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Sadness Is Good If Done Well, and This Is
Spike Jonze's Her follows a lonely writer who gradually falls in love with his computer's sentient operating system (OS 1). Poor Theodore Twombley is sensitive and empathetic but just can't quite figure out how to get that across to the women in his life until he meets the one gal who's specifically designed to be exactly right for him.
The irony is that Theodore works for a fictional web company (sometime in the near future) called Beautiful Handwritten Letters (dot-com), where we see the letters being "handwritten" on a computer screen using voice-activated script fonts. But, despite the artifice and deceptive business practice, there's real human intelligence and caring behind the text of the letters. Theodore's really good at imagining himself in the position of the people who've asked him to pour out "their" hearts in the letters he's composing on their behalf in some cases for repeat clients who've been coming to him for 8 years.
Not at all techy (not even an admonition to back up your hard drive, with accompanying cautionary tale), it's a really low-key film about the quest for human connection. It's not talky, either, but the limited dialog (by Jonze) is well crafted, realistic, and involving.
The most unbelievable part is that our boy lives 2 floors up from Amy Adams, who's a good friend of his, and he hasn't crawled across crushed glass to try to win her affections. The least unbelievable part is that he attains an intellectual and emotional resonance with the warm, cheerful voice of Samantha (voiced by Scarlett Johanssen, never seen), who's always there for him, constantly evolves to adapt to his personality, and is exquisitely sensitive to his moods.
It's a really sad movie with flits and blips of light-heartedness and happiness. Much of it is just Joaquin Phoenix's sorrowful face filling the screen in silence. This is about as far from Transformers and Pacific Rim as imaginable, which is all to the good IMHO. There is zero action, indeed, hardly any rapid movement of any kind. It's quiet and contemplative, giving the audience a chance to reflect on what we really seek out of a relationship and discover that the physical connection is only part of it, and probably a dispensable part at that.
It's from Annapurna Productions, the independent studio founded by Megan Ellison (dottor of úber-billionaire Oracle founder Larry Ellison), and that is turning out to be quite the mark of quality. It didn't go into wide release until last month, but they snuck in a limited release in December to qualify for the 2013 Oscars, and, sure enuf, it's a Best Picture nominee.
About Time (2013)
A Lovely, Lovely Film
About Time is full of really nice people who love each other, and you want nothing but good things for all of them. And that often turns out to be possible, thanks to the Lake family secret. All the Lake men have a limited ability to travel backward in time only to earlier points in their own lives, true ("We can't go back and kill Hitler or anything."), but usually getting a 2nd run at various awkwardnesses and infelicities is all it takes to smooth out life's little bumps and jolts.
Aside from the time travel, the biggest imagination-stretcher is that Rachel McAdams's Mary is a single gal in London in her early 20s and doesn't have a boyfriend. Our hero, the gawky but endearing Tim Lake (Domhnall Gleeson), recognizes the cosmic injustice in that and determines to use his powers for good (or, in this case, love). But between his wistful adieu from the shy, plain girl he's met in a lights-out bistro and getting set to call the number she's punched into his cell phone, he performs a good deed for a friend, and it turns out that his little jaunt into the past has erased his evening's conversation with Mary from her memory and her number from his phone.
That's about the highest level of stress this film ever reaches. It's the farthest thing on Earth from an action-adventurer. It's mainly a love story with minor elements of comedy (sometimes it takes several re-runs at the past to get things just right, and we see the failed attempts in quick succession) and pathos.
It's written and directed by Richard Curtis, who earlier did About a Boy and Notting Hill, so you know he's got the characterization down cold, and Bill Nighy, Lydia Wilson, Lindsay Duncan, Tom Hollander, Richard Cordery, and Margot Robbie are pitch-perfect in supporting roles. And, if I didn't emphasize it strongly enuf earlier, you'll really like all of these people, even the crusty curmudgeonly playwright Harry.
Go see the movie.You won't be sorry. You can thank me later.
The World's End (2013)
Better Than the American Equivalent, "This Is the End", Funnier, Less Raunchy
The World's End is kind of like a British version of This Is the End, an American buddy comedy featuring a gang of raunchy male actors from the Judd Apatow repertory company. In this case, it's Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, Martin Freeman, Paddy Considine, and Eddie Marsan as high-school buddies who tried to perform a heroic pub crawl the Golden Mile, 12 pubs in a single evening on the night of their graduation but didn't make it all the way to Pub #12, The World's End.
Now, 23 years later, head provocateur and wastrel Gary King (Pegg) wants them all to reunite to have another go at it. A subtle joke (too subtle for the blatant barf and fart humor this movie basically appeals to) is that all the family names involved (respectively King, Knightley, Chamberlain, Prince, and Page) are titles you'd find in a royal court, not among the commoners. Things start to go awry 4 pubs and 35 minutes into the movie when they discover that true bluebloods, human-like androids ("Don't call us robots"), have essentially taken over the old home town of Newton Haven and are gradually replacing all the actual humans with simulacra. This being a dark comedy centered around drinking more than alien invaders, our 5 lads decide to carry on with their quest even as the situation deteriorates around them.
The movie, despite having some good moments, never really quite clicked. It wasn't overtly bad, just not at all compelling.
The Quest for the Next Franchise Continues Unfulfilled
The Mortal Instruments is the first in what was obviously hoped to be a series that would catch on like Harry Potter or The Twilight Saga (or, one presumes, The Hunger Games). Alas, it's more like The Golden Compass, The Spiderwick Chronicles, City of Ember, I Am Number 4, or the Percy Jackson "series" (currently up to #2). It features a naive teenager who's heir to mystical powers but who has been "protected" from that knowledge up until a crisis from the other world claims her mother. The dotter, Clary (Lily Collins, the good Snow White from the bad Snow White movie), and her mom, Jocelyn (Lena Headey from Game of Thrones, The Sarah Connor Chronicles, and the under-appreciated The Purge) are perfectly fine, tho Jocelyn gets to spend much of the film doing her Sleeping Beauty impersonation. The rest of the movie is portentous and stylized. It has a few good action scenes, and an interesting wrinkle or 2 in the plot line, but it suffers from the same problem that all these supernatural/demigod films do, which is trying to explain the motives of the bad guys, other than just, well, that's the way villains are supposed to behave. It doesn't get all carried away with special effects but actually lets the actors perform. I will leave it to the females who see it to explain to me why the heavily tattooed shadow hunter Jace (Jamie Campbell Bower) is supposed to set young Clary's heart all aflutter, as he seems to me to be self-centered, boorish, and badly in need of shampoo. But then, maybe that's what's in these days.
Like a Jell-O Banquet Lots of Volume, But Not Very Filling
They say there are 2 rules for success in business: (1) Never tell everything you know.
That seems to have been the watchword for this biopic as well. It's half of the story of Steve Jobs in business. It starts partway thru his career, in 2001, with the announcement of the iPod to an adoring auditorium full of Apple employees by a gray-bearded Jobs, seen in all his mock-turtlenecked skinniness only at a distance. And we get a glimmer (but only that) of the famous reality distortion field that legendarily surrounded him and made everybody in the vicinity want to believe what he was saying, support what he was promoting, buy what he was selling.
Almost immediately, tho, it cuts to the early, much furrier Jobs, a barefoot dropout on the campus of hippieish Reed College during the flower-child era. If the subtitle hadn't made the time shift explicit, the strains of Cat Stevens singing Peace Train sure would've. (Later we get House of the Rising Sun; the nicely done sound track keeps pace with the internal chronology.) And here we get a look at the personal side of Jobs, the hyper-jerky side, as he seduces a coed and afterward, when she offers him a tab of acid and a few extra for the road, he takes her up on the offer because, he says, he wants to share it with "my only friend, my girlfriend". Geez, dude, at least put your pants on before flaming the nice lady.
A bit later he throws his "only friend" out of the house when she says she's pregnant. He refuses to admit that her eventual child, Lisa, is his (despite a paternity test to the contrary) and even refuses visitation rights, tho it would cost him nothing to accept but never use them. Yet, at the same time, he's throwing himself heart, mind, soul, and other people's hard work and ingenuity into a gargantuan project for his company's next-generation computer to be called ... Lisa. Whom does he see as his real child? The subject is ripe for psychoanalysis, but the movie not only doesn't beat you over the head with it, it doesn't even remark upon it.
And that's the way it is thruout the whole film a fair amount of detail, but all on the surface, from the public record, no depth, and gaping lacunae all over the place. We get only the barest glimpse of why the original Apple 2 was considered so far superior to all its competitors at the time. John Sculley orchestrated Jobs's ouster from Apple in 1985, and Jobs spent a dozen years that might as well have been in the wilderness according to the movie, since we see him only as hands weeding a garden during a few-minute montage before he resumed control of Apple by booting Gil Amelio in 1996. There is one flicker of him appearing before the logo of NeXT, his post-Apple company, but no mention whatsoever of his co-founding of Pixar Animation.
During the 2 tenures of Apple years we are treated to brief appearances by some of the famous names of the technical and creative geniuses behind Apple Steve Wozniak (who comes off as the sweetest guy on Earth, a largely accurate reading, according to all accounts), Jony I've, Jef Raskin, and Andy Hertzfeld. (I had a laff-out-loud moment when Jobs is introduced to Hertzfeld, looks him straight in the eye, and asks in all seriousness "Are you good?" Well, I guess there's no way he could really have known how ridiculous the question would sound 20 years later.) But we never really learn why they're good. We don't really see their work (aside from a little smoke curling up from Wozniak's soldering iron) or hear them explain their ideas. As with Steve Jobs himself, the movie is all about Steve Jobs.
And when the timeline has advanced as far as the opening scene, in 2001, the movie stops. It doesn't conclude, it just quits. The last scene is of Jobs recording the voice-over for the "Think Different" commercial (which I consider the greatest of all time, better even than "1984", which is reprised at about half length), and then he asks "How was that?" Fade to black.
No iPhone. No iTunes. No Mac OS X. No iPad. No cloud computing. No WiFi. No resuscitation of Disney. None of the subsequent triumphs. (I suppose it goes without saying that there is nothing about the failures, such as the Newton, eWorld, or Taligent.) Almost nothing more about his personal life. Nothing about his health problems. The only allusion to his death is the final title card "Steven Paul Jobs 1955-2011".
Instead, we get to see a lot of shots of rich white guys in suits sitting around a board room playing corporate money, mind, and power games. Big whoop!
We know about banks that are too big to fail. Maybe Steve Jobs's life is too big to film. It's hard to fault this movie for what it actually did especially if you take a good look at the still shots at the end, where the actual men in Jobs's life (and they were essentially all men) are shown right next to the actors who portrayed them, and you have to give a big shout-out to the superb job done by casting director Mary Vernieu. Ashton Kutcher as Jobs was every bit as good as Noah Wyle in Pirates of Silicon Valley, which is no small praise. But there was so much the film didn't do that it leaves you feeling like you've just had a Jell-O banquet lots of volume (over 2 hours running time), but strangely unfilling and unsatisfying.
Kick-Ass 2 (2013)
Nothing "Comic" about This Excellent (but extremely violent) "Comic" Book Adaptation
Kick-Ass 2 (1:43, R) 8 fantasy: comics & pulps, 2nd string, sequel, OSIT feminists
The film snobs over at The Onion's AV Club hated the original Kick-Ass and thot the sequel was only slightly better. The aggregators at Rotten Tomatoes had the opposite experience, with the original scoring 77% on the Tomatometer but the sequel clocking in at only 27% (still early, tho). IMDb has them about even and pretty good at 7.8 and 7.5, respectively. I loved the first one (it got an 8) and thot the 2nd one was just as good (also an 8). Of course, I'm a huge comic-book geek and appreciate more than most any movie that treats the comic-book genre with the seriousness I think it deserves.
Kick-Ass 2 is violent as hell and not Wile E. Coyote violence, either, the real bone- snapping, blood-spurting, knife-to-the-throat, screaming-death kind and fully deserves its R rating. The opening scene shows a 15-year-old girl shooting a teen boy point-blank with a high-caliber revolver. Death #1 (an insensitive mother being electrocuted in a tanning bed) occurs only 7 minutes in. It is not for the squeamish.
While the dialog refers to the extensive character list as superheroes and supervillains, the former should really be known as costumed crime-fighters, since they don't have a single superpower among them. The latter, I guess, need to be called costumed criminals for parallellism.
Chris D'Amico, the teen son of gang boss Frank D'Amico, who was killed with a bazooka by Kick-Ass at the end of the first movie, is practically frothing at the mouth for revenge. Christopher Mintz-Plasse yes, the little skinny, wimpy actor is absolutely gonzo as the blood-lusting, sociopathic maniac. "My superpower is money!", he declares, as he proceeds to use his inherited fortune to buy up a band of costumed thugs to help him track down his nemesis and dispatch him most horribly and cruelly.
Aaron Taylor-Johnson has a kind of thankless role as the eponymous Kick-Ass, high-school dweeb by day, self-questioning punching bag by night (which he can endure mainly because nerve damage from a beating in the first film left him mostly insensitive to pain), who nonetheless continues to believe that ordinary people have to stand up and be counted in order to make the world a better place. As more like him start coming out of the woodwork, they coalesce into a team, a la DC's Justice League or Marvel's Avengers.
That team is led by a snarling, unshaven, cameo-clad Jim Carrey, as Mafia hit man turned born-again Christian Colonel Stars and Stripes. He picks up chewing the scenery where Nicolas Cage left off at the end of the first movie.
But the unquestioned star of the show is the awesome Chloë Grace Moretz as Mindy Macready, a tiny, demure high-school freshman who's the brunt of psychological cruelty from the older girls in the school's "in" crowd, who sneer that she'll never amount to anything. She just shuts up and takes it, knowing she's already accomplished more in her brief alternate identity as a real, serious, super-competent costumed crime-fighter than the social butterflies will likely do in their entire lives. But she's promised Detective Marcus Williams (Morris Chestnut) her father's former partner, who promised he'd look after her that she'd given up that life. "Hit Girl that's not who you are.", he assures her. Oh, yes, she is!
After young D'Amico, now going by the nom de guerre The Motherfµcker, and his gang waste nearly a dozen cops in under 5 minutes, the entire police force turns on anyone wearing a costume. Of course, it's easy to round up the ones who think they're the good guys, because they're not in hiding and they don't resist the authorities. This makes it all the more dangerous for the few who are still free solely because nobody knows their secret identities but the baddies have an inside tip, and they vastly outnumber our heroes as they close in for the kill which, make no mistake, will be a LITERAL kill.
There are plot twists, ugly surprises, a fair amount of philosophizing, a (very) few laff lines, believably realistic consequences for violence, and solid dialog. Credit for the latter goes to Mark Millar, who wrote the original graphic novel, and Jeff Wadlow, who adapted it into a screenplay. Wadlow also directed, and blessedly eschewed the kind of frenetic, whirling, super-quick-cutting, too-fast-to-follow fight scenes that made Pacific Rim and the Transformers series so unsatisfying. Neither did he go for the tired old technique of snapping momentarily into slo-mo, which was already starting to wear out its welcome with the $6,000,000 man back into the 1970s. You watch these action scenes, and they look like what real people would really do in real life. Pretty good for a comic book. No surprise to those of us who knew they had it in them.
Upstream Color (2013)
a triumph of pretension over lucidity
Upstream Color (1:36, NR) 2 borderline, bargain basement, original
Shane Carruth is justly famed in SF fandom for Primer, an ultra, super, hyper low-budget film shot in a storage locker with a cast of about 2.5 where you spend most of the movie wondering exactly what the heck is going on here. But, once you do, you can't help but admire the cleverness of how you were set up for it.
So I had hopes for Upstream Color, Carruth's 2nd feature, which he spent 9 years building up to. As with Primer, Carruth wrote, directed, produced, acted in, edited, and scored the film, and also spent some time running the camera. Unfortunately, in this one you spend ALL of the movie wondering exactly what the heck is going on here.
It's not quite a silent film, but don't count on the dialog for help in figuring out what's up. For the first 15 minutes it's minimally audible mundanities; for the last half hour, it's totally non- existent; and in between it's sparse, sporadic, and largely soporific. For almost all of it there's subtle, atonal, pulsing background tones which I don't think really qualifies as music but which does serve to create a sense of unease and everything being somewhat off.
The plot, such as I could decipher it, is that an unfortunate young woman, Kris (Amy Seimetz), gets tasered into unconsciousness and has a parasitic worm literally forced down her throat. It seems to make her hypnotically suggestible, during which time her mainly unseen assaulter runs her thru a series of odd exercises, including looting her bank account. Gradually she seems to return to normal, but by then she's been missing from work for some time and her credit is completely shot, so she loses her job.
We next pick up on her some time later (the time lapse indicated by a noticeably shorter hair style) as this guy on a train, Jeff (Carruth) spots her and uses really crappy, creepy pick-up techniques on her which nonetheless eventually prove successful.
Meanwhile, intercut thru all of this (and there is a LOT of cutting in this movie seldom does a given shot last more than 5 seconds) is this sound engineer who spends a lot of his time in a fenced-in pigpen for no apparent reason and never utters a word.
These are the more or less intelligible parts of the movie. Most of it is less accessible.
This is a triumph of pretension over lucidity.
Pacific Rim (2013)
Neo-Godzillas vs. Giant Transformers; Both Lose
Pacific Rim (2:11, PG-13, Imax, 3-D) 2 SF, biggie, original, OSIT chauvinists
Clocking in at 2:11, the exact same running length as Iron Man 3 (and also with the same PG- 13 rating), Pacific Rim manages about 10% of the personality and intellectual content, traded off for about 400% of the death, destruction, general smashing, and noise.
It's a mash-up of the rubber-suited Godzillas (now rendered in 3-D by state-of-the-art computers to no greater degree of credibility) and the incredibly noisy, frenetic, jumble-cut train wrecks of the Transformers series. What appear to be people walk thru several of the scenes, generally shouting at or speaking severely to each other in intense tones except for the wild-eyed, agitated jargon-slinging of the last 2 scientists on Earth that you'd want entrusted with the preservation of civilization (who, of course, are exactly that).
Much of the dialog is muddled and only semi-intelligible, except for some nice, crisp subtitles on the screen when the only female for 100 klicks in any direction, Mako Mori (played by the charming Rimko Kikuchi, the only person in the entire movie who ever smiles), gets off a few lines of ritual self-deprecation and submissiveness. Otherwise it's a testosterone-laden gonad flaunting to see who owns the fire hydrant.
Mori and ostensible hero Raleigh Becket (Charlie Hunnam) are co-pilots of Gypsy Danger, the last remaining Mark 3 model jaeger (German for "fighter"), which is a truly gargantuan robotic fighting machine that's so complicated it requires 2 synced-up human brains (said to be "in the drift" when linked) to control it properly. The Mark 3 is recommissioned after all the newer models are rendered useless when the invading kaiju (Japanese for "giant beasts"), arriving thru a trans-dimensional rift on the Pacific floor, deploy electrical zappers to short out all the digital electronics. "But the Mark 3 is analog", exclaims Becket, as he volunteers to take it out to battle a pair of kaiju who emerged in only the last couple of hours to threaten Hong Kong (after earlier lone monster warriors had wreaked havoc on San Francisco, Manila, and either Cabo or Kabul couldn't tell from the garbly soundtrack).
The human-seeming characters have tried in the past to nuke the rift in the ocean floor and so seal it off from further kaiju incursions, but they've had trouble getting past some obstacle whose name and nature are fleetingly alluded to and thereafter ignored. This time, tho, they have the advantage of some work-around that one of the scientists discovered when doing a jaeger-pilot-style mind-meld with what's left of the brain of an earlier kaiju.
The time it took you to read the above plot description is about as much as what the movie spent on it. Yet Travis Beacham will still collect a check for what is honorarily known as a "screenplay". Fully 80% of the film is just whirling, thudding, smashing, bashing fight scenes, which move so fast and in such close-up (also generally in darkness and lots of splashing water, since this is a surf movie of a sort) that you can't tell who's who or who's doing what to which.
I saw it in Imax (a good size screen for the spectacle that director Guillermo Del Toro is obviously trying to create), 3-D (originally shot as such for the CGI scenes but post-converted for the minority of the film that pretends to pay attention to people), and 20,000 watts of surround sound (which blessedly weren't quite as deafening as the literally painful Transformers 2). The talents of Ramin Djawadi, who wrote the haunting, evocative theme song to HBO's Game of Thrones, are here wasted on what I'm sure he was instructed to render as pompous bombast, which plays relentlessly under almost every scene.
There's a welcome cameo appearance by Ron Perlman as a larger-than-life underworld figure who's discovered that the market for powdered rhino horn or tiger penis pales in comparison to what flaccid Asian men are apparently willing to pay on the black market for reprocessed kaiju.
You know that Del Toro is going to max out the visuals, and he doesn't disappoint in that regard, which is one of the few things keeping this regrettable pile of brainless, pointless, overwrot violence from sinking all the way down that rift in the Pacific trenches to a rating of 1.
Man of Steel (2013)
Too Much Blowing Stuff Up
I ran into a friend immediately after seeing Man of Steel, and he asked me what I thot. You know Malcolm Gladwell's book Blink, where the premise is that the first thing you blurt out is likely to be accurate? Well, I discovered, somewhat to my own surprise, that the 1st 5 words out of my mouth were "Too much blowing stuff up."
As a long-time comic-book fan, I really wanted to like this movie, but I can't give it any better than a 6. The things that drag it upward are all the things I liked about Spider-Man, the Dark Knight trilogy, and The Avengers. The main thing dragging it down was that it spent way too much of its 2:23 run time trying to be louder, more frenetic, and more destructive than the Transformers flicks. Some of the plot elements and dialog were a step or 2 up from Green Lantern, but that still doesn't raise them very high.
The 3-D is a post-production conversion job and definitely not worth paying extra for. The main reason to see it in Imax is to get the benefit of the surround sound assaulting your eardrums for most of the pic.
There's about 75 minutes of halfway decent movie in here. Too bad about all the stuffing.
Iron Man Three (2013)
A Quintessential Smart-Aleck Summer Action Blockbuster
Iron Man 3 (2:11, PG-13, Imax, 3-D) fantasy: comics & pulps, biggie, sequel
OK, I'd like to write a full review of Iron Man 3, but there are lots of plot twists in it, and I couldn't get very far into a plot description before having to shut up about them. This story complexity enhances the overall experience for me, but it's still just a glorious action-packed comic-book romp at heart, and so it's kind of hard to take it ALL that seriously. Screenwriters Drew Pearce and Shane Black (who also directed) certainly don't do anything to discourage that attitude, either.
Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.), depicted as unaccustomedly angst-ridden over Earth's near- miss in last summer's The Avengers, bookends the film with motormouth talk therapy about his inability to sleep and anxiety attacks. These beset him at plot-convenient points in the movie but otherwise are far from crippling when it really matters, certainly not interfering with snappy sarcastic lines at every opportunity.
The Mandarin (Ben Kingsley) is a suitably menacing bad guy in the Evil Emperor of the Universe mold, but he's not everything he appears to be. His main attributes are the ability to take control of all TV channels in America at once (something Rupert Murdoch would pay gigabux to acquire), a combination Burning Hands and Cure Serious Wounds spell, utter ruthlessness, and a flair for hammy theatrics. Again, not to be taken seriously.
In addition to his loyal and super-competent aides, the human Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) and the AI Jarvis (voice of Paul Bettany), Tony Stark may (or may not) be able to count on 2 figures from his past, who pitched innovative ideas at him during his devil-may-care playboy days when he was partying like it was 1999 (because it was): biological researcher Maya Hansen (Rebecca Hall) and fellow inventor/entrepreneur Aldrich Killian (Guy Pearce). They went on to succeed in their respective fields without the aid of Stark Industries, but they seem kind of taken with the idea of teaming up to save the world from malicious evildoers, since it got such good press in 2012.
If you follow pro football at all, you know that there's been a lot of concern over player concussions, even despite helmets. These happen either when a fast-moving player is stopped suddenly and the brain bangs into the inside of the skull, or when a relatively stationary skull takes a hard smack and whacks into the brain. Either way, even if the hard outer shell remains intact and unscathed, the vulnerable squishy parts inside take the damage and pay the price. This fundamental fact of physical biology is utterly, utterly ignored in Iron Man 3. As are many other laws of science. As if anyone really cares.
Did I mention Project Extremis? The White House plot? Iron Patriot? The many cameo appearances? The Exxon Valdez manque? The self-propelled armor elements? Harley, the cute little boy from Rose Hill, Tennessee, with the instincts of a future Tony Stark? Miss Elk Ridge? The rocket attack on not-at-all stately Stark Mansion? The chain-skydiving aerial rescue? Yeah, they managed to cram all that into the 2:11 running time, too. Man, you can see where they spent the money, and you sure get your OWN money's worth.
Imax totally worth it; 3-D (conversion) not, but you get the 3-D if you go with the Imax, so there you are.