It’s hard making a movie. As a director you oversee, in some cases, a huge crew of people, all of whom have something to do with putting images up on the big screen. And you can’t be everywhere at once.

Even in post-production, when you’re supposed to be putting everything together, examining and polishing the final product, you can’t catch everything. Which is how strange things happen - such as what occurs in the frame below from the final “Back to the Future” film, “Back to the Future, Part III.”

The title of the embed below pretty much says it all.

One of my favorite creations are called mash-ups, meaning blends of movie genres, trailers, etc. A great example is embedded below. It’s a mash-up of the cartoon “Scooby-Do” and the Coen brothers film “No Country for Old Men.”

Check it out.

When I hear the name Roman Polanski, several things come to mind:

He’s the elfin, knife-wielding bad guy of “Chinatown.”

He’s the director of “Chinatown.”

He was the husband of Sharon Tate, the actress who was murdered by the Manson Family.

He’s the international fugitive, wanted for skipping on his bail while waiting resolution on statutory rape charges that date back to 1977.

Re. that last one: Polanski’s still serving house arrest in Switzerland, where he’s been since November, as Swiss and U.S. officials barter with his attorneys.

Polanski comes to mind because his latest film, “The Ghost Writer,” is playing at Regal’s NorthTown Cinemas. I saw the film last night and, as a result, am tempted to use the oldest cliche known to movie critics: I want to compare Polanski to Hitchcock.

I know, I know, but look: In most cases when critics make such comparisons, they’re just using shorthand. They apply the term “Hitchcockian” to basically any suspense film.

I’d argue that “The Ghost Writer” is different. It features one of Hitchcock’s favorite characters, a lone man (McGregor) caught up in something he doesn’t at first understand. It ambles along, introducing our protagonist (and, therefore, us) to a variety of other characters and bizarre situations (Eli Wallach?). It fills most frames with offbeat, odd and often weird images that may, or may not, add something to the overall story line. And it features a gradually growing sense of danger, which culminates in a climax that feels both complete and surprising at once.

Our protaginist is an ordinary kind of guy, a guy who makes a living making other people seem more interesting than they really are. He seems to hit his biggest payday when he gets hired to help a former British prime minister (Pierce Brosnan) write his memoirs.

But we know from the beginning, a visually rich opening sequence that features the yawning opening of an island ferry, a deserted car and a body washing up in the surf, that something is amiss. And from the moment that “the ghost” - as he calls himself - arrives at the ex-PM’s island compound, everything conspires to make his experience even weirder.

The people he meets, from the able assistant (Kim Cattrall) to the old man on the beach (Wallach) to an angry protester to a university professor (Tom Wilkinson) with a shady past, don’t unveil the mystery so much as muddle it. That’s especially true of the PM (Brosnan) and his controlling wife (Olivia Williams). But the ghost keeps at it, far past the time when a more sensible person would have moved on.

As he has done so many times, Roger Ebert probably said it best. He talks about the movie’s lackings (the occasional red herring, the reliance on too many similar black cars, etc.), and to that I would add the movie’s overall meaning: I’m not sure there is one.

But Ebert pays tribute to Polanski’s moviemaking abilities. As he wrote, “Polanski at 76 provides a reminder of directors of the past who were raised on craft, not gimmicks, and depended on a deliberate rhythm of editing rather than mindless quick cutting. The film immerses you in its experience. It’s a reminder that you can lose yourself in a story because all a film really wants to do is tell it.”

Take that, Michael Bay.

Below: The trailer for “The Ghost Writer.”

I caught an early screening of “Green Zone” on Sunday. The Paul Greengrass-directed film follows in his style of quick-cut action, hand-held camera work and a story line that sizzles along, daring you to keep up.

That said, it is hardly one of his better movies. This is the guy who directed the last two Jason Bourne films (“The Bourne Supremacy,” “The Bourne Ultimatum”), the post-9/11 drama “United 93” and the you-are-there political mock-doc “Bloody Sunday,” which captured the angst and violence of the 1972 riots in Northern Ireland that featured British soldiers firing on civilians (killing at least 13).

Those four movies, even the two fictional spy sagas, are particularly well made. Greengrass has a good way with both tone and pacing, forging ahead and keeping track of the action even in the midst of multiple cuts. And while he always puts forth a political stance (soldiers who kill civilians are bad), he works hard to give the whole story.

Until “Green Zone,” that is. This is a film that could be summed up in four words: “There were no WMDs.” Wow! Really?

Matt Damon, star of the Bourne series, plays a U.S. Army Warrant Officer who, as U.S. troops surge into Baghdad in 2003, is in charge of a group seeking the ostensible weapons. Only he keeps coming up with zilch.

And so he starts looking for why this could be. “I want to save lives and help people,” he says. His mission brings him in contact with a sleazy CIA officer (Brendan Gleeson), a hawkish Wall Street Journal reporter (Amy Ryan) and a junior-but-arrogant member of the Bush administration (Greg Kinnear) who is all gung-ho about creating a new government in a democratic Iraq.

Pretty soon our noble-minded G.I. discovers that - again, wow! - the whole WMD thing is a hoax, a made-up threat to justify going to war with Saddam Hussein. And the movie, screenplay by Brian Helgeland (“L.A. Confidential,” “Mystic River”), simply plays the issue straight. It’s as if we’ve all been in a time capsule since the invasion and haven’t been aware of the seven ensuing years, a period in which those missing WMDs have become such a joke that no one even bothers to laugh anymore.

“Oh those things,” a conservative friend of mine used to say. “You never really believed that they existed, did you?”

Well, uh, yeah. I did. Silly me.

Anyway, our intrepid protagonist and the CIA guy have a little thing, taking turns telling each other, “Don’t be naive.” Turns out the naive ones were Greengrass and Helgeland.

Or maybe they thought we still were.

Below: The trailer for “Green Zone.”

Michael Caine turns 77 today. For anyone who thinks that he was always the old guy who plays Bruce Wayne’s butler, I have news for you. He was once young and tough. And arguably handsome.

Here are my favorite 10 Michael Caine performances:

10. “Zulu” (11964): Caine plays the posh Lt. Gonville Bromhead, office in the British detachment that staves off thousands of Zulu warriors in Cy Endfield’s take on the real-life 1879 battle of Rorke’s Drift. Unlike the role that made him famous (see “Alfie” below), Caine here shows none of the Cockney wise guy. Even so, he’s convincing.

9. “The Ipcress File” (1965): In the spy flicks of the day, which included the likes of Sean Connery playing James Bond, James Coburn playing Derek Flint and Dean Martin playing Matt Helm, Caine’s playing the bespectacled Harry Palmer in Sidney J. Furie’s adaptation of Len Deighton’s novel was hardly unique. But he did bring a certain coldness to the role that would serve him well later.

8. “Sleuth” (1972): I don’t mean the second version, the one directed in 2007 by Kenneth Branagh and costarring Jude Law. No, I mean the original version, the one that paired the 39-year-old Caine with the 65-year-old Laurence Olivier. This first version worked, at least for me, because of Caine’s acting and some pretty good makeup.

7. “Mona Lisa” (1986): Remember what I said about Caine’s coldness? In this little neo-noir starring Bob Hoskins, Caine plays a mob boss whose affections for a younger woman (Cathy Tyson) lead to complications that reveal just how brutal Caine’s character can be - and how that brutality gets repaid in kind.

6. “Educating Rita” (1983): As the drunken professor of the working-class Rita (Julie Walters), Caine takes what could have been a cliche and gives it just the right amount of angst to arouse our sympathy. And director Lewis Gilbert, working from Willy Russell’s play/screenplay, avoids the easy answer, opting for a more honest resolution. The result: A title that is both correct and ironic at once.

5. “Get Carter” (1971): In one of his more hard-hitting roles, Caine plays a London gangster who, upon learning that his brother has died, heads for Newcastle to investigate. Pretty soon he is bashing everyone he meets in the face, leading up to an ending that is ‘70s cinema at its most uncompromising.

4. “Batman Begins” (2005): As Alfred, the stalwart butler who runs Wayne Manor, Caine gives just the right amount of class to what is, after all, a comic book brought to the big screen. My favorite line of dialogue comes in the 2008 sequel, “The Dark Knight.” Alfred and Wayne are talking about what car Wayne will take during the middle of the day. When Alfred asks whether he wants the Batpod, Wayne replies, “In the middle of the day, Alfred? Not very subtle.” So then Alfred says, “The Lamborghini, then?” Pauses, and with just the right amount of sarcasm, adds, “Much more subtle.”

3. “Children of Men” (2006): In one of the best films of the year, Alfonso Cuaron’s adaptation of P.D. James’ novel, Caine plays an aging hippie who is sailing toward the end of the world with wit and grace. And more than a bit of courage, as he proves with a gun in his face.

2. “Alfie” (1966): This is the film that made Caine a sensation. Directed by Lewis Gilbert (see above), he plays a working-class bloke who epitomizes the era that was London in the 1960s. A womanizer for sure, but one whose charm lights up the screen, Caine’s Alfie is one lovable cad - even given the hurt he causes.

1. “Hannah and Her Sisters” (1985): And, finally, my favorite. Caine plays the troubled husband in Woody Allen’s comedy/romance, the guy seemingly happily married to Mia Farrow but in love (lust?) with her younger sister (Barbara Hershey). He comes to his senses, though not before going on a roller-coaster of emotions, just in time to help tie up Allen’s most optimistic film.

Some also-rans: “The Cider House Rules,” “Deathtrap,” “Dressed to Kill,” “California Suite,” “A Bridge Too Far,” “The Man Who Would Be King,” “The Italian Job,” “The Magus.”

Below: Michael Caine talks about five of his favorite films.

Long before we’d decided to visit New York for spring break, we’d heard about this play called “A Behanding in Spokane.” Seems it was a play written by the guy who’d written and directed the movie “In Bruges,” which was one of my favorite films of 2008.

So when we arrived on Monday, we immediately started our search for tickets. Mary Pat found some, half price, at the TKTS office in Brooklyn. That was yesterday. And today we took the train into Manhattan to see the show.

What, then, did we see? A 90-minute, exactly, absurdist comedy about a one-handed guy (Christopher Walken) searching for the hand that he lost 47 years before. Seems he was in Spokane, at the time, and - as he explains - he was kidnapped by four “hillbilly” dudes who held him down so that a train could cut off his hand.

We learn this because he explains it to the “receptionist” (Sam Rockwell) of the second-rate hotel where he is staying. He has just shot somebody trying to get out of the room’s closet, and the reception guy - who hates being called a “receptionist” - has come to check out the noise.

Pretty soon he leaves, and our one-handed guy is greeted by a young woman (Zoe Kazan) who bursts in, wondering where her boyfriend is. Who just happens to be the guy (Anthony Mackie of”The Hurt Locker” fame) who got shot in the closet.

Only he’s not dead. Just scared to the point of fainting. Which becomes a theme, as far as anything does become a theme in “A Behanding in Spokane.” Because what becomes clear fairly quickly, as the one-handed guy threatens the couple with shooting, immolation and worse, is that nothing about this play is thematic, makes any kind of sense or is anything more than a giggle.

It’s an entertaining giggle, for sure. Walken and Rockwell are always fun to watch, Mackie has an abundance of talent and Kazan … well, she does have a family name to bank on. Though not much else. Overall, though, a giggle is all the play is.

So we had fun at “A Behanding in Spokane.” Got a nice poster and even a baseball cap. But I’m not sure I’d be making a special trip to New York to take in a performance.

I’d wait until Interplayers puts it on. Probably won’t take long. Though I doubt Walken will make the trip.

There’s not that much gold in the Spokane River to get him to the real Spokane.

Below: An ad for the new play “A Behanding in Spokane.”

I got into a Facebook fracas about the Academy Awards show, which was pretty amusing. Far more amusing, in fact, than the show itself.

My friend Leslie Kelly thought cohosts Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin were, especially in the snuggie-sack scene, “Heeelarious.” I didn’t.

My young friend Connor Sands wanted to know what my particular problem was. And so I tried to explain.

There have been a number of stories written about how the growth in awards shows has stolen some of the Oscar show’s luster. What with the Golden Globes, the SAGs, the broadcast critics and the Independent Spirit Awards, just to mention a few, the Oscars have become a bit of an afterthought.

Did anyone really think there was a sense of drama over Jeff Bridges or Mo’Nique or Christoph Waltz winning their Oscars? Did anyone, in his or her office pool, miss “The Young Victoria” winning Best Costume? Sure, it was gratifying that “The Hurt Locker” and director Kathryn Bigelow won the Oscars that each was up for, but was either one really a surprise? Was there any real suspense over the Academy opting for a war film over a sci-fi blockbuster?

In a word, no. The larger question, though, is the role that the Academy Awards has in today’s world. When the Oscars were the only awards show we paid attention to, the Academy didn’t have to work as hard. Now the Academy not only has to work harder, it has to work smarter.

From what we saw on Sunday, smarter isn’t part of the equation. When you have to try to be hip, it shows. Remember what NBC did during the Olympics, what with Al Michaels telling stories of Ernie Banks - a baseball great that no one younger than 30 has even heard of, much less cares about? Martin and Baldwin and their writers were only slightly better.

Some things I liked:

the lineup of the Best Actors/Actresses, with invited peers giving speeches honoring each nominee (especially Colin Farrell - sorry, I first typed “Firth” - telling a story about his sharing a bed with Jeremy Renner during an infamous Mexican weekend);

some of the acceptance speeches, especially those delivered by Sandra Bullock, Mo’Nique and Waltz (who had had plenty of time to refine his speech, having won all the other awards leading up to this one).

Some things I disliked:

Martin and Baldwin, whose jokes were a blend of tastelessness and topicality that seldom, to my way of thinking, were truly funny beyond their methods of delivery (both are adept at stand-up comedy);

the dis of “The Cove” director Louie Psihoyos, after coproducer Fisher Stevens had his quick say, all because activist Ric O’Barry unveiled a placard telling viewers to text a certain number to show their support of dolphins. In this day and age, the Academy, not to mention network television, is afraid of a bit of blatant politicizing? No wonder people are opting away from tradition and toward the Web;

the obligatory dance sequence, which, let’s face it, sucked hog snot;

Ryan Seacrest and all the red-carpet posturing, which suggested the worst of reality-television, “American Idol” programming.

And so on.

I’m not ready to give up on the Oscars. I’ve been watching it since the mid-1950s. The show is changing, as it has over the past few years, because it has to. And pressure for it to change will continue.

I just hope that the changes turn into something good. And enduring. The one thing the Oscars always had was class. And while our overall cultural definition of class is changing, some things do stay the same.

True humor is timeless. Potty jokes and blatant crassness, not to mention marketing, is not.

And I don’t mean funny as in looking.

I mean is Ryan Seacrest even remotely as clever and entertaining as he clearly thinks he is? It used to be that the pre-Oscar show was somewhat fun to watch. Sure it was fake and phony, but that’s why we depended on the likes of everyone from Bob Hope to Johnny Carson to Billy Crystal and Steve Martin to crack wise later.

Their jokes evened out the evening.

I have no clue as to what Seacrest brings to the party, except for his own smarmish sense of self-promotion. When Mariah Carey told him never to come to her room again, I got the sense she wasn’t kidding.

And he just referred to James Cameron as “Jim.” Oh, yeah, I’m sure they’re BFFs.

Just contemplating that prompts me to laugh. And, wow, this pre-Oscar evening has just begun!

Below: Ryan Seacrest, it seems, will do anything for a buck.

So what about the other Academy Awards categories? Pencil in “Avatar” for most of the technical honors. But here are some guesses regarding a few of the others:

Best Original Screenplay: I’d go for Mark Boal for “The Hurt Locker,” mainly because I can’t stand to think of Quentin Tarantino taking home another statuette for writing. The man can write scenes, no question. But he has yet to write a fully realized screenplay, “Inglourious Basterds” being a perfect example. The film’s wet-dream ending is a distinct downer, and his treatment of his women characters would cause Camille Paglia to blush - if such a thing be possible.

Best Adapted Screenplay: This is a tough category, what with “Precious” and “District 9” and the cineaste’s favorite, “An Education,” amid the nominees. But “Up in the Air” was on many critical Top 10 lists, so it’s probably the best bet.

Best Animated Feature: “Up” is likely to win, though my favorite was “Fantastic Mr. Fox.” Why “Up” is nominated in both Best Film categories is beyond me, though, and may end up affecting the outcome.

Best Foreign Language Film: Michael Haneke’s “The White Ribbon” is getting a lot of attention, even though many critics loathe the guy’s work (ever see “Funny Games”?). I’d opt for “Ajami,” which explores Middle-Eastern tensions without taking a purely political POV. Of course, it’s also the only one of the five that I’ve seen.

Best Documentary Feature: I had a chance to see three of the five nominees, but the only one I actually did go and see was “The Cove.” And while each of these is likely worthy of winning, “The Cove” is both a hard-hitting doc AND a riveting mystery-action flick as well. That’s saying something.

Best Original Score: Let’s go with “Up,” if for no other reason than Pixar-Disney magic.

Best Original Song: The whole of “Crazy Heart” is built around “The Weary Kind,” the country ballad written by Ryan Bingham and T-Bone Burnett. Need we ponder this one further?

Best Editing: Give this one to “The Hurt Locker,” if for no other reason than Chris Innes and Bob Murawski won the American Cinema Editors award.

Best Cinematography: The American Society of Cinematographers chose Haneke’s “White Ribbon,” which is at least one good Oscar indicator. And that’s good enough for me. Question is, will the overall Academy opt for one of the two front-runners, “Avatar” or “Hurt Locker”?

Best Costume: This one should come down between the period pieces “Bright Star” and “The Young Victoria,” with the royal stretch of the imagination probably taking the gold.

Best Makeup: Of the three nominees, which include Italy’s “Il Divo” and “Young Victoria,” only “Star Trek” shows any real makeup expertise. So that’s my choice.

That’s enough for now. I’ll tackle the others later. Maybe.

Below: Check out the makeup for “Star Trek,” and don’t forget Eric Bana at the end.

So, I want to conduct a poll: Does James Cameron have an ego bigger than:

1. The Titanic?

2. Australia?

3. The Milky Way?

4. Quentin Tarantino’s id?

5. Fill in the blank.

It may be a little early, considering the Academy Awards show isn’t until Sunday, but I’m gonna make my Oscar predictions now. This year is easier than most, so don’t expect any surprises.

That doesn’t guarantee success, but it makes for less stress.

Best actor: Jeff Bridges “Crazy Heart.” He’s won everything else, why not the big one?

Best actress: Sandra Bullock, “”The Blind Side.” Meryl Streep may be the best actress in Hollywood, and her Julia Child is brilliant, but this is Bullock’s year.

Best Supporting Actor: Christoph Waltz, “Inglourious Basterds.” In a film a featuring a Porky Pig portion of ham, Waltz is the ground. Deservedly.

Best Supporting Actress: Mo’Nique, “Precious.” If anyone is more of a lock than Bridges, it’s Mo’nique. As I’ve written before, hers may be the most courageous performance I’ve ever seen.

Best Director: Kathryn Bigelow, “The Hurt Locker.” She deserves it, but I’d give it to her just to disappoint James Cameron.

Best Picture: “The Hurt Locker.” Before the latest controversy, I’d have said that “The Hurt Locker” was, uh, a lock. That may have  shifted a bit. And with the addition of five films to this category, making it 10 nominees overall, the way may be opened for “Avatar.” I sure hope not. Love the look of the thing, but no overbaked “Pocahontas” script deserves an Oscar.

I really can’t wait to see Cameron’s face, win or lose. Lose would be far better, though.

Below: James Cameron in all his glory.

They’re already running ads for “Cop Out” calling it the “No. 1 comedy in America.” Sure it is. And beets taste like cotton candy.

The funniest thing about “Cop Out,” a “Beverly Hills Cop”-type comedy that tries to do for Tracy Morgan what “BHC” did for Eddie Murphy, is a guest appearance - little more than a cameo, really - by Seann William Scott. His few scenes are hilarious, in a post-adolescent kind of way.

The rest of the film, though, is a blend of graphic violence, f-word posturing, macho posing, jerk baiting and, overall, plot-wise absurdity.

Morgan and Bruce Willis star as cop partners, guys who break every rule in the book, begging the question about how they made their way into the police academy, much less pass their probationary period. When Willis, attempting to sell a valuable baseball card in an effort to pay for his daughter’s ridiculously expensive wedding, is held up, he does everything he can to get it back. Laws be damned.

Forget the fact that the daughter doesn’t need a near-$50,000 wedding. Forget the fact that we’re supposed to think that Willis’ ex-wife is now married to a jerk (Jason Lee), though Willis himself is more of a jerk than stepdaddy could ever be. Forget the fact that Morgan’s character, despite being married to a sexy saint, is an unconfident paranoid who treats his wife like the streetwalker he so obviously thinks she is. And forget the fact that their police skills are as lacking as Greece’s ability to balance a budget.

Hardly anything is funny, especially Morgan, whose appeal on “30 Rock” is helped immensely by the cast that surrounds him. Willis, obviously slumming, adds virtually nothing.

Only Scott is funny, in a Jim Carrey “Ace Ventura” kind of way. I’d like to see a movie based on his neo-ninja, knock-knock-joke-telling character.

That, at least, might force me to smile. More than once.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention: The film was directed by Kevin Smith. Big payday for him, obviously. But hardly a step forward in his gradually dimming career.

Below: The trailer for “Cop Out,” which includes ALL of the funny scenes.

I went to see “The Last Station” yesterday, the film that tells the story of Russian writer Leo Tolstoy’s final weeks of life. And, yes, I was duly impressed with Oscar nominee Christopher Plummer’s performance as the author of “War and Peace” and “Anna Karenina.”

But I was even more impressed with Helen Mirren as Countess Tolstoy, a woman who would drive Freud into therapy - and yet a woman with whom the right man would know great love and devotion. Mirren is still one of the best actresses working today, and her performance in “The Last Station” once again proves it.

The movie also prompts me to pick up one of Tolstoy’s tomes and read it for the second time. Question is, in this day and age of quick-time existence, would I have the patience for an 1,100-page novel?

After watching “To Kill a Mockingbird” last night on DVD, I once again was impressed by the acting job done by Gregory Peck. His Atticus Finch was the perfect complement to what screenwriter Horton Foote did with Harper Lee’s novel and what director Robert Mulligan put on the screen.

Which got me to thinking: What are my favorite no-brainer Oscar-winning performances? Here are a few:

Fredric March, “The Best Years of Our Lives” (1946): March was 49 when this study of returning World War II veterans was released. And while he looks even older, his weathered face works perfectly as an older man who had enlisted as a matter of conscience and ended up paying the price. This film still ranks as one of the best veterans’ films ever made, and March was directly at the center. The moment of his return home still reduces me to tears.

Gary Cooper, “High Noon” (1952): As Will Kane, the town marshall who is forced to confront, on his own, four gunmen who have sword to kill him, Cooper capped a long and distinguished career. He’d already won a decade before for the film “Sergeant York.” As Kane, Cooper captures the plight of a man caught between two principles: honor vs. self-preservation. As with most screen heroes, honor wins out. And “High Noon” is better for it.

Marlon Brando, “On the Waterfront” (1954): Though he should have won three years before, when Hollywood decided to reward Humphrey Bogart for “The African Queen,” Brando’s nomination then signaled the arrival of something new. Brando brought an urgency, a street-wise sensibility, to the screen, that would open the doors for a whole new generation of actor. But he was the first of his kind, as far as imaginable from the bloated character actor he ended up being.

Paul Scofield, “A Man for All Seasons” (1966): Taking on the role of Sir Thomas More, little-known British stage actor Scofield carried a sense of dignity that Hollywood loves to honor. But his performance was more than merely a stretch for class. Scofield made More more than just a symbol, more than just a righteous man of conscience. He played him as a family man, who knew full well what he was losing but who did, nonetheless, what he thought was not just correct but necessary.

George C. Scott, “Patton” (1970): Yeah, he’s most remembered now for turning down his Oscar. But, really, is there a more memorable performance than Scott’s as Gen. George S. Patton? From the opening sequence to the closing credits, Scott storms across the screen, in much the same way Patton’s 3rd Army did across Europe. He didn’t just portray Patton. He channeled him.

Peter Finch, “Network” (1976): Though he died before winning the little gold statuette, Finch could hardly have been denied. It’s not easy to play a character who becomes unhinged to the point where he thinks, finally, that he is some sort of messiah. Finch’s genius was that, while calling his viewers to arms - “I’m mad as hell and I’m not gonna take it anymore!” - he never let his character lose his humanity.

Robert DeNiro, “Raging Bull” (1980): Here is what Brando opened to door to, DeNiro’s tough, profane, grimly spirited performance as one of the toughest, uncompromising boxers ever to step into the ring. There is nothing remotely likeable about his Jake LaMotta, but DeNiro understands his hunger - and he helps us understand it, too.

Robert Duvall, “Tender Mercies” (1983): Jeff Bridges owes a huge debt to Duvall (Boo Radley in “To Kill a Mockingbird”). Duvall’s portrayal of country singer Mac Sledge is the forerunner to what Bridges pulls off in last year’s “Crazy Heart.” Until this film, Duvall had been the everyman actor, taking every role he could find, from “Mockingbird” to the “Godfather” trilogy. For the first time he was charged with carrying the film, and he does so with such little effort as to make his win seem foredained.

Daniel Day-Lewis, “My Left Foot” (1989): As Irish writer Christy Brown, afflicted with a crippling condition that gave him control only of his left foot, Day-Lewis made “My Left Foot” far more than a gimp-of-the-week film. His Brown has an attitude that would compare with Scott’s Patton, an uncompromising streak that makes him his mother’s protector against drunken dad. And he portrays a sense of humor. In other words, he’s as real as Guinness is stout.

Jeremy Irons, “Reversal of Fortune” (1990): As accused murderer Claus von Bulow, the very-English irons pulls off another Hollywood favorite: the likeable scoundrel. There’s a mystery at von Bulow’s core, which Irons mines as well as possible. The statement, “You have no idea,” never felt more meaningful as when Irons says it.

This list is getting a bit long, and I’m running short of time. I’ll continue later.   

My friend Leslie Kelly has been talking about how good Christopher Plummer is in the film “The Last Station.” Plummer, a talented actor who has never moved much beyond the character he played in “The Sound of Music,” plays the great Russian writer Leo Tolstoy.

Plummer has been nominated for Best Actor, which just means that he along with Colin Firth, Morgan Freeman, Jeremy Renner and George Clooney, are going to be left clapping as Jeff Bridges is handed his Oscar for “Crazy Heart.”

We’ll know just how good Plummer is on Friday, though, because that’s when “The Last Station” opens at AMC’s River Park Square Theatres. It will be accompanied by two mainstream features, “The Crazies” and “Cop Out.”

No word yet on what’s opening at the Magic Lantern. The two Oscar-nominated shorts programs are worth checking out, though.

Below: The trailer for “The Last Station.”

Peter Fonda turns 70 today. Is such a thing possible?

I remember the night that I took my youngest brother, Doug, to see “Easy Rider.” We sat through the entire film - the chopper-preening, the mustachio-grandstanding, the smoke-huffing - only to be faced with that ridiculous ending, which would become from that point on a point of movie vocabulary of its own.

“Oh that movie?” I would say of something that ended in gunfire and bloodletting, literal or virtual. “It’s OK … if you like an ‘Easy Rider’ ending.”

I was so pissed that I almost crashed my VW Bug driving out of the San Diego theater, and then I courted multiple tickets while speeding east on Clairemont Mesa Boulevard. I’d just returned from Vietnam, and I was still full of the kind of supressed rage that came so naturally to me then and for years afterward.

It seems like … yesterday. Yet it was 1970. Forty years ago.

Is such a thing possible?

Apparently.

Below: Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper and Jack Nicholson is “Easy Rider,” made far more palatable because it’s melded with Steppenwolf’s kick-ass road song.

The British Academy of Film and Television Arts awards, commonly known as the BAFTAs, were announced last night. And as has become a habit, “The Hurt Locker” and director Kathryn Bigelow emerged as the big winners.

The Iraq War film, which offers Jeremy Renner as a danger-addicted bomb-disposal expert, won six awards in all, beating out “Avatar,” which took home two (for visual effects and production design).

Acting winners included Colin Firth for “A Single Man” and Carey Mulligan for “An Education,” while supporting actors included Christoph Waltz for “Inglourious Basterds” and Mo’Nique for “Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire.”

Jeff Bridges remains the Oscar favorite, and I have to think that this might be Sandra Bullock’s year (for “The Blind Side”). Waltz and Mo’Nique are such heavy favorites that I’d bet the baby on both.

Below: Colin Firth accepts his 2010 BAFTA award.

The news regarding “Shutter Island” involves its estimated $40 million take at the box office. That’s all well and good, though it’s likely to tail off as the week progresses. And Friday’s releases, the Bruce Willis-Tracy Morgan comedy “Cop Out” and the zombie flick “The Crazies,” should cut into its future earnings.

So while we Scorsese fans are celebrating for the moment, “Shutter Island” - which has been in the can since October - has a ways to go to earn back its estimated $80 million production costs. By the standard formula, “Shutter Island” has to make at least $200 to break even.

Wonder where Hollywood accountants go to school? Disneyland?

It’s been about 36 hours now and I’m still meditating on “Shutter Island,” Martin Scorsese’s new mystery. Based on the novel by Dennis Lehane, “Shutter Island” is one of those films that the company that released it - Paramount - could never figure out how to market.

Is it a noir? Is it a classic mystery? Is it horror? Is it a paranormal-horror-noir mystery? Who could tell, given the various ways the trailers have played out for the past six months or so. Which is key. “Shutter Island” was supposed to be in theaters last fall, placed perfectly to warrant Oscar attention.

Only there’s little about the film that’s Oscar-worthy … not unless we’re talking about some of the technical awards. Cinematography, for example, or Foley editing. Certainly there’s nothing about the film that reminds us of Scorsese at his best. This is more “Cape Fear” than “Raging Bull,” more “Bringing Out the Dead” than “Goodfellas.”

Scorsese worked from a screenplay by Laeta Kalogridis, Razzie-nominated writer of Oliver Stone’s “Alexander,” which might not have been a good idea. Whatever, the story that Kalogridis-Scorsese tell involves Teddy Daniels (Leonardi DiCaprio), a troubled U.S. Marshall who, along with his new partner Chuck Aule, is called to an island in Boston Harbor to investigate a mysterious disappearance.

The island, the Shutter Island of the film’s title, houses a mental institution. Because the movie is set in 1954, one of the themes the film explores is how mental patients are treated. Should they be treated humanely, with compassion and talk therapy, or should they be drugged and/or, in the most radical cases, lobotomized?

The other theme is PTSD, as in the combat fatigue felt by World War II veteran Daniels, who, we see in flashback, was one of the U.S. soldiers who helped liberate the Dachau death camp.

Anyway, the investigation takes place as a storm threatens the island, cutting off the marshals’ return. They interrogate everyone from the facility’s director, Dr. Cawley (Ben Kingsley), to his staff (especially the suspicious German-born Dr. Naehring, played by the great Swedish actor Max von Sydow) and various patients. But they also do their own digging, discovering more and more layers to what’s happening on the island, leading to a mystery resembling Russian Matryoshka dolls - one inside another, inside another and so on.

Ultimately, though, the story plays out much the way it would have in the 1940s. Scorsese gives us a film that, though it seems as if it could be a variation on “The Ring,” is a lot closer to “The Snake Pit.” Or “Suddenly, Last Summer.” Which means, not to give anything away, that the story is more about mental incapacitation than paranormal activity.

Which is bound to disappoint some viewers. It didn’t disappoint me, though not because I think what Scorsese has given us is anything particularly good. It’s just that, because I was misled by the trailers, I wasn’t sure what to expect. And the fact that Scorsese ended up going retro was a surprise in its own right.

Anyway, I stayed with “Shutter Island” until the closing credits. I appreciated the acting of all involved, especially DiCaprio and Kingsley, but also smaller roles such as the great character actors Jackie Earle Haley and Ted Levine. And while I wasn’t all that enthused with the editing of three-time Oscar winner Thelma Schoonmaker (cut-cut-cut), and the CGI felt a bit, well, precious, I liked the rich cinematography of two-time Oscar winner Robert Richardson.

I’ll always watch a Scorsese film. He not only is an artist, but he’s a film historian (I particularly love his documentary “Il mio viaggio in Italia”). But while “Shutter Island” isn’t exactly a total loss, it hardly ranks among his best. It’s more of what Graham Green would have called “an entertainment.”

Nothing wrong with that. If “Shutter Island” didn’t have Scorsese’s name attached, no one would think twice about calling it a passable way to spend two hours in the dark.

Below: The trailer for “Shutter Island.”

And now for the worst of John Travolta, which has a lot more elements than the previous list below. This, of course, is based on the fact that today is Travolta’s 56th birthday. We’ve already revealed the good. Now the bad.

5. Strip, “Moment by Moment” (1978): He’s the love object of … Lily Tomlin? Kidding, right?

4.Hardy, “Basic” (2003): Travolta does one of his standard hard-ass characters in one of the more ridiculous pseudo-mysteries ever.

3. James Ubriacco, “Look Who’s Talking,” “Look Who’s Talking Too,” “Look Who’s Talking Now” (1989, 1990, 1993): Talking babies. Enough said.

2. Gabriel Shear, “Swordfish” (2001): Nice hairdo, bad film.

1. Teri, “Battleground Earth” (2000): Nice dreads. Thanks, L. Ron.

Below: Travolta in “Battleground Earth.”

Today is John Travolta’s birthday. The once-and-always Vinnie Barbarino is 56. In his honor, and since I don’t think I can find 10 of his films that I like, I’ve decided to make a list of his top 5 and bottom 5 movies. And here they are:

Let’s start with the the best:

5.Jan Schlichtman, “A Civil Action” (1998): Travolta stars as a cocky lawyer who takes on the case of his life. In searching for justice, he ends up losing his practice … even as he finds his soul.

4.Gov. Jack Stanton, “Primary Colors” (1998): Travolta is spot on as a Bill Clinton-like presidential candidate whose likeable personality masks his essential human weaknesses.

3. Chili Palmer, “Get Shorty” (1995): Bringing Elmore Leonard’s leg-breaking protagonist to life, Travolta grabs the screen and holds it. His Chili Palmer is a much smarter version of Rocky Balboa, without the melodrama and soaring musical score.

2.Tony Manero, “Saturday Night Fever” (1977): Still raw and known to millions as Vinnie Barbarino, from TV’s “Welcome Back Kotter,” Travolta blazed across the screen as a Brooklyn kid hungry to find the kind of success he sees across the Hudson in … Manhattan.

1. Vincent Vega, “Pulp Fiction” (1994): Cool and in control, as only a Quentin Tarantino killer can be, Travolta’s Vega is a heroic addict who can be tough, can banter with the wife of his murderous boss and still handle himself in a medical situation that would cause most of the rest of us to sit on our thumbs. And he could do the twist.

Runners-up: “Blow Out,” “Carrie,” “Grease,” “Hairspray,” “The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3.”

I’ll save the bottom five for a second post. After all, that list comprises most of the rest of his career.

Below: The twist sequence from “Pulp Fiction.”

My friend John Brennan forwarded me this essay on the Oscars along with the following questions regarding its message. “A thoughtful piece? A rant? Junk? All three? None of the above?”

I tend to think it’s the first two. “Junk” is in the attitude of the reader. And there’s too much truth in what the guy says to dismiss it all as just crap. At the same time, that doesn’t mean that I ignore the qualities of some of the films that he’s writing about.

I’d be interested, though, in hearing what others might have to say.

Below: The trailer for Brian DePalma’s “Redacted.”

You know how it is. You’ve splurged for a No. 1 combination, a large drink and popcorn, and you’re just about an hour into “Avatar,” and you suddenly feel the urge. To go. You know?

What do you do? Well, if you’ve prepared yourself, you’ll know that there’s a stretch 56 minutes into “Avatar” in which nothing much important happens for about four minutes. Plenty of time to run to the restroom and … uh, let flow.

How do I know this? Because I consulted RunPee.com, a Web site that, as it describes itself, “tells you the best times during a movie that you can run and pee.”

You can even download an app for your phone. Just don’t use it during the movie. Unless you absolutely have to, you understand.

WTF were Joe Johnston and his screenwriters, not to mention his producers, thinking when they were doing preproduction on “The Wolfman”? Or were they thinking anything at all?

Here are the top 10 things wrong with what they put on the screen:

1. Benicio Del Toro can’t remember what accent he is using. Oh, they try to cover up his lack of a British accent by saying that he’d been taken to the U.S. as a child. But Del Toro, who is a native of Puerto Rico, can’t figure out what accent he wants to affect. At times I swear he sound like the Mexican character from “Traffic.”

2. Blood, blood and more blood. Updating a 1941 film requires some CGI work. But when that work does little more than depict decapitations, disembowelings and other various bloodletting, what’s the point?

3. They should have done better CGI in other areas. Namely, the depictions of the werewolves themselves. The monsters looked, my wife Mary Pat said, like they were wearing bad Halloween costumes. Whatever, when modern special effects look no better than makeup-wearing Lon Chaney or Oliver Reed, something is lacking.

4. The screenwriters, Andrew Kevin Walker and David Self, did little more than transcribe the script that Curt Siodmak wrote for George Waggner in 1941.

5. Even worse, they tried to capture the same tone of Waggner’s 69-year-old film. There’s not a single gag in the entire film to lighten things up even the slightest bit. Even James Cameron wouldn’t have made that mistake.

6. Anthony Hopkins is obviously slumming. Not much you can do there.

7. Emily Blunt tries her best. And she doesn’t break character, even though you gotta think that she was wondering … well, WTF?

8. Hugo Weaving - or, as I like to say, the great Hugo Weaving - plays a central role. And he pulls it off. But is he the actor you want to build the sequel around?

9. Because the sequel is obvious, right? Only … who cares?

10. Which is the best way to end this. When a horror movie is as half-baked as this one, there’s just not that much else to say.

Below: the opening sequence of George Waggner’s 1941 version of “The Wolf Man.”

I had two unfortunate movie incidents today that got me to thinking.

Well, make that three unfortunate incidents, if you want to include deciding to sit through “The Wolfman,” which has to be one of the most misguided films to come along in 2010.

But the first two are what I want to talk about. They involve driving through the mid-day rain to theaters that were supposed to be open, yet weren’t. Had advertised that they would play certain movies at a certain time, yet didn’t.

The first was the Magic Lantern, which had run ads in The Inlander and advertised on its own Web site that the film “The Private Lives of Pippa Lee” was going to play at noon, 2 and 4 p.m. But when we got there, the theater wasn’t open. Doors locked, lights off, film cans sitting in the dark lobby. We waited a few minutes and decided, OK, let’s just go to lunch.

We checked The Inlander (I’d forgotten my phone and couldn’t find a copy of The Spokesman-Review) and saw that “The Wolfman” was playing at 2:15 at the Village Center Cinemas at Airway Heights. So we picked up my brother (I picked up my phone), and headed out, again in the rain, which was coming down even harder.

But when we got to Airway Heights at 2:07, we were greeted with a sign: “The 2:15 showing of The Wolfman has been canceled. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Sorry for the inconvenience? That’s all? I got on the phone and called AMC River Park Square. Found out that the downtown theater had a 2:30 showing of “The Wolfman.” Again we took off.

OK, we made it. Which is part three of the of unfortunate trio of events. But that’s hardly important. What, I thought a remake of a 1941 werewolf film actually was going to be good? Get real, Webster.

No, what’s important is that two theaters let me down. I forgive the Magic Lantern because, fact is, I never expect much of Spokane’s finest alternative theater. And nobody was there to bitch out anyway. But the new complex in Airway Heights? Would it have hurt the management of the theater to hand out some sort of discount cards to those of us who had taken the trouble to do business with them?

A 50-cent discount card would have been something. A free movie pass would have been something better. But the discount card would have been enough. It would have showed goodwill. Just as I might have showed goodwill to the theater by buying 17 cents of popcorn for $5 or more. Which, of course, I now won’t do. Ever.

I can’t say I won’t go to the Airway Heights theater again. It’s convenient, especially when I’m taking my brother to see crap like “The Wolfman.” But I won’t buy their treats, which is how they really make their money.

Sorry. For the inconvenience, that is.

It’s a new weekend with a new lineup of films to go see. The three that we’ve chosen to tackle for the next edition of “Movies 101” are “The Wolfman,” “The Private Lives of Pippa Lee” and the HBO offering “Temple Grandin.”

Choosing “The Wolfman” was an easy decision. Benicio Del Toro, Anthony Hopkins and Emily Blunt, directed by Joe Johnston (the guy who gave us “The Rocketeer” and “October Sky”)? No problem. I’m not sure about “Private Lives of Pippa,” though since it’s playing at the Magic Lantern I’m willing to give it a chance. And the HBO movie “Temple Grandin”? Hey, it’s better than, say, “Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief.”

I did go to see “From Paris with Love” the other day, and even as a guilty pleasure that European attempt at American neo-noir sensibilities couldn’t cut it. French types need to quit aping what they think of as the School of Tarantino and stick with what they know: eating and endless dinner conversation. Only Brits such as Guy Ritchie know how to do crime films with any real sense of European style.

The guy who directed the film, Pierre Morel, also gave us the Liam Neeson action flick “Taken.” Which wasn’t all that bad, even as it ended up taking a bath in gore and violence (also set in Paris, which hasn’t seen this much bloodletting since the death of Princess Diana). So for the first 20 minutes or so, the film seems to be headed in an interesting direction.

But other than the fact that you can spot the villain from the get-go, the film’s main problem - along with its generic script - is Jonathan Rhys Meyers. Not only does Rhys Meyers sport a new set of choppers (designed, no doubt, to give him an even bigger international career), but he affects a decent American accent. Neither, though, can make up for the fact that, one, he can’t act and, two, he has all the sex appeal of a gerbil.

Oh, the aging Vinnie Barbarino does his best to keep us involved. With his hair shaved to make him look like a caucasian LL Cool J (without the rock-hard abs), Vinnie - or, I should say, John Travolta - tries to comes across as a Steven Seagal who can act. But he’s just not that good an actor, and even the so-far-over-the-hill-that-he-can’t-get-it-up Seagal is still a more believable action star.

In the end, “From Paris with Love” doesn’t show much of Paris, and it certainly doesn’t provide much love. Which makes it about as entertaining as a deflated souffle. Or a three-day-old baguette. Or a marmot quiche.

Nah, delete that last one. It sounds fairly intriguing. At least original.

Below: The trailer for “From Paris with Love.”

It took a couple of days, but those who run SpIFF 2010 finally added up the ballots to determine the audience-award winners. And they are:

Best Feature: “Prodigal Sons,” by Kimberly Reed.

Best Short: “The Mouse that Soared,” by Kyle Bell.

Again, it was quite the festival. Best ever. Can’t wait for next year.

Below: The trailer for the documentary “Prodigal Sons.”

What with all the high numbers being cited, you’d think that James Cameron’s “Avatar” is the most successful movie of all time. Well, it all depends on how you measure success. Here’s a Web site that makes an argument that “Avatar” doesn’t rate even among the top 20 most successful films of all time. Check it out.

For reasons too boring to go into, I found myself earlier this morning sinking into a funk. I was angry, irritated by everything and everyone, and on the verge of a dive into actual depression.

Then I opened an e-mail from my daughter, always a treat, and was led to a film link that raised my spirits immensely. It might not work for everyone. But anyone who is even somewhat film literate will recognize just how talented, and perceptive, the filmmaker is.

Click on the embed below and see if you agree. I hereby deem it better than Prozac.