view...it wasn't a hard sell for us."

Considering the NFL hasn't invested financially in the play the organization has everything to gain, with Lombardi marking a novel test-opportunity for the NFL to reach new audiences via live theater. According to The Broadway League, a Broadway trade association, the 2008-2009 season was one of the Rialto's biggest on record, with over 12 million tickets sold. Granted, this is a comparative drop in the bucket for the NFL, which sold 17.2 million game-day seats in 2009 and boasted 106.5 million Super Bowl XLIV viewers. Broadway's appeal is rooted in its demographics; 66% of those 12 million tickets were purchased by women, while 16% (the largest percentage bought by any one group that year) of all seats were snagged by the coveted 24-34 age bracket.

"We try to be as innovative as we can in [reaching audiences]," Ms. Perlman said. "The [show] is going to appeal to women and families as much as men, and we'll have a presence in an area people may not have thought we would be involved in."

The teaming of high-drama sports and relatable day-to-day life theatrics has already proven to be a winning crossover combination--just last year The Blind Side used Lombardi's similar formula of real on-the-field fireworks, family adversity and an inspirational lesson to propel itself to $255.9 million in domestic grosses, not to mention that Academy Award win for leading actress Sandra Bullock.

Historically, however, sports-themed plays haven't always fared so well on Broadway. 1962's All American, the Mel Brooks musical about an underdog football team's game plan, lasted just 86 performances. 1969's Buck White, a tuner starring Muhammad Ali, ran four days. And even successful examples, such as baseball musical Damn Yankees and gay baller drama Take Me Out, use the field as a backdrop rather than foundation.

The minds behind Lombardi know this.

"Many of those shows were not about the sport so much as an event that happened near the sport," said Ms. Kirmser. "This show is about football and how one man transcended the game itself. That sets it apart from any other sports show previously." Plus, said Mr. Ponturo, "We used to use a phrase in the beer business: ‘The consumer needs permission.' This is what we're hoping for here, that the NFL's stamp of approval on this show gives the average [football] fan, who may never have been in a theater let alone a Broadway house, the confidence to go see it."

So should we expect the next Super Bowl all-star, covered in confetti in 2011, to look into a camera after clinching victory and declare "We're going to Broadway!"?

Not necessarily. But such a moment isn't impossible should the union between the Rialto and the gridiron be a fruitful one.

"We've got 32 markets and fans all over the country," said Ms. Perlman. "That will go a long way. If this show ends up touring to Green Bay, I have a feeling every person who lives there will go see it."

editorial@observer.com

Boardwalk Empire, set during the dawn of Prohibition, has a pretty spiffy pedigree even for HBO: Martin Scorsese--who directed the pilot episode--is an executive producer. It was created by Terence Winter, the Sopranos writer who--after David Chase--was responsible for writing the most episodes (another Sopranos alum, Tim Van Patten, is on board as executive producer and director). Even Mark Wahlberg is involved! It would be easy to buckle under the weight of collective award-show wins and expectations, and even understandable, really, if an early backlash were to occur. Except for just one thing: It's really, really good.

Based on Nelson Johnson's Boardwalk Empire: The Birth, High Times, and Corruption of Atlantic City, the show is unabashedly ambitious, large in scope and lavish in set. It looks incredibly expensive (reportedly the pilot alone cost close to $20 million). But its debut episode faces the same conundrum that any epic, complicated show faces: An awful lot of information and characters, along with some pesky history, have to be introduced in the first 60 minutes. (Try not to be alarmed during your first viewing--or hit Wikipedia--when names like Al Capone, Arnold Rothstein and Lucky Luciano come up. All will become a lot clearer and easier paced in episodes two and three).

At the center of it all is half-politician/half-gangster, treasurer of Atlantic City, Enoch "Nucky" Thompson, played by Steve Buscemi, who in the span of a couple of hours is able to enthrall a roomful of women with his praise of the recently passed Prohibition law and tales of a hardscrabble youth ("First rule of politics, kiddo," he tells his protégé after exiting the town hall, "never let the truth get in the way of a good story"), before gathering with fellow city power players with the promise that Atlantic City will remain "wet as a mermaid's twat."

After a decade of big, blustering James Gandolfini as our go-to pop-culture reference for a Jersey boss, it's a nice change to have Mr. Buscemi, with his pale, vulpine face and goggly eyes, morph into top dog. He's fantastic: in one scene vacillating effortlessly between a cold, occasionally violent leader and a deeply sympathetic man. (Just watch those eyes when he pauses on the boardwalk to look at the rather disgusting Incubator Baby. Could babies be to Nucky what ducks were to Tony Soprano?). His protégé, Jimmy (Michael Pitt), a former Princeton student, has arrived back from the war a changed man: No longer content to be simply a lackey, Jimmy's ambition is the catalyst to the plot machinations that get this series going. Mr. Pitt was simply made for the fashions of the 1920s, with his big DiCaprio-y cherub face and creepily empty eyes (it's hard to forget his earlier roles in Murder by Numbers and Funny Games). Their relationship is fraught and confusingly paternal--one can assume all that will get untangled eventually--including the part that encompasses Gretchen Mol (remember her?) as a mysterious showgirl. Kelly MacDonald (The Girl in the Café) plays Margaret Schroeder, an Irish immigrant with firsthand knowledge of the evils of liquor who manages to catch the eye of both Nucky and the tightly wound Agent Nelson Van Alden (the always great Michael Shannon), who seems to be pursuing Prohibition offenders with a zealot's determination.

As the series continues, more familiar faces will crop up and become important, including Dabney Coleman and The Wire's Michael Kenneth Williams. And, of course, there's that $5 million set. For the modern New Jerseyite (or Jersey Shore watcher), it's hard to imagine "AC" being a place of such glamour, but this art-directed Atlantic City is a wondrous thing to behold, from its clean boardwalks to glittering Prohibition parties. It makes one wish for a time machine. As for the plot, best to let it unfold naturally, but let's just say it's clear that there's plenty of tangled corruption, relationship intrigue and crime to chew over--and just how does Al Capone end up ruling Chicago, anyway? Around the third episode, the series settles down and hits its sweet spot, with that Sopranos-like mix of stomach-turning violence, surprising poignancy and the occasionally hilarious scene (just wait for the Yiddish dentist). So it turns out that we can't fight the hype; and dear viewer, we don't even want to.

svilkomerson@observer.com

VIEW SLIDESHOW > SEVEN FOR SEPTEMBER

The Australian-made Animal Kingdom is among the most gripping, well-paced, acted and directed, and generally thrilling of anything that I've seen (yet) this year.

From the opening scene, where we meet a fellow named Joshua (James Frecheville), sitting passively next to his slumped-over unconscious mother and keeping an eye on the TV even while the paramedics are busy working on her (to no avail), writer-director David Michôd sets a rather grim tone and tableau. After his mother's death, "J" goes to live with his Grandmother Smurf (Jacki Weaver) and a family his mother never wanted him to know. It soon becomes clear why: One uncle, Pope Cody (Ben Mendelsohn), a charismatic sociopath, is an armed robber on the run from the cops; another uncle is a thriving drug dealer (and addict); and yet another is somehow mixed up in all of this mess. Meanwhile, Grandma Smurf (the nickname is never quite explained) maintains a somewhat icky intimacy with her sons and their business partner, Baz Brown (Joel Edgerton). As J tries to learn how to navigate this new and fairly terrifying world, things quickly begin to unspool: Baz is trying to get out of the crime business; the cops are beginning to seem a little criminal themselves and then ... well, it all gets much worse. So much worse! J must choose which side to align himself with-a family he's never known (and clearly craved), or a friendly-seeming policeman (Guy Pearce) who seems to genuinely want to help. Who knew Melbourne was such a hotbed of trouble? Mr. Michôd's film somehow manages to nimbly sidestep clichéd shoot-em-up-which-side-are-you-on drama territory. These finely drawn characters are as sympathetic as they are repellent, and each twist is unpredictable, imbuing a sense of menace and tension in every scene that is nearly unbearable (as Animal Kingdom concludes, nearly every single person in the screening room audibly exhaled).

The acting is excellent. Ms. Weaver plays her role with murderous charm-has there been such a terrifying onscreen matriarch since Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest? Mr. Pearce quietly continues to be among the most interesting character actors working today, and where one earth did this Joel Edgerton person come from? Um, look out, Sam Worthington! (Does Australia just generate good actors the way Serbians produce athletes?) And it's hard to take your eyes off Mr. Mendelsohn whenever he's onscreen. So creepy, so seductive, so scary-his stillness is more disturbing than when he's forced into action.

Here's hoping that this is a film that actually, you know, gets seen by some people. It comes at the end of a rather tired summer.

svilkomerson@observer.com

ANIMAL KINGDOM
Running time 112 minutes
Written and directed by David Michôd
Starring Ben Mendelsohn, Joel Edgerton, Guy Pearce, Jackie Weaver, Luke Ford, Sullivan Stapleton, James Frecheville

3.5 Eyeballs out of 4

What is going to happen to Michael Cera's career when he really grows up? This is one of the things I found myself wondering about when my attention started wandering during Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World. (Also: How can a movie so clearly directed at an audience with generational ADD drag on so? And when did I get so old?)

This is not to say that Mr. Cera is not good in his role of Scott Pilgrim, occupying almost every scene of the film. In fact, he's excellent: wise enough to convey that he's in on the joke, with perfect deadpan delivery. But what will happen to the man-boy when he's all man and can no longer slouch about in baggy pants and hoodie sweatshirts with perpetually flushed cheeks? 

For those who aren't familiar with the popular comic-book series, written by Bryan Lee O'Malley, on which the film is based, the story line goes a little something like this: Our young, Canadian, non-committal hero, who inexplicably has left a path of broken hearts in his wake, falls head over heels for a mysterious doe-eyed young woman with constantly changing hair color named Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead). But in order to win her heart, he must defeat her seven evil exes. It's a terrific premise and one that must work brilliantly in serialized form. However, when you're 45 minutes into a two-hour film and you've only met two exes, you can't help but start calculating how quickly the rest will be apportioned. Director Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz) employs tons of clever visual tricks-including comic-book-esque "thonks" and "kapows" and video arcade-y "ka-chings"-but this only serves to distract the audience from engaging with any of the (many) characters' plights. There's an awful lot of exposition to muddle through at the start, and a bit of a mind-set adjustment to all of Mr. Wright's visual whimsy.

But once that's occurred, the bright colors and careful, playful art direction are easy on the eyes; a battle-of-the-bands subplot is surprisingly good, thanks to some compositions from Beck; and the acting and casting are generally terrific (though the supreme talents of Alison Pill seem a bit wasted in a small role). Kieran Culkin particularly shines in the role of a sardonic gay roommate; Anna Kendrick continues to prove that she makes surprising and smart film choices; and the film's energy level gets a giant boost when Jason Schwartzman shows up as the most evil of the evil exes. Which brings us to our next questions. Was Jason Schwartzman Michael Cera before there was a Michael Cera? And is there a difference between Rushmore's '90s antihero Max Fisher and 2010's current emo slacker model, in which case there might yet be hope for Mr. Cera to transition from man-boy to man? N.Y.U. film students, get crackin'!

SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD
Running time 112 minutes
Written by Michael Bacall and Edgar Wright
Directed by Edgar Wright
Starring Michael Cera, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Kieran Culkin, Ellen Wong, Mark Webber, Alison Pill, Jason Schwartzman, Anna Kendrick

2 Eyeballs out of 4

Showing up for a third tour of duty with Mr. Nolan is the startlingly blue-eyed Cillian Murphy, who previously stole scenery as the sinister Scarecrow/Dr. Jonathan Crane in Batman Begins and The Dark Knight; he was also seen convincingly scaring the stuffing out of Rachel McAdams in Red Eye, and playing a haunted survivor in 28 Days Later. This time, Mr. Murphy plays Robert Fischer, a rich young man who becomes the mark for dream-extractor/-inceptor Leonardo DiCaprio (just trust us: See this movie. No spoilers here!), appearing amid an excellent ensemble cast that includes Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Marion Cotillard, Ellen Page, Tom Hardy, Ken Watanabe and Michael Caine.  The Irish-born Mr. Murphy, 34, spoke to The Observer from London, his home for the past 10 years:

The Observer: Inception is complicated-people are going to argue about what it's all about.

Mr. Murphy: I think it's open to very different interpretations. People can experience the film cerebrally, or literally, or as a love story or a heist movie-I would never tell people what they should come out feeling.

What did you think when you first read the script?

I read it and thought, 'God, am I intellectually up for this script?' [laughs]. But then I was reassured by the fact that all the actors had the same reaction.

Was there a cheat sheet on set?

No ... but it became pretty clear we shouldn't be embarrassed about asking where exactly we were-everybody needed to be reminded once in a while. Everyone would get on the phone with Chris, and he'd talk them through their character and the puzzle, and, you know, explain the rules.

Did Mr. Nolan have the character of Fischer in mind for you?

He said, 'Read it, and I think you'll know which one I'm thinking of you for.' And I read it and I immediately thought that [Fischer] was the role. I liked it; it was something I haven't done before. Fischer's this spoiled little kid who just wanted his father to pay some attention to him. And he has everything he could want materially, but is an emotional cripple. I love the tragedy of the thing.

You end up being in some of the more emotional scenes of the movie.

Yes, and Pete Postlethwaite is a fantastic actor, and it was a great privilege to work with him as my dad. I have two boys myself. ... Obviously, everyone has a complex relationship with their dad. It's universally complicated.

Are your sons old enough to go see this movie?

Oh God, no! [laughs, horrified]. They are only 4 and 3-little fellas. It would be a little confusing and a little loud for them.

After the success of The Dark Knight, there were staggeringly high expectations for this film. Was that pressure palpable?

It seems to me that Chris doesn't worry about all that, and that's why I think he's so successful. He just has his own philosophy, right from the beginning. He's quite old-fashioned, in many ways-and the thing he does that sets him apart is that he presupposes a level of intelligence of the audience, which I think the audience is really grateful for, in this climate. ... They don't want to just check their brain at the door.

I agree. But this film tired my brain out!

But the payoff is huge. I want to see it again in IMAX.

svilkomerson@observer.com

Now hear me out! The seeds of this theory were planted in 2008, after Mr. Cruise appeared in a memorable cameo role in Tropic Thunder, playing foulmouthed Les Grossman to great comic effect (something he reprised earlier this month in a somewhat mind-blowing appearance at the MTV Movie Awards-dancing around with Jennifer Lopez in character-mere days before it was announced that an entire movie was being developed around the character). It's been a long and winding road for Mr. Cruise and his publicity machine (the couch-jumping, the box office duds, Valkyrie and Lions for Lambs). With Tropic Thunder, the star seemed to be back in the position he clearly loves the most: in charge. Defying expectations (much as he was able to do with 1999's Magnolia), he was able to gently nudge the public into thinking he, too, was in on the Tom Cruise joke. That perhaps he really is, as Judd Apatow once said, quietly one of the great comedic actors in the country.

Knight and Day takes this idea of peek-a-boo Cruise to the next level. The actor plays Roy Miller, a strangely ageless covert agent who may or may not have betrayed his agency, or been double-crossed himself. Cameron Diaz is the pricelessly named June Havens, who meets Roy kinda cute at the Wichita airport. (Side note: The filmmakers undoubtedly should have kept Wichita as the original title.) They're on the same flight, of course, and as June brightly smiles at Roy, you can almost hear her optimistic thoughts about the handsome stranger paying her so much attention. But since this is a big-budget would-be blockbuster, June soon finds herself caught up in a zany global adventure, with the maybe murderous and psychotic-or maybe just hot and awesome!-Roy. He is either kidnapping her, protecting her or romancing her, who's to say?

This movie will undoubtedly be compared to the Brangelina mashup Mr. & Mrs. Smith, and with good reason-it has the same combo of quips and physical tricks, the same somewhat overwhelming chemistry between its two leads. Say what you will about Vanilla Sky, but those few scenes between Ms. Diaz and Mr. Cruise crackled. It's always nice to remember that Ms. Diaz has excellent comedic timing (Mary!), and a magical ability to intensify her blue eyes and dimples mid-scene.

But Knight and Day goes above and beyond other movies of its kind, being not only in on the joke of itself, but committed to going completely over the top. It's so completely ludicrous (car chases, international train chases, tropical chases-and did I mention that Cameron Diaz's character's job is to fix up old cars? And that somehow she's the same height as Mr. Cruise onscreen?) that you can't help but be won over. It's straight-up fun, hiding nothing about its intentions. How else to explain the (rather ingenious) device of having Ms. Diaz experience the most dangerous of their scrapes through fluttering-eyelid drugged-out sleep, catching only glimpses of Mr. Cruise in various stages of peril? She awakens in a bikini in the tropics; the next time in a perfectly fitted outfit in Austria. When did she eat? How did Roy Miller know what size she wore and how did she go to the bathroom?

These are silly, real-life questions that the movie will not stoop to answer. (Nor will it address some of the other quibbles I had, like Ms. Diaz's part-time Boston accent, or Roy's ability to make travel arrangements on the run.) Bonus: Peter Sarsgaard (doing his flat-voiced-delivery thing), Paul Dano and Viola Davis all show up for a few minutes. But it's Tom Cruise's picture. He is back to being a Movie Star, and he appears to be having an excellent time playing a character that's maybe pathological and crazy, or maybe someone completely in control and using his crazy persona for the forces of good. Sound familiar? 

svilkomerson@observer.com

Knight and Day
Running time 110 minutes
Written by Patrick O’Neill
Directed by James Mangold
Starring Tom Cruise, Cameron Diaz, Peter Sarsgaard, Paul Dano, Viola Davis

2 Eyeballs out of 4

From May of 2007 through July of 2008, photo-journalist Tim Hetherington and writer Sebastian Junger (of Perfect Storm fame), carrying their own cameras, hunkered down to chronicle the life of a group of soldiers in the Korengal Valley in eastern Afghanistan-considered to be one of the absolutely most dangerous places to be (by the end of 2007, almost one-fifth of all the combat in Afghanistan was taking place in Korengal). Their outpost, nicknamed "Restrepo" after a beloved medic killed in the line of duty, is isolated and seems to be constantly under threat (men shot in their sleep, the camp attacked up to three or four times a day). The movie brings you up close-much, much, much closer than any civilian would probably like to be-to the action. Daily life includes no phone, no Internet, sometimes no heat or water-but plenty of cold, flies, monkeys, cursing and, oh yeah, constant threats of death punctuated by intense boredom and loneliness. The group of 15 men we get to know for 94 minutes are both heartbreakingly young and, as shown in interviews, clearly traumatized by their experiences of gruesome injuries and death. Messrs. Hetherington and Junger skip the traditional documentary customs of military talking heads, or a Sean Penn voice-over, and instead let the imagery of a reality that very few of us could imagine speak for itself, which is very effective.

It's actually hard to imagine how the filmmakers, on assignment for Vanity Fair and ABC News (Mr. Junger's latest book, War, is an extension of his experience), managed to stay put-cameras were rolling when the Humvee they were in drove over an explosive-and a recent New York Times article reported that both men sustained injury during the duration (Mr. Hetherington broke his fibula and had to walk four hours on it back to base because there were simply no other options; Mr. Junger tore his Achilles tendon). Restrepo is not just an impressive piece of journalism; it's the closest thing possible to a reenactment of deployment, without any political judgment. It's not an easy or pleasurable experience for the audience, but it's worth it.

svilkomerson@observer.com

Restrepo
Running time 94 minutes
Directed by Tim Hetherington and Sebastian Junger

3 Eyeballs out of 4

Perhaps this is just where the mind goes after completing a film as unflinchingly dark as The Killer Inside Me. Based on the 1952 Jim Thompson novel and directed by Michael Winterbottom, the movie revolves around a seemingly mild-mannered young deputy sheriff named Lou (Mr. Affleck) in a small Texas town, who tries (and fails) to contain his rapidly spiraling sadistic and sociopathic urges that include, among other disturbing things, beating women to death with his fists.   

Unsurprisingly, the film has been the subject of some controversy even ahead of its limited June 18 release; one infamous scene involves pretty co-star Jessica Alba getting punched repeatedly (and graphically), her face a bloodied pulp, inspiring massive walkouts during Killer's premiere at the Sundance Film Festival. During the Q&A that followed, one woman reportedly asked Mr. Winterbottom, "How dare you? How dare Sundance?" At the screening The Observer attended at the Tribeca Film Festival a couple of months later, just about every member of the audience covered their eyes during The Scene, but no one walked out. ("Oh good, success," Mr. Affleck said dryly.) It is indeed a hard movie to watch, but in its own horrific way, it's thrilling and compelling, with an outstanding, creepy performance by Mr. Affleck.

It is somewhat heartening, of course, that moviegoers who can yawn their way through scenes where men are mowed down indiscriminately by rapid-fire machine guns or transforming robots, and who will gleefully clap their way through apocalyptic images of whole cities sliding into the sea, can be so disturbed by a man slugging a woman in the face. "I think they should be upset," said Mr. Affleck. "I'm glad that it was upsetting. I would much prefer the violence in a movie to be realistic and upsetting. What I didn't want to do is violence that is not treated in a realistic way, where there are no ramifications, or it doesn't really feel like someone has been hurt. That would have felt wrong to me." He sighed. "But here's the thing! If you are at Sundance and you go to a movie that's called The Killer Inside Me that is based on a book that is available at the bookstore, and that is discussed at length in the Sundance brochure, then you should know what you are in for."

Regarding the peeved Sundance audience member, he went on: "What did she want? She wanted something palatable and toned down. Something not as upsetting. That would have contributed to a culture that is really repressed sexually and has a lot of problems with domestic violence. I just can't imagine that kind of movie. It just doesn't make sense to me."

MR. AFFLECK IS 34. His first movie role was in Gus Van Sant's 1995 To Die For (alongside future brother-in-law Joaquin Phoenix-more on that in a moment). For the next few years, he popped up in films such as 200 Cigarettes, Lonesome Jim, Gerry and in Ocean's Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen. But for the most part, he was known mainly as Ben Affleck's younger brother. This during the early aughts, post-Good Will Hunting frenzy, the era of Bennifer: when you couldn't pass a newsstand without seeing Ben Affleck's square all-American jaw and gleaming teeth on the cover of every tabloid.

But then came 2007. First there was the stunning The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, an intense, beautiful film by Andrew Dominik in which the younger Mr. Affleck played the sycophant and eventual murderer Robert Ford to Brad Pitt's James. A month later, Gone Baby Gone was released; this gritty, Boston-based drama, adapted from a Dennis Lehane novel, was Ben Affleck's directorial debut, with his little brother as leading man. Widely praised by critics, the film managed to silence the Gigli jokes and anoint Casey Affleck a serious actor. There were the inevitable breathless magazine profiles and an Oscar nomination for Jesse James.

And then there was wasn't another Casey Affleck movie until The Killer Inside Me. Why?

"He's an elusive actor," said Mr. Winterbottom. "I think he gets lots of offers, but he's a reluctant actor. A great actor ... but reluctant." For Lou, the director added, "I needed an actor who is capable of suggesting there's a lot of things that are going on inside his head. When you meet Casey, as a person, you know there's an awful lot of stuff going on."

In person, Mr. Affleck is unfailingly polite, if a bit guarded. His features are finer in person-his cheekbones higher, his eyes bluer than they appear onscreen. When talk turned personal, about his brother or his sons (he has a 5-year-old and a 2-year-old with wife Summer Phoenix), his voice got quieter, his answers shorter and his eyes glowed just a little bit more intensely. For the past two years, Mr. Affleck has been at work on the much-buzzed-about documentary chronicling Joaquin Phoenix embarking on a new career as a hip-hop artist. When Mr. Phoenix started showing up for increasingly bizarre public appearances on places like Letterman in a scraggly beard, long hair and sunglasses, people speculated it was stunt, a bit of Andy Kaufman-like performance art done for the good of Mr. Affleck's documentary. Since The Observer's interview with Mr. Affleck, the film has been screened for potential buyers sworn to secrecy. (Blogosphere leaks focus on the rumored debauchery more than anything else.)

"I imagined doing something different than anything I'd ever seen," Mr. Affleck said. "I wanted a close-up, a portrait of a person. I like it a lot. It's something that represents who I really am more than other movies that I've done as an actor."

But is it, you know, real? "I think it will probably change people's opinion of Joaquin," Mr. Affleck said vaguely. "Any sort of idea they might have had about what was going on in that period of his life, which on the one hand was very public and on the other hand, extremely private. I think they'll find there are opinions that are wrong about all that stuff."

A meditation on the crazy business of fame, perhaps, by someone who has watched it reach into the most intimate corners of his family and friends? "It's rare that you find someone who is famous for whom fame and their celebrity is not a big part of their life, for better or worse," said Mr. Affleck. He shook his head at some of the behavior he's witnessed, and pointed out the mysterious disparity in fan lunacy that has kept his friend Mr. Pitt from walking down the street since Thelma and Louise, but let Matt Damon-"great actor, lots of movies, big leading man-go about his business unbothered.

As for the younger Mr. Affleck, "People don't go crazy when they see me," he said. "If it's something I did on my own, then I congratulate myself. I don't think it is, though-I attribute it to the mysterious quality of people not caring." He said that when he is approached, it's always by respectful and sane fans. "There are benefits to it, you know," he said. "Celebrity creates opportunities. If you are an actor-these days movies are sold on people and personalities. So you have to be a personality if you want to carry a $100 million movie." He paused. "That's not a trade-off I'm willing to make."

svilkomerson@observer.com