Steve Coogan excels in Michael Winterbottom's funny, angry, compelling broadside, GREED

OK: It wears its heart on its sleeve, as message movies from Brit director and sometimes writer, Michael Winterbottom often do. But since that message is an important and timely one, only the very wealthy, along with some of us more persnickety critics, will probably mind much. If GREED is neither as funny nor as incisive as it might have been, what's there is certainly smart and entertaining enough to pass muster as a worthwhile trip to the movies. Plus there's its star, Steve Coogan (at right), giving yet another of his knockout performances as Sir Richard McCreadie (rhymes with greedy), a supposedly uber-successful British retailer who seems to combine the nasty savvy of a Murdoch with the utter incompetence of Donald Trump.

Mr. Winterbottom, shown at left, gives us a little history of Sir Richard (even as a child, this guy was a major ass-wipe) then shows us how, as an adult, the man has taken over various companies, only to destroy them, while making himself and his family even wealthier. Most important are the sections set on the sub-continent where poorly-paid labor in the factories that supply McCreadie with his products are worked literally to death to make this man even richer. We also see Mr. Greedy making quite a show when called before a government inquiry into his dealings (below), during which Coogan brings forth his exquisite combo of smarminess and "hurt hauteur," as he defends himself and we learn even more of his misdeeds.

Throughout all this, comedy mixes with ugliness in roughly 50-50 fashion, and while we laugh at the antics, all of it comes at the price of our near-constant realization that this is Capitalism writ large and lousy: the ongoing destruction of current western civilization -- not to mention most of the rest of the world.

What saves the movie as entertainment is its central "event," a 60th in-costume birthday party for McCreadie that we watch being organized on a picturesque Greek island then brought to very creepy fruition, as family and fake-friends gather to celebrate this supposedly successful entrepreneur.

We meet his ex-wife (Isla Fisher, above, right), his mother (Shirley Henderson, below, left: an enabler par excellence), and especially his on-the-cusp-of-adulthood son (Asa Butterfield, below, right), who discovers a delightful and appropriate -- if ghastly -- way to work out his Oedipal issues.

As usual with Winterbottom, the camera is constantly on the move, with humor, insult, ugliness and message flying in from all directions. Thanks to the generally up-to-snuff dialog, and to the skill of Coogan and the rest of the cast, Greed never loses its momentum.

Look for a number of other famous performers (like Stephen Fry, above, left) to make appearances here, too. If the film doesn't offer state-of-the-art humor, satire and finger-pointing consistently, it hits its marks often enough to keep you alternately angry and entertained.

From Sony Pictures Classics and running 104 minutes, the film opened last week on the coasts and will hit theaters nationwide this Friday, March 6. Here in South Florida, you can find it at the following theaters: in the Miami area at the AMC Aventura Mall,  CMX Brickell City Center,  Silverspot Miami, Regal South Beach, and AMC Sunset Place; in Broward county at the Cinemark Paradise in Davie and Regal Magnolia Place in Coral Springs; in the Palm Beach county at the Movies Delray and Movies of Lake Worth, AMC Indian River,  Majestic 11, Regency Cinema 8 in Stuart, Regal Royal Palm, Cobb's Downtown at The Gardens in Palm Beach Gardens, and in Boca Raton at the Regal Shadowood and Cinemark Palace. Elsewhere? Click here to find a theater near you.

In theaters: Swati Bhise's would-be history lesson, THE WARRIOR QUEEN OF JHANSI

A more appropriate title might have been, The Warrior Queen of Nonsense, for this new British film from novice director Swati Bishe, THE WARRIOR QUEEN OF JHANSI is so like amateur-night-at-the-movies in so many ways that your eyes may glaze over long before the end credits roll. Full of exposition, and then more exposition, then even more exposition, the film does give us some history regarding British control of India, the notorious East India Company, and a supposedly very-upset-about-this-whole-awful-thing Queen Victoria, who keeps directing her underlings to do the right thing (of course they never do). But since the resulting movie looks so silly, paltry and mostly unbelievable throughout, we end up imagining that the history here may be as faulty as the manner in which it has been told. Unfair? Maybe, but there you go.

Because the movie also stars, in the role of the would-be warrior queen, Ms Bishe's (the director/co-writer is pictured at right) own daughter, Devika Bishe (shown below, who co-wrote this movie), the film has all the markings of a vanity production.

The younger Bishe is a nice-looking young woman but nowhere near a good enough actress to embody this warrior queen. She is also not helped by "action" scenes that border on dreadful and a "warrior-women-in-training" scene that is even worse.

Literally all of the film's best scenes involve very good Brit thespians who give their all to the less-than-sterling expository dialog with which they are "blessed." These include the likes of Jodhi May as the Queen, Derek Jacobi as Lord Palmerston, Rupert Everett as Sir Hugh Rose, Nathaniel Parker as the mustache-twirling villain Sir Robert Hamilton, and Ben Lamb as the Brit good guy Major Robert Ellis. These pros will keep you awake, at least.

My biggest question after viewing this film: Why is it even getting a theatrical release? And from Roadside Attractions, yet -- the company that only recently gave us that better bit of Oscar bait, Judy? Perhaps it is smarter not to speculate.

In any case, The Warrior Queen of Jhansi -- in English and running 102 minutes -- opens tomorrow, Friday, November 15, here in South Florida in the Miami area at the AMC Aventura 24 and Sunset Place 24, and at the Regal Sawgrass 23 in Sunrise.

To learn if and where the movie is playing near you, click here and follow through.

Want a guilt-free feel-good film? Try Loncraine, Leonard and Moorcroft's FINDING YOUR FEET

Starring a very good array of what you might want to call current British film-star royalty (Helen Mirren is not among them, but the kind of crap she's been performing in of late makes that seem rather fitting) -- in particular Imelda Staunton, Timothy Spall and Celia Imrie -- this new film from that fine journeyman director, Richard Loncraine is such a non-stop pleasure to view and hear (the screenplay comes via Meg Leonard and Nick Moorcroft), that you can and very probably will give yourself over to it immediately. You will then spend the next hour-and-fifty-minutes on the British entertainment equivalent of Cloud 9.

Sure, you'll have been here (or somewhere very close to "here") many times previous, but the suave and svelte manner in which the filmmakers have assembled their wares and the ability of that cast to deliver them so perfectly makes all the difference.

FINDING YOUR FEET is about, among a bunch of other things, a marriage imploding, a new life beginning, another life actually ending, family re-connections, the state of being a senior citizen -- and dancing. That last figures into things in a most appropriate way, even more so than in another, somewhat similar movie, Stepping Out (from 1991). Here dancing serves as a kind of communal activity that brings our cast together and moves the plot forward, while providing some surprisingly spiffy "senior" musical numbers.

The endearing and feisty Ms Staunton (above: center, right) plays the woman whose marriage suddenly ends, after which she appears on the doorstep of her estranged sister (Ms Imrie -- below, right -- in the richest movie role she has had in some years) and is promptly sucked into the quite interesting life and various friendships of her sibling.

How this all happens is handled with style and finesse, and the movie is chock-a-block with little details that ring as true as they are specific. (That's Joanna Lumley, above, left.) Among those friendships is that of a rather sad-sack-but-appealing fellow (Mr. Spall, below, right) who, after a not-so-hot first meeting, becomes a large part of our heroine's new life.

Things happen -- some within the control of our characters, others completely out of their control -- the plot evolves, and the dancing takes its place, front-and-center and wonderful fun. By the time of the finale and the movie's own special version of that ever-present rom-com cliché, the race to the airport that will reunite our lovers, you'll know exactly what to expect and will then love every moment up to and including the perfect freeze-frame ending.

Yes, there are some tears along the way. But when, post-credits, you rise from your theater seat, it will probably take some time before that big fat and thoroughly satisfied smile on your face disappears.

From Roadside Attractions and running a near-perfect 111 minutes, Finding Your Feet, after opening on the coasts last week, hits South Florida (and elsewhere) this Friday, April 6. Here in the Miami area, it will play the AMC Aventura Mall 24 and The Landmark at Merrick Park; in Fort Lauderdale at The Classic Gateway Theatre, and in Palm Beach County at The Movies of Delray.

British critic overkill hurts Sally El Hosaini's freshman film, MY BROTHER THE DEVIL

"What were they thinking?" comes immediately to mind when perusing some of the fulsome praise of British critics for the first full-length film from Sally El Hosaini (shown below) entitled MY BROTHER THE DEVIL, a not particularly new or novel look at Arab immigrants in Britain and their adventures concerning family, street gangs and love interests. After watching this not-bad (for its first half, at least) family dramedy about an Egyptian immigrants in Great Britain, which has garnered simply amazing reviews from the press in Britain, I found myself trying to figure out why.

Could it be, for a change, that the subjects here are not Pakistani (an immigrant group particularly unpopular with white Brits, and about which we've seen, over the years, a number of films)? Maybe it's easier to root for Egyptians. One of the quotes says that the movie is "visually striking." Certainly no more so than many other British films. (I just saw one yesterday which I'll cover next week -- Welcome to the Punch -- possessing infinitely more striking visuals.)

One of my notes scribbled during the viewing states, "Stories sure don't change -- the young kid pulled into a life of crime -- only the time frame and milieu." What the writer/director does excel at is giving us teens and slightly older characters, at home and in the streets, with a lifelike energy and reality. This part of the film is fun and mostly believable, although English subtitles might have been a help from time to time.

The film begins with everyone thrilled at the younger son's "genius" abilities in school. But that's the last we hear of that. As the movie goes on, coincidence and melodrama completely push reality to the sidelines, if not off-screen altogether. By the finale, any believable characterization and/or accumulation of events have been tossed out the window. The most ridiculous situation occurs midway, as the older brother -- who has given up his own middling/piddling life-of-crime and now works for a successful photographer -- discovers something about himself that, up until now, neither he nor we have had a clue. Revealing this would be a major spoiler (although the stupid trailer for the film does this, of course -- which is why TrustMovies generally detests trailers and never includes them on his site).

This major change in the older brother's life happens with such amazing ease and speed, given the culture he comes from, that it renders the movie ridiculous, pushing it toward the happy, feel-good ending that the filmmaker and her producers evidently crave. Oy! -- as another, neighboring culture might proclaim. What happens in this film to its main character is something that other films build entire plots around. To handle it in the manner shown here insults the intelligence of everyone involved: characters, filmmakers, and audience.

The cast assembled is certainly eager, photogenic and talented, with James Floyd (above and further above), whose brooding beauty is particularly stunning in the role of the older brother, and Fady Elsayed (at bottom, left, and further above on a bike and in a tree) almost equally watchable in the younger brother role. The actor most well-know to film-goers would be Said Taghmaoui, below, who plays the photographer but has almost nothing to do in the film except provide the link that hastens the big "changeover."

The women's roles are minor -- no surprise given the culture here -- with the brother's mother providing the caring, the older's bro's girlfriend (Elarica Gallacher) the sex (for awhile, anyway), and the younger bro's new girlfriend (Letitia Wright) the proper sweetness. I can't fault the acting here, from any of the cast members, and the ensemble work toward to the beginning of the film, from the perfor-mers playing both family and gang members, is quite impressive.

But if you can buy -- hell, even tolerate -- the plot machinations of this silly movie, you're a better man than I am, Gunga Din. From Paladin and 108 Media, My Brother the Devil opens tomorrow, March 22, in New York City at the Landmark Sunshine Cinema and the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center, and on April 5 in Los Angeles at the Nuart, with a limited national release to follow.

Nick Love's THE SWEENEY opens, giving us a new gang that couldn't shoot straight....

The movie begins well; give it that. THE SWEENEY -- starring everyone's favorite, fat British bad boy, Ray Winstone (whatever else you do, check out his underseen-but-terrific 44 Inch Chest) and a good rest-of-the-cast -- manages about half an hour of fast fun before degenerating into standard, stupid stuff. Which is too bad, given that cast and the subject matter at hand: the tribulations of a division of London's police department that seems to exist somewhat above-the-law.

Co-written (with John Hodge, who often collaborates with Danny Boyle) and directed by Nick Love (shown at left), the movie begins with a good, slightly violent action set piece that gives way to the setting up of various relationships involving love, lust, power and the like. With dialog that's short 'n sharp -- "He's a bit of a cunt," notes one fellow; "I like him," counters another. "He's got panache" -- the plot moves to the robbery of a jewelry store in which a bystander is, it would seem, pointlessly and ruthlessly murdered.

Then we're in for the robbery of a bank just off Trafalger Square, at which point the movie completely dissolves into the ridiculous. This "Sweeney" unit, which has always managed to get its job done without undue incident or damage to civilians, is suddenly shooting it out on the street with the bad guys, as bystanders all around run for cover. Worse, none of these people -- good guys nor bad -- knows how to shoot. They make The Gang That Couldn't Shoot Straight look like prize-winning marksmen. (I'm not saying that every bullet must hit its target, but, really, a couple of 'em should.)

Truly, the above is one of the worst action sequences I can remember, and the movie never recovers from it (though, in time for the finale, of course, some of our guys do learn to shoot so that other of our guys can end up dead). Even worse, our "hero," Jack (played by Winstone) is mostly an asshole, whose behavior is so dumb and Neanderthalian that it grows impossible to care what happens to him -- or anyone else. Mr. Winstone is a fine actor, but, screenwriters, please: the guy needs something to work with.

Filled with shoot-outs, car chases, killings and nasty Eastern Europeans (as always, of late, the villains du jour), and all, finally, as boring as they sound, the film grows noisier and more nonsensical, making use -- badly -- of every last-minute cliche in the book. Given some of the shots we see at the beginning and end of the movie, it begins to look like we're watching product-placement for the world's biggest, baddest banks. Who knows? They probably helped finance the film.

Lost in this dismal cause are generally fine actors like Hayley Atwell (above: playing hard n' sexy), Steven Mackintosh (below, left: cold n' creepy) and Damian Lewis (wasted here as Winstone's boss). The last line on my page of scribbled screening notes asks, in a nod, I guess, to the Bard, "What fresh crap is this?" Unfortunately, it's not even that fresh.

The Sweeney, from eOne and running 112 long minutes, gets a brief theatrical play here in New York City at the AMC Empire 25, beginning this Friday, March 1, while making its simultaneous VOD debut, too.

On DVD: In APPROPRIATE ADULT Jarrold & McKaye give us two ugly British serial killers

Can you create a spellbinding, two-and-a-quarter-hour program about a pair of British husband-wife serial killers without ever showing any of their killings? Gorehounds will take offense, but intelligent, mature audiences will be hooked from scene one, as APPROPRIATE ADULT, the two-part series produ-ced for British tele-vision in cooperation with the Sundance Channel, makes its DVD debut this coming week.

As directed by Julian Jarrold (pictured at right; he did the first of the three Red Riding British TV crime movies) and written by Neil McKay, this based-on-true-events film holds us in thrall by virtue of its understanding of how to leaven a dark, horrific police procedural with enough of the life of the two families involved (one horrible, the other normally abnormal) to balance, if oddly, one story against the other. Mr. Jarrold's ability to do this is helped in no small measure by Mr. McKay's very effective screenplay that uses dialog, along with place and situation, to create three amazing lead characters, plus a host of well-drawn underlings who help provide an unflagging sense of reality in both the police station and the home (the movie's two main locations).

All of the above is well and good, but without the work of three appropriate actors, Appropriate Adult might go off the rails. The three prize-winning actors cast here are simply remarkable, and it is no surprise that they walked away with their BAFTA awards for Best Actress, Best Actor and Best Supporting Actress.

Emily Watson (above) is never less than accomplished and real; in certain roles she's well-nigh perfect, and this is one of them. She plays Janet Leach, the woman chosen to be the "appropriate adult" present as the police question their suspect, Fred West. (The British legal system is different from ours, but this particular use of a civilian, along with police presence, looks like a rather smart one.) Does any actress (from Breaking the Waves to Oranges and Sunshine) do vulnerable-yet-strong better than does Ms Watson? See for youself.

The role of Fred is taken of Dominic West (above, center), an actor of not a little versatility. He can handle comedy (Johnny English Reborn), romance and post-traumatic stress (he's currently in The Awakening), macho adventure (Centurion), cartoon villainy (Punisher: War Zone) and rom-com-dram (Mona Lisa Smile) all with ease -- not to mention his work in The Wire. As Fred West, this actor with the same last name gives what is probably his best performance ever. He keeps Ms Watson's character -- and us -- so off-balance for so long that we're reeling. He's at once sexy and horrible, vulnerable and strong, fascinating and frightening and always, still, a mystery. The movie never quite solves him, and this is exactly as it should be.

As his wife Rose -- a woman we know much less of, and the kind of criminal creep who understands that silence is her best defense -- Monica Dolan (above, with her award) is a huge surprise. I've seen her in some small roles, but nothing like the creature she creates here: all angry, nasty, never-give-an-inch ugliness. The interplay of these three with each other and with the rest of the fine cast makes for quite a study in evil -- and what it takes to smother it. For awhile.

Appropriate Adult hits the street, on DVD only, this Tuesday, September 11, 2012, from Inception Media Group, for sale or rental, and also available digitally.

Hit Brit teen comedy THE INBETWEENERS arrives, coinciding with recent U.S. TV show

Is there a subject more original and seldom-seen in films than that of teenagers trying to get their rocks off? Let me think: yes, actually. At last count, maybe 10,257 of them. Still, those teens-tryin'-to-get-laid movies keep a-comin'. The latest is the blockbuster (in Britain, at least), THE IN-BETWEENERS MOVIE -- titled, I would guess, to further separate it from The InBetweeners television show, which was also a huge Brit hit, even if the newly-minted Americanized version does not appear to have quite caught on here. So there's no need, as yet, to use the word "movie" in the title over here in America.

Should you take a chance on this relatively unknown commodity, put together by the creative team shown above: director Ben Palmer (at left) and writers Iain Morris (center) and Damon Beesley (right)? This depends on little else except your own tolerance for this kind of "entertainment." Mine is growing ever thinner, and this new attempt did not noticeably thicken it, despite the movie's beginning with a surprisingly light touch, as a father (Anthony Head--below, right) and his son (Simon Bird, below, left) discuss the latter's future in a scene that is funny and flip.

Soon that son and his three best friends (James Buckley, below, left; Blake Harrison, center, left; and Joe Thomas, center, right) are headed off to a Greek-isle getaway, during which they mean to get laid and get drunk, not necessarily in that order.

What follows? Surprise: everything from drinking (above)...

to dancing...

to dry humping...

to barfing (more than once, too!) ...

and it is all such fun, for maybe fifteen minutes, or for fifteen-year-olds or mature 10-year-olds. There's also the ex-girlfriend Mr. Thomas has left behind (Emily Head, above left),

who -- another surprise! -- tuns up on the island to unintentionally thwart his possible new romance with one of the four-girl group (above: talk about convenience!) that our fellows soon meet. We've even got a sexy, cute creep (Theo James, below, center), who, yes, gets his proper comeuppance.

Am I giving away spoilers?  I think not. The only real way to spoil a beyond-cliche-ridden movie like this one would be to take a the tip of a letter-opener to its digital disc. Why? Well, when every bit of humor, and I do mean every bit, rises from the naievete-unto-stupidity of our male quartet,  this soon begins to grow a tad expected and, dare I suggest, tiresome.

So, with the above warning (perhaps it sounds more like an inducement?), I leave you to make your own decision. But you probably should know, if you haven't already guessed, that TrustMovies didn't much care for America Pie (or its many offspring), either.

The Inbetweeners, distributed in the USA by Wrekin Hill Entertainment, hits theaters this coming Friday, September 7. In New York City, it will play exclusively at Regal's Union Square Stadium 14. You can see its complete schedule of ten-city playdates, with theaters included, by clicking here, and scrolling, as they say, down.