Charlie Bartlett - Opened Feb. 22

On paper, Charlie Bartlett sounds like a great concept for a quirky feel-good comedy. The title character (played by Anton Yelchin) is a “problem child” who’s gotten kicked out of school after school because of his penchant for “industriousness”—he forged drivers licenses for his fellow students at his last private academy—and his utter disregard of authority. When he transfers into a new school, he is once again an outsider who doesn’t quite gel with his classmates, until he comes up with the idea to set up shop in the boy’s bathroom and offer psychiatric advice—along with medication that he obtains from his own shrink. Suddenly he’s the “cool” kid at school again, catching the eye of the principal’s daughter, Susan (Kat Dennings), and staying one step ahead of the suspicious principal himself (Robert Downey Jr.).

Sounds kooky, right? In many ways, it is. But unlike similarly quirky flicks like Rushmore and Election (both of which succeeded in large part due to a wink-wink-nudge-nudge approach to their intentionally absurd plotlines), Charlie Bartlett remains nothing more than a good concept that never takes off. Director Jon Poll (who previously worked as an editor on such dead-on-arrival “comedies” as Meet the Fockers, Scary Movie 3 and Austin Powers in Goldmember) takes great pains to deliver said kookiness with a heaping slice of earnestness that kills any chance the flick had for being remotely clever or fun.

It doesn’t help that the cast seems completely at a loss for how to play their respective characters. As Charlie, Yelchin lacks the comedic range to pull off such a complex anti-hero, while both Hope Davis (as his clueless mother) and Downey are wasted in a movie that never allows either of them to display the range that they were more than likely hired for. It’s enough to drive one batty. In fact, by the time the movie gets around to its pat Hollywood ending, you’ll very likely need a psychiatrist yourself. C-
—Ken Knox

Chicago 10 - Opens Feb. 29

With California’s political primary behind us and the Democratic and Republican National Conventions to come, the documentary Chicago 10 might seem like a cautionary tale for politicians and the rest of us lowly citizens.

A retelling of the 1968 clash between the Chicago Police Department, under the auspices of Mayor Richard Daley, and the counter-culture crowds that descended upon Chicago at the urging of Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin and David Dellinger (among others), director Brett Morgen mixes archival footage of the days leading up to the Chicago riots with motion-capture animation of the subsequent trial (based on court transcripts). To this day, the material remains inflammatory. Daley, the Chicago Police and the government trial attorneys come across as reactionary; the counter-culture figureheads, along with lawyers William Kunstler and Leonard Weinglass, seem like serious pranksters. Revolutionaries to the core, they treat the trial like the circus it was.

So kudos to Morgen for his fresh approach to the courtroom scenes, though the animation distracts as much as it adds. The vocal performances by the actors are fine, though Nick Nolte’s voice is such a distinguishing feature that it’s impossible to reconcile it with the face on screen. Yet even if the trial was filmed with live actors and their infinitely more pliable (and readable) facial inflections, the resulting footage would never stack up to the documentary reels. It’s amazing to think much of it was originally seen, nightly, on newscasts across the country; and frightening to also think that no such organized protest of similar scale has developed against the war in Iraq. That may ultimately be the best comment Chicago 10 has to offer contemporary audiences: the disparities between generations with 40 years between them (and the fear of an actual draft). B —Dan Loughry

Snow Angels - Opens March 7

The young David Gordon Green has a wonderfully dignified, low-key directorial style. Snow Angels doesn’t stray from his elegant blueprint, adding another fine chapter to what’s becoming a hardy collection of American stories (George Washington; All the Real Girls).

Again, a small town takes center stage—as the film unfolds, you realize that archetypal events are happening, so I won’t divulge too much plot. Characters are introduced in vignettes; it takes patience to sort out their relation to each other. Arthur (Michael Angarano), a high-school trombonist, is practicing Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer” with the marching band when shots are heard in the distance. Cut to weeks earlier. There’s Lila (Olivia Thirlby), whose friendship with Arthur begets an awkward, touching courtship. Annie (Kate Beckinsale) is still adjusting to her divorce from Glenn (Sam Rockwell), a struggling alcoholic. Barb (Amy Sedaris)—Annie’s fellow waitress at the Chinese joint—has a philandering husband (Nicky Katt). It’s Annie he’s “philandering.”

These are the ingredients for overwrought disaster in the hands of a hack, yet Green’s control steers the film from unnecessary melodrama. And the cast is excellent across the board, though first among equals is Rockwell. No performance has given me more joy than his hapless Guy in Galaxy Quest. Glenn couldn’t be more different, yet Rockwell keeps you riveted. He’s always in the moment, no matter how difficult the moment may be. Angarano, who played played Jack’s son, Elliot, on Will & Grace—is superb as the withdrawn Arthur. He’s got long shaggy hair and the embarrassed fawn-like moves of a boy discovering love (and sex). He and Thirlby make an inspired teen match.

The film’s pace is leisurely—like small town life—yet gathers speed as the accumulating details barrel toward their inevitable tragedy. In its modest way, Snow Angels is a quiet portrait of devastation. A- —D.L.