How John Carpenter became one of the coolest filmmakers

The massively popular reboot of Halloween is just the latest revival of the John Carpenter legacy. Several of his best films have already been re-made or rebooted (or Hollywood would like to). His reputation as a composer has been burnished by the release of his well receive Lost Themes albums.

And numerous retrospectives have taken great pains to place him where he rightfully belongs, in the great pantheon of filmmakers.

This wasn't always the case. Sure, Carpenter was always revered by horror movie buffs, although he had success in other genres. And he always had a certain B-movie appeal, but it seems like lately it's finally become socially acceptable to cite him as a major auteur, not just a fun entertainer.

It's been a wonderful thing to see, especially since so few filmmakers of his era are similarly revered by younger audiences. Unfortunately, post-Tarantino auteurs have often overshadowed the iconic movie brat generation of Coppola, Scorsese, Spielberg, De Palma et al., in younger viewers' esteem.

Why has Carpenter had such a resurgence? Perhaps it's because despite whatever dated qualities his films might have, they almost all hold up really well -- especially the work he did for about 10 years straight from Halloween through They Live.

They're pretty accessible movies to see and to appreciate. Clearly, They Live alone has inspired a million memes and a counter culture art campaign of its own. And that film's messages (as well as the subtext of some of his other films) about consumerism and corporate corruption still hold up.

Also, his early collaboration with his late ex-wife Debra Hill, suggested a willingness to provide more nuanced portraits of women than many genre films of at that era bothered to imagine.

Still, it's fascinating that for the most part his golden age was largely marked by films that were considered failures at the time. Halloween was a blockbuster, which put him on the map. But my sense is that his scary movie follow up, The Fog, while terrific and creepy, was viewed as something of a commercial disappointment.

The 1981 thriller Escape from New York was a modest, mostly cult success, even though it has become a major cultural touchstone and it's my personal favorite of his films. And it wasn't even in the top 30 movies released that year.

His next effort is now widely viewed as his greatest masterpiece and one of the decade's great films -- but 1982's The Thing bombed with most critics and audiences when it debuted.

His next run of fan favorites -- Christine, Starman, Big Trouble in Little China and Prince of Darkness -- were all mixed bags in terms of their critical and commercial reception, even if they are now all seen as genre triumphs.

Unfortunately, his later output tailed off in terms of quality, even if I do think movies like Memoirs of an Invisible Man and In the Mouth of Madness have their moments, and his 1998 movie Vampires is a ton of fun.

Carpenter doesn't make movies anymore, which is a shame -- but his legacy is more than secure. His films hung in there, building up their reputations and fanbases despite almost all of them flopping initially.

His reemergence as a filmmaking institution is an inspiration to any artist who fails to connect on their first pass because he's proof positive that sometimes slow and steady really does win the race.

'Possession' is one of the more unsettling movies I've ever seen

A friend recently asked me what the scariest movie I've ever seen was -- and that's a surprisingly difficult question to answer. My first instinct would be to say The Shining -- which has emerged as my favorite film of all time in recent years -- but it's not exactly a terrifying movie, more a fascinating one whose mysteries make it a creepy masterpiece.

I ultimately settled on The Exorcist, which is still a shocking and horrifying movie, that could probably never be made today.

But, then I recently saw the insane 1981 cult film Possession -- which has risen up the ranks of most horror movie aficionados and is now widely seen as a misunderstood classics -- and it really weirded me out in a profound way. It's probably the most unsettling movie I've watched since Lost Highway, another movie I nearly named when asked that 'scariest movie' question.

Possession doesn't have traditional jump scares or traditional, grisly gore effects -- it's far stranger and more insidious. It's probably fair to say it had an outsized influence on movies like Mother! which test audiences' constitution and forces you to confront incredibly uncomfortable emotions.

It begins nominally as a movie about a deeply disturbed relationship which is coming to an abrupt end -- director Andrzej Żuławski's camera is almost always moving and swooping from strange angles and blind spots as we watch a tumultuous relationship (conveyed in riveting fashion by a young Sam Neil and an incredible Isabelle Adjani) devolve into physical brutality right before our eyes.

Not unlike in Lynch's work, without any clear indicators we seem to leap into a dream-like, surreal state where it's unclear if what we're watching is an internal projection from the Neil's character's mind or actual events unfolding before us.

Some of these elements are impossible to describe -- but the movie takes on heady themes of duality, sexuality, longing, anger, resentment, obsession and of course, possession.

Żuławski really puts his actors through some insane challenging paces -- for instance, in the film's most infamous scene Adjani delivers a tour de force physical meltdown in an empty subway tunnel that literally had me cringing with horror.

This is not shock treatment horror -- this is more disturbing and strange -- like an earworm or parasite burrowing, That said, it is not a traditional movie that will be enjoyed by most people,

That said, it's one of the most beautiful looking movies I've ever seen -- I had no idea where it was going at any given moment. Every time I thought I was able to process it something even crazier bursts on the screen.

I suppose you could reduce the movie to the simple idea that it takes the idea of a 'horrific break-up' to its greatest visual and emotional extreme. All I can say is I'm glad I've never had a break-up effect me this deeply.

It's really hard to put into words but it's just on a total different wavelength from other films I've seen both in terms of performance and narrative. You could watch it with the sound off and it might be just as effective.

As you've probably gathered -- I watch a lot of movies. I love horror films, even though most are failures, because when they work they can achieve the sort of emotional,visual peak of cinema at its best. While not a traditional 'scary' movie by any means, Possession has at least a half dozen sort of indelible, madcap, unforgettable moments that rattled me.

It's not for the faint of heart, but if you are up for challenging, emotionally complex 'horror' -- it's worth looking into.

The new 'Halloween' hits all the rights notes for fans of the original

After years of huge disappointments, Hollywood has finally started to figure out how to do a reboot of a long dormant or irrelevant franchise well. That may not be the best thing for the cause of creating original artwork, but I'll take it over a retread that detracts from what you love about the original.

In the past decade we've seen Star Trek and Star Wars revitalized, as well as Blade Runner and Rocky, too. And miraculously director David Gordon Green and comic actor Danny McBride have turned their fandom for the original John Carpenter film Halloween (with the same simple but effective title and a similar stark credit sequinto the ideal follow-up set 40 years later.

I think the key to their success here is that they are clearly fans who don't want to fix what ain't broken. Instead, they've made a throwback, solid slasher film with terrific nods to the 1978 film that spawned it, but enough cinematic flourishes of their own to make for a real fun time at the movies.

This is not an insidious psychological horror film, like say Hereditary, but it also takes it's subject matter seriously and most importantly treats its hero -- a wonderfully game Jamie Lee Curtis -- like a real person.

You feel for her character Laurie Strode, when people dismiss the trauma she went through 40 years ago as "not that big a deal," and it's believable that modern audiences might downplay the relatively low body count of the original, too. But, of course, her character would still be traumatized -- almost all of her closet friends were wiped out over the course of one night.

After a reasonably paced set-up -- which establishes Strode's estrangement from her grown daughter and extended family, as well as what the infamous killer -- Michael Myers -- has been up to -- this film also falls into a similar one long night rhythm of the original, with the same badass score, font and creepy kills that fans of that first film adore.

To the film's credit though, it functions as more than just a genre epic -- it really does feel like a bit of an homage to the #MeToo moment we're living in -- and it asks us to have empathy for people who are trapped in a prison of their own pain and paranoia.

There are clear McBride contributions to script which keep the film from becoming too dour, and while nothing can top the eerie shock of the original, there are some genuinely good scares here too, especially when Myer's silence is used to devastating effect opposite his prey.

The other day my wife and I were trying to figure out how differentiate between Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers. And this film gave me even more clarity. Myers is scarier because there is clearly a working mind there -- he has CHOSEN to be silent for 40 years, but he clearly has a disturbing relish for luring people and disposing of them. He is the ultimate sociopath.

Voorhees is more of a big monster -- a killing machine -- he's almost Frankenstein without the pathos.

This film felt like it said everything that needed to be said about this fictional world. I am happy to discount the sequels and Rob Zombie reboots and consider this film and Carpenter's the definitive bookends to each other. I really hope that leave well enough alone with this series.

Of course, as I write this I'm reading that the film is poised to break an October opening weekend record, so perhaps Michael Myers will always be with us.

Just lurking. Ever so quietly. In the shadows.

'Ganja & Hess' is certainly not your average Halloween movie

It took me a few viewings to fully appreciate the 1973 cult critical darling Ganja & Hess. For one thing, it's hard to look past the crudity of the filmmaking -- and I don't mean crude as in offensive -- but it is an undeniably low budget affair with a less than totally coherent plot thread.

In fact, part of why I think Spike Lee's fairly faithful remake -- Da Sweet Blood of Jesus -- doesn't work is that the original's power has a lot to do with the context in which it was released.

The film was infamously financed off the heels of the success of Blacula -- a thoroughly silly blaxploitation horror flick which posits that a sophisticated, smooth black prince was infected with vampirism by a particularly racist interpretation of Dracula.

The moneymen behind this film expected a similarly violent but titillating horror film, but instead got a dreamlike, art film which is more of a meditation on African-American life circa 1973 than a genre movie.

That doesn't mean the movie doesn't have its unsettling moments. It's score is punctuated by a droning, eerie chant that is unnerving. And there are jarring moments of violence that are shocking for their cold, matter-of-fact presentation.

But I finally 'got' this movie, when I stopped trying to experience it like a normal narrative film, and just let it unfold the way I believe it was intended to. This is a film that climaxes with an almost real-time religious reverie where we see a complete emotional and spiritual rehabilitation of one of the lead characters, without any traditional dialogue whatsoever.

It instead uses a broad strokes interpretation of vampirism to explore the beauty of black bodies, the pains and pleasures of assimilation and the power of addiction, with blood being a stand-in for drugs, or whatever else you want to use as a substitute.

It's been rediscovered by critics -- after an initial rapturous response at the 1973 Cannes Film Festival, the film was quickly yanked from theaters and dramatically re-cut into a more salacious product retitled Blood Couple -- and now its frequently listed as a seminal film of not just black film but all 1970s cinema.

That's high praise -- and as a die hard fan of that decade of movies -- the '70s are especially maddening as an African-American viewer. There are gems of the blaxploitation if you dig deep enough. Black Caesar, Across 110th Street and Coffy, for instance, are more complex than they appear to be. And then they are pure pleasure movies like Foxy Brown or Slaughter.

Of course, there are plenty of race-themed films that don't really belong in that genre but are genuine masterpieces like Paul Schrader's Blue Collar.

Very few, if any, black films were rivaling the reach that The Godfather or The French Connection had, and even if it had been properly distributed Ganja & Hess never would have. If anything, its closer in style and substance to the same year's Don't Look Now, where Nicolas Roeg also expertly mixed melancholy, sex and violence in a similarly tantalizing stew.

It's not going to be anyone's idea of a thrill ride, and it's languid, unorthodox structure will certainly try to patience of anyone looking for an accessible Halloween movie experience. But, I do think it can be rewarding viewing.

Some time capsule movies are off-putting and impossibly dated, while some do truly shine an illuminating light on times they were made and by extension the world we're living in now. Ganja & Hess, I believe is far more the latter than the former.

If nothing else, it's interesting -- not for the kids and not for people uncomfortable with indie cinema --- but interesting enough that I kept coming back to it until it finally won me over.

The 'Paranormal Activity' movies are effective, gimmicky fun

The Paranormal Activity movies are full of jump scares that make you feel embarrassed that they worked on you. Especially in the first film, the filmmakers masterfully mess with a single stationary frame, almost making something akin to a silent horror movie (although the sound design is key).

It's a minimalist wonder, buttressed by some decent naturalistic acting, that by-and-large sells the absurd found footage conceit that least the first three films adheres to.

I recently just watched the first three in a row. There's a fourth and fifth, that somehow I didn't know existed, but these three felt like they worked as a closed loop. They are really effective and entertaining if you watch them this way, for no other reason than the series' creepy mythology and linkage makes a lot more sense and is a lot more satisfying.

It does also, however, expose the seams and flaws in the technique of the people behind these movies, although the third film more than makes up for is shortcomings with some of the best effects and frighteningly staged set pieces of them all.

The shaky hand-held camera thing certainly feels played out -- and since no one over the age of 13 is going to believe what you're watching is some real life snuff film, I do wonder whether this material would work without its hooky gimmick. And I'm not sure it would.

It ultimately is a vague possession story, with shades of what would come later in the far more elegant and attractive Hereditary. And there are some clever bits of information laid out, at least across the first three movies, that make for a tantalizing tale of one particularly screwed up family (where the men seem to always reach a particularly grisly fate, ironic in a genre that has historically invoked its violence on women).

But what really makes these movies work is watching them with an audience. My wife's screams and jumps are far scarier than anything that actually happens on screen (the less said about the chintzy demon facial effects in these movies, the better). And I imagine it was a real hoot to see these movies with audiences in theaters (I was too freaked out by the trailers to bother with these films when they first came out).

Although, as entertaining as it is, by the third film I was able to start predicting where the scares were coming, since these movies have a very consistent exposition to mayhem ratio. It'd be super interesting to see someone take a different approach to this same material (not unlike what's happening with the umpteenth reboot of Halloween).

There is something a little timeless about this kind of movie. Lots of objects make small, sudden movements, pretty much no gore -- it's the kind of scary movie you could probably watch with the whole family, although it may make you want to inspect every door in your house before you go to bed.

It's funny, I'd avoided the sequels after seeing the first film because I figured I'd be too creeped out to sit through them, and now I'm convinced that they're actually perfect movies for people trying to ease their way into watching and appreciating horror. They aren't too terrifying, but they get the job done.

'First Man' is a restrained but still breathtaking achievement

There's something about space movies. Gravity, Interstellar, The Martian. They all worked gangbusters. To some degree it makes total sense -- there are immediate stakes -- space travel is inherently dangerous and it takes remarkable courage to do it -- but it's also surprising to me how emotional the experience is.

The Right Stuff picked up on this 35 years ago, when it memorably dramatized the ups and downs of the initial star astronauts. Neil Armstrong was not the focal point of that story, in fact, remarkably, he's never had a major motion picture centered on him. This may be because unlike his colleague and fellow original moonwalker Buzz Aldrin, Armstrong was a famously private and taciturn man.

In fact, one could make the argument that Armstrong was one of the least well known best known people in the history of the world. We certainly all know his "one small step" quote, which is so eloquent and perfect that it still brings tears to my eyes (as does John F. Kennedy's inspiration speech justifying the goal of going to the moon).

So First Man, the latest from director Damian Chazelle, has a unique advantage over the other pictures I mentioned. It's about someone who was very real, who changed the course of history, but about whom many intimate details are not already know.

When First Man, which looks and sounds gorgeous and is performed immaculately by its cast, headlined by a wonderfully restrained Ryan Gosling and steely standout Claire Foy, comes to its conclusion you may know a little bit more about Armstrong -- who lost several astronaut friends to tragic work-related injuries and a young daughter to a tragic illness -- but there is still a lot that's withheld.

What is compelling, is the spirit of ingenuity, the drive, and passion of the people behind the space program. Even if they were motivated by an almost childish preoccupation with 'beating' the Russians, it's still so impressive, the feats we were pulling off during that period.

It's so easy to take from granted -- especially space travel now, which barely registers a blip on most peoples' radar screens. But I haven't felt this way about a movie like this since I saw Dunkirk. Just like with that movie, I marvel at what kind of determination people had to take challenges on head on instead of passing the buck. There's something so moving to me about people willing to step up, dot he hard work and even suffer for the greater good.

Armstrong may have been a closed off, even icy person, but he seems to me by all accounts to have been a hero and a patriot in the best sense of the word. And it's awe inspiring to watch his journey.

A lot of kudos should go to Chazelle, who has been taking a lot of shit for the divisive La La Land, so much so that even his breakthrough Whiplash has been reassessed in a negative way because of it. This film proves that he is a major filmmaker, no matter what you think of his previous work.

With the exception of the presence of Gosling, who he works really well with, there's nothing here that his previous work could have anticipated. It's a technical marvel -- with some stunning visuals that really make you feel the majesty of the moon and the claustrophobia of the space shuttle.

Simply put, it's one of my favorite movies of the year. It's not as outwardly showy and emotionally big as A Star Is Born or as purely fun and exciting as Black Panther, but it's an elegant masterpiece in its own right.

At 82, Redford still has his charisma intact in 'Old Man & The Gun'

Robert Redford's legendary film persona has featured its fair share of irrepressible risk takers and smooth talkers, cooly efficient men who can pull off the unexpected with charm and grace. So it's fitting that his final film performance puts the full arsenal of his star shine and decades of audience good will in one satisfying package.

The package -- The Old Man & The Gun -- is a light frothy romp on its surface, but it is also a summation of every Redford role that's come before -- from his taciturn Sundance Kid to his angelic Roy Hobbs from The Natural.

The movie is a throwback, its look and feel emulates films from the late '70s, and has the same quiet grace of a folksy Hal Ashby movie.

This probably means that it doesn't have a prayer at the box office. This is a film that has a romance between too elderly people (Redford and Sissy Spacek, who look luminous together) at its center and the stakes aren't exactly all that high. But of course, that's part of the fun.

Redford, who plays a lifelong thief, is such an amiable, likable guy -- that his bank robberies are as polite and effortless as any normal transaction and he leaves every character he meets (and by extension the viewing audience in the theater) totally disarmed by his calm and confidence.

Of course, this is what Redford has always done, made things that shouldn't be easy, look easy.

He's been really energized in recent years, after some missteps in the early-2000s. His galvanic, physically remarkable performance in the nearly dialogue free All Is Lost, will probably go down as his most compelling latter day effort.

But, I also thought he made a terrific, against-type villain in Captain America: The Winter Soldier and in this film he gets to show off his underrated comic timing, as well as his iconic killer smile.

I've been a fan of his as a long as I can remember, so I am biased. But it'd be great to see him finally get some Oscar love for his acting for The Old Man & The Gun. It's not as flashy as A Star Is Born, but I sometimes think it's work in movies like this, which rely more on smaller emotional beats and specific physicality.

And while Redford has been dinged his whole career for playing parts that are more glamorous than psychologically complex, this film serves as a real counterpoint. Beneath his boyish charms (only Redford could still seem boyish at 82) is an inexplicably restless spirit with a self-destructive streak. His character doesn't know how to slow down, and for much of his career it has seemed like Redford couldn't either.

In fact, he's already started to try to walk back his initial claims that this would be his final role. I don't blame him for reconsidering. The man has still got 'it' after all these years.

'A Star Is Born' puts stirring spin on a classic Hollywood story

Late in the new version of A Star Is Born, Sam Elliott (in a sure-to-be Oscar nominated performance) delivers a powerful -- and very meta --monologue that describes the Bradley Cooper character's approach to music but also that actor-writer-director's approach to this material, which has been made three times previously since the 1930s.

Without spoiling anything, he essentially makes the argument that there are very few original stories to tell and its how someone chooses to tell their story that makes it compelling. Some may consider the dialogue to be a victory lap, but I thought it was the perfect summation of what Cooper has pulled off here. He doesn't necessarily reinvent the music-infused romantic drama, but he still manages to tell him own uniquely vital and moving story, one that is both sweeping and quietly effective.

For the uninitiated, A Star Is Born has the same relatively simple premise as is predecessors. Cooper, speaking in a drawl octaves below his normal speaking voice, is a fading blues rock star with a serious drinking and drugs habit, who both discovers and romances an unknown with remarkable talent, played with peak level movie star charm by Lady Gaga.

They have a courtship, a romance, a downfall, etc.-- all set to beautiful, catchy music -- that culminates with a deeply sad finale.

So far, so standard -- but then Cooper has many curveballs up his sleeve. First off, the casting of Gaga was a masterstroke. Not since Cher in Moonstruck, has a pop star had such natural acting talent and movie star chops. Gaga acts with her whole body and uses both her speaking and singing voice to tremendous effect, she is funny, sweet, sincere, believable and riveting.

I have yet to see a better showcase for her phenomenal singing, which reaches Whitney Houston levels of perfection here.

Her every musical performance here is transporting.

Cooper also stacks his cast with an incredible array of supporting performers, some in unconventional roles. Besides Elliott, as his long-suffering older brother/manager, you have Dave Chappelle and Andrew 'Dice' Clay stealing scenes, both comedic and dramatic, with their distinctly human rhythms.

The one misstep is the role of Gaga's scheming manager, which feels a little heavy handed for a movie as smartly paced and subtle as this one is.

Every element of this story can become gratuitous in the wrong hands (see the campy 1976 version as a case study of this) but Cooper puts just the right amount of panache into every scene. He lets the romance with Gaga and his character develop naturally and believably. He lets the musical performances suck you in and make no mistake you will have these songs in your head when its over.

And when the big emotional scenes come they feel truly earned, and not the least bit manipulative. Cooper, a solid actor who can sometimes show you too much of the effort he's putting into his performances, is far more at the top of his game here than he's ever been before. And while it's far too early to crown a Best Actor front-runner, I can easily see why he is a consensus choice.

He manages to be charming and seductive even when his character is a total trainwreck -- and he makes you care about a person who on paper is the epitome of privilege.

I imagine there will be an inevitable backlash to this movie for one reason or another. Not unlike La La Land, it is similarly whimsical about a mainstream music industry that long ago was in the decline, and it is an unabashedly old-fashioned Hollywood movie despite its frank sex scenes and positive embrace of the LGBT community, albeit on the periphery of the story.

But I think it'll be hard to diminish what Cooper has accomplished here. I am not entirely sure why he was drawn to this story and was determined to put his own personal stamp on it, but he has, and in doing so he just may have made the definitive version of it.

'Studio 54' documentary makes case for disco's cultural value

Studio 54, the new documentary film, posits that the legendary nightclub (which peaked at crashed after just 33 months!) was a rare safe haven for marginalized people. A place where people of color, members of the LGBT community and various other outcasts were the equals of celebrities like Liza Minnelli and Andy Warhol.

I have no idea if that's really accurate, but I love the concept of it.

I've often joked that as a black man I've never been one to romanticize or fantasize about the past much. Every moment prior to one I'm currently in was probably worse for my community. And yet, I have always been drawn to the late 1970s aesthetic of New York City and have wished I could have been in that world, even if just for a night or two.

There is something so uniquely glamorous, hedonistic and carefree about that period -- it just jumps out of not just the movies and documentary footage, but also the photos of that era. In this new doc, they point out that club's ascendance came during this sweet spot between the invention of the pill and the outbreak of AIDS, and it shows.

This is also not a new insight. And for anyone who grew up watching the stellar Behind the Music about Studio 54 there isn't necessarily a lot of new, profound insights out of this 2018 film -- although its impossible not to see how it echoes so intensely with the cultural moment we're in now.

In many ways, Studio 54 represented the mainstreaming of black and LGBT underground culture, which was only underground because white people had yet to discover it.

With the exposure of this fantastic, expressive music, dance and fashion came a perhaps inevitable cultural backlash. For the club it was a justifiable crackdown from the feds (for tax evasion, among other transgressions) but also the rise of Reaganism and the religious right. When 'disco sucks' became a rallying cry, it was not just a criticism of the music, it was a condemnation of a culture.

Seeing the nightclub now, about 40 years out from its heyday, it's easy to see how it was more than just a decadent diversion. It was a prescient look at where the culture was inevitably headed, a place where acceptance and love overpowers hate.

Now, we haven't gotten there nationally, not by a longshot. But my takeway from this doc, besides the fact that the club's creators were both wildly creative and smart, but also wildly naive and arrogant, is that we need more safe spaces like this where people of different walks of life can come together and have a great time.

I have always been fond of the phrase "it's always darkest before the dawn" -- even if that isn't always something that has rung true for me. I need to believe, on a day when a woman is poised to become the deciding vote to advance the nomination of a man credibly accused of sexual assault to a lifetime appointment on the Supreme Court, that we're experiencing that darkness right now.

This look back at Studio 54, in all its ribald, effervescent glory -- had me thinking about what it would feel like to stand in the light again with some pride.

'Pain & Gain' may be my greatest guilty pleasure of all time

I am not a Michael Bay fan or apologist. Beyond his dubious, frequently jingoistic politics, I don't even particularly like his 'good' films -- Bad Boys and The Rock -- which I why I was so disarmed by his underrated 2013 gem Pain & Gain, a movie I can't help but enjoy despite its obvious flaws.

It's frequently been heralded as Bay's best film by cinephiles, which always had me curious -- and it is something to behold. It's as if Bay pushed all of his eccentricities to the max for this one and the studio looked the other way since he has been for better or worse a very profitable filmmaker.

The film purports to be a true story, although subsequent challenges to its veracity have exposed it as a barely that. Still, it is the closest thing to a self-aware satire he has ever made. And while it can also be pig-headed, silly and stupid, I found it endlessly entertaining in a hedonistic sort of way.

In wildly goofy performances, Mark Wahlberg, Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson and Anthony Mackie play three colossally dumb body builders who get imbued with the spirit of entitlement and try to force an obnoxious but wealthy businessman (a similarly over the top Tony Shaloub) to give them all his money, without much thought about the consequences of follow-through.

That's pretty much the plot, with some divergences here and there, and yet in admittedly overlong 2 hours, the movie just keeps spinning more and more absurdity, it's candy colored cinematography (Bay always, at the very least, makes great looking films) providing endless delight and titillation.

Amid all the chaos, I got to see the first real 'performance' I've ever seen The Rock give. As charming as he is, he almost exclusively plays a flawlessly heroic version of himself. I'm not saying he has tremendous range, but it's fun to see him play someone who comes unglued.

And I've come to understand that I like Wahlberg best in roles where he is not taking himself too seriously or at least undercutting his macho man persona -- so films like The Other Guys, Boogie Nights, Three Kings, and now this, where he is a delivering a tour de force as a supremely stupid person who believes they're very smart.

Clearly, Bay -- or the screenwriters -- want to lampoon the uniquely American belief that people 'deserve' to be rich, or believe they do. Wahlberg's character's awakening as a criminal comes when he is simply implored to be a 'do-er' by a self help guru played by Ken Jeong with glee.

Of course, watching an unlikable, idiotic trio bumble their way through the farthest thing from the perfect crime is not everyone's cup of tea, and Bay has no idea how to craft a subtle joke, there is a lot of lowest common denominator activity in this film, so I can't endorse it with much pride.

I just have to admit that for some reason I was on this movie's wavelength from the beginning, and it has now become, in spite of itself, a true guilty pleasure ofmine.