Kick-Ass (2010) has the title it does because that’s what Dave (Aaron Johnson), the adolescent superhero, calls himself after he immaturely decides that costumed superheroism is what someone needs to attempt and that he might as well be the someone.  So he dons a rubber wetsuit and goes off to help people, often ineptly.

I said the decision is immature, but . . . is it?  Two persons observe the actions of Kick-Ass, now a media star, and they themselves are superheroes–good ones.  They’re a father-and-daughter team, Big Daddy (Nicolas Cage) and Hit Girl (Chloe Grace Moretz), the latter only eleven years old.  Big Daddy’s real name is Damon, and he is an ex-cop framed by a drug lord, Frank D’Amico, and wrongfully sent to the penitentiary.  During this time Damon’s wife committed suicide.  Now Damon/Big Daddy wants revenge.  To be sure, D’Amico is an amazingly cruel and homicidal criminal, one of whose vile assistants Kick-Ass encounters since he, the assistant, has a girlfriend on whom Kick-Ass has a crush.  The damsel wants to be free of the assistant, and the teenaged crusader appreciates this.

If all this sounds insane, it is.  Kick-Ass is an insane pop film, in addition to being gutsy, amusing, exciting, violent, deserving of its R rating and, to a minimal extent, politically incorrect.  I loved every minute of it.  Especially insane is the slaughter of all the bad guys which Hit Girl manages to achieve.  With her purple wig and sometimes foul mouth, she seems to embody a troubling notion:  that ours is such an evil world, even to its children, we would be better off with a youngster this powerful, if she existed, than we are without her.  Hit Girl (real name:  Mindy) “lives by a simple code that says evil loses,” writes John Nolte on the Big Hollywood website.

Britain’s Matthew Vaughn ably directed and, with Jane Goldman, penned the movie’s screenplay, which is based on a graphic novel whose plot may well be as uneven as the one here.  Some stale stuff about Dave’s normal sexual longings arises, but in any case it adds to the movie’s general spiciness. . . Initially Aaron Johnson overacts; then he settles down and does a palatable job.  Cage, usually mediocre, is engaging and earnest and virile enough as Damon/Big Daddy.  Moretz is lovable in spite of everything, and Christopher Mintz-Plasse enacts D’Amico’s naughty son, masquerading as a superhero called Red Mist, effectually.

Cover of Kick-Ass

The overrated Richard Linklater has a good film in Bernie (2012), which is based on a true story.  He collaborated on the movie’s screenplay with Skip Hollandsworth, author of a 1998 magazine article about one Bernie Tiede of Carthage, Texas.

Acted by Jack Black, Bernie is a very nice, very benevolent Christian employed as a funeral director.  He befriends the elderly, wealthy Marjorie Nugent (Shirley MacLaine) after her husband dies and accompanies her to all kinds of places, only to find out how selfish and monstrously controlling Marjorie is.  Vexed, he finally shoots her to death and is astonished at what he’s done.  After hiding the body, Bernie goes on with his life and, as critic Peter Rainer has indicated, remains an upstanding citizen in Carthage.  Before long, however, the truth is discovered.

Actual townspeople comment on the popular Bernie throughout the film (by no means did they like Marjorie).  To Linklater, Bernie Tiede is a basically good man, notwithstanding he snapped.  It prompts a question:  Why must human goodness, wherever it’s found, be interrupted, temporarily upended?  Correlatively, why does human badness, such as that of Marjorie, simply continue?

I am motivated to raise another matter as well.  It may be that Christian Bernie was wrong to spend so much of his time with a pronouncedly unworthy nonbeliever, especially when he started living the high life with her.  He was right to love her, as a friend, but not to hang out with her.  Food for thought.

Though its predictability keeps it from being great, Black’s performance is nevertheless smart and magnetic.  McLaine’s acting is perfectly knowing, never false.  Bernie is a meaningful comic tragedy, far superior to such Linklater films as Dazed and Confused.

English: I took photo in Carthage, TX, with Canon camera. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The potboilers continue, this time in anime and with bioterrorism.  I’m talking about 2002’s Cowboy Bebop: The Movie.

The place is Mars, the year 2071.  A “cowboy” is a bounty hunter, Bebop the name of the spaceship; hence we watch a team of said hunters fly the Bebop in pursuit of those bioterrorists.  This is my first taste of Cowboy Bebop, which is a dubbed Japanese TV series which used to be on the Cartoon Network.  Despite its imperfections the dubbed movie is cool and unassuming, far better than the ludicrous anime, Metropolis (2001).  At its best it is haunting, insidious, in one scene darkly erotic.

The plot is a mess but I didn’t care, having too much fun as I did with flavorous characters and animation.  The director is Shinichiro Watanabe, the animation director, a busy dude, is Toshihiro Kawamoto. Rated R, it is not a family film, but it should satisfy potboiler devotees if they don’t mind cartoon formats.

Cowboy Bebop: The Movie (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A confection of a costume drama by Alan Taylor, The Emperor’s New Clothes (2002) is about a make-believe scheme to get the imprisoned Napoleon Bonaparte off the island of  St. Helena and back in Gallic power.  Taylor’s moviemaking team–Andrea Crisanti on production design, Rachel Portman on music, etc.–quit themselves honorably, and the acting is a joy.  Will there ever be a better Bonaparte than Ian Holm, the epitome of variety?  And the Dutch actress Iben Hjejle, speaking English, is warmly true.  How come I never see her anymore?

The Emperor's New Clothes (2001 film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Krystal Meyers is a Christian rock (not pop) artist, and a number of her songs has convinced me she made a pretty good showing during the Aughts.  Her 2006 CD, Dying for a Heart, is only half-impressive, but at least it’s that.  Too often only about 10% of merit emerges on Christian, and secular, albums.  The cut called “Together” has a wonderful, nuanced guitar and is excitingly tuneful.  “The Beauty of Grace” starts like a ballad but speeds up with a very attractive chorus to bestow. . . Okay, “Elvis is dead / But my King is alive” is not much of a lyric; still, “Only You Make Me Happy” (the “You” is God) turns out to be an ingratiating rocker.

Meyers has a fine voice, now winningly tomboyish, now nicely feminine, as in 2008’s “Up to You”–the feminine, I mean–which is an effective relationship song. . . I’ve never heard her first, self-titled CD but one of its tracks, “The Way to Begin,” is melodically interesting, forceful, saucy.

Spiritually-themed rock seldom gets much better than these five songs.  Go and ahead and purchase Dying for a Heart.  Or, if not, I sincerely believe Meyers has a place on your iPod.

Cover of Dying for a Heart