One thing you should know about the Julian Schnabel-directed concert documentary Lou Reed's Berlin is that Lou Reed has personally instructed theaters to play the film at concert-level volume. That means it's really, really loud. When I saw it (at NYC's Film Forum, which is following Reed's command throughout the film's limited engagement), an elder woman walked out. Of course, I can't be sure that it was due to the sound, though the exit was during one of the loudest songs.

The volume may seem excessive and unnecessary to some, but at a time when concert docs are shown in IMAX and/or in 3-D, it really helps a film like Lou Reed's Berlin compete for audiences seeking a filmic experience comparable to the real thing. And leaving the theater with your ears ringing will help you think that you were actually there when Reed performed his 1973 album Berlin live for the first (and second, third and fourth) time in Brooklyn, New York, December 14-17, 2006.

I'm going for a highly praised film this week, rather than the big buzz, but you can check out a couple of other big releases after the jump.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
In 1996, Julian Schnabel directed Basquiat. Led by the charming and unforgettable performance of Jeffrey Wright as the famous artist, the film laid out the art world of 1980s New York City with heart, and it showcased many of today's top names. It was the straightforward film.

Now there's Golden Globe winner Le Scaphandre et le Papillon, a feature that has taken Schnabel out of the straight-forward and into a world of tragedy and eye-opening imagination. It's a move similar to David Lynch taking on The Straight Story, but switched. Instead of strange complexity to charming simplicity, it's the other way around.

Diving Bell is the true story of what happened to Jean-Dominique Bauby, a man who had been the editor-in-chief of French Elle, until a sudden stroke has left him still -- only able to move one eyelid. It's like taking the thought of paralysis and upping it -- no legs, no arms, no lips. But it isn't just a sad story of despair. After being forced to adapt to his condition, he write the memoir that becomes this film, all with the simple, blinking eye.

Okay. It's time to get down to brass tacks. I'm going to get up on my soapbox and hope that the right Academy members read the column this week, because it's time to re-do the rules of the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar category. Do you know how long it has been since a great film, a truly great film, won in this category? I'm talking about a film made by a genuinely great artist of the cinema, a film for the ages, and not just a perfectly good film, or a film about one of the great world wars. Here's your answer: twenty-five years ago. Ingmar Bergman's Fanny and Alexander (1983) was the last great one. That leaves 25 years of pretty good, just OK, forgettable, or flat-out awful winners (mostly forgettable). This year's winner, The Counterfeiters (41 screens) had to be one of the worst movies I saw all year; at it's center is a perfectly good (true) WWII concentration camp story, but it's warped by an entirely inept director, responsible for one of the worst movies I've ever seen, All the Queen's Men (2001). How did it win? How did it get past all the truly great films of 2007?

Oscar night is over, and everyone is basking in the glow of the winners. Or, excuse me, the "recipients" of the Oscars. Not too many years back, the politically-correct police changed the language from "and the winner is" to "and the Oscar goes to" because that made the losers sound less like losers. It's a joke now when someone says, "It's an honor just to be nominated," but I believe that's true. I think it would be unbelievably cool to be nominated, even if you were in the Best Documentary Short category and the bouncers tried to keep you from entering the theater. This week's column is dedicated to the losers that were honored just to be nominated.

My favorite film of the year, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, which is gone from theaters and available on DVD, received two nominations and lost both, which I expected. But this is a film that, like Anthony Mann's The Naked Spur and many other Westerns, will grow in stature despite its lack of Oscars. The year's other big Western, 3:10 to Yuma, also lost its twin nominations, but will probably endure as long as there remains a small, dedicated audience for Western adventures. On the other hand, I find that very few films in the "disease of the week" genre have much life after the Oscars. But The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (161 screens) will be different, for two reasons: 1) it was actually really, very good, and 2) it didn't win anything.

Call me an optimist, but I'm always hoping for Oscar reform. I've been rather excited about recent rumblings that the Academy is finally, finally considering changing its rules regarding foreign film consideration. I saw one of the new nominees last week, The Counterfeiters, and I have to say that there were at least 20 or 30 other, better foreign language films last year. In fact, I'd have to say that The Counterfeiters is a contender for my worst list of 2008; it takes on an interesting story, but cinematically it's sheer amateur hour. The only reason it got nominated is because it takes place in a concentration camp. I also need to mention that the director, Stefan Ruzowitzky, made one of the worst films I have ever seen, All the Queen's Men (2002), starring Matt LeBlanc and Eddie Izzard as soldiers who go undercover as drag queens in WWII.

Did anyone notice that though La vie en rose earned three nominations (Best Actress, Costume, Makeup) it didn't get nominated for Foreign Language Film? Likewise, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (205 screens) -- filmed almost entirely in French -- was nominated for four awards (Best Director, Editing, Screenplay, Cinematography), but not Best Foreign Film. Why? Diving Bell doesn't count as foreign because it has an American director. Not to mention that each country is only allowed to submit one film, and France's choice, Persepolis (100 screens) was not nominated either. Instead, it was nominated for Best Animated Film! This type of thing happens all the time. In 2002, the foreign film committee rejected the Brazilian film City of God. It was released in 2003 to great critical acclaim and success, and was nominated the following year for four Oscars in other categories. In 2000, Taiwan chose to submit the hit Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, rather than arguably the greatest film of the past decade, Edward Yang's Yi Yi. Why couldn't both be nominated?

I just started working the new spring semester as a graduate assistant for a cinema studies course. The professor has divided the semester up into two categories: image and story. This very simple division explains a lot about the movies and the way we think about them. Most people consider movies as stories, and that's it. They evaluate their experience on how well the movie told that story: was it plausible, enjoyable or unique? And it's true that most movies are nothing more than stories. But every so often a movie comes along that tries to do something with images, and I've always been attracted to them. I'm very definitely a "visual learner." I'm one of those people, when introduced to someone, their name goes right through my brain and disappears. But if I can visualize the name, or see it written down, then I'm aces.

This is most likely why The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (9 screens) appealed to me so strongly. Yes, the movie uses clever narration and dialogue but the main emphasis is visual, characters in relation to their surroundings and to each other. I'm also interested in movies that combine space and time; the shots last long enough that the visual schemes have a chance to sink in and mean something. (This is something that only movies can do.) That's probably why I generally despise shaky-cam and fast- cutting. But if you're telling a story, and the main goal is to get to the next turning point, then faster is probably better. I don't mean to say that image is better than story; the most important thing is the emotional result of whatever you're seeing. Some stories have affected me very strongly and provide some of the simplest entertainments: Speed, Run Lola Run, Memento, Spider-Man 2, etc.

As my wife said, it's just not the Oscars if there's nothing to complain about. However, I was impressed that two of the year's toughest films, Paul Thomas Anderson's There Will Be Blood (389 screens) and Joel and Ethan Coen's No Country for Old Men took the most nominations. Typically, the Academy is attracted to much less challenging and easy-to-categorize films (like Atonement). Both films are fairly bleak in their vision, but I suspect There Will Be Blood will sneak out ahead for two reasons: it's an epic, and epics almost always win. And, to quote a character from Sunset Boulevard, it "says a little something" about the current sociopolitical climate.

One of the biggest controversies cropped up over the foreign film category, which came up with five nominations that no one has ever heard of. (The Counterfeiters opens sometime next month and Mongol opens in June.) Not to mention that they ignored top contenders like 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (opening this week) and Persepolis (30 screens). Thankfully the outrage has begun discussions on changing the stupid, ancient rules for the category. Currently these rules require each country to submit one film, and multi-national films, such as The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (107 screens), to be disqualified. A small group of "specialists," rather than the Academy as a whole, votes on the small list of films. The documentary category was less obscure, and although I saw 19 documentaries in 2007, I only managed to see two of the five nominees, No End in Sight and Sicko. I have an Academy screener for Operation Homecoming that I hope to catch soon, and Taxi to the Dark Side (1 screen) is screening for Bay Area press next week.

Hollywood's neverending love affair with itself just keeps on rolling, as now the Producer's Guild of America has announced its list of 2007 film nominees. And the nominees are: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Juno, Michael Clayton, No Country for Old Men, and There Will Be Blood. Surely the most notable exclusions are Atonement and Sweeney Todd, since both films took Best Picture honors at last night's Golden Globes disaster atrocity ceremony. The PGA does not often sync up with the Academy. Last year, they selected Little Miss Sunshine and the Oscar went (rightly) to The Departed. In 2006, they selected Brokeback Mountain and the Oscar went to Crash. In 2005, they picked The Aviator and the Oscar went to Million Dollar Baby.

No guesses as to which film they'll select this year, but don't count out There Will Be Blood. As a friend of mine recently remarked: "Producers will definitely relate strongly to the story of a relentless misanthrope who sacrifices everything in his quest for money and power." The PGA nominated Bee Movie, Ratatouille, and The Simpsons Movie as nominations for its animation award. Their nominated documentaries are: Body of War, Hear and Now, Pete Seeger: The Power of Song, Sicko, and White Night Black Rain: The Destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The winner of the PGA's Darryl F. Zanuck Producer of the Year award is announced February 2nd, and will not be televised. Still, if the host announces the winner at his or her kitchen table while eating a large bowl of breakfast cereal, it will be a more exciting event than last night's Billy Bush cringe-a-thon. Yikes.

Most people have a favorite place to sit when going to the movies. Some people like the back row; some people like the centermost spot (middle seat, middle row); some people like to sit near the front so that they can stare up at the screen and let the picture fill the limits of their peripheral vision.

I figure that last preference made more sense fifty years ago, when Cinerama and CinemaScope presented vast, expansively shot epics and westerns that were made to surround our senses and engulf our whole eye-span. Nowadays, most movies are too fast-cut and often the camerawork is too shaky to really work for close viewing. Have you ever been forced to sit in the first few rows when a movie is sold out? Wasn't it hard to tell what was going on most of the time?

Personally, I like watching movies close up, when it's appropriate. Unfortunately, it rarely is. But movie theaters can't just start removing those front rows because they aren't good for the moviegoer's eyes. No, that would mean a lot fewer tickets sold, a lot fewer popcorns sold, and a lot less money going to both the theater owners and the movie distributors. So, moviemakers should go back to making movies that are more accommodating to the theatrical audience, right? Yeah, that's not going to happen.

Rejoice Midwesterners: Marcus Theatres is finally showing Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street! Last month, I wrote in my column on the story of Marcus' inability to reach an agreement with Paramount on the split of the movie's box office, and the cinema chain's subsequent decision to not show the film. For many people in Wisconsin, Illinois, Ohio, North Dakota, Iowa and Minnesota, that meant not being able to see the musical unless they drove hundreds of miles out of their way to an area with a non-Marcus-owned movie theater. I'm sure some huge Johnny Depp fans and Burton loyalists made the trek, thinking they'd otherwise have to wait for the DVD to come out. But Marcus and Paramount have now worked out a deal, likely because the movie has been out long enough for Paramount to be satisfied with the box office share it squeezed out of the country's other theater owners. Or maybe the studio realized that with a gross of only $40 million in three weeks, the movie wasn't as in demand as it had thought. Starting today (Jan. 11), 15 of Marcus' 49 locations will be showing the dark Sondheim adaptation.

I haven't yet seen Sweeney Todd. I wish I could say that I've been boycotting the film in support of Marcus Theatres, but in all honesty I've simply been choosing other better-looking movies to see (including The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and There Will Be Blood). Coincidentally (or not, maybe the company is doing it to spite the studios), Marcus has also decided to highlight these better-looking movies, which all qualify as "art films". The chain is calling this new programming of foreign and independent films "Critic's Choice"; the purpose is to call to attention "acclaimed and smaller films that are in limited release or might otherwise go unnoticed." Titles include Diving Bell, Juno and No Country for Old Men. Between those films and Sweeney Todd, Marcus patrons should now be fully prepared when they sit down to watch the Golden Globes press conference this weekend.