THE ADJUSTMENT BUREAU One person's religious beliefs is often another person's existentialist theories, and The Adjustment Bureau offers plenty of theological fodder to go around. Because it tinkers with notions involving God and chance and destiny and all that other stuff that's fun to discuss, it might turn off those types of folks who misunderstood Martin Scorsese's brilliant and heartfelt Christian ode, The Last Temptation of Christ. Other viewers, however, might appreciate the movie's ability to question omniscient authority with the proper mix of reverence and reflection. Based on a short story by Philip K. Dick, this stars Matt Damon as aspiring U.S. senator David Norris, who meets promising dancer Elise Sellas (Emily Blunt); the pair are instantly attracted to one another, but David soon learns from the members of a shadowy cabal that they are never meant to be together. But David refuses to accept his fate, leading the mysterious enforcers to resort to strong-arm tactics to contain the situation. The film's notion that true love conquers all would fall flat with the wrong leads, but Damon and Blunt possess a lovely, laid-back chemistry that allows us to believe in their union. Because their casting is so apt, this often feels like a romantic yarn first and a fantasy flick second, with some nifty chase sequences thrown in for good measure. ***

ARTHUR Here's the dirty secret about 1981's Arthur: It's no classic. So the fact that Hollywood has dared to serve up a remake is hardly an earthshaking scandal; after all, it's not like somebody foolishly decided to remake Citizen Kane or The Godfather or Psycho (oops; scratch that last one). The result is that the new Arthur is a minor guilty pleasure, a freewheeling comedy that offers a fair number of laughs for those who haven't yet grown tired of Russell Brand (a rapidly shrinking demographic, admittedly). Brand is (dare I say it?) the equal of Dudley Moore, who enjoyed a career high mark (and an Oscar nomination) for the original but whose luster dimmed once it became apparent that he tackled every role as if he were portraying a drunk. For his part, Brand draws upon his own party-animal status to play the childlike millionaire, a perpetually inebriated ne'er-do-well who's blackmailed into agreeing to marry a strong-willed socialite (Jennifer Garner) but instead finds love with a sweet girl (Greta Gerwig) from the wrong side of the tracks. Certainly, the best component of the original was John Gielgud's hilarious, Oscar-winning turn as Arthur's droll butler, Hobson. Here, the character has been reconfigured as Arthur's long-suffering nanny, and while Helen Mirren conveys the role's requisite bite, she simply doesn't make the same impact as her predecessor. Also detrimental to the film is its lurch toward contemporary political correctness (the '81 model was cheerfully, unapologetically rude), most obvious in the dreary attempts to show Arthur learning about the dangers of alcoholism and the joys of a hard day's work. These sequences prove to be a real drag; like its protagonist, Arthur is at its best when making a spectacle of itself. **1/2

BATTLE: LOS ANGELES It takes a special type of hack to make Roland Emmerich look like Steven Spielberg, but Jonathan Liebesman appears to be the right man for the job. The less said about most Emmerich movies (like 2012 and Matthew Broderick Meets Godzilla), the better, but he did helm Independence Day, and for all that film's faults, it knew how to milk the hell out of its H.G. Wells-by-way-of-Hollywood premise and, silly as it sounds, make us proud to be human. Battle: Los Angeles is so feeble that we really don't care who wins the global skirmish: the E.T.s or the earthlings. At least if the aliens win, we won't have to sit through any more movies like this one. As the film begins, most of the major cities are being decimated, leaving LA as the last great hope for humankind's survival. "Retreat? Hell!" bark the Marines tasked with saving the planet, as a sign that they'll never back down. B:LA is such an ADD-afflicted action film that it's impossible to invest much emotion in its one-dimensional characters — "Where's Lenihan?" someone asks regarding a missing comrade, but they might as well have been asking, "Where's Waldo?" for all it ultimately matters. The design of the alien critters is the usual blend of crunchy on the outside and squishy on the inside, but that's OK, since the camerawork and editing are executed at such dizzying paces that we never get a good look at most of the CGI work anyway. "Retreat"? Hell, yeah! Where's the nearest exit? *1/2

BIG MOMMAS: LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON Big Mommas: Like Father, Like Son isn't like Some Like It Hot; instead, it's like every other witless sequel meant to prolong the life cycle of a flailing franchise. Like it or not, the fact remains that there's not much to like here, and it only escapes a bomb rating because it's more irritating than offensive — like an ant crawling across a countertop rather than a roach roosting in the cereal box. The second sequel to the 2000 box office hit Big Momma's House, this finds Martin Lawrence again cast as FBI agent Malcolm Turner, donning the wig and fat suit once more to elude some Russian mobsters. The added, uh, hilarity comes with the notion that Malcolm's stepson Trent (Brandon T. Jackson) must also disguise himself as a female — in his case, a student named Charmaine. Together, Madea — excuse me, Big Momma — and Charmaine head to an all-girls arts school to uncover some evidence that will put away the criminals on their trail. Big Momma gets romantically wooed by a hefty caretaker (Faizon Love) who's into hefty women, Charmaine ogles the young ladies as they strip down to their undies, and everyone involved dutifully collects their paychecks while hoping for better luck the next time out. *1/2

DRIVE ANGRY Nicolas Cage's hilarious cameo in Grindhouse must have whetted the actor's appetite for headlining throwbacks to the disreputable fare of yore, as evidenced by many of the movies he's accepted over the last few years. Despite its high-gloss 3-D presentation, Drive Angry is the most obvious example of his commitment, given its penchant for fast cars, hot women and bloody violence. Cage plays Milton, who escapes Satan's lair to return to Earth for the sole purpose of saving his granddaughter from a murderous cult led by Jonah King (Billy Burke); along the way, he's assisted by a tough beauty named Piper (Amber Heard) and pursued by Lucifer's most accomplished tracker, known simply as "The Accountant" (William Fichtner). The opening half-hour, which relies heavily on the story's unusual characterizations as well as on some finely salted dialogue, promises more than the rest of the picture can deliver. Even by mindless drive-in standards, the action becomes rote long before the end, and Jonah King turns out to be a dull, one-note villain, a detriment in this sort of over-the-top fare. Even Cage is restrained more than usual, leaving Fichtner to provide any pop to the proceedings. He's amusing in that quirky Christopher Walken way, and a more appropriately bug-eyed turn from Cage would have resulted in a more memorable face-off. **

GNOMEO & JULIET In this toon take on, what else, William Shakespeare's immortal Romeo & Juliet, the majority of the characters are garden gnomes who come to life whenever the humans aren't around. As in the original text, the families of the boy (voiced by James McAvoy) and girl (Emily Blunt) are constantly feuding, making their love a forbidden one. But unlike the current Rango, the film is strictly for small children, with only a few shout-outs to Shakespeare and a happy ending grafted onto the proceedings. The music score relies on slightly altered versions of Elton John standards, and while it's always nice to hear his classics in any form, they're usually integrated into the story in only the most perfunctory manner. Honestly, for all the difference it would make, they could have just booted the EJ tunes and instead employed, say, Gerry Rafferty's "Baker Street" or Cee Lo's "Fuck You." **

THE GREEN HORNET Seth Rogen, superhero? It's nearly impossible to wrap the mind around such an outlandish idea, almost on par with Sarah Palin as U.S. president or Ricky Gervais as the next recipient of the Golden Globes Lifetime Achievement Award. Yet it's Rogen's slovenly appearance and snarky asides that help transform The Green Hornet into not just another superhero movie. Having said that, this is still rough going in many respects. An update of the 1960s TV show starring Van Williams and Bruce Lee (and a 1930s radio show before that), this finds Rogen (who also co-scripted) giving the Judd Apatow treatment to the role of Britt Reid, a wealthy party animal who, along with his ingenious employee Kato (Jay Chou), decides to fight crime by donning a mask and becoming The Green Hornet. We're not talking Dark Knight territory here: The plot doesn't advance so much as lurch forward like an alcoholic making another trip to the bar, the villain (played by Inglourious Basterds Oscar winner Christophe Waltz) is a cinematic zero, and the initially exciting action soon becomes redundant. But the comic approach works more often than not, Rogen and Chou banter with ease, and some of the gadgets are indeed pretty cool. Note to self: I've got to get me one of those coffee makers! **1/2

HALL PASS It's hard to wax philosophic about a film in which a portly guy stoned out of his gourd elects to use a golf course sand trap like so much kitty litter, so let's just state that the latest from the Farrelly Brothers doesn't merely alternate between scenes that are dumb and dumber. It's actually a smart picture at times, both in its dissection of marital matters and in its ability to extract solid laughs from dubious situations. Owen Wilson and Jason Sudeikis play Rick and Fred, suburban hubbies who spend all their time ogling other women and imagining all the fun they could be having were they still single. After some debate, their wives (Jenna Fischer and Christina Applegate) elect to give them a "hall pass," the opportunity to take a week off from marriage and do whatever they desire. But getting back into the swingers' swing of things is harder than the men imagined. Perhaps in an effort to compete with the industry's younger raconteurs of raunch, the Farrellys go all-out with the gross-outs, leading to mixed results (two scenes featuring bowel movements is at least one — and probably two — too many). This, combined with a sloppy third act as well as the whopping screen time given to an annoying minor character (a crazed barista played by Derek Waters), admittedly dilutes much of the film's impact. Still, it's memorable enough to get a passing recommendation from me. **1/2

HANNA With a young girl as its steely-eyed, bloodletting protagonist, Hanna can't help but be compared to Kick-Ass, what with its steely-eyed, bloodletting Hit Girl. Bring it on: This is one film that can take down its competition. While Kick-Ass was criticized in many circles for glorifying the mayhem exacted by its pint-sized heroine, director Joe Wright is careful not to allow the same charges to be hurled against his new picture. As ably portrayed by Atonement's Saoirse Ronan, Hanna likewise is out to avenge a dead mother, but Wright and his three writers treat her cat-and-mouse game against the person responsible — a hissable CIA operative played by Cate Blanchett — with a hardcore efficiency that eschews any sops toward gorehounds. But that's not to say the film is cuddly within the confines of its PG-13 rating. With even Hanna's dad (Eric Bana), the ex-agent who teaches her how to survive at all costs, opting for tough love instead of tender moments, this is a brutal and uncompromising motion picture — at least until it cowardly tries to sidestep the obvious fate of some of its most likable characters, hoping that audience members won't remember to question it afterward. The choppy denouement could stand to be longer — the film wraps up even as we're still trying to process new information and fill in the blanks (some of which remain glaringly empty) — but with its crisp action sequences and unfussy acting, Hanna is a chase flick that on balance is worth catching. **1/2

INSIDIOUS While it's probably time to call for a moratorium on both haunted-house thrillers and creepy-child sagas, Insidious milks a bit of innovativeness from both these sub-genres before self-destructing. Patrick Wilson and Rose Byrne make a believable couple as Josh and Renai Lambert, who move into an old mansion with their three kids in tow. An accident in the attic leaves son Dalton (Ty Simpkins) in a comatose state, and soon afterward, all sorts of supernatural shenanigans begin occuring. No problem; the Lamberts simply pack up and move out. But when strange things start happening at their new abode, they suspect that it wasn't the former house itself that was haunted... Director James Wan and scripter Leigh Whannell don't allow a PG-13 rating to temper their work: Rather than relying on gore, they manage to conjure some genuine tension by keeping both the characters and the audience off-kilter for much of the running time. But the film slips drastically with the introduction of two paranormal investigators whose painfully unfunny comic relief (we're not talking Bill Murray and Dan Aykroyd) disrupts the unsettling mood. Late arrival Lin Shaye (a grotesque foil in Farrelly movies) is excellent as the two clods' all-knowing boss, but her elaborate — and exceedingly daft — explanations regarding the otherworldly occurrences further deflate the project, and the frantic finale is simply overkill. And the less said about the awful last-minute twist, the better. **1/2

JUST GO WITH IT Adam Sandler's latest catnip for knuckleheads is based on Cactus Flower, a farce that's been the basis for a French play, a Broadway hit, and a middling 1969 film starring Walter Matthau, Ingrid Bergman and Goldie Hawn in her Oscar-winning role. The base story — the usual formula about a man (in this case, Sandler's plastic surgeon) who spends all his time chasing the wrong woman (Brooklyn Decker's school teacher) before realizing that the Right One (Jennifer Aniston's office assistant) was by his side all along — is workable, there are a few genuine chuckles, and the child actors (Bailee Madison and Griffin Gluck) have more personality than the usual plastic moppets. But any potential is negated by bad casting choices — not Charlotte-raised bombshell Decker, who fulfills the minimal demands of her role, but screen irritant Nick Swardson, a useless Dave Matthews and a slumming Nicole Kidman — and the typical Sandler concessions to fratboy humor. Whether it's a kid pooping on Swardson's hand or Sandler describing his own poop as "black pickles," these witless interludes destroy the film's raison d'être: its romcom convictions. After all, it's hard to snuggle with your sweetie in the auditorium when both hands are required to cover your nose and mouth. *1/2

LIMITLESS For a film about a drug able to turn its user into a genius, Limitless isn't exactly the brightest bulb in the box — or the smartest movie in the multiplex, as it were. Bradley Cooper stars as Eddie Morra, a struggling writer who gains possession of tiny pills that, after ingested, allow him to write an entire novel in the course of four days while learning to play the piano and mastering a couple of foreign languages on the side. It turns out that this miracle pill unlocks that mythological 80% of the human brain that we don't use, so Eddie decides to put his newfound intelligence toward becoming a good capitalist. But things aren't all rosy for our upwardly mobile protagonist, as he's pursued by dangerous men and the pill's side effects are starting to take hold. The philosophical ramifications of suddenly becoming the most intelligent man on Earth are largely ignored, with the peeks into Eddie's beautiful mind simply conveyed through saturated color schemes and letters tumbling down from the rafters. Still, pushing aside the ridiculous ending and a few risible moments strewn throughout — a skating-rink sequence, Eddie lapping up blood Cronos-style, co-star Robert De Niro pretending to be interested in anything other than his paycheck — Limitless is a fairly entertaining thriller, and viewers aware of its limited appeal beforehand will probably enjoy it the most. **1/2

THE MUSIC NEVER STOPPED The music never stops in The Music Never Stopped, and that would be a problem if the tunes on parade were on the order of, say, Phil Collins' execrable "Sussudio" or Rebecca Black's splinter-in-the-tongue Web hit "Friday." But with a soundtrack lined with the likes of The Beatles and Bob Dylan, there's no chance of anybody finding themselves bleeding from the ears. Bleeding from the heart, though, might be another matter. Based on a true story (recounted in Dr. Oliver Sacks' case study "The Last Hippie"), this details the journey of two parents, Henry and Helen Sawyer (J.K. Simmons and Cara Seymour), as they try to deal with the fact that their alienated, grown son Gabriel (Lou Taylor Pucci) has been diagnosed with a head trauma that leaves him unable to form any new memories. As the parents attempt to communicate with their son, the conservative Henry is reminded of the conflicts that led his liberal son to split all those years ago. Progress in Gabriel's medical condition seems bleak until a therapist (Julia Ormond) realizes that music from Gabriel's youth — the classic sounds of 60s rock — can be used to trigger responses from him. It's pleasing to see Simmons in a rare lead role — he's more known for such supporting stints as Juno's dad or Peter Parker's editor — and it's notable that director Jim Kohlberg allows the emotional material to speak for itself rather than bathe it in manipulative, audience-pushing strokes. But perhaps his approach is a tad too muted: As it stands, the film plays like a slightly above-average television movie, the type that used to be described as a "TV weepie of the week." Some will collapse in tears over this story. Others will remain stone-cold. And still others, like me, will land somewhere in the middle of these extremes. **1/2

NO STRINGS ATTACHED Elizabeth Meriwether's script starts with a good idea: An emotionally blocked woman, Emma (Natalie Portman), and a perpetually peppy nice guy, Adam (Ashton Kutcher), find themselves attracted to each other, but because she's afraid of commitment, they agree to be "fuck buddies," satisfying each other's carnal urges whenever the need arises. No Strings Attached could have been fascinating had it made an honest attempt at exploring whether such a union could really work — think of it as a Last Tango in Paris for the Internet generation, with cell phones instead of butter as the story's chief accessory. But instead of Brando and Bertolucci, we have Kutcher and Ivan Reitman (who stopped mattering as a director after his partnership with Bill Murray in the 1980s), and the result is the usual rom-com ditherings, with the familiar assortment of stock supporting characters and one morally sound, preordained ending that again demonstrates the motto of hedonistic Hollywood is, "Do as I film, not as I do." The picture was too bland and forgettable to hurt Portman's Black Swan Oscar chances — she of course won — though I imagine her primary competition, The Kids Are All Right's Annette Bening, still read the negative notices with glee. *1/2

PAUL Often lewd, frequently crude, but always more clever than expected, Paul is ultimately a sweet homage to pop culture geeks, sci-fi aficionados and anyone who came of age on a steady diet of Spielberg blockbusters. Created by the acting-writing team of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost — the British lads behind Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz — the film casts the pair as Graeme and Clive, who've traveled to the U.S. to attend a sci-fi convention and make their own pilgrimage to all the reported UFO sites (Roswell, Area 51, etc.). At one of these locations, they stumble across Paul (voiced by Seth Rogen), an extraterrestrial who's been held by the government for 60 years and has just made his great escape. The film is least effective when it wanders outside its comfort zone of cinematic homage — Christian zealots, bigoted rednecks and pompous authors all find themselves in the line of fire, and the barbs are rather obvious (albeit usually funny). But when it comes to mining its fantasy-flick material, Paul is often slyly subversive: At one point, Clive reveals that he's always been interested in aliens — not since Close Encounters of the Third Kind or E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial but since Mac and Me, a dreadful and justly forgotten E.T. rip-off from the late 1980s. The film's sneakiness even extends to the casting of the primary villain, and an inversion of a classic sci-fi line once spoken by this performer might well leave viewers cheering. ***

RANGO The pleasures of Rango are vast enough to wash away the bitter aftertaste left by any of the feeble family films of late, although I suppose I should hasten to add that this isn't a kid flick by any stretch of the imagination: Instead of a G rating, it sports a PG, and I daresay even a PG-13 wouldn't have been out of the question. Then again, that's perfectly in line with a work that in its finest moments comes across as a Coen Brothers film with anthropomorphic animals instead of flesh-and-blood humans. Pirates of the Caribbean director Gore Verbinski has teamed with The Aviator scripter John Logan and re-teamed with Johnny Depp to fashion a frequently warped and always humorous quasi-Western in which a chameleon (voiced by Depp) who had previously enjoyed the comfy life of a family pet winds up in the dusty town of Dust, where he gets elected sheriff after convincing the locals that he's one tough hombre. Rango is so imaginatively realized in terms of its camera angles and backdrops that the sense of detail brings to mind a live-action flick rather than an animated one — it's no surprise to see ace cinematographer Roger Deakins (True Grit) listed in the closing credits as "visual consultant." As for the narrative, it's a film buff's delight, expertly incorporating elements from, among others, Clint Eastwood's Spaghetti Westerns, Cat Ballou, Apocalypse Now and even Chinatown. ***1/2

RED RIDING HOOD The idea of combining a werewolf tale with a whodunit is an interesting one, and the notion of adding layers of Freud and feminism onto the wolfman saga is positively genius. These angles have been tackled before (The Beast Must Die and The Company of Wolves, respectively), but Red Riding Hood ambitiously tries to conquer the lycanthrope tale on both fronts. A well-cast Amanda Seyfried plays Valerie, a young medieval maiden whose village has long been plagued by a werewolf. A visiting moral crusader (Gary Oldman, in camp mode) reveals that the wolfman is actually someone from the village, and this causes everyone to view their neighbors with suspicion and — shades of The Crucible — hurl accusations of witchcraft. Had director Catherine Hardwicke and scripter David Johnson buried themselves in the lore and atmosphere of their setting while accentuating the legend's leaps into sensuality, violence and the allure of latent desires, it could have worked beautifully. Instead, the focus is on the love triangle between Valerie and the village's two cutest boys (Shiloh Fernandez and Max Irons), and while the teen angst that Hardwicke brought to the original Twilight was appropriate, here it creates a modernity that's at odds with the rest of the film. After all, it's hard to bury oneself in the moody period setting when the central thrust remains that Valerie basically has to choose between Justin Bieber and a Jonas Brother. **

SOURCE CODE Has Duncan Jones already sold out? It's hard to say, but Source Code, his sophomore effort as director, can only be considered a disappointment given his knock-it-out-of-the-park debut. 2009's Moon, which missed my 10 Best list that year by one spot, was a dazzling achievement, the sort of heady sci-fi extravaganza one would expect from the son of David Bowie. Source Code is far more mainstream; that's not meant as a knock, but this highly entertaining movie concludes with what will doubtless remain one of the worst sell-out endings of the year. Jake Gyllenhaal stars as Colter Stevens, a soldier who's being used in an experiment that allows him to occupy the body of one Sean Fentress, who's about to be killed, along with all the other passengers, by a bomb planted on a Chicago commuter train. Colter's mission is to use those last eight minutes in Sean's body to ferret out the killer's identity and thereby prevent any future attacks. As explained by his military contact (Vera Farmiga) and the experiment's creator (Jeffrey Wright), he will keep being sent back to those eight minutes until he acquires the knowledge being sought. It's a Groundhog Day scenario mined for tension rather than laughs, and while it's not that difficult to ID the assassin, the fun comes in watching Colter repeatedly interact with the other commuters and use knowledge from previous "trips" to inform the decisions he makes on subsequent jumps. There's really only one way for all this to end, but scripter Ben Ripley jerry-rigs his own storyline by coming up with a conclusion that's illogical, infuriating and impossible to defend. It provides Source Code with a sour coda that cripples an otherwise sweet ride. **1/2

SUCKER PUNCH It wouldn't be quite accurate to call Sucker Punch the ultimate fan-boy film, but it's a designation that nevertheless offers a near-perfect fit. It's a (wet) dream come true, an orgy full of Dolby sound and CGI fury. To finish the paraphrase by stating that it signifies nothing would be to drag Shakespeare into a world — and a conversation — that would baffle him. Front and center for most of the picture is Baby Doll (Emily Browning), who's thrown into an insane asylum by her despicable stepdad and prepped for a lobotomy. She mentally escapes that reality by imagining herself in a bordello, where she's verbally and physically abused. To escape from that scenario, she performs hypnotic dances that allow her to visualize herself and her sisters-in-arms — Sweet Pea (Abbie Cornish), Rocket (Jena Malone), Blondie (Vanessa Hudgens) and Amber (Jamie Chung) — battling formidable opponents in fantasy worlds in an effort to secure certain items that will allow them to break out of the asylum way back on the first level. Just call this Inception for Dummies. The only reason Sucker Punch escapes a one-star rating is because writer-director Zack Snyder's story is ambitious enough to allow for multiple interpretations, a plus in this age of lobotomized entertainment. But Snyder sacrifices any real desire for discussion by tricking this project up with every fetishist and/or pop-geek card up his sleeve. Even more than Battle: Los Angeles, it's an all-out assault on our senses — not in the fun, roller coaster ride sort of way but in a manner that's exhausting rather than exhilarating. *1/2

TRUE GRIT It's been well documented the the Coen Brothers' take on True Grit isn't a remake of the 1969 film that won John Wayne his only Academy Award but rather a more faithful adaptation of Charles Portis' novel. That's all well and good, but when it comes to making that Netflix rental selection, the choice will be between the two film versions. By that token, no one will lose out, as both pictures are of comparable value. Forced to choose, I'd actually go with the Duke's at-bat, although Jeff Bridges is certainly more than capable in taking on the iconic role of boozy Marshall Rooster Cogburn, hired by young Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) to track down the desperado (Josh Brolin) who murdered her pappy. Sporting a sly sense of humor different than what was brandished in the '69 model, this True Grit mines its colorful characters for off-kilter comedy, from talkative Texas Ranger LaBoeuf (Matt Damon) to scraggly outlaw leader Ned Pepper (Barry Pepper, superbly channeling the original's Robert Duvall). Bridges is likewise amusing and might have been even funnier if we could understand his frequently slurred dialogue. As it stands, whenever he's talking, the picture needs English-language subtitles as desperately as Bergman's Persona or Kurosawa's Seven Samurai. ***

UNKNOWN I don't mind that Unknown is utterly ridiculous. Why? Because within the constraints of its absurdity, it always manages to play fair with the audience. This is a radical departure from many contemporary thrillers in which the filmmakers are so focused on the twist ending that they barrel toward that destination with little rhyme or reason. It starts with Dr. Martin Harris (Liam Neeson) and his wife (January Jones) arriving in Berlin to attend a conference. A subsequent accident while riding in a taxi cab leaves him with a moderate case of amnesia, able to recall his identity but not the details surrounding the accident — and utterly unable to explain why his wife insists that another man (Aidan Quinn) is the real Martin Harris. Alone in a foreign land, Martin tries to piece the mystery together with the help of the cab driver (Diane Kruger) and an elderly private detective (international treasure Bruno Ganz). Neeson is as compelling here as he was in his previous Euro-action yarn Taken, and the picture even makes some modest political jabs by presenting Kruger's illegal immigrant as a heroine who's smart, resourceful and tough, an asset to the population of any country. Mostly, though, the film keeps its focus on its central mystery, and when everything is finally explained, we can quietly smile at its outlandishness while simultaneously applauding it for not insulting our intelligence. ***

WIN WIN If life is indeed about enjoying the little things, then it's entirely appropriate that the best scenes in Win Win are the little slice-of-life ones. Coming off a great performance in Barney's Version, Paul Giamatti again works wonders with his sad-sack routine — here, he's Mike Flaherty, a struggling lawyer and high-school wrestling coach whose backhanded dealing with a dementia-afflicted client (Burt Young) eventually leads to the elderly man's grandson, a troubled runaway named Kyle (Alex Shaffer), entering his life. Mike and his wife Jackie (a terrific turn by Gone Baby Gone's Amy Ryan) reluctantly decide to help Kyle out, only to grow genuinely attached to him. But this bond gets threatened when Kyle's irresponsible mother (Melanie Lynskey) turns up, just out of rehab and ready to drag her unwilling son home. Writer-director Tom McCarthy (The Station Agent) occasionally stumbles into unlikely scenarios that generally exist only in the movies, but he makes such slip-ups easy to ignore (or excuse) because the vast majority of the picture strikes the right notes in terms of its characters and the ways in which they interact with each other. Win Win is by no means a perfect movie, but it's a lovely one that deserves its designation as one of the top-seeded films currently in theaters. ***1/2