If Hunter S. Thompson were to write a story about his trip to a parallel, prehistoric dimension, then Land of the Lost might be the most accurate representation possible of its subsequent film adaptation. Directed by Brad Silberling and starring Will Ferrell, this update on the Sid and Marty Krofft television series from the 1970s is the strangest, filthiest summer movie I think I've ever seen – and it opens against one that features Mike Tyson, a tiger and Zach Galifianakis. But just as strangely, it's also damn entertaining, although it's hard to know whether you should or definitely shouldn't be indoctrinated beforehand to its weirdness. Regardless, Land of the Lost offers a sobering alternative to the pre-packaged and otherwise conventional blockbuster fare offered by studios this summer, even if its charms would ultimately benefit from (if not require) chemical enhancement of some kind to be properly enjoyed.

By Peter Martin (original publication date: 3/16/09 -- SXSW Film Festival)

Don't f*** with old ladies, especially if they have bad teeth and an evil curse up their sleeve. If there's anything new to be learned from Drag Me to Hell, director Sam Raimi's return to horror, it's that loan officers will have hell to pay if they dare to foreclose on your mortgage. It's a lesson that should make everyone stand up and cheer.

The film screened as a "work in progress" late last night at the completely packed Paramount Theater in Austin to a loud, raucous reaction. Some of the finer technical points clearly remain to be tweaked (sound, visual effects, maybe a little editing here and there) and end credits need to be added before its wide theatrical release on May 29. And in its present version, the ratings issue is still cloudy -- PG-13 or R?

But this much is clear: Raimi has made a joyful romp through his personal horror playground and come up with a very entertaining horror-comedy that gets back to the basics. By that I mean creepy shadows on the wall and things that go bump in the night: all the odd, unexplained sights and sounds that keep anxious children awake at night, hiding under the covers. Any inkling that Raimi's soul might have been irretrievably chewed up by the Hollywood studio machinery -- a well-founded concern after the disappointing Spider-Man 3 -- quickly evaporates once the story gets underway.

When I first caught wind of the redundant "sex thriller" Obsessed, my first reaction was to adopt the voice of a blaxploitation announcer and Twitter things like "Bang! It's a black-on-white cat fight you KNOW is outta sight! Look out for the affirmative action Fatal Attraction, baby! Obsessed!" I walked in expecting a base, push-button and knee-jerk story of "white hoochie vs. black wife" story ... but unfortunately the movie turned out way too plain and generic to bother with such immaturities. Had they "trashed" it up a little bit, then Obsessed could have been a grade-A B-movie worth laughing at and cheering with. As it stands, Obsessed feels a lot like a refugee from the Lifetime Network that just happened to have a budget.

Idris Elba (who delivers a performance better than the movie deserves) plays a very successful investment banker named Derek who catches the eye of a pretty new temp (Ali Larter) called Lisa. But Derek is quite married, you see, and rather happily, as would you be if you got to sleep with Beyonce Knowles every night. But that doesn't stop Lisa from (ever so s l o w l y) getting under the skin of poor Derek, and before too long we're dealing with a very basic yet powerful case of, well, obsession. No matter how many times he professes his love for wife Sharon, the tantalizing temp just keeps on flirting. Heavily, shamelessly, redundantly. After about an hour of altercations between Derek and Lisa both predictable and obvious, we finally get into the Act III catharsis, which is when the frequently-dormant Beyonce gets to stand tall and kick some serious booty.

By Scott Weinberg (original publication date: 3/17/09 -- SXSW Film Festival)

I know it may seem sort of strange to get two "mall cop" comedies within two months of each other, but really: Aside from only the most tangential of plot connections, these movies couldn't possibly be more different. Paul Blart: Mall Cop is a flat, generic farce that feels like every studio comedy from the last 15 years. Observe and Report ... is a freaking revelation. Sick, dark, halfway twisted, and drop-dead hilarious, Jody Hill's Observe and Report is a dark comedy full of shocking moments and brave material, plus it's anchored by a lead performance that could change a whole lot of minds regarding Seth Rogen.

Set in a completely familiar shopping mall, Observe and Report is about a maladjusted security guard who finds himself with a new mission in life: Find the pervert who's been flashing women in the mall parking lot, and do it well before the cocky detective (played quite amusingly by Ray Liotta) has a chance to crack the case. Also to contend with: A bubble-headed blondie, as played by the funniest woman since Madeline Kahn (aka Anna Faris), an untrustworthy sidekick (a powerfully funny Michael Pena), and a perpetually inebriated mother who isn't all that good at the "nurturing" thing.

I'd heard Observe and Report once described as a "slightly lighter take on Taxi Driver-ish material," and while I don't really agree with that assessment, it's worth repeating because (and this should be made clear) Observe and Report is not a mainstream movie, a product of assembly-line filmmaking, or a churn-it-out contractual obligation. This is an aggressively unpredictable dark comedy that doles out violence, absurdity, and a strange sense of sincerity at (seemingly) random points -- and virtually all of Jody Hill's darts hit their intended target. As a tale of one schlub's (basic but legitimate) redemption, Observe and Report works more than well enough -- but if you opt to look a little deeper, and you will, you'll notice that Hill, Rogen and company are also mocking the most basic of Hollywood conventions at the same time.

I know this is going to sound familiar, but I absolutely adore feature-length animation. It bugs me that the medium is STILL -- a mere 900 years after Snow White came out -- considered "kids only" by a large portion of the population. Even my mom, who was moved to tears by Beauty and the Beast, absolutely adores Toy Story, and cites Sleeping Beauty as an all-time fave, turns her nose up when I offer her a DVD like Flushed Away or The Iron Giant. (Or Fear(s) of the Dark.) "Meh," she says, "that's kiddy stuff." But I know that if she actually sat down and focused on, say, The Incredibles -- she'd start to see what I see: An eye-tickling landscape of endless cinematic opportunities.

And here's where I kick the chair out from under you by saying that Monsters vs. Aliens is NOT one of those transcendent animated features, the sort that bridges the gap between kid stuff and grown-up art with no discernible effort whatsoever. No, Monsters vs. Aliens is a loud, rushed, choppy, silly, colorful Nintendo game of a movie, and if you're judging an 88-minute family flick by those specific criteria, then odds are you'll have a diverting time with DreamWorks' new production. But if you're looking for the artistry, the warmth, or the extra dimensions of a Pixar production, I'd say you wait for Up, or just lower expectations where Monsters vs. Aliens is concerned.

For someone who made his name in Hollywood as a crackerjack screenwriter, Tony Gilroy seems, with Duplicity, far more adept with the camera than the written word. With his directorial follow-up to Michael Clayton, Gilroy returns to the world of corporate espionage, though this time he plays his spy-thriller material for fun, his characters' use of champagne corks to send secret signals proving apt for a film aimed at delivering fizzy thrills.

For all its intricate plot machinations, however, there's little here that hasn't been done before, and better, by the likes of David Mamet and even Steven Soderbergh, whose Ocean's Eleven capers are clearly an inspiration for Gilroy's jazzy-cool approach. Stylish to the hilt, it's a saga coated in sumptuously sleek hues that are in tune with the story's zippy verbal interplay. Yet for all its razzle-dazzle aesthetic flair, there's not much going on beneath the striking surface, as the writer/director's tale is an unnecessarily knotty one, masking its shallowness of theme and characterization with narrative loop-de-loops that, by the third act, are revealed to be insufficient window dressing for a rather pedestrian, hollow cat-and-mouse contest.

If you are even half as obsessed with the Muppets as I am, then you probably couldn't be happier that Jason Segel and Nicholas Stoller are bringing them back to the big screen. Last year, Segel had confirmed that they were half way through a script, and now a source at AICN by the name of The Great Gonzo claims to have gotten a look at the finished product. The film has the working title of The Greatest Muppet Movie of All Time, and there is a little good and bad in the early review, so let's start with the good news first, shall we?

According to AICN's source, the heart of the story is pretty close to what Segel told us back in 2008. The story centers on Kermit having to reunite the old gang to save the studio, and hearkens back to the glory days of Muppet movies with the classic characters front and center. But, it's not all sunshine and roses from AICN's scooper, since they also claim that there are some flat sections to the story and some of the references are just plain outdated. The script review also goes into some pretty specific descriptions of the various cameos and is definitely spoiler heavy, so if you want to avoid ruining the fun, I suggest you tread carefully.

I grew up wanting to live in that old theater with Kermit and company, and my Animal drum set was my favorite childhood toy -- I was absolutely addicted. But I grew up, and while the later Muppet films were always good for a laugh, it just wasn't the same. Thankfully, now that the franchise is in the hands of a true believer like Segel, I'm pretty sure we have nothing to worry about - I mean, as long as Dr. Teeth and The Electric Mayhem remain intact, I'll be good.

There's a fine line between being laughed at and being laughed with -- especially in an "instant video" culture that seemingly loves to see people humiliate themselves on YouTube. But what are we laughing at, really? For example, check out the (extremely profane and NSFW) video after the jump. I'll wait.

OK, the man you just witnessed is one Jack Rebney, an average citizen who got caught on film while having a VERY bad day on the job. Did the clip make you laugh? Was it the profanity? The frustration? The flies? And here's the question that interests me the most: As you watched Jack's meltdown, were you taking pleasure in his misery -- or were you able to empathize with Jack because you know exactly how he feels?

This is one of the themes that runs through Ben Steinbauer's excellent independent documentary Winnebago Man. It also touches on issues of privacy, frustration, friendship, and loneliness (stuff we can all relate to, obviously), but what I found most interesting was the theme of simple respect. Yes, Jack flipped out on camera 20 years ago and then became sort of a mini-sensation on the "funny clips" circuit (before YouTube showed up, I mean), but the question of WHY we laugh and what that laughter does to the man himself, well, that's a pretty fascinating theme to tackle.

400 Screens, 400 Blows is a weekly column that takes an in-depth look at the films playing below the radar, beneath the top ten, and on 400 screens or less.

This year we've got at least three biopics jockeying for space in the year-end awards, just like every year. Biopics continue alternately to fascinate and disappoint me. I've already written at length about how these movies tend to be roughly the same, following much the same format and formula (and brilliantly spoofed in last year's Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story). And I've written about how they're instant award-magnets, causing nearly every artist in Hollywood to scour every last barrel bottom for any famous person's life story that hasn't yet been filmed. So for them, here's a handy dandy field guide to getting awards.

Best Bet: War heroes or political figures. In 1970, was any other movie going to beat Patton for a bunch of Oscars? Robert Altman's M*A*S*H may have been more popular and more artistic, but it didn't have Patton. In 1982, Gandhi beat out the infinitely superior Blade Runner. Schindler's List (1993) counts too. So does Erin Brockovich (2000). And this year, though I'm not ready to bet the farm just yet, it looks like Milk (309 screens) could be the big winner. Ron Howard's Frost/Nixon (205 screens) will probably get some nominations this year, but it's hard for old Tricky Dick to stack up against Harvey. Exceptions to the rule: you have to clearly define your character as either a hero or a villain. Sorry Oliver Stone, no Nixon or W. Malcolm X (1992) came close, but it was a bit too subversive for voters. Forest Whitaker's award-winning Idi Amin was actually the villain of that film, so his purpose was clear. This year Steven Soderbergh's Che (2 screens) is worthy, but a bit too complex for voters, failing to explain whether or not they should actually like Che.

With all due respect to the monumentally talented Frank Miller, I'm just going to lay it out clear: I don't think the man is cut out to direct movies. At all. I've always suspected that Mr. Miller earned a co-director credit on Sin City because A) it's his baby, B) having Miller involved helps the film come release time, and C) Robert Rodriguez is a classy dude. But have you ever wondered what Sin City would look like if Rodriguez was out of the picture? Wonder no more, comic fans: Frank Miller has directed a film all by himself ... and it really isn't good.

Looking for slick-looking white-on-black panorama shots of a square-jawed hero as he leaps across the city rooftops? Anxious to get a lot of hot young actresses into sexy outfits? Into highly-stylized pulp dialog that sounds like outtakes from a Dick Tracy comic? Then apparently Frank Miller is your man. Taken as a series of unrelated sequences that sure LOOK cool, The Spirit might just float your boat. If, however, you like your films to include stuff like good sense, character development, internal logic, and a smooth-flowing story ... well, all I can say is that someone should have gotten Robert Rodriguez on the phone.