Even after debuting Religulous, his new docu-comedy about faith in the modern world directed by Larry Charles (Borat), Bill Maher still has plenty of questions of his own: "I was saying to Larry in the car on the way over here: I suddenly realized that I don't know the relationship between the Devil and the Antichrist. Do you? I mean, we both know those terms, but they're not the same guy, I don't think. I'm not sure if the Devil works for the Antichrist? Or the Antichrist for the Devil? Or is it like the Joker and the Riddler -- neither of them work for each other, but they gang up on Batman ...?" Maher spoke with Cinematical in Toronto about the difference between 'changing your mind' and 'flip-flopping,' what wound up on the cutting-room floor, getting in harm's way for the sake of a great scene, why it's doubtful he'll follow Religulous with another feature film and much more.

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All the world's a stage, Shakespeare tells us, but just imagine what kind of nightmare it would be if that were actually true. Jean-Claude Van Damme, played by Jean-Claude Van Damme in Mabrouk El-Mechri's JCVD, doesn't have to imagine if it were true, because for him it is; worse, he doesn't even get to pick the kind of stage he's on or the part he's playing. ... JCVD fakes you out from the jump and doesn't stop, opening with a one-cut action sequence set to the pulse and pound of Baby Huey's 8-track soul-funk version of Curtis Mayfield's "Hard Times: "So I play the part I feel they want of me/ And I'II pull the shades so I won't see them seein' me ..."

And during the opening, Van Damme, older and slower but still possessed of the skills to pay the bills, kicks and punches and shoots his way through a legion of stuntmen until everything goes wrong. And it's been going wrong for a while, and it's a good thing Van Damme still has the skills to pay the bills because Van Damme has bills to pay: IRS arrears, child support, court costs. On-set, he's getting no support from his director, a truculent young Hong Kong hotshot who doesn't want to hear Van Damme's complaints, insulting him in untranslated rants: "Just because he brought John Woo to America, he thinks he can rub my dick with sandpaper?" Van Damme needs this job; he needs every job. And so, the weary and aching Muscles from Brussels endures, bearing the heavy load of life like a '80s Atlas on unsteady ground in the new millennium.

This week, the eyes have it. We're looking at films for which vision is key.

Knowing
Nicolas Cage has the only new film going into wide release this week with Bangkok Dangerous, but frankly this tale of prophetic doom better grabs my attention. Cage plays a school teacher who digs up a time capsule and finds several pages of hand written numbers. He finds dates within those numbers, each of which corresponds to a major disaster that has occurred since the capsule was buried. More importantly the numbers apparently list disasters which have yet to occur. I'd be a little more enthusiastic if Cage's record hadn't been so hit and miss lately. (Ghost Rider? Puh-leeze.) Still the premise sounds kind of cool, despite reminding me of the lackluster The Number 23, and there's a disaster in the trailer that's pretty chilling, especially if you've ever been to Logan Airport in Boston. The preview is pushing the fact that director Alex Proyas helmed I, Robot, but I'm more impressed that he was the man behind the excellent Dark City.

Milk
This one isn't so much about visions of the future as visions for the future. Gus Van Sant directs and Sean Penn stars in this true story about Harvey Milk, who in 1977 became the first openly gay man to hold public office in the United States. Penn is engaging in the role, and we see him struggle against bigotry and death threats to give a voice to the gay community. I wasn't familiar with Milk's story, but now I'm curious. Here's William's take on the trailer.

A few years back, Jamie Kennedy and a few pals decided to make a documentary about the ways in which comedians deal with rude hecklers. But somewhere about halfway through the movie, the guys decided that hecklers weren't all that interesting, and so they chose to set their sights on ... film critics. Debuting on DVD this week, Heckler spends a lot of time arguing about how pointless film critics are ... but then why does the DVD come plastered with quotes like these?

"Hilarious!" -- Variety

"A Must-See!" -- The New York Sun

"Extremely Entertaining" -- Film Threat

...and my favorite: "Insightful" -- Cinematical.com

Now, I'm not trying to bash the film or Jamie Kennedy (and for those who really want my thoughts on the film -- a film in which yours truly is chastised for having the audacity to write a negative movie review -- you can check out this blog post right here), but doesn't this seem just a little bit whole lot hypocritical? If more than half of your movie is dedicated to the idea that film critics are whiny little jerks who should be ignored ... then how can you plaster a bunch of (relatively) positive blurbs onto your DVD cover?

Perhaps Mr. Kennedy could explain this to us, and it's something I mentioned in the earlier blog piece: If, for example, I think Son of the Mask is an atrocious piece of junk, then I'm a clueless fool -- but if I think Heckler is "insightful," then somehow I'm transformed into a genius? Can't have it both ways, Jamie. Having said that, I don't mind throwing a little publicity towards Heckler, mainly because it's not every day I'm verbally abused in a documentary film. I'm more confused than offended, frankly, because I've been pretty complimentary towards Kennedy over the years. Even if most of the movies he's in are massive crap-heaps.

I contend we are both atheists; I just believe in one fewer god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours. -- Stephen F. Roberts

In Religulous, stand-up social commentator Bill Maher doesn't just assert how he believes in one less god than many of us, and he doesn't just craft bold, bizarre and hilarious moments of comedy and discussion with the help of director Larry Charles (Borat). More importantly, and more intriguingly, Maher states the film's thesis in an introduction filmed at Mediggo, the prophesied location of the final battle of Armageddon as written in Revelation; Maher, much like author Sam Harris does in his excellent (if dry) book The End of Faith, proposes that religious belief, in an age of chemical, biological and nuclear weapons, actively endangers humanity through encouraging conflict, promising rewards for irrational behavior, justifying artificial divisions and enabling other unfounded and unkind forms of thinking. Or, as Maher succinctly puts it early on, "When Revelations was written, only God had the power to destroy the world. ..."

And then the opening titles kick in, a montage of Maher globe-trotting in search of people to talk to, and as the guitar riffs of The Who's "The Seeker" ring out, we recognize that we're going to get plenty of sizzle along with the steak in Religulous, lots of showbusiness to liven up the soul-searching. Like most documentaries dealing with weighty matters, though, the concern in Religulous isn't that there'll be no sizzle with the steak but rather if there'll be steak to go with the sizzle; does Religulous have the right ratio of factual points to funny punch lines, a balanced mix of context and comedy?

Paris 36 tries to do a dozen different things, and does none of them well. But even that description may not be harsh enough, because it makes the film sound ambitious. It's not. Director Christophe Barratier, whose The Chorus was a quality rendition of an age-old formula, doesn't even pretend to give much thought to any of the disparate elements he assembles here. This is one of those middlebrow period-piece comedies that mistakes frenzy for energy and spotless soundstage gloss for visual style. It may play well with certain audiences for whom "arthouse" is synonymous with "no explosions," but there's really nothing to see here.

Well, in theory there's a lot to see, including but not limited to the following: a would-be portrait of the French Popular Front in the 1930's; the story of a bunch of unemployed workers banding together to put on a show and save a historic theater; the tragedy of an old workhorse (Gérard Jugnot) who loses custody of his accordion prodigy son to his cheating wife when the theater first closes down; a romance between a communist rabblerouser (and stagehand, and actor!) and a singing ingénue (Nora Arnezeder) taken under the wing of a fascist loan shark (Bernard-Pierre Donnadieu); the spiritual rebirth of an old orchestra conductor who has spent the last 20 years alone with his radio; a no-talent comic (Kad Merad) who sinks to performing for the Nazis after being booed off stage by everyone else, though he is of course much too lovable to actually be an anti-Semite.

What a pity it is that we lost both comedian Bernie Mac and musician Isaac Hayes in such short order, and what a stroke of good fortune that they both happened to have completed their roles in the upcoming comedy, Soul Men, in which Mac's character tries to get Samuel L. Jackson to join him for a televised reunion concert.

Yahoo! Movies has released the trailer for the film, and it reflects both the best tendencies of director Malcolm D. Lee and his worst as a writer (though he isn't credited as one here). There's the good-natured nostalgia of something like 2005's Roll Bounce, balanced out with the mean-spirited and utterly un-hilarious antics of this year's Welcome Home, Roscoe Jenkins (I'm sure that if there could've been room for Jennifer Coolidge in that gem, she would've removed her dentures for fellatio there instead).

In all fairness, the writing duo that is credited were last responsible for Man of the House, so maybe we shouldn't be so surprised. I'd like to think that Mac and Jackson could make the most of the material regardless, but we can't say for sure until November 7, when Soul Men tentatively opens opposite Role Models and Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa -- for which Mac lent his voice.

Starring Michael Cera and Kat Dennings, Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist is a light, slight, fleet-footed teen comedy of romance and indie rock; there are logic holes in it, and lulls, and moments that seem devoid of sense, to be sure, but there are also moments in where Cera or Dennings will smile and your momentary doubts and disagreements are washed away and your head is filled with a sense of gladness, not despair, that you're watching our young, happy hipster heroes on screen. Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist combines the shaggy-dog sprawl of an early John Hughes film with the blunt talk and softly-rounded feelings of the Apatow comedies, and if it did not have leads as charismatic and tonally correct as Cera and Dennings, it would be very close to dead in the water; however, since it does, it isn't.

Taking place in some movie version of Manhattan where parking is always immediately available and everyone over 25 has, apparently, been executed Logan's Run-style, Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist begins as Nick (Cera) is trying, and failing, to get over his breakup with the tedious-yet-tempting, hot-yet-hateful Tris (Alexis Dzienia), leaving lengthy messages on her phone and exquisitely sequenced mix discs at her door. Tris laughingly discards Nick's most recent effort into the trash at school; sarcastic-but-sweet Norah (Kat Dennings) retrieves it, as she's done for several of Nick's discarded offerings: "He makes the best mixes ever." The fact that Nick's latest effort is labeled "The Road to Closure, Vol. 12" tells you that Nick has strong feelings, and, in this case, weak vocabulary skills.

When the worlds of Washington, DC political intrigue, infidelity, fitness centers and internet dating intersect and collide in a darkly hilarious fashion, you must be watching a film by the Coen brothers. Burn After Reading, Joel and Ethan Coen's follow-up to last year's critically lauded award winner, No Country for Old Men, was actually written by the duo as they were adapting No Country, but the two films couldn't be more different.

The colliding worlds in Burn After Reading involve a CIA analyst named Osbourne Cox (John Malkovich), who's summoned to a top-secret meeting only to find out that the secret is he's being demoted due to his drinking problem. Cox blows a gasket and quits rather than taking the demotion, planning to spend his new-found spare time working on his memoirs and refining his drinking. Cox is married to Katie (Tilda Swinton), a icy pediatrician with the worst bedside manner imaginable, and she's less than sympathetic to her husband's life crisis.

It's Friday, and what a better way to usher in the weekend than to watch a couple of boys talk about not having sex. Moviefone has just unveiled a pretty funny clip from the upcoming teen comedy Sex Drive, featuring a whole bunch of folks like James Marsden, Seth Green and .... finally ... Clark Duke, who makes his big feature debut after starring opposite Michael Cera in those hilarious Clark and Michael web videos. The film, which I've actually heard quite a number of good things about, follows a high school senior who drives across country with his pals in an attempt to meet a girl he met online. The clip (which you can check out over here) is R-rated, which means you will need to fill out one of those age verification forms. Also, check out a bunch of brand new images from the flick below.

Sex Drive hits theaters on October 17.