Art School Confidential

Graphic novelist Dan Clowes and director Terry Zwigoff brought an eccentric, dryly-funny universe to delicious life in 2001's Ghost World. They pretty much repeat the process for the first half of their reunion project, Art School Confidential, which was also adapted from Clowes' comic book work (originally published in Eightball).

With aspirations to emulate his idol Pablo Picasso, suburbanite Jerome Platz (Max Minghella) enrolls at the Strathmore Institute. Populated by every horrendous art student stereotype you can imagine (goth, wannabe-angsty, art fag, etc.), the Institute soon becomes a source of frustration. When not fumbling with the opposite sex -- notably Audrey (Sophia Myles), a nude model for one of his classes -- Jerome fumbles with his teachers and peers, all of whom dismiss his work. Conversely, prettyboy jock Jonah (Matt Keeslar) and his minimalist artwork is exalted by the school and Audrey, sending Jerome into a jealous tizzy that leads to his plagiarizing of another artist's work. But unbeknownst to Jerome, Jonah is actually an undercover cop on the case of a campus serial killer.

The first half of Art School Confidential is a delight thanks to its off-kilter satire, essentially an unrelated sequel to Ghost World (with a peppering of queer characters to boot). But midway through the serial killer and police investigation subplot becomes prominent, Jerome has a mental breakdown, and the film slips into a sort of dark psychological place that doesn't compliment what came before. Unfortunately, these two halves are essentially two different, incongruous movies that shouldn't be sharing the same bill. I'm all for surprises and tonal shifts, but this just doesn't work.

The very cute Minghella is well-cast as Jerome and channels Clowes' cartoonish sensibility perfectly. There are a few notable supporting appearances here as well, including Steve Buscemi as owner of a café that exhibits the Institute's more promising students' work; John Malkovich as a pretentious professor; Jim Broadbent as a lecherous, possibly queer former-student-turned-adult-degenerate; and Kate Moennig as a younger, art school version of her sultry L Word character, Shane. And Ghost World fans should keep an eye out for a momentary appearance by one of that film's main characters. -- Lawrence Ferber

The Promise

Somewhere between the fairy-tale mysticism of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and the cartoonish theatrics of Kung Fu Hustle lies The Promise, an action-packed Chinese import from director Chen Kaige that mixes storybook simplicity and sweeping romanticism with high-wire stunts and CGI to tell the story of a love triangle that is seemingly doomed by the consequence of human choice. When the lovely princess Quingcheng (Cecilia Cheung) falls in love with the slave (Jang Dong-Gun) who saved her life while disguised as the mighty General Guangming (Hiroyuki Sanada), the fates of all three characters become tragically linked. Complicating the love triangle is a pact that Quingcheng made as a child with a goddess to forsake true love for wealth and power. Toss in a few characters to further complicate matters (such as a mysterious hooded assassin who can travel back in time and a scorned duke who wants to make Quingcheng his wife) -- as well as plenty of mind-boggling fight sequences that stretch the limits of imagination -- and you've got all the makings of an epic martial arts extravaganza to equal both Crouching Tiger and Zhang Yimou's Hero. Or not. Whereas those films were defined by a strong sense of humanity and spiritual tranquility -- not to mention subtlety -- The Promise depicts no such grasp on nuance. Instead, director Kaige stages every twist and turn of the plot as if it were something out of animated flicks like Spirited Away and Howl's Moving Castle, placing the emphasis on awe-inspiring fairy-tale shenanigans over emotional resilience. At times, it's easy to lose yourself in the superficiality of the story (from a script by Kaige and Zhang Tan). The principal players are certainly game enough; Cheung, especially, manages to imbue Quingcheng with three-dimensional qualities, while as evil Duke Wuhuan, Nicholas Tse makes an attractive and charismatic villain. But somewhere between the choppy, disjointed editing (not another ominous fadeout!), the overwrought musical score, and the laughably low-rent CGI, The Promise ends up being more of an amusing distraction instead of the epic romance it wants to be. -- Ken Knox

The Proposition

John Hillcoat's The Proposition, written by singer Nick Cave, has a eulogistic beginning. A dirge plays beneath 1880s photos of outback life, a solemn opening shattered as we're plunged into the capture of the Burns brothers, Charlie (Guy Pearce) and Mikey (Richard Wilson), wanted murderers. The sequence's punch -- the reflective tone against animalistic conflict -- sustains stretches of narrative that forsake character detail for archetypal flavor.

Hillcoat's spatial compositions are superb. His outback is as raw and unprotected as the characters. We learn that Mikey Burns is a hothead, Charlie his elusive protector, and there is a brother, Arthur (Danny Huston), the gang-leader they've forsaken for reasons unexplained. Their captor, Captain Stanley (Ray Winstone), proposes to spare Mikey's life if Charlie brings Arthur in by Christmas Day. The townspeople want vengeance. Stanley wants civilized justice, and to protect his sensitive wife (Emily Watson) from the grizzly details of the murders.

Pearce, Winstone and Watson are effective; remarkable even considering the self-conscious sparseness of the script. Cave gets mileage from his archetypes -- these situations are fresh to him -- but the movie aims high with shades of better films; the Leone westerns, and -- in Charlie's search for his brother -- Apocalypse Now. But Arthur is no Kurtz. Danny Huston, creepy as Arthur, is given poetic fits of Irish blather to spew (the family's from the old country). Pearce, in high grunge mode, skillfully becomes the isolationist myth that Cave throws at him. He's like a Clint Eastwood drifter, but with an actor at the core. Yet the longer the film goes on, the less we care, because we're witness to the pulping of an historical moment. For all its supreme, harsh vistas and observed details, The Proposition is ultimately a smartly directed, frustrating disappointment. -- Dan Loughry